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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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bunny- p. parker

pairings: peter parker x reader, mom!natasha romanoff x reader, dad!tony stark x peter parker warnings: i didn’t know how to end this, so bad ending and cursing about: the chronicles of peter parker and y/n romanoff (this is a birthday present for my dearest emma) a/n: so i wanted to do lions. but i figured, why and how would y/n get a lion? so i ditched that idea and i hope that’s okay. also, i have no idea how to take care of bunnies or if you can even foster them? but it’s fine please go along with it

@emmastarz

the little red wagon you’re dragging squeaks, and you gently shush the kennel on top of it, tugging on the blanket that threatens to fall off and reveal what you’re keeping hidden. the soft noises don’t stop, though you can’t blame them with the surprisingly uneven floors of stark industries.

seriously, what’s up with that? isn’t stark a genius billionaire? you think to let him know when you see him next, distracting yourself from the fact that you’re doing something you’re definitely not supposed to. your mother will have your head if she finds out, so you swear to yourself that no one will find out.

you realize your oath isn’t particularly easy to keep, as keeping anything from the avengers is difficult. keeping things from the black widow herself, however, is nearly impossible. the key word is nearly, because her magnificent daughter (aka you) is the exception, even more cunning than her. her who is currently waiting outside your room, making going in there to hide like you planned out of the question.

so, you hide, trying to figure out where you’re supposed to go now that your only feasible plan has been left useless. you’re behind an absurdly large plant, looking at the rooms around you and attempting to remember which one belongs to someone who won’t ask questions.

“what are you doing?” you hear suddenly, flinching and turning with a jump, relieved to only find your boyfriend in front of you, holding a glass of water with a concerned look on his face. “shh!” you demand, grabbing his arm and pulling him closer. “don’t make a noise,” you whisper, his eyes growing wide, “are we under attack? my suit is in my room-”

“your room!” you repeat in a relieved whisper, remembering that peter’s room is literally three feet in front of you, inviting and away from the wrath your mother will surely rain upon you. “come on, we have to get to your room, carry this,” you motion to the wagon, “don’t make a sound.”

“why do i have to-” “super strength,” you remind, “for one, and two- if you don’t, my mother will kill me. then you, for being in the same vicinity as me.” peter pauses, a grimace going over his face, surely remembering how terrified he is of your mother, and picks up what you asked without another word, following you into his room as silently as spiderman and a trained spy can.

you lock the door once you’re inside, calling out to friday to soundproof the room and not let anyone in. “what are you doing? what is this? it moved,” peter complains in disgust, putting down the wagon. you roll your eyes, carefully putting the crate down next to it. “it’s nothing. i just need to get to my room so i can keep them there and no one will ever know.”

peter’s eyes bulge out of his head, “them? who is them?” he questions frantically, walking over to the crate, ready to pull the blanket off before you stop him. “the less you know, the better,” you say ominously, patting his wrist in your hand. “what?” he asks, voice squeaky. he backs away and you turn your back on him, heading to his desk to charge your phone, “just, it’s better if you don’t know, because-”

“are these rabbits?” he gasps loudly, making you turn around quickly to see him holding the blanket. you slap lightly at his arm, not that it does much to his enhanced self, “peter!” you whine, “i told you not to look!”

“they’re rabbits! why are you sneaking rabbits around the compound?- jeez, how many of them are in there…” peter trails off, trying to count the tiny wiggly things with his eyes, and failing each time they move. you sigh when he looks back at you with wide, questioning eyes. “i- it’s just-”

the exact reasoning seemed a lot more logical at the animal center where you picked them up half an hour ago, but as it rests on your tongue now, it’s difficult to make something rational out of it. “the animal shelter was at capacity- i- there was really no other option, aren’t avengers supposed to help or something?” you answer, tone questioning by the end of your sentence.

“alright, that’s… not a bad excuse, why are you hiding?” peter points out, looking back at the small kennel filled with sleeping bunnies. “well, it’s not really the first time i’ve done this. you know the dogs we have? candy and star?”

peter nods, “well, i kind of did this with them. it started out with fostering but then we just fell in love and we ended up adopting them, then it happened again with the ducks, and again with a cat, and at one point it became kind of implied that i wasn’t to bring home any more stray animals because we’re kind of stretching it already.”

you panic at the look on peter’s face, and afraid he’ll change his mind about the words he spoke previously, you talk frantically again, “but their mom abandoned them and they needed help, and they’re so cute, look at them,” you urge, opening the cage to pull one out and showing it to peter. his face melts adorably, a small coo escaping his lips against his will. “it’s also just for one or two weeks. a few of them are already promised to go to some families, but they’re still too little, so they just need a place to stay for now.”

“and can you say no to this face?” you ask sarcastically, extending the bunny in your arms closer to peter’s face, then gesturing to the cage with your eyes, “to any of them?”

peter groans, his head slumping forward, “fine,” he gives in, and you cheer a little. “but i take care of them with you,” he requests. you nod, “yes! absolutely!” you grin, going to put the baby back in its kennel before peter stops you, “which means i also get to hold them.”

you laugh, gently placing the bunny in peter’s arms, adoring eyes watching his lips mutter how cute they are.

“we’re rabbit parents for two weeks,” he says an hour later, after your mom has moved from your door due to some expert distracting (a mission that came in before you had time to launch your genius plan: peter throwing himself down the stairs “accidentally”). you’ve set up the rabbit living space in your room, having read up enough on them to know what you need. the random unused closet tony insisted on giving you has come in handy, and with a lot of help from the manual he gave you on her, you figured out how to get friday to change the temperature to the necessary one for the babies. you’ve also sworn friday to secrecy, making sure not even tony himself can get the information out of her.

“we are rabbit parents for two weeks,” you agree, playing with a couple of them and watching peter, curls curlier and an easy look on his face. he looks so adorable, you can’t help the kiss you press against his lips. a red blush covers his neck as he kisses you back, giddy smile quirking the edge of his lips up.

you’re surprised when, by the next week, no one has found out about yours and peter’s little secret, even more so that no one has been told by peter’s big mouth. he’s coming by a lot more now, his previous rare sleepovers increasing largely. tony and natasha are getting suspicious, and as they watch you and your boyfriend sneak into your room, supposedly inconspicuously, they turn to each other. “is y/n pregnant or something? why has she been acting so weird?” tony asks.

natasha looks at him, “she’s always with your kid whispering and being alone in their rooms. whenever i tell your stupid robot to let me in, she won’t tell me anything. i thought it was state of the art?”

tony huffs in offense, “friday the ai,” he clarifies, earning an intense glare from natasha, “is state of the art, i don’t know what your daughter did to her, but she won’t tell me anything either.” natasha rolls her eyes, small swell of pride fluttering in her chest at your managing to keep stark out of his own technology before remembering what she’s angry at you for.“we need to go in there,” natasha states with finality, walking to your door. “i know, but i don’t want to risk seeing anything potentially scarring,” tony sasses.

the woman ignores him, shoving open your door to find both you and peter nowhere to be seen. she looks around, trying to figure out where you are and what the hell you’re doing.

meanwhile, you and peter are busy babbling at the bunnies, a lot bigger now, to notice the intruders in your room, not even seeing the notification friday sends to your phone. you’ve let your guard down after a week of been inconspicuous, which is stupid and very un-spy like of you. so you suppose you only have yourself to blame when the door to the closet bursts open to “what the hell are you two doing?” and “is it safe to open my eyes?”

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camslightstories · 3 years

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Tolerate It - Part 13

Lena Luthor x reader, Kara Danvers x reader, Alex Danvers x reader. Baby Danvers. Female Reader.

Notes: Hey! I hope you guys are doing great and if you are not I promise things get better. I’m sorry I haven't updated but its just work and home are being hectic but I’m trying to get everything in track again. This chapter took an awfully long time write, i hope you guys like it!

My inbox is open for suggestions, recommendations, questions, and more. If any of you need help I will be honor to help you, always! Please fill my inbox with theories, comments and more i wanna hear what you guys think of the story! Hope you have a great day!

Taglist: @multi-images @captain-josslett @aznblossom @venteen @coxmicbabygirl @lezzzbehonesthere

The smell of fries and burgers invaded your nose as you sat on the floor, glancing at your sore hand. Your legs extended on the floor as you held your head against the column of the place. The uncomfortable ache on your hand had seemed to increase by the second, as you sat down.

Confusion was the main thing in your head, the confused heavy feeling in your chest when you close your eyes, the twisted and ached void confusing you when reality sets in. It felt like a war between your mind and heart that neither of the two you understand. It felt like the reasons that your brain had were now gone, the reason part of feeling nonexistent.

“Didn't think I would see you so soon” You claimed when you felt the presence of the brunette behind you. Two bags in her hand as the archer sat beside you.

Thea replied teasingly, and flirtatiously grabbing fries from her bag, after hitting you softly in the shoulder. “Neither did I, princess”

“Thanks” You whispered as you started to eat, both of you sharing a knowing and somewhat comforting. The Queen woman smiled and kept silent giving you a nod.

Thea had known you for a long time, but not until three years ago she saw you as her older brother’s best friend. She and Talia had taught every skill, you needed and wanted to learn. She had seen you put all of your anger everywhere you could. You were there subtly with alcohol after every break-up and make-up she had with Roy, showing your care as you sat with her drinking in silence until she couldn't anymore.

The small creek sound of the door took both of your attention. Your mother stood silently with a white medical kit in her hand and an understanding expression on her face. You glanced at the brunette beside you, meeting her glance. A small spark in her eyes which you had never noticed before, you stopped in your way to comment on it when you heard the knowing clearing throat of your Mother.

“Can I come in?” The Queen woman smiled reassuringly before leaving the room. Your mother stood at the side of the door, watching curiously and carefully before speaking.

You looked up and met her eye glance, giving her a small nod as you spoke almost inaudible. “Sure”

Your mother had been making the small notes, and remainders when she saw you. She couldn't lie about the fact that her heart joined in joy and broke in less than 24 hours. It had been difficult to maintain a straight face when your oldest sister called her explaining the situation, letting her know and Jeremiah that after days of trying, they were the last option to bring some feelings to you.

She saw your father way too comfortable yet nervous when they got the news, the trip had been too questioning and secretive that she suspected something had happened with the two of you. But seeing you with her own eyes as you stood in the room with void eyes, and rage protecting your walls.

The complete silence from your party told her more than you knew. The isolation, the hidden pain, the calm and silence. It all reflected in one thing and it was you trying to understand your feelings, your world, yourself. It had happened when your dad had supposedly died. The heavy feeling in her chest grew as she sat beside you, while you stared at the wall quietly debating with your thoughts and feelings.

Flashback - February 2005

You sat in the backyard of the house, dressed in black attire. Your eyes watching over the waves as they ended in the sand. The way the breeze moved the palms and softly touched your face. Your hands gripping the blanket covering you.

You waited for everything to process in, you waited to wake up, you waited for him as you walked down the stairs that morning, you waited for your sisters to tell you it was a lie, you waited for your mom to serve his favorite lasagna as he came back home, you waited for the sound of cheer when he and your oldest sister finished repairing another part of the old car, you waited for him and Kara coming back from the forest at night after watching the stars, you waited for him to sit on the small bean bag of your bedroom as you played him something new in your instruments, you waited for the loud laughs and scolds that would come after you and your sisters would create an eating contest ending with Kara smiling proudly as you and Alex throw up, you waited for the ‘pizza and tacos night’ where the five of you somehow cooked without burning the kitchen down, ending with a marathon of movies and smiles on everyone faces. But it never came.

The distinct voices from the house gained your attention as they felt closer. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sound of the waves failing in the attempt. Turning around to see both of your sisters standing side by side as one of your family members expressing their condolences to them. Kara seemed to keep it together as she nodded shyly, while Alex clenched her jaw giving a small thanks before walking away, your blonde sister watched the redhead walk away before looking at the floor excusing herself too.

You looked away back to the beach, before deciding to get up and walk down the small hill entering the beach. Taking off your shoes, you put them at the side of the beach entrance before wrapping the blanket tightly around you. The voices began to zoom out and the sound of the ocean began to fill your ears. The soft sand on your feet as you walked closer to the shore felt grounding. The soft breeze that moved your hair out of control felt comforting as you sat down.

Burying your feet in the sand as you closed your eyes trying to remember something, to have something to hold on to. It felt weird, out of place, like something was missing. Your mind tried to wrap up with the fact that your father was dead but even if you knew what was happening, you still had questions. Sitting on the sand, you stared blankly at the ocean, as the waves came, as the breeze moved the palms and touched your cheeks, as the soft salty smell invaded your nose, and the coldness of the day began to increase.

It was like a debate between what you wanted to believe and what was happening. There were running thoughts in your head that made you feel exhausted. It was unpleasant and even tiring to think of how this event would change your and your family's life. You avoided the thought as much as you could, wishing and hoping to wake up from the nightmare but it was real and as much as you didn't want to accept it, your father was gone, and he was not coming back.

You didn't even realize when the sun that was high in the sky had come down and reflected in the ocean, you didn't feel the breeze and air get heavier or the way the only thing illuminating the night was the light bulb you dad put at the entrance of the beach.

It felt like time went in seconds, long seconds that you wished to take back and at the same time to move faster. It wasn't easy, it didn't feel easy, and the hole in your heart was unmistakable. You weren't a person who liked change, nor a person who easily understood what was going on around you.

Sure when Kara came into the family, it was like the missing piece. It didn't take you long to warm up to the blonde, but she was suffering from the loss of her planet so you stayed behind the doors and waited the right moment to comfort her and make her as welcome as you could. You saw her hesitate when she was doing something that would make her happy, you saw her doubt herself as Superman came into the news, you saw her shed tears when she tried to find where Krypto would be.

You tried constantly to win her affection, her trust, her intelligence, and more but you couldn't make her happy if she didn't heal. So you stayed awake during the night waiting to comfort her, you played with melodies on the piano so she could have a similar bed song as she had in Krypto, you ran as fast as you could after school to help her with her English or to watch and sing along with Wizard of Oz. You keep trying and trying even though she was legally your sister, you wanted to have a connection with her just like you did with Alex. So when the blonde the morning of your birthday hugged you and in English told you, you were her sister and she could be prouder than to call you that, you shredded in tears hugging her closely.

But it was different, everything was different, it felt different, it sounded different, it even tastes different. There was a silence between your family, Alex kept her feelings inside and bottle them in trying so hard not to break, mad at the world, mad at dad, at you, at your mom, even Kara. Your mom was understanding but quiet, she tried to be your and your sister's rock during the day but at night you can hear her crying her heart out. Kara kept silent, mad at the world for taking another person from her, holding you close trying to be helpful as much as she could even if she was hurting as much as she was when she first landed. And you, you kept quiet, trying to understand, trying to find the lie, trying to reach and understand your feelings but couldn't. So you waited for the time to pass by and for things to get in order, just like your dad used to say ‘time heals things, everything gets better with time’ but as the words rounded your head you couldn't feel more than the biggest lie of the world.

