#Shona White | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evergone · 5 days

Text

Misunderstandings

Ominis Gaunt x Reader (Jane Austen inspired)

Warnings: some angst, drinking.

Description: Ominis and the reader broke each other's hearts as teenagers. When they meet again as adults, the reader disguises herself as Natsai's cousin and they fall in love all over again.

Shoo-ing your friends away and promising each of them that you would not be long, you sat down in a quieter room adjacent to the ballroom to catch your breath. If you had to dance with one more minister or minister’s son you may well have danced yourself to death. You held your fan to your breast and fluttered it rapidly in the hopes to find some cool air in the cramped heat of the Minister for Magic’s yearly ball.

You reached for a glass of white wine from a passing server and allowed yourself the mercy of a long sip unfit for a gentlewoman of your blood. The glass came from your lips with a grateful and exhausted sigh as you turned into the table you were at and placed down your fan.

A man was sitting on the other side of the table with a distant look. His hair was bright, his skin fair, and when you attempted to catch his gaze (a fruitless action) you noticed his eyes were a cloudy sort of grey-white. He was sitting in bored silence beside a brunet man far too engaged in conversation with a woman in purple to notice his poor companion was nearly falling asleep.

“Sir, are you quite alright?” You inquired over the music being played by the young lady behind the pianoforte.

The man’s grey eyes searched for your face in vain, never landing and just moving quickly around your general space. It was an action that seemed quite familiar, and suddenly you recognised the man as Ominis Gaunt. During your Hogwarts days he had been one of your closest friends, and the object of your affection. You had ended your friendship on bad terms, and had your heart broken. On realising this, you were frozen with terror.

“Please, I suffer from blindness, my apologies that I cannot look at you when you speak to me,” said Ominis and you managed to squeak out a soft acceptance of these apologies, “This ball must be wonderful, but with my companion occupied there is not much for me to do. Never mind me, though — How is your night, Miss…?”

“Onai!” You lied, using your dear friend’s name to mask yourself from him, “I am Miss Onai.”

“As in Natsai Onai? Your voice is familiar, but I did not think…”

“Oh! She is my cousin,” you cringed as you said it, but anything to draw suspicion away from you, so you thought up the first Shona name you could think of and used that instead of your real name, “I am Tsitsi Onai. Natsai’s father’s brother’s daughter.”

Ominis’ brow creased with a frown, but he accepted her word as truth and you let some tension release from your shoulders. A quick glance to his side, and you gathered that his companion must have been Sebastian Sallow, a man whose sight was not so impaired that he could have mistaken you so easily for someone else. His presence was a danger to your lie.

“Well, I really must be going, sir,” you said as pleasantly as possible through the stress, then you stood up.

To your dismay, Ominis rose, too. It was manners and respect, is all, or at least that is what you tried to assure yourself as he circled the table to be slightly closer to you.

“You remind me so much of an old friend of mine,” he said, “Please, would you do me the honour of a dance?”

He held his hand out towards the direction of the music leaking in from the ballroom and you cursed good etiquette for forcing women to dance with every man who asked, and then you cursed yourself for ever leaving the floor in the first place. You obliged his request, and led him into the ballroom by slightly tugging at the cuff of his sleeve. He had not even bothered to tell Sebastian where he was going, and your heart panged with concern that they would never find each other again and you would end up stuck caring for Ominis until the end of the night.

The music slowed slightly as you reached the ballroom floor and his hands took their dutiful places. Dancing in itself was not a sensual touch, but even so, he touched you with such delicacy, such gentility, that you could not help but wish his hand was slightly firmer. It seemed it was not him touching you, but his shadow. Had he known who you were you would have teased him, and elbowed his hand until it was gripping at your waist as if you were the only thing stopping him from falling from a great height.

As you began to dance, conversation flowed somewhat freely. So far from anyone you knew, there was no fear of being exposed to him. You would enjoy yourself, you decided.

“You know my name, sir, but what is yours?” You asked, and he introduced himself, “I think Natty has spoken of you.”

“Goodness, you must tell me what she has said. If I have reflected poorly, I would be mortified,” he said with a flustered blush on his nose.

“Either she has not spoken at length, or I do not listen to her enough to remember anything of import. You must tell me of yourself so that I might build my own judgement,” you smiled.

“Truly, there is not much to tell,” he said modestly, “I was educated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (this is how I know your cousin), and I am apprenticing to be a barrister currently.”

“And what of your hobbies? Do you fancy gardening? Music? A good game of whist?” You said.

“Recently, I have become a fan of the opera,” he explained, “My companion, Mr. Sallow, is learning Italian, so we saw Otello in London and he translated as best he could. I have seen the play, so I understood what he did not, and I much enjoyed it.”

“Molto bene! I love the opera!” You nearly grinned with excitement. “I am no enjoyer of Otello — It is regrettably muggle in its racial concerns… But I saw Faust in Paris and it was wonderful!” He nodded along as you spoke, hanging on to every word that left your mouth. “I think that performance is the magic of muggles.”

“How incredibly insightful, Miss Onai,” he said thoughtfully and you blushed, “I must agree. Wizards can perform, certainly, but we do not know art like they do.”

Soon after, the dance ended. You and Ominis exchanged bows, and you politely led him back to Sebastian. You left with a quick good-bye without much decorum at all so as to avoid being seen, but not before you gave him the address of the townhouse you were staying at with your “cousin” and friends. What did you intend to gain by giving him the address? Of this, you were not completely sure. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you hoped he would call on you.

The next day, Ominis awoke with three things: a start, a headache, and a realisation. The first of these things made him gasp and place a hand on his chest, the second made him groan and order his house elf to fetch him some water, and the third made him drop his water all over himself and run into Sebastian’s room without any warning at all.

The poor brunet squinted as his friend drew back the curtains and let the sun pound in through the window. There was no clock in his room, but Sebastian could tell it was much too early for him to be awake. He voiced this complaint, but Ominis cared not, so Sebastian dropped back into his pillows and let his friend speak.

“My good man, I think I fell in love last night,” he said with wide, unseeing eyes.

This made Sebastian sit up again, this time with a curious raised eyebrow.

“Ominis,” he started, “For the last — What? Three years? — For the last three years, you have been whining about how Y/n L/n from school broke your heart. I have not heard a man so adamantly declare that he would be a bachelor for life as you. Yet, today, on this eighteenth of April, you tell me you have fallen in love!”

There was a sense of disbelief in Sebastian’s speech that made Ominis sigh deeply. He sat down on the edge of Sebastian’s mattress, and tried his best to stare him seriously in the eye (Sebastian laughed at this, grabbed Ominis’ head, and positioned it correctly).

“She was just like Y/n,” said Ominis.

Sebastian rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, knowing he was safe from being seen, but Ominis felt the movement in the air and slapped Sebastian’s arm in annoyance. Sebastian hissed and slapped Ominis back. They were as immature in adulthood as they had once been as boys.

“Well, then it was good it was just one night!” Sebastian frowned.

“I have her address,” Ominis admitted in a state of pure bliss and Sebastian threw up his arms in defeat, “I am going to call on her.”

“Do not call on her!” His nose was scrunched up in disgust.

“You should have heard her talk, Sebastian! I was so entranced that I thought she was Y/n. She sounded exactly like her,” Ominis said.

“Are you sure it was not the ghost of loves past?” Sebastian teased, “Should we be on watch for a jolly bearded giant now? And what after that? The phantom of loves yet-to-come?”

“Do not jest,” Ominis scoffed, “This woman is a needle and thread. She has sewn my heart back together.”

“And what is this seamstress’ name?”

“She is cousin to Natsai Onai, her name is Tsitsi. Is not it as beautiful as she?” Ominis mused lovingly.

“I have not seen her, so I cannot attest to her beauty,” Sebastian said, unconvinced, “In fact, you have not even seen her.”

Meanwhile, in your townhouse, you were anxiously pacing in the parlour. You had been awake since you arrived home, the jitters not offering you a minute of sleep. One of your house elves, the first to wake, had found you writing in your diary in the earliest hour of the morning and suggested you take a bath and get ready for the day in a well-meaning, but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to calm you down.

Finally, Natsai, Poppy, and Imelda awoke, and the house elf ushered them into the parlour as quickly as they were dressed. Imelda carried a cup of tea in with her, a scowl already plaguing her otherwise handsome countenance. Natsai and Poppy, on the other hand, wore looks that only read as confusion.

“Have you not slept, my darling?” Natsai asked and you shook your head vehemently.

“Oh, dear! Y/n, go to bed, please! You cannot go about your life exhausted,” Poppy said, placing a hand on your back as she tried to lead you to your room.

“Girls, I am not tired,” you said and sat Poppy down on the couch, “I have the most exhilarating, horrible, interesting, wild information to share with you about my time at the ball last night.”

This made Imelda’s ears perk up and her scowl softened slightly.

“I danced with Ominis Gaunt.”

“What?” Imelda gasped, placing her tea in her lap, “And you did not immediately tell me this in the carriage home?”

“I was far too flustered to speak about it then, Imelda!” You exclaimed, “He did not know it was me.”

“How did he not know? He may be blind, but he is not stupid — nor is he deaf, he must have recognised your voice at least,” said Imelda.

“I disguised myself as Natsai’s cousin, Tsitsi—”

“— I have no cousin Tsitsi,” Natsai interrupted.

“Well, you do now, and it is I,” you said firmly.

“How did you fool Mr. Sallow? I assume Mr. Sallow was with him?” Poppy asked, her attention entirely encapsulated by the scandal of the conversation.

“Nay,” you replied, “He did not see me. I fear I have trapped myself in a terrible lie, for I have yet again fallen in love with Ominis and know not how to tell him.”