Flashback ends

The soft wrap with alcohol against your knuckles ached as your mom determinately disinfected your hand. You felt her eyes constantly glancing at you when you kept silent, trying to ignore the slight throb from the small wound in your hand. You glanced from the wall you stared continuously into her eyes, before speaking. “I tried”

“I know sweetie” Eliza looked up while finishing wrapping her hand before speaking in a motherly tone. As soon as she heard you talk she knew, she knew what you meant. Just your silence gave it away, she knew your conflicted feelings weren't going to help now and they didn't before, but what scared her was how long you were going to take to heal, to flash a familiar smile, to laugh until you couldn't anymore, to look at the eyes of your significant other, to sign with your older sisters until either of your throats wouldn't give more.

Fighting back the tears your eyes had swollen, you claimed again making eye contact with your mother, your mother's eyes redating with comfort and sadness as she looked at you. You clenched your hand into a fist but immediately opened it again when you felt the strong throb in your knuckles. “I tried, and it didn't work out. It didn't do anything”

“Healing isn't about not feeling sad or feeling numb, it's about letting in, letting go, and finding yourself again but you can't do it if you are not ready for it” She answered brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

And the understanding in her eyes and voice made you doubt, as your feelings started to fall in place. Heartache, anger, sadness, disappointment, pain, and more began to feel your chest and your mind as you took the words of your mother in. Your now bloodshot eyes looked away from her as you felt your lip tremble.

You nodded quietly, and before you knew. You threw your arms around your blonde mother, tears furiously leaving your eyes as she soothed you, with comforting and reassuring words. Your head was hidden in her neck as you cried your eyes out.

The feeling of heartbreak and pain overwhelming you as everything started to come down on you. And you wanted to cry, for minutes, for hours, days, weeks, even years. Because somehow after everything you still didn't feel enough, you felt everything you did was wrong, that you could have been better and you could have changed differently, closing your eyes you wished for it to be gone, but deep down you knew it wasn't.

“Please just make it stop, mom. Please, it hurts so much”

Flashback - February 2005

“Please just make it stop, mom. Please, it hurts so much”

You don't know how it happened or how long you had been furiously crying until you stared at the small seashells in the sand getting wet thanks to your tears. The once beige shell now was white. Grabbing the seashells from the sand, you started to throw them angrily at the water.

The sound of the rock making contact with the water somewhat comforted you, longing to throw everything away for it, for the broken shells to absorb your problems and leave with it. Soon enough you fell to your knees sobbing out. As the night lighting shot in the ocean, as the ocean tide had gone up, the once breeze became violent air.

One second you were crying furiously on your own, and the next you sobbed into your mother's arms, as she reassured you that everything was going to be okay. You gripped her shirt hugging her closely before looking up to her, touching your chest as your bloodshot eyes glanced in hers.

Your lip trembling from the cold and your sobs, her heart broke, even more, when you hid in her neck which made her look up as she soothed your back. She was trying so hard to keep it together for you and your sisters but the moment she caught sight of Kara and Alex with blankets around themselves walking straight to where the two of you sat, made her break into tears.

You looked up from your mother's neck as you felt a hand rubbing your back and others grabbing your hand softly in reassurance. Each one of them by you and your mother's side, your cries had slowed down when your redhead sister asked with a crack in her voice to your mother. “Are we gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, we will be but it will take time to heal, we can't rush it, we have to be ready”

“We are going to be okay” Kara claimed as a statement of reassurance after your mother responded, but her trembling lip, bloodshot eyes, and the high tone she used made her sound more like a prayer than anything.

Your mother reassured, making you three nod slowly before falling into a reassuring silence. “Until then we have each other, and one of the most precious things you girls are going to have in your life is each other, your family.”

Flashback ends

Unknowingly to you, your sisters had been watching from the door the moment Kara heard your heart spike. Tears in their eyes as they watched your mother rocked you slowly as you cried. Silent sobs and bitten lips coming from them as they stopped each other from walking into the room.

Alex kept her jaw clenched as her hands gripped each other hard as she tried to keep the tears inside. The redhead felt responsible for your crying, the urge to run in and comfort you debating her self-control. Doubts, questions, and more gained in her head as she saw you sob into your mother's arms, rage slowly consuming her emotions as the protectiveness over you began to show up.

Kara let out silent sobs, with her hand on top of her mouth. Her bloodshot eyes and red cheeks had overwhelming tears. The superheroine hated herself, as she felt responsible for your crying. She just wanted to hold you in her arms and tell you everything was going to be just fine, she wanted to see your sunny smile when you saw her or the bad jokes and puns you used all the time, she wanted you, she wanted her little sister but a part of her told her you needed the same space she once received from you.

The two of them standing next to each other with broken hearts and tears in their eyes, a small sense of hope in their chest as they watched the scene. Sharing a knowing, Alex came closer putting her arm around your blonde sister’s shoulder before speaking.

“Everything is gonna be okay, we are getting her back, I promise,” She said quietly reassuring Kara even when neither of them fully believe it.

#kara danvers x reader #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor #supergirl imagine #alex danvers x reader #baby danvers

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jamilelucato · 3 years

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could u do one where the reader has had a rlly bad day and then ron comforts her with cuddles and then they fall asleep tgt but the reader has nightmares and wakes up to ron shaking her while she’s crying in his arms 👉🏻👈🏻 while he tells her everyth is gg to be okay

Home [Ron Weasley]

Pairing: Ron Weasley x reader

Summary: reader (any house) spends the summer in the Burrow because she’s running from where she thought was her home. But she’ll soon find out she has a new home.

A/N: thanks for the request! I’ve never written for Ron before, so I’m sorry if he feels out of character. Anyway, it’s a bit sad but also very cute, it has a somehow happy ending. Kinda inspired by Home (Edith Whiskers) because I was listening to it nonstop while writing.

PS: if you’re waiting for the rest of the fics from the HP Musical, it’s coming, guys, be patient. Gotta say the same for those waiting for their requests.

Harry Potter Masterlist || Musical Hogwarts Series

One of the best things about being Ronald Weasley’s best friend was the chance to spend summers at the Burrow. In your opinion, there was no more beautiful sunset than the one you, Harry, Ron and Hermione would watch from the top of the hill.

When you stayed at the Burrow, nothing could bother you. Not even Fred and George’s pranks, nor Percy complaining you all were too loud. Not even having to help Mrs Weasley out was a problem.

Last week, before you came to stay with Ron, you and your mom got into a big fight. She had got herself in a deal that you could not forgive her for. Your mom was now the newest Death Eater in town, and you could not believe she would side with the Dark Lord.

It wasn’t like you hated your own house.

Well, perhaps you weren’t very fond of your mother — that was one of the reasons you were “hiding” at the Weasleys.

But she did, and so that meant that your house was no longer your home. You couldn’t stay one more day there, living with such a dark witch, so you asked Ron if you could crash there for the rest of the summer. You didn’t tell him why, though.

Somehow the Weasley’s place was your only home left. Deep down, you knew why, but you didn’t want to admit — it wasn’t just the Burrow that made you feel like home. It was Ron.

“I think you kids should go to bed,” Mrs Weasley said, speaking in that way that only she knew how. It could sound like a suggesting for inattentive ears, but the truth was it was a command.

The boys complained, slowly getting out of the couch, scared of what their mom could do to them. Hermione looked at you with a tired smile, and without a good-bye, she and Ginny headed to the room you three were sharing.

You careless delayed your leaving, too scared to let go of Ron. Sure, it was not the first time he was laying on you tummy, but, every time he left, it felt like he wouldn’t come back.

He finally got up, stretching his arms up and fixing his jumper, letting you take a quick glimpse of the abdomen. He is taking his Quidditch practice way too serious, you thought, analysing marks that weren’t there before.

Ron looked back at you, still laying on the couch and offered you a hand you gladly accepted.

You two walked up the stairs, side by side, which was quite hard, but neither wanted to say good-night yet.

Ron stared at Ginny’s door room, which was closed. You followed his glance, breathing hard. Fred and George passed you two, and for the first time that week, they didn’t comment on it.

“Well, good night, y/N,” Ron said, pressing his lips together.

You stared from the door to him, scared to say something you would regret.

“Can I...” you swallowed hard, moaning already but Ron eagerly waited for you to finish your sentence, “...sleep with you tonight? I promise not to make a sound.”

Ron quickly smiled, and he had to tell himself to stop being so happy. It was a habit of you two to sleep in the same bed since you were eleven, so he had to remind himself that for you that probably was just a simple request.

But, by Merlin, for Ron, your request was practically his salvation.

“Sure, follow me before mum catches us,” he said, and you giggled, immediately reaching for his hand. When you touched, both felt something like an electric shock running through each nerve ending, dissipating heat throughout their bodies.

Harry was already there, and upon seeing his two best friends walking in and holding hands, he smiled before hiding himself under the covers.

Harry knew that you two fancied each other and he thought it was pretty stupid that none of you had the balls to confess it. But he wasn’t gonna be the one to ruin the moment.

Since you two were in your pyjamas already, there was not much more to do then to get under the covers yourselves and sleep. But who could warn your heart to slow its beats? It felt like you were in a bloody party!

Ron wasn’t doing much better either, squeezing himself in his bed so it could fit both of you. It was supposedly a single bed, only larger — a magic trick that the twins cast that went wrong, but for Ron, the spell had gone very very well.

“Hm, y/N?” Ron whispered in the darkness.

“Yes?” you were wondering if he could hear your heartbeat.

“Can I hug you with an arm? I’m too close to the edge,” he muttered.

You smiled in the dark, happy that he wouldn’t be able to see how much glad you were that he was about to squeeze you in his chest. His hot, callused hands found your waist with such delicacy that you never imagined Ron would have.

In a second, your face was on his chest, and you could feel his heartbeat as fast as yours. But both were slowly coming to a less quick rhythm.

“Sleep well,” you whispered to him, moving your head slightly just so your voice could find his ears better.

“I will,” he whispered a minute later, hoping that you would be too sleepy to remember.

Your last memory before giving in to the dream was Ron running his fingers through your scalp, and all you could think was how nice it was.

***

“Shhh, y/N, it’s okay!” Ron kinda whispered-shouted in your ear, holding your arms. “Please, wake up, you’re safe!”

You could feel his hands grasping your arms, but you couldn’t manage to open your eyes.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he whispered again, kissing your forehead.

It was finally then when you woke up — scared, confused, sweaty.

Ron saw your eyes spark in the dark and he hugged you, placing a hand in your scalp and bringing you close to your chest.

“You scared me,” he said.

“What-what happened?”

“You had a bad dream, I guess. I woke up to you screaming ‘mum, it’s me, please don’t hurt me’ or something like that,” he informed, pulling you away to see your face. “Crazy nightmare, huh? Scared of your own mother,” his tone suggested he could be siling, but in the dim, you just couldn’t tell.

Ron noticed how quiet you were after his comment.

“y/N? Are you and your mom okay?” he asked, placing a hand in your cheek at the exact same time a tear fell from your eyes and wetted his hand. “What is it, princess? You can tell me.”

You tried to fight the tears, and Ron helped, trying to clean them up.

“My mum and I... the reason I came here without days’ notice—”

“—you never need to give a notice,” he interrupted.

“— is because my mum told me what she had done,” you kept going, scared that if you stopped whispering, you would give up. “She’s with the Death Eaters, Ron. She’s one of them now.”

Ron tried hard to keep himself together for you and not to scream because of Harry. “She what?”

“She said she wanted to protect our family, going to the winner side,” you kept telling. “Winner side, can you believe that? That woman is bloody stupid.”

He revived when you came in, a couple of days ago, with a big smile in your face, no sign of sadness. How you hugged him — yes, this time a bit longer, but he thought he was imagining it.

Ron didn’t know what to say.

Really, what do you say to someone who had a death eater for a mom? If Molly told Ron she was a Death Eater, what would he do? He had no idea, but he would be probably way more freaked out than you.

The fact that you were having just some nightmares about the whole thing and not running around, cursing everyone, only made Ron realise how much special and strong and brave the girl he was in love with was.

By Merlin, did he have to realise it now?

“It’s gonna be okay, y/N,” he said, not sure if it was the right thing to say, but pulling you close anyway. “We’re gonna find a way to save her. Talk some sense into her.”

“She has the mark, Ronnie. She showed it to me,” you sighed, hugging him tighter. You needed it — you would, and you have always needed it, but now you had an excuse for it.

“Doesn’t matter, princess. She’s gonna realise the mistake she’s made, and she’ll come around, and the Order will help protect her,” he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. “And if she doesn’t come to her senses... we’re not gonna hurt her, I promise. I’ll make sure of it.”

You faced up, meeting his sparkling eyes in the dark.

“But, Ronnie, what if she hurts me?” your question was barely audible, you were scared to even say something like that.

“She won’t. I won’t let her,” Ron muttered, kissing your forehead. “She’ll have to kill me first.”

Still looking into his eyes, you finally smiled. Not happy, but hopeful. You had Ron, and he was all you ever needed. He was your home, your best friend.

“I love you, Ronnie,” you whispered in a quick moment of bravery. You were not worried he wouldn’t feel the same, you weren’t worried if you were dumb to say such a thing.

But, as your home, he had the right to know. If it came to you, you could spend whole days telling him how much you loved him.

His eyebrows shot up, surprised at what he had heard. Somehow, Ron knew that you meant that you loved him as a woman loves a man, not as simple friends. He knew because of your hearts beating in the same rhythm, the exchanged looks causing goosebumps and colouring the cheeks, and the touches leaving trails on the body.

“I love you too, princess,” he whispered back, and all your worries suddenly disappeared.

Ron was in a sudden peace. He knew you weren’t going anywhere. You were his and he was home too.

#ron weasley #ron #ronald weasley #ron weasley x reader #ron x reader #ronald weasley x reader #Harry Potter #the weasleys #the burrow #fred and george #Draco Malfoy #death eathers #dark lord #ron weasley x you #ron weasley x y/n #ronald weasley x you #ron x you #ron x y/n

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sawwyouuinadream · 3 years

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FIFTH HARMONY EXPOSED

Isn’t this the type of headline that intrigues people? Well, here I will expose some myths that the so-called Exposing accounts go on exposing. Just declaring something here in the beginning: I love all my Fifth Harmony girls, OT5 that is, and read it at your discretion. The thoughts stated below are opinions of mine, gathered over months and years, and I firmly stand by them.