“Yet again?” Imelda cackled, “You never fell out of love with him, Y/n. This is a continuation of love!”

“This conversation is all for naught,” Natsai said matter-of-factly, “He does not know it was you, he does not know where you live, so you will not see him again. Do not forget how he broke your heart, Y/n. Do not allow him to take hold of it once more.”

“Natsai,” you said gravely and she frowned in concern, “I told him our address.”

Natsai scoffed in a mixture of disgust and disbelief, and circled to the back of the couch so she could stare at the wall behind it instead of at your face which appeared to her in that moment as the face of a traitor to your own emotions. She could not fathom how you could be so easily deceived by your own heart (the very same heart which had not three years earlier been torn to shreds) to fall once again in love with Ominis Gaunt.

Had you forgotten how he betrayed you? How he strung you along for years like a guitar stuck playing a sad song? Had you forgotten how you ran to her in tears? To Natsai, it was only yesterday that she held you in her arms as you wailed that he was leaving you.

“I will not watch you carry the pieces of your heart back to him,” she said in a stern tone.

“My heart rebuilt itself the moment I saw him,” you told her.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but there was a knock at the door that made all four of you go silent. Your eyes made contact with Natsai’s first, but then moved over to Imelda’s as she shouted for one of the house elves to go see who was there. A little elf scrambled to the door and you faintly heard her talking to someone before she returned.

“There is a gentleman here for Tsitsi Onai,” said the house elf.

The frown on Natsai’s brow deepened, but you ignored her and went to the entryway. Ominis stood there in his day attire, fiddling with his cravat like he used to do with his tie at Hogwarts. He looked absolutely spectacular. Beside him was Sebastian, who stared at you as if he had seen a ghost, and then quite loudly announced your name, exposing you to Ominis.

“Ominis,” you said and his brows furrowed as he put two-and-two together.

You and Ominis were given space in the study while the girls entertained Sebastian in the parlour. The silence in the room was so quiet and all-encompassing that it seemed to make the room sharp and cold. Ominis was seated on the big leather chair while you leant against the desk with your hands folded in your lap.

“You lied to me,” he said finally.

“I was scared,” you admitted, “We did not leave on good terms. And to be truthful, I tried my best to escape you last night, but good manners kept me shackled to you.”

“Shackled?” he scoffed, “Well, I apologise that you had such a horrible time with me.”

“It is just like you to take that personally,” you rolled your eyes, “You had the blessing of ignorance, but I had to pretend as though everything was fine. As though I was not dancing and conversing with a man who could not care less about me.”

“It was not I who destroyed our bond,” said Ominis.

At that, you laughed loudly and sarcastically. You could not think anything but pure rage at his audacity.

“It was not I who invited you to the most romantic night of your life just to tell you that I was moving hundreds of kilometres away,” you said with venom on your tongue.

“I was going to propose to you that night!” Ominis’ voice raised and he stood up so he was facing down at you, “You kept asking me if I had some lint in my pants because I would not cease shoving my hand into my pocket — the ring was in there! And I thought that if you loved me you would ask me to stay.”

“I do love you! That is why I could not ask you to give up your career for me!” You shouted at him, your arms thrown wildly to the side, and tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

All time stopped. It did that excruciatingly painful thing where it drew itself out like a rubber band so that one second became one minute and one minute became one hour and one hour became a whole day. And then, once it felt like a week had passed, time started again, and you were right where you left off — attempting to breathe through your sobs so that the blind man in front of you could not hear you crying, even though you could see the tears on his cheeks.

“You love me?” Ominis asked.

“You were going to propose to me?” You said.

71 notes · View notes

wyrmalien · 1 year

Photo

Imbolc shona daoibh! (happy Imbolc to you!) 🐄☀🌱

[Image ID: / A coloured sketch of a white calf. It has a golden triskele on its forehead, and its head is bent low to the ground. It stands in a patch of grass revealed by melting snow, dotted with yellow and orange flowers. Behind its head is a golden starburst that mimics the sun. The background is a grey-blue colour, and white text above the calf reads in a mediaeval font: imbolc shona daoibh! (Im-Olk Hunna Yeev) / End ID]

In many parts of Ireland it is believed that on Imbolc, Brigid will go from house to house with her favourite white cow to bless items left outside by the occupants 🌿

#imbolc #imbolg #cow #spring #artists on tumblr #my art #paganism #imbolcposting. i wanted to do something more so :)#celtic reconstructionist #irish paganism #la fheile bride #st brigids day

428 notes · View notes

ktficworld · 1 year

Text

Loving you is not easy, my dear

Pairing: Steve Rogers x desi!reader

Summary: America thinks Steve Rogers can do better and maybe, they are right.

Warning: heavy racism(seriously, I'm not using this word lightly), angst, hurt/comfort, trolling, protective!Steve, reader gets her revenge on the racist bastards 😈

A/n: posting after so long. Already know traction is going to be shit but I'd really appreciate if you reblog this. I'll try to keep it short(I failed💀)

Tags: @sunshine-on-my-mind @slutty-daddy-pedro

This wasn't supposed to happen.

You weren't ready to get dragged through the mud just yet.

You and Steve have been dating for a year. You were a regular software engineer. Wandering around on the internet, to help fellow programmers with their problems. Little did you know, that none other than Tony Stark was there for help under the disguise of 'toiletdistroyer'; frankly, you should have known by this username, but oh well.

So, you caught the billionaires eye and he offered you a job on the spot. And of course, you took it, much to your parents dismay and happiness. With tears filled in your eyes and aachar, parathe stuffed in your tiffin. Of you went to America.

You didn't meet the captain for a good month and honestly, even if you had. You wouldn't have given two fucks about him since you were stressed to the brim with work and moving in.

You slowly met every avenger. Tony was the first, of course. Then it was Bruce Wayne Banner as you worked on the technical part of a bio-tech project he was developing. He was good but was shy and mostly kept to himself. Afterwards followed, Natasha, she was sassy and perfect. You liked talking to her about girl shit and somehow, she took a liking to your weird ass and you befriended black widow.

Next up, was his best friend. Bucky. He caught you wandering outside the stark building because you came too early and so he joined you and the birds chirping. He was cute and funny, but not your type. Thankfully, he wasn't interested and quickly friend zoned him.

Then you met him.

You whistled as you sauntered into the lobby. Clocking out early from your shift and cherry on top, it was Friday. You were going to have a fun weekend. Talking with your parents, watching kdrama and being gleefully single.

Your whistle was disturbed by something squashy yet hard coming underneath your foot. You retreated your foot and glanced down with furrowed brows. It was a brown leather wallet. With a sigh, you bent down and picked up the lost wallet.

You opened the wallet to see the identity of the abandoned wallet's owner and your eyebrows disappeared into you hairline as the stupidly handsome face of the captain appeared in front of you. He must have dropped it in a hurry.

Your eyes darted around as you bit your bottom lip. The sane thing to do would be to go to the reception, hand her the wallet and go your merry way. But he might still be around and also, the receptionist looked too bitchy for you to deal with. So you went for the less sane option, of course.

You took a deep breath and glanced up at the ceiling. "Hey, Friday. Is Captain Rogers still in the compound?"

"Yes, miss. Shona. Captain Rogers is in the parking lot." The robotic voice of Friday said from above.

"Thank you, Friday." You said and deeply sighed. Yes, you could do it. No need to be nervous. What if he's Captain America? You ain't a criminal. With that peep talk, you rushed to the parking lot.

You almost tripped while trying to find Steve in the parking lot but in the end, you found him. He was swinging his leg to climb on his bike when you shouted to get his attention.

"Captain Rogers! Captain Rogers!" The man stopped mid-way, setting his foot back on the ground as he turned around and you almost died at the sight of him. He was wearing blue jeans, white T-shirt and blue jacket, making his sapphire eyes pop as some blonde hair strands falling over his forehead. Oh, girl. Get a grip on yourself!

He was startled by your incessant shouting as he looked at you with his doe yet alert eyes. "Yes, miss. How can I help you?" He asked, ever the gentleman and you internally sighed in relief that he didn't call you ma'am.

You waved his wallet and said. "Your wallet. I think you dropped in the lobby."

His eyes widened as he patted his pockets and a sheepish look appeared on his face. "Ah, I think I really dropped it. Sorry." He said and walked up to you.

You gave him his wallet with a smile and bit your lip when your hands touched. Fuck, were you on your pms?

You peered at him through your lashes as he checked the insides of the wallet and promptly shoved it in his jeans back pocket.

He glanced at you and with a shy smile, said. "Thank you, miss."

"Oh, no problem. You can call me shona." You didn't know what divine energy of confidence came over you as you extended your hand for Steve to shake.

Steve looked at you funnily but shook your hand nonetheless. "That's not your real name, is it?" He asked timidly after the handshake, his touch lingering on your hand as you unwittingly savoured the feeling.

You beamed at him and shook your head. "Nope."

"Then, what is it?"

You told him your name and the smile on his dashing face faded away as he looked down. You could not blame him, most people had the same reaction and that was why you gave your nickname, not actual name.

"I'll probably butcher that." He muttered sadly as he scratched the back of his neck.

You chuckled and waved off his concerns. "It's alright. Most people can't say my name. Only few special people have made it into a special group who can pronounce it outside India." And it was true. Only few people were able to say your name without getting their tongue twisted, including Natasha.

Steve raised an eyebrow. He bent down, close to your face and whispered, in a husky voice. "And what are the requirements?"

You hummed as you pretend to think with your finger on your chin and said, dramatically. "A lot of dedication and practice."

Now it was his turned to be amused as he leaned even closer and asked. "And what will I get if I get into this special club?"

You were caught off guard as you spluttered out. "Um, what do you want?" And you also had kdramas to binge for fuck sake.

"A dinner sounds good." He said with a lopsided grin.

You gave him a thumbs up and said. "Perfect! Now I need to go. I have a weekend to enjoy, bye." You said and rushed out without a second thought or glance at Steve.

When you sat down in the metro was the time when your dumb mind actually processed his words and you froze In your seat. Wait! Did he just ask you on a date?

He did, in fact, ask you on a date.

After he learned to say your name. You two went on a date and you knew you were doomed. Those blue eyes had effectively captured your heart as you slowly fell for him.

And who won't? He was so soft, affectionate, caring, supportive. He was perfect. You didn't know what he saw in you. You were so... Regular.

But whenever you would say this to him. He would look at you all offended and ask why not? You were beautiful, intelligent and his sunshine. And you melted everytime he said that.

You told your parents and you had to make your mother take an oath that she won't say anything about your relationship to any of your relatives as she just couldn't stop giggling. Thankfully, she kept her oath.

You also officially got introduced to the avengers. Bucky and Natasha already knew about it and everyone was happy for you and Steve. Yeah, Tony did throw a tantrum about how he didn't figure out your budding romance and how Rogers whisked you away from under his nose. His words, not yours. And he also earned a slap to the chest by Pepper for that.

You both decided to keep your relationship private. Steve did not want to make a circus of his relationship in the media and you also wanted to lay low. You wanted to take the Katrina Kaif route, one day you're single and the next day, poof! You are married.

But the Cosmos had another plan.

You didn't know who it was, a reporter or a fan. But someone captured you and Steve in a not so platonic way. You were sitting on his bike, one hand occupied with an ice cream and the other, draped over his board shoulder. He was holding you by the waist as you both kissed. Ice cream long forgotten as you both were smiling into the kiss. But someone had posted it on social media and overnight your very private relationship was in front of the entire world to judge ans comment about.

You woke up to a cold bed and your phone exploded with texts and calls, ranging from judgmental relatives to your friends from India and America to the entire avengers team.

You furrowed your brows at the slew of messages and calls and decided to call Steve but instead his phone blared in your shared room, making you sigh. What the fuck was going on?

You scrolled through your contacts and paused when Natasha's name appeared. You hovered over her number hesitantly before calling her. Just after two rings, she answered.

"Hello, Natasha. What is going on and where is Steve?" You asked her in a sleepy voice and scratched your head.

On the other side of the line, Natasha sucked in a sharp breath and replied with unusual franticness. "Shona, somebody leaked a photo of you two and now the world knows that you both are in a relationship. Steve's in the living room, come here quickly and don't open your social media!" Natasha cautioned.

"Wha-" You didn't even get a chance to comprehend her words before she hang up the call. You glance at your phone incredulously. You sat up straight when your brain finally processed the given information. Your relationship was public. Your Katrina Kaif moment was ruined even before it materialised, ugh! So unfair.

And telling you not to open your social medias? It was like telling a child not to eat the candies from the jar. You bit your lip and opened the hellhole called twitter. And the number one trending hastag was:

#CaptainAmericaisdatingwho?

You tapped on the hastag and was instantly greeted by the picture of you and Steve. Your eyes widened as you took in the picture, whoever clicked it had good photography skills as you looked decent in it. You scrolled down and made a decision you would later come to regret, started reading the reactions of the people.

He is dating an Indian? Why? Did he not find any good girl in here? Insane.

If they have a child, what would be their skin color?

She probably put him under a spell or something.

Wait! She works for Stark, meaning this is a work-place relationship. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

Captain America is taken😭😭😭 why God! Now I need to find someone else to obsess over😭😭😭

Look how she's eating. Like, get some manners girl! 👇

You looked down to the image attached. You were eating rice with your hand and winking at the camera, granted it wasn't the neatest sight but eating food with hands made it taster(yeah, fight me on it!).

That was it, you could not take it anymore. You burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter as you giggled at the comments, doubling down in your bed.

Tears gathered in your eyes as you laughed your ass off on these racists misery. You knew damn well that you would face some form of racism whether you dated Steve or not and it was funny to see them whine like anyone gave a shit.

You scrolled some more laughing at the whiny racist and the memes people made along the way. However, one comment caught your attention as you halted to read it.

Why isn't Steve dating her?

You looked down at the photo and your heart dropped, all your happiness fading away. You stared at the woman's photo for what felt like ages as you observed her porcelain skin, her blonde hair and her perfect figure. She was the epitome of an American woman.

You looked at Sharon's perfect face and could not help but echo the poster's thought. Yeah, why wasn't he dating Sharon? Why was he dating you? A regular girl while he was captain fucking America! He could have anyone he wanted. A model, an actor anyone he wanted and he wanted you? Why?

Much to your detriment, you scroll past it and onto the next comment which said:

So, she's the ugly one in the relationship 🙈🙈🙈

The comment plunged into your soul like a rusted dagger as your breathing becomes a shallow pounding in your ears. You glanced forward, where the full length mirror was sitting and stared at your reflection with critical gaze.

You brought a hand to your face, it was so dull. Your eyes had dark circles and were puffy. Your lips weren't plump enough. Your eyes weren't big enough. Your body wasn't curvy enough. You only had brains. No, you didn't! You weren't special, anyone could do your job with enough practice. You were nothing out of the ordinary.

You were snapped out of your destructive thoughts as your phone was snatched out of your grip. You whipped your eyes to the perpetrator and a very furious Natasha glared back at you.

"What did I tell you about not checking your social media?" Natasha asked, enraged as she waved your phone in her hands.

You didn't want Natasha to be proven right so you scoffed and replied. "Telling someone not to do something will only make them do it more. Haven't you heard of reverse psychology, agent?" You snarked and Natasha shook her head in displeasure.

"You coming with me?" Natasha asked.

You paused to think and then shook your head. "Let me shower first. I feel dirty and sleepy."

Natasha nodded thoughtfully and said. "Okay, I'll stay here."

You whined in protest but quickly shut up after receiving a steely glare fron the black widow which would make even the toughest villians pee their pants. You showered, taking extra long as you got distracted by your thoughts yet again. And made your way to the living room with Natasha in toe.

And you heard it before you saw it. The annoying voice of one of the most famous conservative journalist as he said that Steve Rogers could do much better, that this relationship wasn't going to last and that he wished it won't last long.

The last part made your stomach churn in uncertainty.

The pattering of footsteps alerted the other avengers of your arrival. Tony and Steve were standing next to each other as they talked in hushed yet aggressive tone.

Tony looked annoyed than ever as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. While, Steve? Steve looked like just one poke and he would snap. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were ablaze as he stood taut.

Both of the man's gaze snapped towards you as Steve's face softened and he rushed towards you, blocking your view to the TV as Tony hastily turned it off.

"You finally done sleeping, sleepy head?" Steve asked affectionately as he caressed you cheek.

You hummed absentmindedly and forced a smile on your face. "Slept like a baby." You said and the air was so thick with tension that it was strangling you more than your own mind as no one dared to talk about the elephant in the room.

Eventually, Steve cleared his throat and said in a whisper. "You already know what happened but don't worry, I'm with you." And pulled you into his embrace. Yes, why are you with me, Steve? What do you like in having to deal with all this drama when you could date any white woman and keep the peace?

You tried to reciprocate his hug but it was a half hearted attempt as you were fixated onto something else.

"Yeah, don't do anything stupid." Sam said when you and Steve parted. His face was empathic and knowing and your heart broke at that. Still, you gave him a half smile.

"Hey! That's my line!" Bucky yelled in offence, making Sam scowl at him.

"You don't own a sentence, Buchanan." Sam countered.

"Don't call me that and I would copyright..." They kept bickering but you tuned them out as the seed of doubt started sprouting in your consciousness.

📷

But it only got worse. The hate just didn't stop and everyone was piling up on you. Indians did come to your defence, questioning the racism and the unrequited hate you were getting.

But some were also interrogating you. Why were you dating captain America? Why were you flying so high? That he may just be using you and would leave you for an American sooner or later. This sentiment was also shared by your relatives.

Your parents were on your side but you could sense that seeing you get attacked was upsetting them. You put up a brave face in front of the world but you were crumbling down from the depths of your being. You were falling down an abyss and no matter how hard you shouted for help, your mind didn't let up its torment.

You didn't tell the avengers or Steve because they was already so stressed out dealing with all this fiasco. He was so distraught that he didn't even notice you withdrawing from him. He didn't notice how you slept on the edge of the bed instead of in his arms. He didn't notice that you avoided mirror like a plague. He didn't notice how you were drowning in your minds stupid tricks.

That was until it boiled over.

It was a quiet evening. You were walking back to the compound after running some errands. Apparently, Indian species were hella expensive and hard to find in there so you shopped for them by yourself. And it was also because you liked these non-eventful and tranquil moments that you had reserved for yourself.

You were absentmindedly trudging forward as the compound just entered your peripheral when a shout jolted you out of your trance like state.

"Go back to your country!"

You whirled around, only to come face-to-face with a regular white man. Seriously, he didn't even look like a Kevin or intimidating, just run of the mil white guy, very easy to blend in the crowd.

You raised your eyebrows and exclaimed. "Excuse me?"

The man tutted and took a step forward, you taking a backward step. "Didn't you hear me? I said, go back to your country."

"This is getting old. Try something new." You said with a bored voice and crossed your arms on your chest.

"Seriously, first you take our jobs then resources and now our hero? Just because you don't have anything in your country, doesn't mean you should come running to us and mooch off of us." He ranted with a grunt.

"Why? You wanna date him?" You eyed him from head to toe. "To my knowledge, Steve is straight and even if he wasn't. I don't think he would date someone like you." You snided.