Cutting to the chase, here we go:

1) Fifth Harmony the Band Image:

This group was manufactured by Simon Cowell on the X-Factor, back in 2012, and it broke up in 2018. On the show, Lauren Jauregui, the green-eyed white Latina was given the majority of solos and they performed songs in Spanish and garnered Hispanic fans banking on the fact that there were three Latinas in the group.

After they signed to Syco/Epic when the show ended, we saw Camila Cabello, the more convincing Latina, who was born in Cuba, get more and more solos. Normani Kordei was promoted as the “dancer” of the group, Ally Brooke as the “unproblematic one”, Lauren as the “broody edgy girl” and Dinah Jane as the “relatable Polynesian”.

Not surprisingly, Camila was the first one to do a solo venture with Shawn Mendes, the song I Know What You Did Last Summer, which, according to me, was a song to test the waters for both Shawn and Camila.

As more time passes, Camila was portrayed like the lead, not by HERSELF, but the trademark that Fifth Harmony was. She stopped talking in interviews, started doing more and more solo stuff, and even signed to a different manager. Voila, we were getting the rift in-band vibes galore.

Now here’s my verdict:

Fifth Harmony was made by Simon to not get the next One Direction, but to get the next Taylor Swift. Little Mix was already there in the U.K, and people know Girl groups don’t do as well as Boy Bands, mostly because of the inherent Misogyny in the society.

They wanted the next relatable girl next door who could influence teenage girls. Camila being Latina, could now have an even larger fanbase, in Latin America as well as South Asia, because South Asian music is quite similar in a groove to Latin Music.

Why Not Lauren or Ally then? Well, they were simply not interesting or Latin enough.

Why Not Normani? Do I have to tell? Those bitches are racist as fuck.

Why Not Dinah? Same thing. Less Appeal to a large fanbase.

That’s why Camila was the goofy dorky most relatable person on 5H. That’s why she readily had a high budget tour all set up for her the moment she left the group. That’s why they promoted her. 5H was never the long-lasting plan. Camila was. 5H was just an excuse to get her a strong fanbase and give Epic 4 more mediocre artists. I am really happy that Normani proved her worthiness and released smash hits as well. And mind you, this was done without Camila herself wishing for it. It was just the label’s decision.

2) Camila- the beauty or the bitch?

Camila Cabello is a very intriguing person to me. At the first glance, you haven’t seen a more dorky, goofy, and relatable celebrity like her, eating bananas and tripping on air. But then she starts talking about profound and deep experiences, and you go on her Tumblr and find quotes from books and aesthetic pictures. But then you see her leaked text messages and old Tumblr and all those images crumble before your eyes.

Think about this. Among the 5H girls, Dinah, Lauren, Ally, and Normani have friends outside the industry whom they talk to and hang out with. They have family they post about. Camila? She seems to have no friends apart from Sandra and Marielle Guzman, and those are the people we got the leaked texts with. What about her school teachers and school friends? Nothing. All she hangs out with is Shawn Mendes and Taylor Swift and her mom who follows her like a hawk. She doesn’t seem to have a social life at all except for events she goes for business.

In my opinion, Camila has a pretty big secret that is guarded closely by everybody but her.

Is she racist? Yes. She was. She didn’t have any sensitivity to Black people or their struggles whatsoever. But you have to understand she is Hispanic, and not born in the U.S. And she has sort of always been a big mouth. I am from a country that doesn’t have a single black person in the near 30000 miles. We grow up using racial slurs as if it's nothing. I had to unlearn my indoctrinations and consciously undo the wrongs in my head and implement them in my actions. Bit it doesn’t undo things I said as a child. I bullied one friend of mine in middle school simply because her skin tone was darker than mine. But I was not canceled. Because I am not a celebrity. Have I learned? Yes definitely. I will never dare to act like that again because now I understand the pain of being ostracized and I recognize the struggles of black people. But that happened over time.

I feel like Camila is a changed person now, and tries very hard to educate herself. She is not perfect, but she doesn’t deserve so much hate. She deserves a second chance. If she was indeed like that, Normani wouldn’t post a photo with her in IT on the eighth anniversary of 5H.

As far as her being a jealous bitch goes. The rest of 5H always had good things to talk about her after 5H dissolved in 2018. Lauren, the activist, even praised her. Dinah still seems pretty close to her.

Did she do solo stuff without 5H knowing?

No. If she did, and the whole not attending meetings thing happened, Dinah wouldn’t go to her Bad Things concert one day before she left the band. Lauren wouldn’t laugh with her in the VMAs like that if they weren’t friends and just work colleagues. The whole 5H vs Camila feud was planned by management because apparently shade helps sales. For both parties. Another manipulative misogynistic example of society.

3) Are/ Were Camila and Lauren romantically together?

All the roads lead to Rome honey. Camren has too many coincidences to NOT be real. From song lyrics to shady potato photos to weird comments and body language in interviews, I am pretty sure the Camren blogs will keep you covered.

Why does Lauren hate it so much? Why are we being invasive?

Lauren is supposed to nix it every time because she is contractually bound to do so. She needs to be the one to keep Camila’s straight image intact, although we have more than tons of evidence that Camila is anything but straight.

To everyone who says we shouldn’t force sexuality on people. Heterosexuality is not the default. Don’t force straightness on her. She never said she was straight. We’re just speculating she is with Lauren, and that’s it. Lauren just happens to be a girl. That’s IT.

Why did the nosy shippers out Lauren?

Nobody did. They just speculated on her sexuality based on assumptions. But no fan posted photos of her and Lucy from her aunt’s Facebook, because it was password protected. It was most probably intentional. Note that she shot a coming-out photoshoot with her “ex-girlfriend” Lucy Vives even before the Wedding where she was supposedly outed. Why shoot a photoshoot TO COME OUT and then hide behind the closet? Her coming out was planned as early as 2015, and so was the bearding of Camila simultaneously.

To me, Lauren and Camila are contracts bound to lie, at this moment. But they have a very grown-up and well-communicated relationship that is very sacred and private, and only the two of them know everything about it. Lauren and Camila are still related to the same contract, and this intuition of mine was confirmed yesterday. She was shooting something for Roger gold’s label. I hope the best for both of them, and I would love it if they were together. But them going public would be huge and in my opinion, detrimental to them.

4) Who’s Shawn Mendes?

A really career-oriented artist. Shawmila is for him and his promotion only. Not his fault though. He is just a conceited boy with good guitar skills who wants to be extremely famous. I will not talk about his sexuality, because unlike Camila, I can’t trace him to anyone in particular. But I can say this, Camila’s solo career had plans for Shawmila since the very start. I also believe it will end like Jelena and be back and forth for some time for minor promotions.

Final Verdict:

Nobody is perfect. Don’t make this about Shawmila Vs Camren. Every artist has their struggles. But please break out of the shell of heteronormativity, misogyny, and racism. Love human beings. The 5H girls and Shawn Mendes are teenagers, now adults, who have been oppressed and manipulated by a capitalistic racist homophobic industry, for money and money only. And only the fans have the power to see the truth and choose the right stuff.

#fifth harmony #camila cabello #camila and lauren #camren #ot5 #shawmila #syco #lauren jauregui

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one-last-puku · 3 years

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I don't get my mom, trying to set me up on a blind date with someone 13 years older than me. Dude.

She was like "but he's a trust fund baby!"

What could we possibly have in common? At that point the gap is just too big.

And my mom doesn't think she's weird. (Said the woman who wanted me to carry her and my father's child, seriously wtf??? Who asks their kid to carry their child? I'm sorry that's gross to me!)

I'm sorry, I'm just speechless. She went on this whole tangent about her friend's son and how he's an engineer but also unemployed, supposedly "decent looking". Then well into the conversation "..he's 40."

Excuse me? Did you just... You should have said that first! 40? I'm sorry, are you really this desperate to hook me up? Why? She then started asking how old my friends are and I'm like "early 30's wtf!" And asked how old my childhood friend's fiancee is; "29!"

I'm sorry, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being 40, but I always said I never wanted a 10 year age difference like my parents have, much less a 13 year age difference.

Then she's all like "We'd all be there and then we could leave you two alone." And I was just like "Leave us alone? To sit awkwardly and not know what to talk about?"

She just digs herself so deep under my skin sometimes, not only is she desperate for me to get with someone, for her it has to be a man. Makes me want to not do what she wants, she's so frustrating sometimes! I have a natural urge to not do what she wants when she pushes like this. D:

And she continues to obsess over the job hunting thing. I finally get a job, I get that it's not a forever job, but I was so ready for a break from her obsessing. I mentally cannot handle that the moment we have a second to talk about anything at all, it must always be about job hunting. It must be. I've even brought this up to her and she's just like... "Yeah, damn skippy I am." You're suffocating me, woman! Kindly get all the way off my back. The more you push, the less I want to do it! I talk to her about passionate things in life. Art, science, nature,... and she's like "but can you put that into your portfolio?" "Can you use that knowledge and turn it into money?" "If only you had this energy to focus on getting a job." Literally, she won't say anything else. In fact, she'll just get upset and feel uncomfortable when I talk about science, like she wants to deny something that makes too much sense and scares her. Nothing else exists to her. Job, get with a man, get money, grandchildren. Nothing else. And then she acts like I'm the one who puts pressure on myself and "I don't know why you think your father and I expect perfection, that's just you."

And then my dad walks into the room, and she keeps talking about it. Of course my dad says nothing, but you just know he's thinking about it, which is not helpful.

My mom just always pushes people under the bus to benefit herself or to subvert any negative reactions off of herself, and I am sick of it! It's like a reflex for her.

#puku's random thoughts

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yolo1650 · 3 years

Text

Surprise Date Pt. 3 (wip)

A/N: Inspired by a whole bunch of sacred romantic prompts by @screnwriter I had a lot of fun writing this! But I can imagine my execution is mediocre at best (especially with trying to write in Redd's pov) XD

Also, if this helps, you can imagine the anthropomorphism akin to something like from Bojack Horseman. If you’re looking for some context, click here. I really wrote this to practice writing, nothing plot relevant here is permanent.

Word Count: 1805

Warnings/Tags: Anthropomorphic characters, cross species relationship, drinking off screen, mentions of alcohol, jazzy times, make up after a fight, but i’m not exactly sure what they fought about, slow dancing, fluff, heart to heart, kissing, implied sex at the end, amateur writing, so it might get repetitive at times, i’m just so glad this is done, my oc still doesn’t have a name yet, she’s just referred to as she the whole time :’)

————-

As the level of wine in their glasses winded down, so did their surprisingly pleasant date night. In between their shared laughter and smiles, Redd could barely remember whatever fuss they had two nights before. Key word: barely. He still remembered how the sound of her yelling grated against his, and his tail bristled slightly at the thought of it.

Just then the CD player finished. With a tight smile, she excused herself to go and add a new one. The smooth voice of a woman's jazz ballad flowed out of the speakers, nothing at all like the soft chimes of the synth that was on before. Redd looked over to her outstretched hand.

"Dance with me?"

The dumb look of shock on his face probably wasn’t subtle at all, otherwise she wouldn't have shown off those shining pearly whites of her's. Rubbing the back of his neck, he chuckled. "No, no, I'm sorry darlin'. But I'm no dancer."

But her hand remained outstretched in front of him. "I'll be the judge of that." Her tone was blunt, but her eyes however held a small plea. She then cocked her head over to the open space in front of the speakers. "Come on, we won't go too fast, I promise."

Tentatively, he placed his own leathered palm in her soft one, allowing her to guide him to the center of the living room. As she guided his right hand to her waist, he could feel his hackles rise at the nerves. He swallowed.

"Don't say I didn't warn you now. Who knows, we might both end up on the ground 'cause of me." He hoped his voice didn't come out as hoarse because of how dry it was. She only smiled back, eyes warm with reassurance.

"Then we'll both have something to laugh about when we look back at this moment." She placed a hand on his shoulder and slowly started moving. "Just follow my lead. I'm sure a smart fox like you can figure out a simple slow dance."

So, they danced, or rather, she slowly danced but had to pause at every step so that Redd's feet could step in time with her. He kept his head down, partly to keep watch of her feet and partly out of embarrassment. It wasn't often when he was forced in a position to admit an honest fault of his, but he'll take this case to be a delightful exception.

"Are you familiar with Ella Fitzgerald?" Her question was let out in a single warm breath that pushed against the whiskers on the side of his muzzle. His nose involuntarily twitched at the newfound intimacy. He looked up only to see her gaze was elsewhere, supposedly lost in the swooping lows of the melody.

"Ah, no, not really." He gently squeezed her hand as she picked up the pace. She squeezed back. "But I, uh, I don't mind. She sounds very talented."

"That she was, that she was," she drawled, her voice low. Nothing at all like how she sounded two days ago: sharp and resonant, and she had each syllable spoken with just the right amount of annunciation, perfect for scolding an employee for his unprofessionalism.

It didn't take long before their bodies started moving together at the gentle pace of the song. His own tail couldn't help but absent-mindedly swing along to the smooth piano accompaniment. She even let him lead the dance for a few moments. Not bad you sly fox, Redd thought to himself, not bad at all. When she took over once more he looked to smile at her before saying, "This, this is kinda nice." But she only briefly returned that same half smile he'd seen all day.

Redd didn't need to be a detective to figure out what was bothering her. But, if their argument has taught him anything, it's that she wasn't really the talking type. In fact, if today has taught him anything, it was that she preferred to show how she felt, rather than say it. He squeezed her hand once more to assure her as she did for him, and her worried-filled eyes met with his attentive ones.

She let out a sigh. "I'm sorry," she started, "about the things I said last time."

"I know." Out of the corner of his eye he could see her small frown. "The museum, fancy dinner, and now this? You'd have to admit it's all one hell of an apology."

"I still thought I should say it.”

“Apology accepted." He smiled. But it quickly dropped when she didn’t return it. He then opened his mouth. “I-

“I still have more to say, so if you could please just..." Her voice trailed off, not that she needed to finish it in the first place. The sight of her knit eyebrows alone was enough to shut his mouth up. He's never seen her so uncomfortable.

She took another breath before continuing. "I was being a stupid, privileged ass, and you didn't deserve that. You're too good for-" She stopped herself, trying to find the right words. "You, you're just." She sighed and briefly glanced at him only to look away once again. “You’re extraordinary."

"I'm extraordinary?" The comment stopped him in his tracks, but he didn't even notice until she stumbled into him, the sweet, floral smell of her hair wash stronger than ever. Her arms grabbed onto his shoulders and he steadied her with his hands on her waist. He let out an embarrassed chuckle against her ear. "Sorry about that. Now remind me, who's the one making more figures here?"