His jaw ticked as he took a step forward. "You don't deserve him!" He spat.

Yes, you don't deserve him. Your mind supplied as your grip around the shopping bag loosened.

"He deserves better." Yes, he deserved better.

"You are nothing." Yes, you were nothing.

You were so hypnotised by your minds scorching affirmations that you didn't see the approaching threat.

You yelped as your back hit an electric poll, grocery bag falling on the ground. The man lunging forward for an attack but before he could even lift his hand, a punch from his left side shoved him away and he landed on the ground with a pained grunt.

You let out a shuddery breath as you slowly glanced to your left, your whole body trembling with fear. Your eyes landed on Steve standing there, panting heavily as his knuckles were painted crimson, by whose blood? You didn't know. His eyes were ablaze and his face was murderous as he began charging towards the whimpering man on the pavement.

This snapped you from whatever demons were holding you as marched towards him and shrieked. "Steve, stop!"

You stopped in front of him and wrapped youur hands around his. He halted in his steps, his face instantly softening as he unclenched his fists and dropped his offensive stance. He cupped your right cheek and you spluttered out a sob.

You glanced down at his bloody knuckle and coked out. "Steve, let's go."

He glanced behind you at the whining man and then nodded. He tucked you in his embrace while your gaze never left his knuckles. This was all your fault. Because of you, he almost lost control of himself and if he would have done something then you would have also smeared his name. Maybe it was good to end things.

📷

The room was pin-drop silent, only the sniffling of you and Steve and the clinking of the first aid kit being shut closed reverberated through the walls. Steve had started to talk as soon as you left the man writhing on the cold sidewalk but one finger of yours on his lips and he shut up, accepting your silent plea of solace. But you couldn't push back the inevitable any longer.

You lifted up the first aid kit and set it inside one of the cabinets in the bathroom. When you came back, you sat down on the coffee table ahead of Steve and peered at him through your lashes, your heart breaking when your gaze landed at his pretty face. You would miss him.

It was Steve who spoke first. He intertwined his bandaged hand with yours and softly said. "I'm sorry, you are suffering so much because of me and I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you."

Swallowing, you looked down as tears beaded your eyelashes and muttered out. "I think we should break up, Steve. It's not working out." Saying those words was like stabbing yourself in the chest with a scorching knife.

Steve instantly stiffened and his grip on your hand grew tight as he refused to let you go. "Why?" He asked and before you could reply, his bitter laugh made your head snap upwards as he shook his head.

"Why am I asking this? This should be pretty obvious to me," He sniffled as few tears slid down his cheeks. He glanced at you and you had to bite your lip to hold back your own tears as his pained and misty eyes stared into yours. "Is there nothing I could do to change your mind? To make you give me a second chance? Do you not love me anymore?"

The last part was like a slap to your face as you furiously shook your head and yelled. "I love you with all my heart, body, mind and soul. I love you more than anything in this world, more than I could ever articulate."

"Then why are you leaving me?" He asked in a whisper.

And the flood burst gates open as you broke down. "BECAUSE I DON'T DESERVE YOU."

Steve immediately placed you in his lap as sons wrecked through your body. "Why would you say that? You deserve the world, doll."

"No Steve, no! You are Captain America and I'm nothing. You are gorgeous and I'm ugly. You are perfect and I'm not." You cried into his chest, selfishly seeking his warmth.

Steve jutted your chin upwards and gazed down at you with soft offense. "No, honey. I'm not perfect, I betrayed Tony, I have done so many things that I regret. I have cried in your arms multiple times and you have seen me vulnerable." He said through his own tears.

"But you are so pretty. You should be dating a model or an actress, not me."

"Who like me for being Captain America? No way and," He held your face in his palms and continued. "You are the most beautiful, most intelligent, most amazing woman I have ever met. I won't trade you for anyone."

"Then why I doesn't feel like it, Steve? You asked in a defeated whisper. "Why can't I see myself the way you see me?"

"I can help you look at yourself like I look at you. Please just, don't leave me. I can't live without you. We can survive this storm." He murmured softly kissed your sore eyes.

Your lips quivered as you brought your hands to Steve's face. "I want you, Steve. I want you so much but holding you feels like a sin."

"And holding you feels like a dream. A dream I thought I would never have," He said quietly and gently pressed his forehead with yours. "Just give me another chance. Give us another chance."

"Okay." You replied. Your sobs had ended and draped a heavy blanket of fatigue over you in their farewell as you melted into Steve's hold and Steve snuggled in you more. You didn't know when he placed you on your bed or when you fell asleep in his arms. You let yourself fall into his bliss as all the demons left you. Because in this moment , Steve was yours and you were his and that was all that mattered.

📷

You yawned as you got out of your slumber. The bed was cold again as Steve was nowhere to be found. Again.

Maybe he realised you were right and moved instead of kicking you out. You sniffed a little and turned around, so you were facing the front of your room. But your face instantly scrunched up in bewilderment as you took in the sight.

There were polaroid pictures hanging from the ceiling by a white thread, all facing away from you. You scratched your head as you tentatively got out of the bed. How the fuck did someone hang these and you didn't even stir? Was this from hydra?

The last thought made you gulp as you gingerly reached out for the first picture and pulled it close to read the text written on it with a marker.

Do you remember the time when you handled the toughest project alone?

-Tony

"Huh, what?" Now you were even more confused as you flipped the glossy paper and burst out into a fit of laughter.

It was a picture of you handing Tony a golden toilet trophy like you were handing an Oscar with a megavolt grin as he was rolling his eyes but still, he begrudgingly received the award.

You wiped off a tear from your eye and refocused back on his question. You hummed to yourself as you took a trip down the memory lane. It was a very important biotech project and there had come a point where the connection between the software and hardware had broken and no one could figure why because everything was normal and nothing seemed faculty. It turned out to be a software issue as the code had malfunctioned and needed to be rewritten in a more efficient manner.

You led the team who did that and boy were those days exhausting. Overtime, frustration, failure after failure and of course the moral of the team going down. But you managed to keep the team together and pulled through. Providing excellence.

You smiled a little at that memory. You weren't that useless.

Sighing, you stepped forward to the next picture and read the text on it.

Remember when you got hit on and Steve scowled?

-Natasha and Wanda

You turned the photo around, showing you, Wanda and Natasha. You and Wanda were eating a leftover cake while Natasha was drinking wine straight from the bottle.

You remembered that night. You were minding your own business and not touching alcohol since you didn't want to wake up with a pounding headache. when a guy suddenly materialised next to you and ordered a drink for you without even asking and began flirting.

You smoothly pulled yourself out of that situation and gave the drink to Natasha but Steve had witnessed the whole interaction and he looked like he wanted to sucker punch that poor dude. He was teased relentlessly about it for a month.

Now that you thought about it. You were hit on multiple times on multiple occasions. It was a game of sorts between you and Steve. Since your relationship was private, it was amusing to see people ask you or Steve on a date. You always relished in watching girls flirt with Steve because he would always get uncomfortable and nope out of there like his life depended on it. It was fun because no matter how much they flirted with him, you knew that the man was yours.

You chuckled and caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. You weren't that bad looking.

You walked up to the next polaroid and snatched it closer.

Remember when you comforted me when everyone was sleeping?

-Bucky

Your eyes filled with tears as you flicked to see yours and Bucky's image, it was clicked during lockdown when everyone stressed a lot about cleaning everything. You were pretending to sing with a cleaner bottle in your hand as a microphone and Bucky was using a broom as his guitar.

With a reminiscent smile and you thought back to that one stormy night when Steve was out on a mission and everyone was sound asleep.

You being the insomniac that you were started trudging towards the kitchen for some late night snack but stopped mid-way when you heard whimpers coming from Bucky's room. You went inside without asking but saw him crying alone in his bed. He was so resistant to your comfort and even yelled at you for intruding on his privacy: but he was right about it. However, he caved in the end and cried his heart out while you held him. Then you both watched anime and ate chips. Sleep was nowhere to be found that night.

You bit your lips as you went to the last and final picture, that was dangling before the door.

Remember why I love you?

-Steve

You burst into tears as the realisation dawned on you that it was he, who did all of this. To make you see yourself through his eyes and everybody's eyes. And no, you didn't remember why he loved you because there were too many moments and reasons to remember all that once.

Warmth bloomed in your chest as you finally looked at the picture and it was just like your relationship. Sweet and simple. With you both in the bed, hair messy and lazy smiles on your faces. It was a morning selfie that you taken sporadically on his phone.

You loved him. You loved him so much and you wanted to be with him till the end of the line. Because even if you were just a regular jane, you loved him and he loved you and that was all that mattered.

In your whirlpool of emotions, you didn't register the the bedroom door clicking open and Steve walking inside. It was when his strong arms enveloped you, did you got out of your reverie and glanced at him, teary eyed.

You hugged him back and wept louder in his chest as he rubbed your head. "I love you. I'm sorry for telling everyone about what you were going through but I thought it would help, please stop crying."

You slapped a hand over his lips and cried out. "Shut up. You lovely little dork. I love you. You did nothing wrong in my eyes."

With hope twinkling in his eyes, he removed your palm and asked. "So, will you give us another chance?"

"Yes! This one incident won't make my problems go away in a snap but I want to be with you and learn to love myself like you love me." You said through a smile and leaned to kiss him when-

"What about the trolls?" Tony's voice made you shriek in surprise as Steve gave him an exasperated look.

"Really, Tony?" Steve said with displeasure.

"Yeah, really asshole?" Natasha said and slapped Tony on the head.