"This isn't about that," she replied, their faces were so close she only needed to whisper. "I'm only able to do what I do because of my mom and she always knows best. But you-" Her piercing eyes met his own. "You didn't have any of that and you still made your way here because you wanted to be. You have this drive, this determination-and I see it in your eyes-you just go for it and take what you want, no matter what.”

He leaned into her when she placed her forehead against his. “I've never seen that before so yeah, that's extraordinary."

He smirked. "Well, you are right about that."

She rolled her eyes. "You know I can easily take back all the nice things I said about you." The corners of her eyes crinkled as her mouth lifted to a beautiful smile. Redd's been waiting all night to see that one.

"Alight, alright," he conceded, "bad timing I know, I'm sorry."

She leaned in, pressing her whole body against him in a total embrace. Redd could tell that she'd said and done her piece, and was now melting into his touch. He could hear her quietly sing along to the music against his neck, another thing he'd never seen her do before. Their swaying has slowed tremendously since they started, but he decided that he actually liked it better this way.

He cleared his throat and she pulled away to hear what he had to say. "I'm sorry 'bout gettin’ under your skin the other day. I should've known better than to pry like that." Seeing the earnest look in her eyes made him pause, and he found his jaw slacked trying to find his thoughts again.

"I, uh, you're an amazing woman, you know that right?" She only responded with a small smile, a gentle request to continue. "You're a smart, beautiful, and busy woman who's got a lot on her plate. I'm sorry if I just ended up makin' your life harder and more stressful."

"Apology accepted," she said with a wide smile.

"And did I mention you've got a spine of steel? She shook her head and chuckled into his chest, now he was overdoing it. "I'm serious! Have you seen yourself at the office? There's nothing stopping you, whatever you want, you've got it. You're the whole package babe, life's just that easy for you."

Their slow dance has come to a crawling stop by now. As they held onto each other, the long, soaring melody from the trumpet flowed in between them, carrying away their troubles and leaving them together, hearts beating in time with each other. Redd didn't think he'd ever want to let go of her at all.

"Nothing about this is easy right now," she mumbled into his neck.

"I know." There was still so much he didn't tell her yet, and the longer he waited, the harder it became to even bring it up.

His sensitive ears picked up the huffiness of a short laugh coming from her. "You certainly don't make it very easy. Here I am, twenty-one, thinking I already have everything together. I knew who I was, and I knew what my future held, but then -" She paused. What she said next came out slow, as if she was processing each word as it left her. "But then I met you, and for the first time, I just don't know anymore. I don't even-" Her hands balled up into fists against his back. "What if I-" He started rubbing slow circles against hers. "Maybe." Her shoulders relaxed. "Maybe I don’t want my future anymore because whenever I look at you-"

Their eyes met, and as they gazed deeply into each other, Redd couldn't help but feel an urge, a pull towards her. Did her eyes always look like a fox's? Bright with excitement and simmering with a deep burn of desire and certainty?

"-I see a whole different future, and I want it." Her eyes were already halfway closed at their close proximity, eagerly inviting him to close the gap. Right before he did, he heard her utter one four more words that made this wait all the more worth it. "I want you, Redd."

This kiss was the best one they had yet. It was slow and tender, and he indulged himself fully to the taste of her perfect lips. They were soft, and still had the lingering taste of the wine they shared moments before.

When she reached up to hold his face against his own, his ears perked at the sound of a new vocalist, male this time, and although his gravelly voice sounded far away, the truth of the words he sang rang loud and true. Heaven, he was in heaven. He felt a slice of it with every gasp of breath they shared in between kisses, with every fleeting touch of her slender fingers on his body, with every soft moan of pleasure she let out underneath him. Heaven was tender kisses that were given like a promise. Heaven was when neither of them wanted to leave the gentle and firm embrace of the other, deep into the night.

————-

Here’s the song that featured at the end

Let me know what you guys think, constructive criticism is especially welcome here :D

-(･ω･)v

#wip #fanfiction wip #writing practice #fluff #slow dancing #furry writing #anthro character #let me know if all the animal details are weird #i can't help but cringe a lil when i think about it too hard #but it could just be because im an insecure furry #achievement unlocked #:ya like jazz?-write a romantic scene that features jazz music #that last tag was just a thought that came to me when i finished xD #i could have made Redd's voice stronger here #but i'll just work on that more in the future #and yes this is THAT redd fic #my post

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demizorua · 3 years

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Your mom sounds like an interesting person. Please tell us more.

she's. a Lot. it's basically your traditional "mildly bad mother" situation with a side of "her mom was Magnitudes Worse and while that doesn't excuse the bad it explains it" and a little bit of "she genuinely means well she's just got twelve untreated mental illnesses" for Flavor y'know. just prefacing this with that.

uhh in relation to the luca thing, she's VERY strange when it comes to queer things. what i mean by that is like... okay so my mom's black. jamaican, to be precise. and she was raised. well a Lot of ways (it's complicated) but she was raised In Jamaica and as such was raised. Very Traditional (Black) Christian. she's not a Like That christian, by any means, but she's got vestiges of it in there. the more applicable bit, is she moved to NYC on her own when she was 16. this was in the 80s. so, by her own (constant, never-ending) admission, she's got a Lot of experience with just. normal ass queer people. she frequently cites numerous Gay Friends she supposedly had, she says she went to pride marches and events, says she went to gay bars, etc. my mom doesn't usually lie, in fact she almost never point-blank lies about anything, but she's very prone to exaggerating, so. that's about all i can say about that.

so she considers herself an Experienced Ally. like, she's the type of person to say things like "everyone's a little bit gay" and, her personal favorite, "LGBTL-M-N-O-P, i don't care what you are" but as a supposedly positive thing. she means well, but she's also far too confident in her Ally Status. so, like, she was very quick to accept my being a lesbian, when i introduced my partner she was fine (although she did have a pretty long period where she kept sorta... implying that i'd Realize that i'm actually bi once i Find The Right Person or something, and fairly frequently pushes the idea of having biological children onto me, but i think that's mostly because i'm her eldest) and she's generally fairly normal with the orientation level of things. it's gender where she... struggles.

i don't necessarily mind people not understanding. i get that it's not intuitive and it's difficult for some people. the thing that gets me is when there's sort of a refusal to acknowledge or accommodate because they don't understand it. and that's... kinda what my mom has done.

i remember in middle school i first came out to her as a demigirl. it was before i even knew what was going on with my orientation, but i knew i was Cisn't. nowadays i'm pretty comfortable with the demiflux/demifluid label, but this was back when i was still. well. clinging to the feminine label because i was Scared of Change or whatever. i remember her response was... pretty understandable at first, she was basically just super confused, and i stopped trying to explain the intricacies of gender to her and said basically just "i'm not a girl or a boy. i'm like. sort of a girl. but not really." and she was like "Okay?? do you. want to be a he?" and i said no and that was that.

later on, when i realized Actually, Fuck Femininity, i basically just decided to come out to her again because i (correctly) assumed she'd just full stop forgotten. i didn't bother with labels or anything this time, and just went "i'm nonbinary" and asked her to use they/them pronouns and not use gendered terms for me. she asked to have time to process after some confusion, and i was like. yeah okay sure! fast forward like a week later, i get a text from her that says something along the lines of this:

"i fully respect and admire your identity. you will always be my daughter no matter what. i don't think i can call you a 'they,' though. it feels disrespectful. my daughter is not a 'they.' i love you and will always support you."

so. not great. it's not Horrible obviously, and i'm incredibly lucky as far as things go, i recognize that! i didn't get kicked out or anything, and she seems to genuinely want to try to help me with presenting less feminine (in... some respects. we'll get there) and she almost certainly means nothing but good, it's just kinda like. okay cool thank you love that for me. so she still lumps me in as "one of her girls" and stuff. the interesting thing to me is she seems willing to try with Other nonbinary people? one of the shows she watches has a nonbinary character and she seems to be genuinely trying with their pronouns (although, either i'm really bad at Gently Correcting pronouns or she just doesn't take well to being corrected; it's almost certainly the latter) it's just. me specifically she's not willing to try.

in terms of the presenting thing, it goes... back and forth. some things she's very open to -- she describes her personal style as ''tomboy'' so she helps me sort of do that, and she accepts that i hate female-cut shirts and only wear sports bras -- but some things she's very resistant to or outright denies, although i'm pretty sure again that the trouble stems from her being overprotective. trying to let her cut my hair has been like pulling teeth, since she's worried i'll regret it, and when i bought a binder for myself online by walking to a local store, buying a gift card with cash, then using that to send the binder to a local post office and walking to the post office, she found it hidden in my bathroom and took it, and i haven't seen it since (it's been like... three years.) she was worried about me breaking my ribs or something, but refuses to read anything i send her about how binding can be done safely. that's something she's not gonna budge on.

the other main (and honestly More Contested) subject of conflict between us is the Menthol Illness. like i mentioned, she definitely has a Chunk of undiagnosed Brain Details. some of them have been unofficially or officially diagnosed; when my brother got diagnosed with adhd, she took one of his meds to -- test it? make sure it was... safe? idk -- and ended up cleaning the entire kitchen while on it so she' unofficially diagnosed with adhd, and she's definitely Officially diagnosed with depression + ptsd bc of things with her mother, but there's absolutely more there that is as-of-yet-undiagnosed. like i mentioned, she grew up in a really fundamentalist christian black area in jamaica, so to her, Brain Weird is still a Bad, Taboo Topic that should Never Be Mentioned or Acknowledged, and as such she has multiple times just stopped taking medication or stopped going to therapy because... she decided to. Fun.

so i mean. you can imagine how great it was when i had the patented Brain Fuck Breakdown in middle school and got diagnosed with six mental illnesses in a trench coat.

outside of some... questionable choices and statements when i was actively sui//cidal (a sexy combo of her saying she thinks people who k!ll themselves are cowards -- almost definitely a holdover from her convincing herself not to do so herself -- and admonishing me for being hospitalized because of the effect it'd have on my siblings -- "they'll always be the younger sibling of the girl who tried to k!ll herself") the real point of contention was when The Autism got added to my laundry list of brain weirds. that was... early high-school? i was like... 14 or 15. something like that.

and again, she didn't (and doesn't) do anything overtly bad, for which i'm very grateful! she (usually) tries to be accommodating when i get overloaded, she tries to help, but she's got some sort of. built in things that conflict with My Me. like, she's open to stimming as a base concept, and she's fine with things like me buying a spinner ring or a fidget cube, and something i've always done is rock back and forth when i'm happy, so those are acceptable, but any stims that are Weird (i.e. hand flapping, any vocal stims) or in her mind are a sign of agitation and only work up energy (i.e. pacing, leg bouncing) are Not Okay and i can't do them around her without getting scolded.

i wasn't diagnosed until high school. until high school, i had decent to high grades. like a Lot of other autistic people, i got really good at masking and such. in my mom's own lovely, lovely words, i am "high-functioning." as such, she seems to have it in her head that for the most part, we can Ignore that i'm autistic, and we can pretend that i'm ""normal."" case in point, she doesn't call me autistic, and doesn't like when i refer to myself as such. i'm not autistic, in her mind, i'm "a little bit on the spectrum." and those are Different. to her, an Actual autistic person is someone who cannot function on their own, and everybody else is "on the spectrum."

fun!

there's also aspects of things that are Absolutely The Autism that she either doesn't understand, refuses to understand, or thinks are a voluntary choice i'm making to be annoying. for the record, my dad is absolutely also autistic. no diagnosis, but again, like... he Is. and his dad was as well. so a lot of the things she gets mad at me for, she also gets mad at him for. things like needing instructions repeated because i didn't understand them. things like not hearing her when i have headphones on; that's clearly just me choosing not to listen. things like getting overwhelmed when she barks vague instructions at me, things like needing specific directions when she wants me to do something, things like asking genuine questions she thinks are me being difficult, things like needing to do things in a particular order or sequence and having to follow rules and instructions to the letter. and ESPECIALLY things like being unable to do the dishes because it's a Sensory Bad, and even more so, going semi or nonverbal when i get overwhelmed. she either doesn't associate these things with autism, or wants to pretend i'm "not that bad." i've been told "you're not that autistic" multiple times before.

i've tried to explain things like this to her before, but in general she tends to get upset if any mental illness or neurodivergence is even brought up. if the words "adhd" or "autism" or "anxiety" or "depression" or anything adjacent are even mentioned in her presence, she gets agitated and says something like "stop making excuses!" so, for things like executive dysfunction, or sensory overload, or anything else like that, i wind up having to explain things to her in this roundabout way, where i know the word for this phenomenon, i know what's causing it, but i can't use any of the proper words for it because that immediately invalidates anything i said. it's like the world's worst game of charades.

she's also really weird about special interests/hyperfixations and stuff. the way that i enjoy media i like (reading everything there is to know about it, rewatching it over and over, my brain is Only this media at all times, rambling about it constantly) are Bad ways of enjoying media, because they aren't how she does it. so when we watch dragon ball together and i say some factoid i learned or found out or offer some sort of. analysis on something going on, she gets annoyed. she gets upset when i ramble about video games too much. she doesn't like when i rewatch things, to the point where the disney movie dumbo was banned from the household until i was 14 because i watched it Too Much as a child.

it's just. interesting. you really hit the nail on the head there, lmao. people be wild, mothers be Wild.

#sorry this got so long i just started hardcore Rambling lmao #hopefully this is at least somewhat what you were asking for #zorua.txt #anonymous #long post

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

Burn; Current!Roger Taylor x reader

*Author’s note*

In light of Hamilton coming out on Disney+ today (watched it earlier this afternoon and WAS BLOWN AWAY!!!!!) I wanted to post this for awhile but never had the time nor did I think I was going to but I then thought screw it I'll post it in light of Hamilton. So this fanfic goes around "That would be enough" (If you haven't read that story GO READ THAT CAUSE SPOILERS!!!) but this time it's in YOUR POV. Plus this song had some heavy inspiration for a sequel-ish part of that fic. So I hope you all enjoy it and have a safe and happy 4th of July to my fellow American readers :)

You can read pt.1 here -------> READ ME

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@platawnic

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@geek-and-proud

@kairosfreddie

@queendeakyy

_____________________________________________________________

I sat there in the pub trying to enjoy our victory at the Grammy’s with my Hamilton fam, but what Roger had told me just clouded my mind and it was all I could think about. He was my dad. All this time I really did have a father, a freakin Rockstar legend no doubt. The man I had come to idolize out of all the four members of my favorite rock band was none other than my dad.

What if he was lying? Maybe he know about this all along? Maybe he kicked my mother aside as soon as she told him? So many questions were buzzing through my mind. So many what if’s and maybes that I almost was about to just start bawling right there in the club.

“(Y/n)? You okay?” I felt a hand at my shoulder and when I turned around there stood Lin. His brown eyes filled with concern.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure? You looked really out of it for a second there.” Said Renée.

“I’ll bet she’s still just star struck from having to sing alongside her favorite rock group. Am I right?” Daveed teased as he wrapped an arm around me and poked my cheek teasingly.

“Yeah how did it feel to be up there with Queen themselves (n/n)? You’ve always raved on about how you wished to perform alongside them.” Leslie said.

“Oh it was—amazing.” I trailed off. “Excuse me.” I removed Daveed’s arm from my shoulders and walked out ot eh club to try and get some air.

Once outside I was automatically hit with the cool winter LA air. I took a left to the side of the club and leaned up against the wall trying to compose myself. Of course I wasn’t gonna tell the guys what Roger just told me, no. This was my mess and they don’t deserve this gossip, but I’ve got to see whether Roger Taylor was either playing me for a fool or if in fact he really is my—father.

In the weeks that went by after the award season was done, I called up my mom’s brother and sister, my uncle Bobby and aunt Jodie to finally see just what the truth was. I first arrived at my aunt Jodie’s home down in Sioux Falls and knocked on the door. The door opened after about five seconds and there stood my aunt Jodie, sheriff of the Sioux Falls police force.

“Hey, there’s my Tony award winning niece.”

“Aunt Jodie you know I didn’t win the award.”

“I don’t care you were denied that award. I’ve heard the album and I saw the show the day it came to Broadway and you were sensational!” I smiled and thanked her with a hug. “Come in, I was just making some coffee before I headed out to start my shift.”

“Oh well if you’re too busy we can talk later.” I said as I was gestured inside.

“Nonsense, besides I’m the sheriff I can come in whenever I want.” She bragged. I shook my head playfully at her as she went into the kitchen and got the coffee poured out. “So, you said over the phone that you wanted to talk about your mom, right?”

“In a way.” I said as I took one of the coffee mugs she soon came in with. She and I sat down in the dining room and she said.

“Okay. What’s going on?”

“Look I’m just gonna cut to the chase. Is Roger Taylor my father?” her eyes widened and she gulped noticeably.

“Wow. That is cutting to the chase.”

“Aunt Jodie please. I’ve—been literally freaking out about this ever since he told me after the Grammy’s……”

“Wait, wait, whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. You mean you actually met him?”

“Is it true?!” I demanded. Aunt Jodie set her mug down and sighed heavily.

“God (m/n) you should’ve told her the truth.” She muttered into her hands as she buried her face into them.

“So it is true? Roger Taylor really is my dad?” she turned to me with solemn eyes and took my hand in hers.

“Your mom and Roger were a couple. And they seemed really happy with each other, even from being across the world from each other most days until one day she did move to London with him. God I could’ve sworn they would’ve been married by the end of the year. But you mom showed up at my apartment one night, drenched in the storm that was here that night with a heartbroken expression.”

“So—did he…..dump her? Break her heart?” I snapped lowly.

“Truth be told, your mom left him.” I looked at her in shock. “Yeah. It was also when she told me that she was pregnant. With you. Roger’s child.” She said as she stroked my cheek. I turned away from her and I said as I stared at my mug of coffee.

“Why the hell would she lie to me all these years?”

“Believe me sweetie. Your uncle Bobby and I tried to convince your mom to tell you the truth. Especially once you heard your first Queen song. And—” But before she could finish her statement, her phone rang. She picked it up and answered in a firm tone, “Sheriff Jodie……yeah. Okay. Alright I’ll be there soon.” She hung up and sighed heavily. “Sorry sweetie, the team needs me to do a press interview and it can’t wait any longer.”

“I understand.” I said solemnly.

“Here.” She spoke after a moment of silence. She went over to the living room where she kept all her books and reached the very top of it and pulled out a scrapbook. “Take this.” She handed it to me.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Your mom got into scrapbooking while she was up there. It—has all the pictures of her and Roger together. She told me to hide this shortly after you were born, but I think now since you know the truth, you should take it.” She held it out to me and I took it. “You know, if you don’t wanna wait for me. You can see your uncle Bobby. He might have some things to tell you.”

“Wait, uncle Bobby knows about this too?!” I said aghast. “Did the entire family know about this too? Did grandma and grandpa know about this too?”

“No. Just Bobby and I as her siblings. In fact your grandfather tried to keep your mom away from Roger when they started seeing each other. Said that he was no good for her.” With that she forced herself to leave the house so that she could meet for that press interview.

“Mom—why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?” I sighed as I left aunt Jodie’s place and headed 30 miles north to meet my uncle Bobby over at his place.

I arrived at his home/garage shop and we were both sitting down in the kitchen. He was currently eating a steak and potatoes and he even asked if I wanted anything but I told him I didn’t have the appetite to eat. I then explained to him everything that I had found out and it was then he gently lowered his fork filled with mashed potatoes and he said grimly.

“So you met your old man?”

“Got to perform with him actually. I know you really don’t do award shows except for the CMA’s but yeah. I performed alongside Queen and Adam Lambert at the Grammys back in February.”

“And he told you that he was your father?”

“Yeah. Aunt Jodie gave me mom’s scrapbook. Would’ve told me more but she had to do a press junket or something like that.”

“Always busy that little sister of mine.” He sighed solemnly. “Listen sweetheart; when your mom first started seeing Roger I knew a bit of his playboy rep. Then again what rockstar back then didn’t have one? I just told her to be careful. Sure I wasn’t all that thrilled with her dating a Brit but I couldn’t stop her. But when Jodie called and told me that she had come back home pregnant with you, I wanted to drag her ass back there and have her tell Roger what had happened.”

“So she left—because of me?”

“Of course not sweetie. Her reason was because of the fact that Queen was finally rising to the heights they had dreamed of. She—she was honestly scared of what Roger would say if she told him. Jodie and I tried to convince her but you know your mama. Stubborn as an ox. Much like yourself.”

He stood up and went to open a drawer and pulled out a small rusted box. He set it down before me and he told me.

“While your mom could never physically tell you the truth, she tried to see if she could write you a letter. She wrote one every year on your birthday, but could never find the heart to give them to you. She also even wrote some letters to Roger.”

“Let me guess, and she entrusted you with this like she did with aunt Jodie for the scrapbook.”

“There’s also this.” He left and grabbed an envelope from the kitchen cabinet where he would usually keep bills at. “This…..was the letter she wrote on her deathbed. She entrusted me to give this to you when you were ready. Well, guess now’s a good time as any.” He handed me the envelope and I held that along with touching the lid of the box to reveal hundreds maybe thousands of letters.

I tried to keep the tears at bay from the hurt I was feeling in my chest. Uncle Bobby was silence for a moment before he said to me.

“Take your time when you read these letters.”

After a couple of months of finally going through all the letter my mum tried to write to both Roger and myself throughout the years, and finally able to see every single picture of her and Roger together I was numb.

I was the only one left up on stage since everyone decided to go out to eat for their lunch break before tomorrow tonight’s performance which would in fact be Lin’s last performance with us on stage. I took out one specific letter that was actually written just a few days before my mom finally died of cancer, the letter that she was actually able to finish completely with supposedly the right words she needed to tell me.

I had read this letter so many times that I could recite it almost as easy as my lines and the songs from Hamilton. I sat down at the edge of the stage and looked down at it before taking out my phone and went through my rehearsal track and found the instrumental version of Burn.

Much like I had done once before when I was betrayed by my ex-fiancé at the time I was to star in the show when it first came to Broadway, I sung Burn aloud to myself filling each verse with as much emotion and betrayal I was feeling inside.

However unlike before, I couldn’t help myself but mix up some words to what I would normally sing on stage.

Play video

*Me*

I saved every letter you wrote to us From the moment I read them I knew you were his He said you were his Which makes me his

Do you know what aunt Jodie said, When we saw your first record arrive? You said, be careful with that one, love He will do what it takes to survive

You and your words flooded my senses Your sentences left me defenseless You built me palaces out of paragraphs You built cathedrals

I'm re-reading the letters you wrote to me I'm searching and scanning for answers in every line For some kind of sign And when you were mine The world seemed to burn. Burn.

You published your works to the world You told me of How you brought my mom into your bed In clearing your name You have ruined my life

Do you know what uncle Bobby said When he heard what you'd done? He said, she’s partnered with an Icarus He has flown too close to the sun

You and your words obsessed with your legacy Your sentences border on senseless And you are paranoid in every paragraph How they perceive you You, you, you!

I'm erasing you both from the narrative Let everyone wonder how (Y/n) reacted When you both broke her heart You have torn it all apart I'm watching it burn Watching it burn

The world has no right to my heart The world has no place in your bed They don't get to know what I said I'm burning the memories Burning the letters that

Might have redeemed you both

You forfeit all rights to my heart You forfeit the place in his bed You'll sleep in your office instead With only the memories of when you were mine

I hope you both

Burn

“I haven’t heard you sing that song with that much emotion since your ex fiancé cheated on you.” I turned around and there stood Lin. He took off his newsies hat and said. “You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s going on? We’re all worried about you.”

“Just—some personal family drama Lin. You wouldn’t understand.” I said as I sat back down at the edge of the stage.

“I may not get it. But I am willing to lend an ear, if you’d like.” He said as he came up and sat down close to me. His shoulder brushing against mine as his legs mimicked the same way mine were swinging.

“Why do you always have to make me succumb to your charms Lin Manuel Miranda?” he shrugged while giving me the puppy dog eyes. I looked down at my letter before handing it over to him. “You can read it out loud if you’d like.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s better than just you reading in silence. My thoughts will just attack me if there’s silence.” He took the letter from my hand and proceeded to read it.

“‘My darling (y/n). I’ve written this letter over a thousand times in both versions. I could never find the right words to say but with my time coming to an end, you deserve to know the truth. You know how you’ve always loved the songs from Queen? Well, it would seem fate has decided to let you hear them for you see your father is known other than the drummer of Queen.’ Whaaaat?”

“I know. In fact Roger Taylor himself told me he was my father right after the Grammy’s. That’s why I was late to celebration. I didn’t want to believe him, thinking he was a senile old man trying to mess with me. But—hehe turns out he wasn’t. I’ve got pictures from my mom’s scrapbook that she made while she was in London of her and Roger together. All domestic like or her being in the studio with them. And then my uncle shows me some of the many letters she’s tried to write not only to me but to Roger himself about this whole shitshow. So yeah Roger Taylor’s my long lost baby daddy. Surprise!”

“My god.” Lin said after a long pause. “No wonder you’ve been out of sorts lately. I can’t blame you.”

“I’m so confused Lin.”

“About what exactly?”

“Everything. My mom lied to me for so long. Not only to me but apparently to Roger as well cause my aunt Jodie said he never knew. But then again I feel this—utter hatred for Roger because he could’ve told me sooner the moment he found out. Or maybe it would’ve been better had he never told me at all. I mean—I never knew I had a dad. I always believe he never cared about me or my mom, or died of a drug overdose or whatever. It feels like—my whole life has been nothing but one big lie. My entire family knew this secret and yet I find out now almost 30 years later that my father is Roger Fucking Taylor. My idol and favorite member of my most favorite rock band!”

“That is seriously a lot to take in. I mean—if I were in your place I’d be reacting the same way. Lost, betrayed, confused, heartbroken.”

“I just—why would she lie to me? I thought we told each other everything, and she goes and hides for all my life of who my real father was.” I sighed heavily. “You know; I used to always come up with the worst scenarios of why I never had a father. It’s all ranged from the basic ‘you get rid of the baby or I’m leaving you’ scenario. To overdosing or whatever. Or just dying of cancer or some shit like that. But no he’s been living his life as a Rock god. I mean—I should hate him but……he never knew. But then he did, how?”

“Well from what I can tell, and from the pictures you’ve shown me of your mom, you both look similar in a way. But your actions is what really makes you like your mom. I’ve seen all the plays she’s been in as a dancer or ensemble and you have that same fire as she did on the stage. It’s like—you both were made for it.”

“But I guess I get it from both of them.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Still I—I feel so angry with her for lying to me.”

“And it’s okay to be angry. And like you said, Roger didn’t know either. He was kept in the dark about it just as much as you were. But maybe when you got to know them along with Adam it might’ve brought some memories back.” He scooted closer to me and allowed me to rest my head on his shoulder.

“What do I do now?” I asked defeated.

“Well there is one option, but you’re not gonna like it.” We looked at each other and I said.

“You’re right I don’t.”

“But you’ve got to. (Y/n). you can be angry about this but don’t stay mad about it forever. Remember he didn’t know either. It’s not like he packed up and took off. Just tell him how you really feel. I’m not saying you have to accept him and call him dad as soon as you see him. Just—tell him you want to take things slow. Maybe go out for coffee or well tea since he’s British.” I softly laughed at that last remark. “Now there’s that fabulous smile my Eliza is known for.”

“Nice touch calling me my character’s name.”

“I know my Eliza like I know myself.” He shrugged.

“You know that’s Renée’s line right?”

“Yeah I know. Remember I wrote the script.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. C’mon Alexander, I’m hungry and we’ve got an until rehearsal.”

“Sure thing, let us spread our wings and fly away.”

“Okay now you’re just showing off.” I playfully shoved him as we left the theatre and went to go get lunch.

After another couple months, which made it four months since Roger Taylor told me the truth, I found myself in London to where I had told Roger and discussed with him with what I was feeling. He said he was willing to go at whatever speed I needed in order to process this whole thing.

One day after seeing them perform at MSG, Roger and I were sitting together at Central Park right by the Balto statue having a cup of coffee together.

“So what’s new with you my dear?”

“Well…..I’ve been giving this some thought. And—I think it’s time I announced my leaving of Broadway’s Hamilton. Maybe even leaving Broadway all together.”

“Really? What made you decide that?”

“Well. Truthfully I’ve been thinking about……moving to London.” He turned to look at me and I turned to face him. “Now before you say anything I know I should be thinking about this but I have. My aunt and uncle don’t even live remotely close to me so there’s nothing really tying me to New York. And also, I was—hoping that now that Queen’s done with touring for now, maybe you and I could……spend more time together.”

“I would like that very much.” He said with a warm smile. “I just hope you aren’t doing all this just for my sake. Like I told you before, I’m willing to go at your own pace.”

“And I thank you for that Roger. Truly I do. But…..I gotta stop giving into this anger that’s been festering up inside of me. After all you didn’t know about my mom being pregnant when she left you. And—I guess I just need some time away from home.”