Tony scrunched up his face in indignation and said. "But I need to know. She's not used to the attention and hate. And she can't even deactivate her social media because she is one of our representatives from tech."

This made a bulb go off in your head as you held up your plam and said. "Don't worry, Tony. I'll have it handled. Plus, we didn't really publicly announced our relationship, did we?"

Steve narrowed his eyes at you but you just grinned at him devilishly. Time to troll the trolls.

📷

You softly closed the bathroom door as you stepped outside, your white saree grazing the floor. You looked ahead and your jaw went slack, Steve was his blue powder blue shirt and black pants and his blonde hair practically glowed in the golden light of the evening. He looked so gorgeous that you just couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

But then you realised his intense stare on you and you quickly looked down, heat raising to your cheeks. "Stop, staring, it's creepy."

Steve let out a throaty chuckle and said. "I can say the same thing about you."

You opened your mouth to reply but the Bucky's exasperated voice interjected with a grunt. "You both can do this later. Now, come on before the sunsets and the light is gone." And harshly thrusted his phone in the direction of the door.

You chuckled. "Alright, let's go." Steve held your hand as you both walked outside the compound and into the evening sun. After, finding a place where the background was greenery instead of a concrete jungle. You perched on his Harley. Your hand snaked around his neck as his came down to rest on your butt while he stood in the middle of your legs and both came forward to kiss each other.

Bucky clicked the picture but Steve didn't let you go until the need for oxygen became dire. You smiled bashfully and wiped your mouth as you finally got off his bike and went to the very unimpressed Bucky.

He shoved your phone into your hands and ran away before he had to endure any of your pda any further.

You shrugged it off and looked at the photo. Thankfully, it was good and you gave Steve a thumbs up before posting it with a caption:

I corrupted the golden boy and I'm not sorry 😈

Steve also posted the same picture but his caption was more modest:

My love ❤

And. It. Blew. Up, again.

The haters and racist started whining again. Sane people supported you both and laughed at the haters, going as far as making memes. You were trending again, many famous people also came out of the woodworks and congratulated you both which made you roll your eyes.

You didn't care about the public thought of you. You wanted to troll the haters and you successfully accompanied that.

However, it didn't end there. As your devil incarnate friends decided to add fuel to the fire by posting pictures of you and Steve being all over each other with a complimentary middle finger emoji. And apparently, everybody had one.

Either you two were pervs Or your friends were nosey as fuck. Natasha and Bucky agreed with the former assumption.

Bucky posted you both kissing on a picnic.

Natasha of you sitting in Steve's lap.

Sam posted a photo of your head resting in his lap.

Heck, even Peter posted a photo where Steve was kissing your temple.

There were many more but you that was enough for the day as you switched off your phone and tossed it on the bed side table.

"I just wish, no pray that my parents don't see any of these pictures or I will be having an interesting phone call with them. The relatives are still blasting my phone but I ignored them as always." You rambled to Steve as he slid under the covers.

Steve let out a raspy chuckle and said. "I don't think they haven't seen it yet as we're all over the, well everything."

You groaned and pouted at Steve because he didn't need to always tell the truth but as soon as you locked eyes with him you melted in his oceanic blue gaze. He pulled you into his comforting arms and you happily obliged.

"Steve, now that the whole mess is kinda resolved. What's next?" You asked as you gazed into his sapphire blue eyes.

He hummed and gazed back at you. "What's next? Good question, but I don't think you want to hear the answer to that. Would ruin the fun. " He whispered and leaned down to kiss you before you could question him further.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers moodboard #steve rogers x desi reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans #chris evans x desi!reader #chris evans x you #captain america imagines #captain america

201 notes · View notes

shesjustanothergeek · 9 months

Text

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-Three

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Hey, besties; sorry for the delay. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. First, one of my coworkers called off (she doesn't even work here anymore because she missed too much), and I had to do two 10-hour shifts. Then my freaking internet went out because some tree trimmers cut the connection line for everyone! And after that, I had a crisis and lost the inspiration and drive to write. This chapter is a two-parter, which I usually wouldn't say I like to do, but it would've been over 10k words. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, thank you for reading!

Chapter Warnings: The reader has severely unresolved trauma, angst, Arryk is a white knight.

"The axe forgets; the tree remembers." - Zimbabwean Proverb from the Shona tribe.

You were still determining your place inside Maegor's Holdfast, unfamiliar with the royal wing layout like you were with the rest of the Keep, having found an abandoned terrace that the court long forgot. Leaves of green ivory crawled up the side of the castle, wrapping around the red rock banister like an unkempt tree in the Godswood.

Your eyes gazed at the iron mote of spikes that protected the Holdfast. They shined wet like a predator's teeth, grinning back at you in misery.

Your body felt full, yet empty, full of swirling emotions and thoughts you had long buried, stirring the formerly clear water into a murky pool. Yet in that same emotion, you felt nothing, the well dried up from a summer's prolonged drought left with dust and sand at the bottom. You were uncertain if the nothingness was a blessing. Conceivably, it was your psyche's way of coping with the trauma of your life's story. You were fearful that if you suddenly felt those surges of memories, thoughts, and regrets, the iron spikes would be dripping with your blood.

Your title was called out from behind you so softly and so tender it was a whisper in the wind, almost causing you to disregard it as a trick of your mind. The sound of armor clanking and fabric rustling told you otherwise.

"Princess, the hour is late. You must get your rest," Ser Arryk expressed, his voice as compassionate as a mother. You refused to answer, the energy to move your lips and tongue long sapped out from crying.

He stepped onto the balcony until he was beside you, his arms stiff behind his back, shoulders tense at the silence. Arryk was conflicted about what to do. He knew he could not order you to sleep. His position was not one to command the eldest daughter of Daemon Targaryen, but he was assigned to be your sworn protector in all matters, whether defending you from a foe or yourself.

"My Lady, you need not speak of what has stolen you from sleep, but let it take no longer. I shall lead you to your bed chambers," the kingsguard offered kindly, leaving no room for rejection.

Finally, your eyes met his blue ones, seeing your black lashes clumped together from tears. Arryk wanted to comfort and embrace you as any good-natured person would but refrained, simply placing an inviting palm on your shoulder. He had seen you at your worst years ago after your brawl with the Septa, knuckles swollen and red with the blood of the older woman, beautiful face pink and glistening with tears down your cheeks.

Otto Hightower, be damned. Damned to the fiery pits of the Seven Hells to burn for all eternity for what he made Arryk do. You were too dear to the knight to betray your trust anymore. Though Ser Arryk never discovered any hurtful information other than the peculiarity of you and the eldest son of the King's relationship. He spent every waking moment inhaling the same air as you, breathing in each exhale like it was his last. How could he ever betray your trust in good conscience?

"Aegon was the one who discovered Lyra's plans to smuggle me out of Kings Landing. He killed them." Your words tore him from his internal struggle with shock.

Arryk's brows scrunched in confusion, trying to recall what you were saying. His face paled when he did, remembering the blotchy grey faces displayed on the battlements of the Red Keep for all to see, for all to see the Hand's justice. May Lord Hightower's death be long and painful for what he did to you, Arryk thought.

"I wish Aegon were dead," you spoke aloud without realizing it.

The knight became worried, suddenly closing the distance between you to make somehow your confession disappear. "Princess. You must be careful what you say here. The walls have ears, and the ears have eyes."

"No, Ser Arryk. Let them hear it," you protested, your nails digging crescents into your palms. "Mayhaps they will understand the agony I have suffered all these years. The mornings and nights I have laid awake in bed, praying to the Old Gods and the New for them to somehow bring her back and make it so nothing happened." You sucked in a ragged breath, hiccuping from the remnants of your tears as your body became too challenging to carry. "I cannot do this anymore. I cannot be here."

The kingsguardmen did not understand your true meaning of how you desired greatly to leave this whole charade behind, to return to Dragonstone and watch little Joffery and the younger Viserys and Aegon grow into their skins, to watch Lucerys become the man you were confident for him to be. Instead, Arryk thought the worst, believing your words to be final and life-ending, as he firmly grabbed your biceps.

He said your name gently yet sternly, causing your glazed eyes to widen. "You must not think like that. I shan't allow it," he commanded. "You are the strongest maiden in the realm. You ride the fiercest dragon, feared by humans and its species. You have endured hardships and trials a girl of your age should never have to, and even when your blood was stolen from you, you did not turn to resentment. You were not bitter to those undeserving."

You attempted to move your face away from Arryk's, unconvinced at his words. He was so close that you could smell the mint leaves on his tongue. "You are stronger than you know, and until then, each moment like this, you will feel as if it is too much, but you will always find yourself emerging on the other side."

No words made their way to your lips, and you suddenly felt the rush of emotions you had thought dried. You stepped away from Arryk, embracing your torso as you faced the opened doors that led inside. You didn't want to feel anything. Not now, nor ever again. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you returned to the silver-armored knight of the Kingsguard.

"I seem to have lost my bearings, Ser Arryk," you whispered into the chill night air. "Will you help me find my way back to the guest wing?"

The request was a peace offering, a silent "thank you" for his unfailing kindness. If he had not dedicated his life in service to the King, he would've made an excellent father and an even better husband.

Ser Arryk nodded stiffly, taking long strides ahead of you until all you could see was his pristine white cape flowing like a field of wheat in the wind.

***

You desperately desired to stay within the confines of your bed, as if laying underneath the thin cotton sheets would protect you from the outside world. It was silly, and you felt childish, but truly, that was all you were—a child disguised as a woman painting a facade of fierceness and maturity on your skin. But the pigments had cracked and bleached from weathering winds, rains, and suns until it revealed the canvas underneath. You wished desperately for the chips to be covered, groping at your flesh to hide them from the world.