“If you need a place to stay until you get on your feet. Or for even longer than that I will not say no to it. You can stay with Sarina and I. We’ve got more than enough rooms.”

“Thanks……..dad.” he looked at me surprised and he said.

“You—you actually called me…..”

“I figured it was about time I did so. I—hope I didn’t make things….”

“No, no, no, no, no not at all love.” He hesitantly reached up towards my face before he finally placed it up against my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into his palm. “God. You’re—the perfect mixture of both your mother and myself.”

“You know, Daveed always teased me about just how much I looked like you when you were in drag for the I want to break free music video.” He laughed.

“Oh god that was a fun day on set. Probably one of my favorite videos to shoot.” I smiled softly at him and leaned up against his shoulder and said.

“Do you think they would’ve liked me? John and Freddie I mean.” I felt Roger sigh heavily and he said as I felt his arms wrap around me.

“There’s no doubt in my mind Freddie would’ve tried to spoil you. And John, I’d bet he’d be trying to turn you against me.” I softly chuckled and embraced my dad and nuzzled my head into his shoulder.

The two of us hugging each other finally sitting together as a real father and daughter.

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trikruheart · 4 years

Text

Bellamy Is The Abusive One, Not Octavia: A Rant/Meta

There’s two main “reasons” that people give when they claim that Octavia is abusive. That she beats up Bellamy after Lincoln’s murder, and that she has him put in The Fighting Pits.

Let’s start with the old discourse; Bellamy did get Lincoln killed, not Octavia. Bellamy is the person who got Pike into power, the person who stood by him even after seeing + being told multiple times by people he supposedly cares about that Pike was instituting facism and going to get everyone killed. Bellamy knowingly decided to be a Nazi even though he had other options and was aware of them. And, no, Nazi is not an exaggeration, Bellamy was 100% willing to wipe out an entire race just for being that race including putting them in concentration camp-like conditions to die.

Octavia is not at fault just because she didn’t accept Bellamy’s last minute “help”, he had given her absolutely no reason to trust him so it’s not her fault she didn’t. If my brother was fhe right-hand man of a fascist leader then I wouldn’t have trusted him that after he belittled my concerns several times and stopped me from escaping, he’ll get my boyfriend out of the camp he put him in to begin with. Octavia had no obligation to trust Bellamy after he did everything in his power to destroy her trust.

So, yes, Octavia beats up Bellamy. If I had just saw and heard the love of my life be murdered at the hands of the man that my own brother knowingly put in power then I probably would beat him up to. Especially if my brother had already been abusing me my whole life.

Side note: Let me also just point out that Bellamy was never adequately redeemed for that whole being a Nazi thing, everyone just pretended it never happened. Octavia herself even calls him out “You didn’t turn on Pike because you thought what he was doing to the grounders was wrong.” and he AGREES. Bellamy 👏 never 👏 earned 👏 redemption, because men in this show don’t need to be held accountable for their actions while women (mainly Octavia and Clarke) have to supplicate themselves to men and be dragged through the dirt mercilessly for every wrong breath they take.

The Fighting Pit issue is an even weaker example because Octavia didn’t put Bellamy in there because she was angry or wanted to (although she had every right to be) she did it because Bellamy publicly broke several laws and she would have completely undermined her own authority (and given special treatment, making her a poor leader) if she let him get away with treason, child endangerment, murder, and attempted assassination. Bellamy getting put in the fighting pit was a consequence of his own actions, one that he was well aware of. Octavia wasn’t being abusive, she was being a fair leader.

Now that that BS is out of the way, here’s a list of why Bellamy is abusive to Octavia:

1.) Bellamy has had all of the power in their relationship from day one. Octavia was literally trapped in a room and only able to interact with two people for sixteen years, Bellamy came and went as he pleased. Octavia was essentially a captive, she couldn’t have possibly been more powerless during the entire time their relationship was developing. Then when they get on the ground, Bellamy is almost instantly put in a position of power which he uses to isolate and control Octavia. There’s also the age difference, I think a lot of people forget that Bellamy is way older than all the other Skaikru. Bellamy is 23 at the start of the show and everyone else is under 18 (except Raven is 18). So, we’re talking about a barely 17-year-old girl, one who grew up extremely isolated so is even more immature than most kids her age, and a 23-year-old man who lived most of his life relatively normally.

The power difference entirely favors Bellamy. Octavia has no power over him at all pre-Blodreina (which we’ll get to that) so the idea that she could possibly abuse Bellamy is pretty absurd. Abuse is a habitual pattern of controlling and belittling behavior by someone with more (actual or perceived) power over another, Octavia had no power over Bellamy at all; Bellamy had an insane amount of power over her that he constantly abuses to isolate and control her.

2.) Bellamy supposedly goes to the ground to “protect” Octavia but his means of doing so are abusive and controlling. In season 1 alone; Bellamy uses physical intimidation and manhandling against Octavia several times, he terrorizes a harmless teenager (remember how he’s a grown ass adult? Yikes...) to keep him away from Octavia who was enjoying his company, then he tortures a man in front of her while she begs him to stop because he doesn’t care about her opinions (more in 4) and he’s the leader of The 100 so he can.

3.) The whole “my sister, my responsibility” thing that everyone thinks is so cute? Yeah, that’s emotional abuse. A figure of authority repeating to a child that they are a burden for existing is disgusting and so, so harmful. That phrase is a reinforcement of the more vicious things Bellamy has said “Mom was floated for having you, she’s dead because you’re alive!” and “My life ended the day you were born!”

4.) Bellamy is constantly belittling, dismissing, and patronizing all of Octavia’s opinions and identity.

“You turned this place into a story from your childhood. I mean, the red queen? It’s a joke.”

I’m not saying that Blodreina was a positive identity for Octavia, but it was something she was forced (remember, she didn’t seek power like Bellamy and Clarke did) to become to survive. Octavia was a mentally ill teenage girl with very limited exposure to the world who has never had any power in her entire life, and suddenly she was responsible for saving the human race. How fucking dare Bellamy mock her for basing her leadership off of stories WHAT THE HELL ELSE WOULD SHE BASE IT OF OFF???

Bellamy had a job and a life on The Arc, Octavia never left her room and had no way of seeing the outside world except through stories. She has literally no reference for ruling, or anything else, except those stories and her brief time with the Grounders. Fuck you and your privilege, Bellamy.

On top of that, Octavia actually did save the human race. That “joke” kept humanity alive.

“It is time to stop playing Grounder before you get yourself hurt.”

Yes, how dare she identify with the only people who have ever accepted her and treated her like a human being. How about you stop “playing” Nazi before you get us everyone killed. Seriously, Octavia is not allowed to disagree with Bellamy without him grabbing her arm and talking down to her like she’s a toddler throwing a tantrum.

5.) As soon as Octavia is in a position of power, one she didn’t even ask for, Bellamy’s abuse gets progressively crueler because he’s trying to regain control. He starts actively using Octavia’s mental illness against her and literally suicide baits her several times.

There is NO excuse. None at all. To tell someone who is severely mentally ill, traumatized, and an active suicide risk that “I wish you were dead” and “you’re already dead”. Trying to push someone to suicide and using someone’s mental illness to hurt them, let alone your own sister, is one of the most evil things you can do. The fact that so much of the fandom ignores this genuinely makes me sick.

Bellamy chooses those words because he knows that is what will hurt Octavia the most and he wants to hurt her. Bellamy has heard Octavia say that she’s already dead when she’s at her lowest points, he knows that those are the words that haunt her and drive her to want to kill herself, and that’s why he uses them as a weapon. Notice that he says them multiple times and at very purposeful times, this is not something he yelled once when he was angry; we see him calmly make the choice to say these things to her several times when he is losing control and wants to break her back down to the helpless little girl who was always happy to see him because of her Stockholm Syndrome.

6.) I think trying to MURDER Octavia THREE FUCKING TIMES deserves its own point. Bellamy poisons Octavia, he suicide baits her and let’s her go through with it (someone else stops her, Bellamy makes no move to), and then he leaves her to die with a lovely extra “My sister is dead” for the road.

7.) Octavia spends most of season 6 groveling and trying to “earn” back Bellamy’s love and we see clearly that “earning” Bellamy’s love means being utterly powerless and subservient. Bellamy loved Octavia when she was a captive little girl but suddenly he can’t produce an ounce of human decency towards her? And don’t give me some “but she’s Blodreina” like Mr. Nazi has any room to judge Octavia for becoming a dictator out of desperation when she didn’t know what else to do and she was forced in a very, very difficult leadership position that she never wanted and all of humanity relied on.

My point is basically that Bellamy’s love is conditional, he holds it over Octavia’s head like a fucking dog treat. He wants “his sister” back but what does that mean? He wants back the scared little girl who couldn’t leave one room and was entirely dependent on him. It’s Octavia having autonomy that Bellamy hates, not her being “evil” because Bellamy is 500x as evil as Octavia and I will die on that hill. You’re telling me that Bellamy of all people is soooo upset that his sister was forced to kill some people in the context of war and keeping humanity alive? As if Bellamy isn’t a mass murderer who has killed way more people for way less. Give me a fucking break. “Octavia is dead” because Bellamy’s victim is dead and he can’t handle that.

But, please, do tell me again how two isolated incidents over six years apart from each other that are both the direct consequences of Bellamy’s autonomous choices make Octavia “eMoTiOnAllY AbUsIvE tO pOoR WitTlE BeLl”.

#anti bellamy blake #octavia blake #pro octavia blake #pro blodreina #octavia defense squad

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takadasaiko · 4 years

Text

Love Me Twice: Chapter Seventeen

FFN II AO3

Summary: Ressler and Park follow a lead to Bonn, Scottie arrives in DC, and Tom hits a wall with his memory therapy.

Chapter Seventeen

Cooper had sent Ressler in as lead to Bonn in part because he needed a seasoned agent with a deep understanding of the delicate nature of their situation, but Ressler was also the one with a contact there. He had known Mike Weiss in Quantico and the two had traded favours over the years, especially when Ressler had been abroad so often with the first Reddington Task Force. He was always good for a few beers, a collection of absurd stories, and - if Ressler was lucky - an answer or two if he could get him around to it. Weiss was the kind of guy everybody liked and he loved to be the center of attention. It didn't hurt to gather intelligence either.

He motioned for another round and Ressler heard Park's less-than-subtle sound of annoyance as she excused herself for a moment. Weiss chuckled. "That one's wound up almost as tight as you used to be."

Ressler's lips quirked you at the corners. "She's a good agent."

"Most people that tightly wound have something to hide."

"I'll vouch for her."

"I don't care. I know you. I know you're clean. So listen fast." His voice dipped a little so that it was hard to hear him over the music and the chatter. "Emilia Schmitz isn't a name you want to toss around in this town. She's a ghost that supposedly died around the time the Berlin Wall fell. She was East Berlin and vicious."

"What's she doing here?"

Weiss quirked an eyebrow. "What makes you think she's here?"

"A case I'm working. There was a man named Petrov that blackmailed a German attaché to deliver a file. We think it was being sent to Schmitz. What do you know about her?"

"I know mentioning her name can get you killed." He took a long drink from his stein. "Maybe… eight or nine years ago her name came across our radar for a case. Had these partners that were like bloodhounds. Mick and Jamie. They could find anyone with just a scrap to go on."

"Could?" Ressler echoed.

"They'd just started making progress when Mick got hit crossing the street late one night. Car drove off without stopping and left him bleeding in the street. He didn't make it to the hospital. Jamie picks up the trail, right? She's pissed, swears up and down it had to be Schmitz somehow. Three days later we found her dead in her flat. Local cops ruled it a suicide and I got word in from D.C. to drop the case."

"Did you?"

Weiss offered a small shrug. "Alan Fitch made the call himself. You don't exactly tell the Assistant Director of National Intelligence no."

Ressler made a small sound of acknowledgement. "Saying you will and doing it are two different things."

"What'd I miss?" Park asked as she returned and Ressler watched his old friend's expression close off.

"Just reminiscing about Donnie's mishap with the lap pool second week into training," Weiss answered lightly and that was that. The rest of the night was chatter and a frustrated Park, even as Ressler worked through the details of the story and the fact that a known Cabal leader had been the one to cut the case off at the knees.

As they wrapped it up for the night Weiss - a little clingy that many beers in - wrapped an arm around Ressler's shoulders, pulling him in and hanging into the front of his jacket. "You got one of the best here," he told Park and she tried not to look as irritated as she clearly felt. "Sorry I couldn't get you what you needed."

Weiss offered Ressler one more squeeze and sauntered off. Park rolled her eyes as they started for the door. "What a waste of time."

"Maybe not," Ressler mumbled as he patted at his own jacket, feeling something that felt suspiciously like a jump drive in his inside pocket. Leave it to Weiss. The bastard always had had a flare for the dramatic.

--------

Liz remembered her own memory extraction had left her feeling violated and in desperate need of solitude and a shower from the inside out. She'd been taken and drugged against her will only to find out that she'd been used as a child to traffic one of the most dangerous blackmail files that the world had seen. It still left her unsettled all these years later and the vague reference that Krilov had made after Ressler's equally twisted experience with him to the fact that he'd screwed around with her mind yet again only made it worse. Part of her wondered if, after Tom had his memories back, she should speak with Selma about trying to find out what had been altered or taken from her the second time, or if it had just been an attempt to throw her off her game. If history had taught her anything it was that the not knowing was just as dangerous as knowing in the life she led. Another part, though, didn't want to crack open yet another round of danger. Maybe when this was over she should just be done.

Not that Reddington would let her.

Thankfully Tom's experience with the memory extraction hadn't been quite as horrifying. At least it wasn't all bad. Where Liz's buried memories were filled with smoke and fire and gunshots, Tom had a mixed bag. He had been exhausted after the session, falling asleep next to her on the couch as she'd worked. It hadn't been until late that evening that the nightmares had crept in, but even as he'd come flying off the couch like he was ready for a fight he could only remember pieces of what he'd seen. It was something they would have to talk to Orchard about when they saw her later that day.

Before that, though, Liz needed to get Agnes safely dropped off at school.

The four year old had wanted nothing to do with leaving the apartment that morning. Liz wasn't sure if Tom had won all that affection through pancakes for breakfast since Agnes had re-met him or if she remembered him on some level. Their kid had always been more intuitive than Liz thought was possible and she'd loved her daddy before he had been snatched away from them. He could always get her to laugh, that giggle filling the whole apartment and he was all she'd known in the first month of her life. Even in the painfully short time that they had had in Cuba together after they'd run, Liz had seen it. Tom had changed over the years, but Agnes had taken that growth to a whole new level. Now, even at the beginning of the process that they hoped could return his memories, she saw that connection between dad and daughter, and it had been a chore to get her out the door without him.

Now she just had to get her to her classroom and they'd be doing alright.

"Grandma!" Agnes squealed, pulling Liz out of her thoughts as they crossed the parking lot.

She tugged her hand almost free, but Liz clamped down a little harder just in time. "Hey, you know not to let go of my hand with cars around," she chided softly and followed to where Agnes had tried to run.

Scottie Hargrave stood on the sidewalk, her skirt and sleeveless blouse perfectly pressed and a sharp look fixed on Liz. It softened as it shifted to Agnes, and as they reached the safety of the sidewalk, Liz let her go. Scottie showing up without warning couldn't be a good sign. Let the grandkid work her charm on her first.

Agnes flung her arms around Scottie's long legs. "Hiiiii! Mommy didn't say you were here!"

"I thought I'd surprise you," Scottie answered, her tone light.

"But I gotta go to school," Agnes pouted and looked to Liz like she hoped she'd give her another option.

"Yep. School's a must," Liz answered.

"What about this?" Scottie asked and there was something in her tone that said as much as Liz was willing to let Agnes' natural adorableness soften whatever Scottie was about to drop on her, Scottie was willing to use her granddaughter to get her foot in the door. "I'll pick you up after school and we can get ice cream?"

Oh…. Liz never stood a chance against ice cream.

"Ice cream!" Agnes cheered and hugged Scottie again. "Love you, Grandma!"

She started towards the door where her teacher was waiting. "Hey, what about me?" Liz called after her, her lips quilting up at the corners in a teasing smile.

"Love you, Mom!" Agnes shouted with a wave and was gone.

"She's just like Tom was at her age," Scottie mused softly and Liz would have bet a sizable chunk of change that she knew exactly what Scottie was doing there. Her mother-in-law turned a look on her.

Liz squared her shoulders just a little. "Why don't we get out of the pathway?"

"No, I think we should have this conversation right here." Brown eyes caught hold of blue and the older woman held her gaze. "I'm not sure what I did to offend you."

"What makes you think I'm offended?"

"I took Agnes in for months so that you would have time to process everything and grieve. I understood. I was mourning him too." Her tone was biting, the boiling rage just barely kept under control. "I kept it to myself because I thought you needed time. I suffered in silence so you could heal and that sweet little girl - my Christopher's little girl - wouldn't suffer like we did. And this is how you repay me. Why?"

Liz bit back the first snarky reply that came to mind and then crushed down the truth that she'd suspected Scottie at first. That wouldn't do either of them any good now. Instead, she stepped off the path and under a tree, waiting for Scottie to move with her. "Because I just found out he's alive."

"Is that so? When? Because there had to have been enough time for you to tell that insufferable partner of yours and for him to run a DNA test. Did you really think —"

Well, at least Liz knew how Scottie had found out. She would deal with Ressler later. "A week and a half ago," she cut her husband's mother off. Might as well fill her in at this point or she'd start digging and who knows what she would throw off balance. Liz had never wanted Scottie for an enemy. "He lost about a decade's worth of memories. He didn't remember me or Agnes. It's been…. busy."

She watched shock slowly settle if Scottie's features. "Is he…. alright?"

"Mostly. He's been working at St Regis. It was the last thing he knew when he woke up, he said."

"How did that bring him to DC?"

"A job. He was hired to…. We're still sorting it all out."

"There are people and methods that can help with that. Let me—"

"I know. I've had it done." Scottie turned to look at her a little more sharply than the statement warranted.

"Had what done?"

"Memory extraction. It's a long story and one that I'd rather not get into outside my daughter's school if you don't mind."

Scottie pursed her lips. "Do you think his memories were taken on purpose?"

"Seems to be that way. We don't know for sure by who yet. It's…. a really delicate situation."

"Yes." Liz could see the woman's clever mind spinning and brown eyes met blue. "I'd like to see him."

"Scottie…."

"I need to see my son," she pressed. There was a desperation in her voice and there were tears forming in her eyes. She was a strange woman for the CEO of a company that dealt in spycraft. She wore her emotions on her sleeve, but the more Liz had gotten to know her, the more she suspected that it was a tactic.

Even so, she knew how much Scottie loved Tom and how much Tom had come to love his mother.

"Let me talk to him. He's been…. overwhelmed, but I'll talk to him."

"I'll be in town."

"You better be you owe your granddaughter ice cream after school," Liz answered with a small smile.

Every moment there seemed to be a new complication added. Something that made an impossible situation that much more difficult. Scottie knew. Okay. She could deal with that. She could even use that, potentially. It was the fact that Ressler hadn't trusted her enough to let her know what he was doing. He'd snagged DNA from Tom - likely from something left behind at his apartment the night he'd stayed there - and sent it out without saying a word. As soon as he got back from Germany, Liz was going to have a chat with him.

---------

For as well as the session the day before had gone - at least after Liz had gotten there - this one kept getting sidetracked. Even with Liz next to him, her voice working as a tether to better things, his mind kept trying to go a different direction. The result was fractured memories joining together like a Picasso painting. Nothing made sense and he couldn't find a way to break through and make it.

Tom loosed a frustrated breath as he felt himself being pulled out of it and then he was back in Selma Orchard's clinic, strapped back in a chair and hooked up to machinery. Liz reached out, her hand in his forearm and he tugged away, the movement making him realize he had already been unstrapped from the chair. "We're not done."

"For today we are," Orchard answered.

"You took me out too soon. I could've gotten there," he growled, his voice sounding as agitated as he felt.

The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. "This isn't something you can push, Tom. Not without substantial risks."

"And if I'm willing to take those?" he shot back.

"Then it may cost your life and that defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" Orchard asked pointedly. "I have another patient like you. She had trouble with limitations at first too. She wanted something she could fight. It took a while for her to understand that you do more damage by pushing past the limits your mind and body are clearly setting than working within them."

"What happened once she got that?" Liz asked.

"She started to improve. Little things, but better a half a step forward than two back," Orchard answered. "And you have something she doesn't."

"What's that?" Tom grumbled, not really in the mood for some life lesson about patience his second day in.

"The ability to surround yourself with what your mind has forgotten. Your wife, your daughter, your home. I know you didn't have a breakthrough today like yesterday, but that doesn't mean we didn't push at those blocks that have been put in place. Think of it like a dam holding back water. You're putting cracks in it with the work we're doing. As the dam weakes, memories could start to slip through when triggered by external forces."

"Happened with me," Liz said softly from his side and Tom felt a sudden and unfamiliar wave of guilt for pulling away from her. He reached out and she took the offered hand as Orchard continued.

"The more you surround yourself with the familiar, the more likely you are to find yourself remembering things." She glanced over at Liz. "Why don't I give you two some time to talk?"

"Thanks," Liz answered and Tom tightened his fingers around hers.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"Pulling away. For… You've done nothing but help me."

"I love you," she said softly. "And we will get there. I promise."

He sighed heavily, letting his head drop back against the rest behind him. He could feel the ache coming on and all he could do was hope it didn't turn into a full blown migraine.

"So Scottie showed up at Agnes' school this morning."

"Remind me who that is?" Tom asked tiredly.

"Your mother."

That drew his attention. "Is that normal?"

"No. She found out you're alive. Apparently Ressler ran your DNA."

"Asshole."

Liz snorted a laugh at that. "I'll handle Ress, but with what Orchard said, this might be a good opportunity."

"What? You want me to meet this woman?"

"You guys got… well, you were getting close when everything happened." Her other hand came up to cover his, almost like she needed as much of a reminder as she could get that he was right there. "She wanted to have dinner. If you feel up for it, maybe it'll knock something loose?"

He thought about it for a long moment, trying to conjure an image of the woman Liz was talking about in his mind, but he had nothing. Not a glimpse of the woman that Liz had said - despite what Bud had told him and that Tom had believed growing up - loved him.

"Okay," he breathed at last. "Let's give it a shot."

That smile of hers could light a room, and as Liz leaned in and kissed him, he felt some of the frustration ease away.

----------

TBC

Notes: Well, Ress is busted. Good thing he walked away with a successful trip to Germany at least?

Next Time: The Keens have dinner with Scottie, Red takes a trip down to Texas, and Ressler runs into trouble.

#the blacklist #Donald Ressler #Alina Park #Tom Keen #Elizabeth Keen #Agnes Keen #Scottie Hargrave

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years

Text

Gotta say, I might’ve enjoyed this a little too much. The very generous @jinnnesta asked me to re-write Persephone’s and Hades’ myth in a College AU, and hopefully, this’ll be satisfactory. And just to clarify, Hades is a really, *really* soft Yandere, but I tried to avoid any out-right tells, as per request.

Word Count: ~6k

People had never been Hades’ strong suit.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, he didn’t mind them. People were interesting, most of the time, and although he didn’t really care for many of them (growing up with two older brothers will do that to a person), he didn’t mind having to co-exist with whoever he was forced to that day, even if that meant playing wall-flower whenever his roommate dragged him to a party in a vain effort to make Hades do something other than study. It still shocked him that Thanatos had a busier social life than him, but that was another matter entirely, for another time when the aforementioned man had got rid of his pocket-knife collection.

No, he didn’t hate people, he just wasn’t very fond of actually talking to them.

Knowing this, you can understand the panic that initially ran through him when someone tapped on his shoulder.

It was surprising that someone else had gotten to the lecture as early as he had, only a handful of people currently littered through-out the hall. Still, Hades took a deep breath, turning and doing his best to make a scowl look friendly. The least he could do was act positive, even in a morning class on the first day of a new semester.

Luckily, he didn’t have to. Not when he saw who wanted his attention.

‘Stunned’ would be an understatement, no one could just be stunned while looking at Persephone. The girl was radiant, as beautiful as a warm spring day, with a smile that could make the sun bow its head in shame and the kind of personality that made Hades believe in saints. Even in leggings and a sweatshirt, she was godly, long, dark hair pulled into a messy bun and brown eyes suddenly fixed on him. Hades couldn’t stop himself from scowling, more out of habit than any sort of anger, but Persephone only managed to glow brighter.

Briefly, he wondered if he’d go blind just from looking at her.

“Mind if I sit here?” She asked, pointing towards the seat next to him. Her voice was smoother than he thought possible, sweet as honey and cheery, but not high-pitched or forced. He wanted to ask her to talk more, if only so he could lull into it, but all he could do was nod, attempting not to gape at the girl in front of him. Whether or not he succeeded was debatable, but she thanked him regardless, sitting down and making Hades’ heart skip with every extra movement.

She didn’t say anything for a few moments, Hades doing his best to keep from staring at her, keeping his eyes focused on his laptop. He didn’t want her to know how much he was panicking, even if he didn’t want to seem to shy, either. But, it was a pointless endeavor, really. When he glanced back to Persephone, she made no effort to hide the fact that she was staring, her chin propped casually on her hand, like her eyes weren’t boring into him. He opened his mouth, ready to ask her what she needed, but Persephone beat him to it.

“I swear I’ve seen you before.” Again her voice was painstakingly sweet, even when she was staring him down. Hades swallowed nervously, but Persephone just laughed, hitting her desk lightly. “You’re Posideon’s brother, aren’t you?” She hardly waited for a response, barely giving Hades enough time to spit out a quick ‘supposedly’ before she cut in. “I knew it! He was my lab partner in chemistry, last semester. Or, he was technically my partner. He wore sandals every time we had to do something… chemistry-y.”

Hades cringed, thinking back to all the times he’d been late to his own courses to give his absent-minded brother something more solid than a pair of Birkenstocks. But, the familial association wasn’t the only reason his cheeks were turning red. “He showed you the baby pictures, didn’t he?”

“Oh, dozens,” She purred, her curious frown fading into the widest grin he’d ever seen. If it was possible for her to pass through the arm-rest between them, she would’ve, leaning over as much as she was able to. “He was polite about it, if it helps. Waited three weeks and everything, I had to ask if he had more.”

“He does, he always does,” Hades mumbled, shaking his head. Persephone giggled, watching as he curled into himself, just hoping beyond hope Poseidon had been merciful enough to skip the ‘tween gallery’. It was a dwindling moment of optimism, though. Desperate to change the topic, Hades attempted to face a still-laughing Persephone, rubbing his neck as he spoke. “So… you’re into Marine Biology?”

“Hell no, the ocean can suck something awful.” She dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand, a look of disgust briefly passing over her features before she shook it off, forcing her eyes to open again. “I’m aiming for a Bachelor’s in Botany, although I’m just working on my credits here. My mom’s supposed to ship me off to some big, fancy, overseas university in a couple of years.”

Hades nodded, pursing his lips. “You don’t sound very excited.”

“Have you ever listened to someone talk about germination for two hours? I can hardly even look at flowers, anymore. If I see another goddamn rose, I’m going to pick a tree and burn something down.” She sighed, but the tension didn’t leave her shoulders, her relaxed posture seeming so more… stressed, then it had been when she first approached him. Without thinking, he reached over, simply resting a hand on her back, giving her a sympathetic nod when she glanced over. With a shaky breath, Persephone forced a renewed level of composure, once again shrugging off anything deeper than a mild complaint. “It’s… it’s stupid, don’t worry about it.”

People were flowing into the hall more steadily, now, the professor taking is position on the elevated stage at the front of the room, beginning to pull up whatever power-point or presentation he’d sleep through for the next few hours. He turned towards Persephone, but she’d already caught on, that dazzling, bright, beautiful smile back in full-force.

“Lunch after class?”

Hades never thought he would enjoy walking to class.

Especially one that wasn’t even his, Persephone seeming to wake up with the sun, her morning schedule earlier and more brutal than Hades thought he could put himself through. He didn’t need to be on campus today, and yet, here he was, torn from his cramped room and watching as Persephone was cornered by two first-year students, both speaking far too quickly while his friend nodded and laughed at panicked, seemingly random intervals. He’d been mad, initially, when they came over, ripping away the girl he was obviously walking with, threatening to make her late for her class and stopping her from talking to the person she’s chosen to spend time with. But, if Persephone herself was bothered by the intrusion, she did her best to hide it, shaking her head when he started to approach the trio.

He’d conceded… for a good three minutes. Then, when he decided the conversation had grown a little too invasive, he pushed his way between the two, grabbed her hand, and made some half-assed excuse before dragging a far too agreeable Persephone back into the crowd of people.

“Friends of yours?” He muttered, lips pressed into a tight, thin line. He didn’t want to seem spiteful, but… he was, to be honest. Anyone would be, if they had their time with someone as flawless as Persephone taken away. “They seem… nice.”