But it was too late, for they had seen the peeled paint and what lay beneath—a frightened young girl yearning for acceptance and love.

Tears returned to your eyes, a common occurrence over the past fortnight. Your maids had become used to seeing you sniffling in your bed as you were now, covers tucked underneath your nose to hide your sobs. They had tried more than once to find the root of your sadness, but you were a closed door, keeping those who cared for you locked from entering.

Helaena had moved your quarters to the Holdfast as she promised, something you were initially looking forward to. It meant less sneaking around the halls and the corridors of the Keep like a mouse to find Aegon, but that was why precisely you dreaded it now. Though you had scarcely seen him, no doubt drunker than a Bravosi sailor in the pillow houses, the fact that he resided within the same wing made your skin prickle with disgust.

He had yet to return your dagger, small and silver with dragons on the hilt, and you had half a mind to storm inside his chambers for it, but each time you were within eyesight of his door, profound nausea and the sting of tears would stop you.

How could you have lain with the man who bore the blood of two innocents? How could Aegon lay with the kin of the people he sentenced to death? You knew him to be cruel and unusual, but that was something even you could not rightly justify.

Aegon was no matter, you told yourself, rising from your bed at the smell of ham and boiled eggs. All that did was ensuring your Mother's smooth succession. You could achieve it in other manners of not seducing the eldest son of the King. Your presence was something enough to stop them should the Stranger take your Grandsire, and if Queen Alicent and Lord Otto Hightower try to place Aegon on the throne, you would gut her, then her Father, then her beloved first son before the following morn.

You would kill a legion of men before Aegon ever sat upon the Iron Throne, even if it meant your demise.

It's what your Father would want. He would proudly let his daughter lay down her life in service to the crown, just as he would. There would be no nobler of a death.

Jeyne had readied your bath and outfit for the day, a high-collared dress made of black satin. Small silver plates of metal and beads that looked like dragon scales were sewn on the torso in a 'v' shape, accentuating the scandalous low cut of your gown. The sleeves were a long, unsewn style, the stitching keeping them together ending just before the crook of your arm and flowing around you like a cape at your sides. You paired it with an ornate belt, the design of swirling dragons with their teeth bared melted into the steel, matching hammered cuffs on your wrists. Your necklace was a simple chain, needlelike links dripping down your sternum until they looped into your house sigil.

You looked to be in mourning garbs rather than the typical court colors, a common occurrence. Perhaps you were, in a sense, mourning. Mourning a loss you should have accepted years ago, weeping for happiness free of politics and schemes, mourning the connection from someone you tried so hard not to form one with.

The three ladies had learnt not to ask why you made such decisions in your clothes. They would only be met with a lie and a smile that stretched a bit too wide. They understood that something had happened and did their best to tread carefully. You were not cross with them, no matter how hurt, vengeful, or angry. Fiora, Jeyne, and Dyanna were innocent in all this, as Sara was, and you refused to have them involved with any of your personal affairs in fear of what would become of the three women.

You paused momentarily, adjusting the designed belt to rest comfortably on your waist, realizing the littlest maid was not there.

"Where is Dyanna?" you asked calmly, curious but not concerned about where she could be. "Is she unwell?"

"No, Princess," Fiora answered, ushering you to the vanity. "She's been assigned to care for Princess Helaena's children after one of the nursemaids fell ill and had to be sent home."

Your brows scrunched in confusion, frowning at the memory of your time with the young Prince and Princess. You have seen the little ones almost every day since the beginning of the planting season, and you haven't noticed any ailments in their caretaker.

You reasoned that illnesses always had the potential to be a sudden onset of symptoms. You had seen in your childhood on the merchant streets how a vendor was acceptable one day, selling different fruits and vegetables you could never afford, then the next, gone without a trace due to a fever. You hoped Jaehaerys and Jaehaera did not catch whatever it was. The first decade of a child's life was the most precarious, their tiny bodies not used to the dirt and disease the realm had to offer.

You left the thought at that, hoping to see the skittish, fair-skinned girl with them. A grimace made its way to your face, attempting to ignore how the wooden comb snagged on a tangle in your hair. Fiora styled it into a braided updo. Two thick plaits in a 'u' shape lay at your skull's base, a silver three-layered chain with black star sapphires pinning it to your hair. Clasping a pair of fan-shaped earrings in your lobes, you stood, stealing one last boiled egg before bidding your ladies farewell and greeting Ser Arryk at the door.

He followed wordlessly, as any knight should, observing how your hips slightly swayed with each step of your leather slippers. Arryk had tread carefully since that scornful night. Since the night you reeked of sweat, alcohol, and tears. He remembered seeing the stars reflected in your dark eyes, the violet hidden during the hour of the wolf, and he couldn't help but think how things might have been if your Father wasn't a Targaryen.

Perhaps he could've met you before he swore to take no wife and bear no heirs. Possibly still while he was a simple bannermen, living from allowance to allowance. Arryk would not have the luxuries he had now if it happened, but if ever given a chance, he might leave it all behind. It would be a shame to leave the highest rank a knight of lower-born descent could achieve, but he would do it for love, for only if you loved him back.

Your guard had suddenly stopped following behind you, standing idly with a slight wrinkle on his forehead and hand on the pommel of his sword.

"Ser Cargyll?" you questioned without words incredulously, tilting your head to the side.

He was silent for a moment more, seeming to come back from wherever he was inside his mind. It was a dangerous place to be inside one's head for too long. It sent some men mad, some women to despair, and some to where they could never leave. You knew what it was like when one would stay inside too long. It sent you reeling in anger, sadness, and joy. There is too much inside not to get lost in.

"Princess, this is not the way to the Godswood," Ser Arryk stated, the crease on his forehead gone.

"I know, Ser. We are not going to the Godswood today," you answered politely, not elaborating further as you continued walking.

"If you don't mind me asking, your Grace, where are we going?"

You flashed a bright smile at Arryk, glancing behind before coyly turning away. He started at the back of your intricately braided hair, mesmerized by the being that was you. His eyes traced how your ebony strands crossed in on themselves, the way the golden chains bounced with every stride. The knight noiselessly cursed the Maiden and the Mother for making you in their image.

While Ser Arryk did recognize the halls you traveled, he was sure you didn't. Your head twists and turns each way, peering into every door and threshold, searching for something he was unsure of.

"Princess, I may be a knight, but I am your protector. 'Tis my right to know your plans and destinations," he commanded as kindly a man could in hopes of not securing your wrath.

He had seen it once before in the training yard at the hour of ghosts, Prince Aegon standing too close to be considered appropriate, his sworn protector nowhere in sight. Despite Arryk's place on the ramparts above and the sun having long set in the west, he could spot the twitches underneath your eye, barely containing malice on your pursed lips as you pulled your bowstring. The knight hadn't noticed how you did it, but a rock was within the place of the arrow as you shot it at the crown Prince's foot, earning a yelp from the twenty-year-old lecher.

You turned back to him, crossing your arms with an undignified huff. "I am not gallivanting off into the Kingswood, Ser Cargyll. I do not understand your persistence with the matter." Arryk attempted to hide the frown that pulled his lips, but you saw him sighing softly and looking to the floor to think over your words more carefully. "We are visiting Grand Maester Orwyle. He has a collection of history and law books that has peaked my interest."

You stepped towards him, breathing a calming breath through your nose, and dropped your arms. Ser Arryk was a fragile soul, simple almost, only following the linear path of honor and duty with no concern for whether it was right or wrong. If the King said it, he did it. If the Queen said it, he did it. If you said it, he did it. His singular vision of things was almost admirable at times. To blindly follow orders without the moral guilt of your actions was something you hoped for. It would make things easier in this game of thrones and less heavy to bear.

But that wasn't life. That wasn't the fate the Gods intended for those with responsibility, though many attempted. Rhaenyra tried, and if you were her, impending the ever-looming doom of the crown, you too would stay tucked away in the little world where life felt light.

Arryk took your stillness as an invitation to walk alongside you, silently leading you to the Maester's quarters and saving your pride from ignorance. You ordered him to stay outside, and he obeyed without a second thought, dipping his head and muttering, "Princess."

Maester Orwyle was hunched over a large oak desk, tomes scattered across it, pieces of parchment covering most of the surface; peeking between them were lighter patches on the wood worn from centuries of usage. It was a simple room with a cot at the far end of it, large bookcases occupying most of the space. Multiple candles were lit throughout the dim room, the smell of incense burning heavily. Shelves lined the bare walls, glass bottles of liquids, salves, and dried herbs occupying them.

The brown-skinned man looked up from his work upon your entrance, sitting the quill he was writing with inside the inkwell and standing.

"Princess, how can I help you?" he asks sincerely. You could still recall when you first met him, scribbling notes and assisting the former Maester Mellos as he tended to you.

"I was inquiring if I may borrow some books of laws from your collection. I find myself not reading the correct ones in the library to assist my studies."

You weren't lying. You couldn't find the text you were searching for because it was not only laws. It was the death records of prisoners, and only the keeper of those things had access to them in their collection.

"Ah. I see," Orwyle nodded, rising from his desk and clasping his hands behind his canvas robes. He led you across the room, showing you to the section. "May I ask what specificity you require so that I may lead you to the correct tome?"

You planned for him to ask you this, and as you rehearsed a dozen times in your head, you smiled, bobbing politely. "Of course. I am in search of the laws regarding war aid. We have provided some to the Stepstones, and Lord Corlys brought to my attention that they require more. I do not want to make it seem like the Crown is inserting itself into the conflict."

He beamed slightly, a sight you never recalled seeing on the man before as he directed you to the section of law. An entire side of the bookshelf dedicated to just that, tomes of varying shades of green, brown, and black, and you blanched at the sight. What would the records be like if this was only the law section? Would you have time to sort through them all to find the one you need?

"Thank you," you said, concealing the sudden rush of anxiety within your gut. "I realized that your collection was vast, but this is..." you trailed off, gesturing to everything around you, "expansive. How do you ever keep track of them all?"

Orwyle chuckled, seeming to preen under what he took as praise, bowing in gratefulness. "It is not all from me, Princess. Each book has been added with every Maester since they were brought to the Keep. We simply divide each shelf by memory, though we try to keep the subjects together."

"That is..." you couldn't find the right words, truly at a loss for them as you stared at the collection before you, "extraordinary. You must show me everything!"

You took his arm in yours, leading him out of the secluded area like a child with their playmate, giggling like an unwed maiden as you skipped along. Orwyle was surprised by your giddy demeanor, contrasting the dim and almost gloomy atmosphere despite the late morning sun shining through the tall stained glass windows. The Maester was alone within these four walls, writing, studying, and mixing away with the occasional Lord or Lady stopping by. To have such radiant company was a welcomed intrusion to his duty-filled days.

Men are so easy. All you had to do was smile demurely, flutter your lashes, and they would eat shit out of the palm of your hand.

Orwyle guided you, explained how each section was organized, and added his anecdotes. You listened intently, nodding along to every word, no matter how minute it seemed. This endeavor had proven more fruitful than you intended. The Maester had enjoyed your company so much that he invited you back, insisting that you could pick whatever book you wished before he left to return to his work.

And so you did. Traversing to your rooms with six tomes piled high in your limbs before Ser Arryk insisted he carry some, keeping one hidden between the stack within your hold.

Once you reach your chambers, your sworn shield follows you, placing the stacks on a table with neatly stacked parchment, a letter sealed with the Targaryen emblem in black wax resting beside your writing set. You catch Arryk eyeing it for longer than appropriate, and you purposely meet his gaze, a raised brow on your face.

"That is all, Ser Cargyll. I thank you for your assistance." You never fail to detect how he stiffens when you say his title, a quirk you've been unable to comprehend.

As always, he bows and takes his leave, shutting the door noiselessly behind him. When the lock clicks, your hands immediately snatch the letter, knowing who it's from. You lived for the notes from your family; they were the lifeline that kept you afloat in the brackish waters of Kings Landing. It was your only form of communication with them, and you looked ahead to whatever they had to say, no matter how asinine or mundane the contents were.

You ripped the wax seal without care, devouring each word, your eyes moving too fast for your mind to keep up. You could quickly tell it was from your Father, the lines of his letters thicker and more potent than your Mother's, his writing purposeful.

"Daughter,

I hope you find yourself well. Your Mother missed you dearly at Jacaerys' nameday this spring, but she looks forward to seeing you for Luke's later this year. I informed her that you are dealing with matters of importance that require your attention and would be unable to attend. Death comes when we least expect it with crowned heads and ambitious hands."

Tears stinging took you from reading, pursuing your lips to keep them from wetting the document and making the ink illegible. You longed to return to Dragonstone and see your family. Smell the scent of brimstone and salt and feel the damp sea air on your skin as you rode Cannibal high above Dragonmont.

Daemon's reasoning was understandable, but it hurt. It made your heart clench and your chest feel hollow. Resting your forehead on the heel of your palm, the letter in the other, you continued.

"I know this will upset you, but I trust you'll understand my reasoning. We must make sacrifices until your Mother sits on the throne uncontested. You see the concept of duty and loyalty to your kin. You've always been the one out of my children to unwaver in your will, and that is something I admire.

I received word from Lord Dalton Greyjoy, who has proposed marriage just as you said. Your wit and cunning never cease to amaze me, daughter. I still need to send word regarding my decision. I wanted you to be the one to decide.

Lord Greyjoy is a fine match for you. His fleet of long boats and swords rivals that of the crown itself, but I hold my reservations regarding his intentions with you. I believe you have outdone yourself, for he seems bewitched, intent on making you his Rock Wife, and I am unsure if that is harmful or helpful. I've heard the rumors of his treatment regarding his Salt Wives, and I will not tolerate such things toward my eldest child. Should you accept his proposal, and he does not honor his duty as lord husband, I shall cut off his cock and throw it into the sea as a gift for his Drowned God.

Think over this. I do not expect an answer within a moon. If he truly desires you in such a way, he will wait as long as you deem fit. My daughter is not a shiny coin to be plucked and placed in a crow's nest.

Expect a letter from Lucerys soon. He's been inquiring about your happiness. I believe he misses you more than your Mother and I put together. I await your next raven with patience.

Yours Respectfully, Prince Daemon Of House Targaryen"

You scoffed, throwing the letter haphazardly across the table. You knew the proposal from Lord Dalton would come eventually, as you had corresponded for the past seven moons. It was a gratifying distraction you should have taken seriously, your letters filled with much less pomp than was expected for a woman of your status. Possibly, in your lack of care, you inadvertently wooed him as his last raven was treading the line of inappropriate. You remembered how his words made you, a girl who spent her early years in a whore house, blush.

He would be an excellent match politically, and perhaps you could grow to love him, even better his treatment of his Salt Wives. But you knew better. Lord Dalton Greyjoy only loved two things in this world: bloodshed and women. He would grow tired of you swifter than you would him, and it was not proper for women of the realm to have paramours, hypocrisy be damned.

You didn't want to give the situation more thought. Your Father permitted you to mull; you would gladly take it, opening the records book hidden between the stacks.

The pages were easy enough to navigate. The Masters, if not anything, were thorough, creating an index of years in ascending order to the most recent. Your finger paused on the one you remembered so well. The year in which you were stolen everything that might have been. The year that the Stranger claimed two souls earlier than they should have.

You turned the pages.

The smell of aged leather and parchment wafted into the air, nearly choking on its scent in the back of your throat. They arranged the death records from the first of the year to the end of it, and you searched for the seventh moon. On the fifth day, only two deaths are recorded, that of two prisoners named Lyra Black and Sara Smithe. The cause was beheaded by members of the City Watch.

It did not say the names of who, an intelligent choice on the Maester's part, for if you knew, their deaths would become sooner. They were lucky Mellos or one of the many others had the foresight not to write them down, as other Maesters had, but it only made this all the more exciting. The satisfaction as you plunged your dagger into their necks, slicing through tendons, muscles, and vertebrae, ensuring they felt every bit of suffering, anguish, and fear Lyra and Sara felt.

It would be messy. There were many veins and arteries within one's neck. You needed to bring some water with you to wash before returning to your chambers. It would all be for naught if someone saw you walking the halls with blood dripping from your digits and face.

You wished it would be the dagger Daemon had gifted you for your first name day to cut through their flesh, but Aegon still possessed it.

It was no matter. You had four more from the past, but that one, with its silver handle and roaring dragons engraved on both sides, held a place deep within your heart. And Aegon took it, as he always did with things. Take, take, take without concern about who he stole from. You would get it back, but not now. That would raise too much suspicion, and you would not put it past the eldest Prince to run to his Grandsire or Mother as he has done before.

You tried to recollect that fateful night, searching your memory for any detail you could sounder up, but it was hazy. The years you had blurred the picture of the throne room in your mind's eye. It was too painful to remember. Each time you thought of it, it was flashes, little glimpses of faces and bodies and heads. When you thought of it, all you could see was Lyra's smile, spending her last moments trying to reassure you, the fear behind Sara's eyes within her shackles, Otto Hightower's indifference, and Alicent's inaction in the face of two innocents deaths. You would never forget that, nor ever forgive.

You were scarcely in the Great Hall for a moment, and even then, your attention was elsewhere. You witnessed Ser Criston Cole grabbing you, pulling you back, the Queen turning away, and Lyra's comforting grin. Then, you saw them, gaze following the loops of the metal chain attached to Lyra and Sara, hands gripping at it as if the two women were nothing more than dogs. You met the eyes of two Gold Cloaks. You did not know their names, but you would soon; their countenance now burned into your mind.

Masterlist of Series

I've decided to change my uploading schedule from Sun/Mon to whenever possible. I'll always let you know before I post so you won't have to ask, "when are you going to post?!" I know that's not fun, but it works best for me because I get myself so worked up over updating on time when I'm in control of the situation. Also, I'm going to be getting rid of people in my taglist who haven't interacted with this fi since the list is so big. I want to have it all in one and make room for those who are active. So if you've been in my notifs in the past two months, you'll be fine. Welp, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The chapters are gonna get a little messy from here! xD

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @daenerysqueenofhearts, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @prettywhenicry, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @somemydayy, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @sunfyresrider, @heavenly1927, @prettylittlelady, @hjgdhghoe,

87 notes · View notes

casimirtully · 5 months

Text

" seacht saoire shona! "

An Chéad Fheis — The First Feast.

House Bracken: The Candle Ceremony and Authentic Riverish Revelry, The Maiden

Theme: Ancient Riverlands Roots and Authenticity

It is a long standing tradition, though no house other than Tully has a set night, that House Bracken opens the Seven Winter Feasts, and the Brackens open the festival with an authentic Riverish celebration, emphasizing a candle ceremony to symbolize the festival's beginning. Placing a lit candle in each window of Riverrun symbolizes hospitality, guiding family and travelers alike. It represents a gesture of welcome and a tradition carried on during the Seven Winter Feasts. House Bracken lights a candle on each table on the night of The First Feast, and they, like the candles in the windows, are kept burning the seven nights of celebrations.

These candles are lit by the Candle Maiden, or Cailín Coinnea. For An Chéad Fheis, Brianna Bracken has been given this honor. @briannabrackens

In the ancient Riverlands yule candle tradition, the Candle Maiden, garbed in an angelic white gown, lights these candles that herald The Seven Winter Feasts. The Candle Maiden is played most often by a young lady of the house who hosts The First Feast. This winter-blessed garment, said to be as old as The Trident itself, gives her a winged appearance as she steps first into the grand feasting hall. The procession of noble families hailing from all corners of The Riverlands follow in her wake, taking their seats as she lights the candles at each table.

Her ceremonial journey ends at the high table, where she bows before the king and offers a yule prayer over the feast. After the prayer, the young maiden portraying the Candle Maiden returns to her seat, yet the candles she lit endure throughout the seven nights, symbolizing an unwavering essence of hope and renewal.

The feast comprises traditional Riverlands dishes, vibrant music, and dancing, echoing the essence of revelry and the hope of a bright future. Traditional dishes such as foraged mushrooms, roasted game meats, and hearty root vegetable dishes make up the simple yet hearty fare of a traditional Riverlands feast.

It is on this night The Riverlands’ Brightwater roots are acknowledged, and House Florent — though they do not host a Feast themselves — always have a table in Riverrun’s hall, regardless of if House Florent choses to attend. If they do not, the table is still set with food, drinks, desert, and served symbolically throughout the first night's celebration. If they attend, they are honored with a table and lodgings for the entirety of the celebrations.

Some commonly used phrases and greetings to use:

“happy feasting” (féasta sona) “merry seven feasts” (seacht saoire shona) (very common when drunk bc of the alliteration) “happy first feast” (an chéad fhéile sásta) “merry first feast to you” (an chéad fhéile sona dhuit) “by the light of the candle maiden” (le solas cailín na coinnle) (good luck, blessing for a new year)

ooc: WELCOME TO THE FIRST OF THE SEVEN WINTER FEASTS! In the light of the holidays, the riverlands cordially invites you to some classic christmas and yule inspired chaos. Good old fashion family charm of fun and a little bit of crazy. id encourage you guys to explore light hearted fun in these feasts! Whose uncle drank too much? Have you spilt something on someone’s yule dress? You looked at my wife (not you, omer!) BANTER BANTER BANTER! Though this is a Riverlands holiday, envoys, emissaries, and other nobles and extended family are always welcome at Riverrun.

#|| the seven winter feasts ||#|| the first feast ||#|| house bracken ||#|| the riverlands ||#|| regional plot drop ||#|| holidays ||

20 notes · View notes

zxmickeyzx · 10 months

Text

Mumbattan Cafe Ch.2

Barista! Pavitr x Artist! Miles

Miles came into the cafe for some chai tea, to see his friend Gwen on her shift and make some art while relaxing in the cafe. Instead he got some Barista who looked very annoyed when he tried to order and then became very passionate about ranting to him about how people say chai tea instead of just saying chai. Miles didn't mind him lecturing him on it though.

At least it was from someone so cute.

Prev ~ Masterlist ~ Next

Pavitr was having an okay morning. Usually he had more energy in the mornings being the morning person that he is. The sun always felt like a blessing on his skin. And usually His body was ready to jump out of bed. Most of the time he looked forward to the day.

But today, everything ached.

Last night he decided to help his best friend Hobie lift his equipment so that his band would be ready to play at a new club that contracted him temporarily for the next few days.

So he came home very late last night. He got an earful from his Auntie Maya. As her only Nephew, she is very protective of him.

As he slowly slumped outta bed, he dragged himself to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, he saw the bags under his eyes from having less sleep than usual. He didn't look or feel like his usual self but he knows he needs to push through and help his Auntie Maya at her cafe. They lived right above the cafe which was very convenient.

He opened the water in the sink and splashed some cold water on his face to wake himself up before starting to brush his teeth. He then started to finger brush his hair a bit and put some coconut oil in his hair.

He takes a deep breath before putting on a smile to start out the day.

‘Yeah lets try to have a good day’ He thinks to himself.

He put on a plain white t-shirt tucked into some black slacks. His typical outfit for going to work.

He starts to walk out to the kitchen and sees his Auntie had already started brewing some chai for him to start his morning with some Ajwain Paratha to start off light for the day.

“Good Morning my Shona.” His Auntie Maya greets him, handing him his cup of chai

“Good morning!” Pavitr greets back with a smile.

They both walk to the table where they start to drink and enjoy each other's presence.

“Pavitr, I need to go get some groceries today, so can you be in charge this morning for a bit? I realized we are running low on some food.” His aunt sips her chai a bit before taking out a grocery magazine. “There are some deals I want to get before they are sold out. Do you think you’ll be able to handle the cafe for a bit?”

Pavitr takes a sip of his chai before answering.

“Of course I can handle it! I’ve done it before!” He gives her a reassuring smile.

His aunt chuckles. “I know you can, but I will be gone for an indefinite amount of time not just an hour but I should be back before 3 o’ clock.” She pauses a bit. “But Pavitr, my Shona.”

“Yes?”

“Please, try not to get upset with people saying chai the wrong way. They can't help it, they are ordering the American way. They don’t know better.” She shakes her head to sip her tea again. “Just give them your best customer smile and don't worry about them.”

Pavitr frowns a bit. How will they learn the right way if he doesn’t try to correct them? And hearing people say tea tea was rather annoying.

“Okay..” He agrees reluctantly, looking down at his cup.

“Pavitr! I am serious, we can’t have people not coming back because they come to relax and have our products. Not a lecture.” She gives him a stern look before sighing. “Maybe I should put Gayatri in charge and you can come with me to the supermarket instead”

Pavitr’s eyes widened. “No! I can handle it. I swear I won't lecture one single customer, promise!” He didn't want to deal with going to the grocery store. It just gets boring at times and he ends up wasting the whole day there between his Auntie Maya catching up with her friends, and over analyzing every single product, he would go crazy.

“Alright, you better keep that promise. Gayatri will tell me if you don't keep it. She will be on shift along with the recent hire, Gwen.”

He pouted a bit. “I don't need to be watched. '' he mumbles.

At least he was working with Gayatri, and Gwen, he liked being on shift with both of them. Sometimes his friend Hobie would stop by and even help around if he had the time. Gwen just finished all her barista training last week, and is officially working on the floor. She was really cool and he had a lot of fun getting to know her for the past 3 weeks. It turned out she knew Hobie too! The two of them sometimes played together if their schedules lined up. She was a good new friend he made and he liked hanging out with her outside of work.

His Aunt finished her chai, and went to go grab her things while he finished up his breakfast and cleaned up after himself. At the apartment entrance, him and his Aunt went down the stairs into the back of the cafe, and started getting the cafe a bit ready for it to open.

After they cleaned the cafe and set up the registrar, his Aunt had to leave. They quickly exchanged goodbyes.

Pavitr went to get the baked goods ready. After a bit Gayatri came into the cafe with Gwen and also helped him with bringing out the products and turning on the machines.

Soon it was 5 minutes until they would get their morning rush. Yes they had 3 people but they could handle it. Besides their fourth coworker was this man named Ben Riley who was an acting major who loved to be dramatic. Honestly, he was so strange but apparently a lot of female customers like his looks so he couldn't complain.

It was 7:00am and it was time to open the doors. The first wave of customers were people going to work and early morning classes. He started out on barista duty while Gayatri was at the cash register and Gwen was on warming good duty. They cycled turns at each station but were making sure to give Gwen Barista duty when there were less orders so they wouldn't overwhelm her.

He kept hearing people order iced chais, which were their most popular drink because they get the authentic kind. Sadly almost all of them would order it saying “Chai tea”. Gayatri was really an angel because even though it peeved her too she kept up that customer service smile. By the time it was 8:30 am, he was already “Chai tea’d out”. A lot of college students came around this time, some because they liked the place, so they stopped by before class and some for clout for their social media. But most of the customers were the same, saying the drink incorrectly. There were some people who did say it correctly but they were Indian too, so they knew better. He even heard one guy correct his friends on how they pronounced it which Pavitr hoped that more than that friend overheard him.

When 9:00 am rolled around things started to slow down but there were still a decent amount of customers in the store, so he took the register and Gayatri took Barista and warming duty. They told Gwen to go to the back and take a break before they would put her on the Barista duty. When that happens he would take a break and Ben would be in.

He kept a smile on while taking customer orders, but he was tired. The girl was taking too long to order because she decided to have a conversation that he had no interest in hearing at all. What was more annoying was how she kept on saying Chai tea this and Chai tea that. Asking her friend if she wanted some “Chai Tea”. There was only so much he could take hearing her talk about the drink like that.

To make matters worse she talked all about that drink to her friend, only for her to decide to get an iced latte instead. She told him her friend said something about it being her lucky drink for

her zodiac sign or something. He did not care enough.

Finally she was done ordering and more importantly was not his problem anymore.

He sighed and hoped the next customer interaction was better.

The next customer was a tall guy with soft looking black curls and smooth chocolate skin. He had freckles and some beautiful hazel eyes. He was wearing some casual street wear.

He was kinda cute. He was definitely a new customer though, considering he took a bit of time to order. Maybe he was nervous. So Pavitr put his best smile on to make him feel comfortable.

The guy ordered a bagel with cream cheese and jelly, a common New York breakfast order.

After putting in his food order on to the registrar he asked the guy what his drink would be. But then he heard the dreaded two words.

‘Chai Tea’

And something in Pavitr just broke. He couldn't help himself.

“What did you just say?” His eyes widened as he slowly looked up at the customer in disbelief.

He didn't even register the customer's reaction.

“Um, chai tea?” The guy repeated, confirming what he heard.

And Pavitr?

Pavitr just lost it.

Prev Next

Tagged List:

@ar1-thecat, @marrz-sucks