Persephone shrugged, moving to pull him forward, latching onto his arm as she walked. Her touchiness wasn’t uncommon, though. Rather, it was something Hades quickly found himself growing fond of, even if he still gave her hell for it. “In a way. I guess you could say that.” Her voice was nonchalant, as if she’d already explained it a thousand times. “They’re fans, I think. I mean, I had to sign something.”

At this, Hades paused, Persephone barely glancing up, her complexion quickly becoming darker as she noticed the wide, playful smirk he was suddenly wearing. She huffed as he ruffled her hair, struggling to smooth over piles of curls as Hades laughed. “Ah, the rich girl has fans, now? Is there a club?” He let his voice get lower, nearly whispering. “Are they expecting new members?”

The girl pouted, elbowing his arm, Hades only breaking-up more at her weak attempts. It took him a few deep, deep breaths to regain his composure, stifling his laughter down to a half-muffled chuckle, Persephone pouting, crossing her arms in a vain effort to give her companion the cold-shoulder. “Don’t give me that shit, not when your dad is the one putting you through college, too.” With a slip of her hair and another proud, confident stance, she continued. “Besides, I’m a Youtuber. It doesn’t have anything to do with money.”

Again, Hades could hardly contain himself, fighting to keep his hand over his mouth, even if his grin was still peeking over the sides. “Is… is that better?”

“Yes!” She said, defensively. Persephone was walking again, before Hades had time to notice, forcing him to play catch-up. It always caught him off guard, how quickly someone so short could walk. With a glance over her shoulder and confirmation of her embarrassment, she let her pace slow to something Hades could manage, pulling a strand of hair loose and twirling it around her finger, still not facing him. “It’s… it’s a lot of work, and I don’t just upload the raw footage, or film whatever I see. Fuck, editing alone takes a few hours on better days, and I’d like to say I’m pretty good at it. My followers think so, anyway.” Abruptly, her eyes widened as she finally processed her own words, anything Hades could’ve said immediately interrupted by Persephone’s sudden frenzy. “Please, don’t mention it in front of the professors. I’m really trying to be taken seriously, and if the people grading me find out I spend most of my time trying to cry my way through water-proof mascara… they might tell Demeter-”

This time, it was his turn to talk over her, his tone serious, but far from cold. “You said it’s hard work, didn’t you?”

Persephone spared him a glance, short nods coming reflexively. “It is, yeah.”

Hades allowed himself to stare, being the one to move closer this time. He did so rarely, always relying on Persephone to make the first move, but a surge of confidence than through him when she didn’t move away, only looking up at him. Inquisitive, but never scared. That might be why he’d always liked her so much. “And you put effort into it?”

She laughed, tugging on that same loose curl gently. “I think so.”

“Then, there’s nothing to worry about. You should be proud, if anything. Not a lot of people have the work-ethic to keep something like that going, not for very long.” He gestured vaguely, to nothing in particular and if only to alleviate his own anxiety. “You’re doing something you’re good at, and that I hope you enjoy, instead of wasting your time at a dead-end, part-time job. If your professors don’t respect that, that they don’t deserve to see what a wonderful, determined person you are.”

Persephone didn’t say anything, growing quiet for a moment, slowing down until she eventually perked up, noticing the propped open door to her lecture hall. A soft, warm smile blossomed across her features, not dazzling or gorgeous or memorable, but… perfect, all the same. Silently, she pulled him down, kissing his cheek lightly before rushing off, calling a quick ‘thank you’ or ‘see you later’ or something as she left, Hades couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t barely think, only managing to form a single thought for minutes after she’d left.

Persephone had kissed him, him. So sweetly and so excitedly, at that.

God, how could he not adore her?

“I want to go into mortuary science.”

The admission came abruptly, breaking the peaceful silence of the campus garden, Persephone still looking out at a wall of roses and over-grown milkweed as she spoke. Hades looked up, nonetheless, closing his textbook the moment he’d heard her voice. It was always hypnotic, for him, drawing his attention despite all the distractions he could justifiably fall into. Part of him knew that wasn’t the healthiest mindset to have about a friend and classmate, but that would only be a problem if he said these things out loud.

Which he wouldn’t. Ever. He couldn’t. She was Persephone, beautiful, charming Persephone.

And he… he was just Hades, the loser who was lucky enough to have someone so incredible that he wanted to keep to himself.

By the time he finally realized how long he’d been thinking, Persephone was blushing, crossing her arms and focusing on the roses with a concentrated, fixed gaze. It was a defensive position, but an unnecessary one. She knew that as well as he did, really, but that didn’t mean she would drop it any time soon. “I know it’s creepy, and morbid, but…” She bit her cheek, beginning to pace through the small gazebo, hardly seeming to notice the boy sitting on the floor behind her. “I want to. It seems interesting, I don’t know, and the course is less strenuous than most. And do you know how many resources we waste with traditional burial methods? Hundreds of acres, per county-”

“Persephone,” Hades cut in, interrupting her mid-rant. She twisted to face him, eyes wide and lips pulled into a small frown, and Hades shook his head, leaning back into the guard-wall. “You don’t have to justify your interests, I believe you. It doesn’t have to be creepy, not if you don’t make it creepy.” Some of the tension reluctantly left her shoulders, but she remained on-edge, her worried eyes only dropping to the wooden floorboards. Hades persisted, still. She would only back-track if he didn’t encourage her. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

She let herself chuckle, fiddling with the ends of her long sleeves. “Well… a while now, if that makes sense. I’ve always been really invested in funerals and the whole embalming process, but I think I just realized I wanted to be a part of that last year. After I got tired of…” She trailed off, waving a hand through the air, trying to think of the right word. “…plants, I guess. I mean, they’re pretty, but I don’t think I could spend the rest of my life on a farm.”

With a sigh, Hades stood, only moving close enough to stand across from her, leaning on one of the support pillars. The silence that surrounded them was a comfortable one, Persephone eventually ripping her eyes away from the ground, meeting his with that comforting, nervous smile. It took a while for either of them to speak, to think of something to say or ask the next clear question, but luckily Persephone didn’t need to be prompted.

That was probably for the best. Hades wasn’t sure if he had the nerve.

“It was my mom’s idea. She says it runs in the family.” With another tense chuckle, a few more awkward fidgets and shaky eye contact, but Hades waited patiently, letting her confess on her own terms. “I guess she thought I wanted to be like her. I think I was a pretty sheltered kid, you don’t make very many friends when you live in the middle of nowhere, but I’ve been dreading it since she first brought up my ‘inheritance’. And if she found out I was more interested in corpses than irrigation…” Persephone let out a ragged breath, letting her hair dip over her eyes. “I don’t know if she would ever forgive me.”

“Do you want her to?” He asked, reflexively, instantly regretting it once he had. Her eyes widened, the girl snapping towards him instinctually, Hades backtracking as soon as he realized what he’d said. He stumbled backwards, stuttering over his words, attempting to mumble out something close enough to an apology or an explanation to make up for it, but Persephone only giggled, covering her mouth and finally, finally looking at him.

“She’s my mom, and I love her. Even if Demeter is a bit… overbearing,” She began, releasing some of the tension from her rigid form. He rested a hand on her shoulder, something he could only hope was a comforting gesture, and she nodded, as solemn as it was accepting. “I should tell her. I’m going to tell her. I just have to decide if this is what I really want, first. There are probably a few professors I can talk to, or something.”

“I could go with you, if you’re alright with that,” He offered, not pushing the topic when she shrugged.

“I’ll have to think on it.” The answer was simple, but he took it at face value. It was the least he could do, right now. “I appreciate the offer, though,” She added, brushing back her hair. “It’s just… a lot, right now.”

Hades didn’t argue as she leaned against him, nor did she move away when his arms fell to her waist, Persephone just letting him support her weight. She felt right, there, fitting perfectly in the space between his arms.

He did love her, he was sure of that, now. She was beautiful, brilliant, and so, so strong, but this wasn’t about him.

His feelings could wait, he would wait. For as long as she needed him to.

“So… you and Hades?”

Aphrodite’s voice was as calm as always, monotone yet so very judgemental. Persephone admired that about her, truthfully, how unbothered her ‘frenemy’ was by the world that seemed to operate at a polite distance from the cosmetic specialist at any given time. Still, she snapped up as much as she was able to while the other girl cupped her chin, attempting to lather the girl in more make-up than was appropriate for a casual afternoon live-stream. Aphrodite had insisted, and Persephone was never eager to do the task herself.

Persephone scoffed, the slight movement quickly crushed under Aphrodite’s ironclad grip. “What’s wrong with Hades?”

“I don’t know, why don’t I start with the fact that a bright light could give the poor boy a sunburn?” She teased, giving her victim a temporary reprieve as she reached for a vial of mascara. “Or the ‘youngest-brother’ syndrome he has going on? Or that wanna-be-lawyer thing-” She stopped abruptly, a wide grin threatening to streak her oh-so-perfect lipstick. “Or the grease.”

“He’s not greasy!” Persephone huffed, crossing her arms, the wand nearly lodging itself in her eyelid. She attempted to lean onto the vanity, her posture quickly corrected by a steady, forceful hand, but she still rolled her eyes… when Aphrodite said she was allowed to, of course. “That’s rich coming from someone dating… who is it? A mechanic? Or is he a soldier, now?”

“Hephaestus is a mechanic, Ares is ex-military,” Aphrodite corrected, momentarily reaching for her phone. Whatever she saw, she didn’t like it, hastily typing out a response before she turned her attention back to the task at hand. “And Athena is being difficult.” Persephone couldn’t help herself, laughing as Aphrodite shot her a glare, nearly slamming the device back onto the wooden surface. “Wipe that look off your face, at least I don’t go… canoodling around on campus.”

“Hermes saw, didn’t he?” Aphrodite only nodded, managing to ignore the high-pitched ring of her phone. She cursed under her breath, reluctantly letting the girl tip her chin up, something light and powdery soon coating her cheekbones, her hold more gentle than before. Persephone took the cue to spill, as long as her torturer was feeling nice. “Look, nothing’s going on, alright? He’s a friend, a good one, and he’s…” She let herself sit a little straighter, squaring her shoulders. “He’s helping me change my major.”

Reflexively, Aphrodite cringed, hiding it quickly but not quickly enough, Persephone’s confidence immediately fading. She looked to the side, trying to keep from shrinking into herself. This wasn’t Aphrodite’s choice. This wasn’t Demeter’s choice.

Aphrodite’s follow-up didn’t help. “Your mom’s not going to ask that, y’know.”

“My mom is going to have to live with it.” Her voice was steady… or she hoped it was, at least. Persephone wanted to be sure, to know this was the right choice and to have some kind of confirmation that she wouldn’t regret this when it inevitably went wrong. It felt terrifying, to go against her own mother for the first time since she was a teenager, but this was something she was passionate about, this was the one thing she knew she wanted.

All she could do was hope it wouldn’t go too wrong, really.

Her eyes darted back to Aphrodite, the slight edge to her voice hopefully coming off as intimidating. “It’s not like she’s going to find out, right? Demeter doesn’t have to know.”

It took a moment of tense, cold silence, but Aphrodite was the first to relent, only sighing as she sprayed a thin mist of setting-spray over the girl. “Demeter doesn’t have to know, even if she should.”

Content with that, Persephone simply stood, thanking her friend and attempting to leave before things got too uncomfortable, only failing miserably. But, Aphrodite only watched as she left the dorm room, pursing her lips, gaze drifting back to the phone so tantalizingly close. She was sure she still had Demeter’s number, from freshman-year, when the woman had cornered Aphrodite and forced her to promise that she’d ‘report’ anything concerning back to the over-protective, really fucking scary mother of one of her closest friends.

Hesitantly, she reached out, managing to avoid Athena’s frantic messages. This was for the best, she told herself, fighting the guilt slowly planting itself in her throat.

She’d find out one way or another, Aphrodite was just… breaking the ice.

Whatever Hades had expected of Persephone’s apartment, it certainly hadn’t been this.

The two weren’t yelling, but it was more than clear both wanted to, voices forced into harsh, low whispers that Hades could hardly make out, the older woman both staring down and glaring at an equally dismayed Persephone. Even from his vantage point, half in the doorway but ready to run at any signs of violent hostility, he could make out an uncanny resemblance between them, the stranger sharing Persephone’s dark eyes, her sharp features, her skin a few shades tanner than Persephone’s own but their complections just as dark. They were related, obviously, possibly a cousin or sister or…

Or Persephone’s mother.

The oh-so-dreaded Demeter.

The Demeter who was now staring directly at him.

Both were, technically, but Persephone seemed more surprised than she was perturbed. Only Demeter looked mad, scowling with lips pulled so tightly he could hardly believe she could still move her mouth. He smiled nervously, the thought of introducing himself competing with the temptation to flee back into the relative safety of Persephone’s lobby. In the end, neither won, Hades just balling his fists into sides and staring forward like a deer in headlights, Demeter’s slight frown quickly morphing into a sneer.

Persephone caught on first, moving to stop her mother but failing, Demeter only holding up a hand, her daughter instantly growing quiet. “You’re the boy who’s been distracting Persephone, right?”

He cringed, fighting the urge to apologize. “Hades’ works, ma’am.”

His voice was barely a whisper, but Demeter didn’t seem to care, only turning back to the increasingly timid Persephone. “You’re dropping out for him? What’s the catch? Rich parents? Did he promise you an easy life?” She let out a laugh, the noise akin to nails on a chalkboard, Persephone flinching at the sound of it. “Did that girl forget to mention you’d gotten knocked up?”

“I’m not dropping out, I’m changing my major,” She growled, her nails digging into her palms. He couldn’t tell whether she was more annoyed or enraged, but he didn’t there was much of a difference, at this point. “Just because it wasn’t your plan doesn’t mean it’s not a plan! And he’s a friend, not like you’d know anything about my life.”

Demeter drew back, her expression remaining disgusted, but her posture stuttering, recalibrating, adjusting. Her movements were nearly methodical, like every reaction was preplanned and drawn-out, surprise something far-beyond her comprehension. “You will not talk to me like that-”

“You don’t pay her tuition,” Hades cut in, instinctually, his own father quickly coming to mind. He didn’t know he could be this angry, so bewildered and confused and mad, just because someone dared to berate someone he cared for. It was like a spark, lighting something he didn’t know he had, pure anger soon burning inside his chest, fueling him as he continued. “Persephone pays were own bills, doesn’t she? She pays the rent for this apartment, she has her own job, and she doesn’t owe you her future. She’s nice enough to not cut you off, but the moment she does something you don’t approve of, you come to her home and insult the friends she chooses. You’re lucky she even considered telling you.”

When neither spoke, Persephone stunned while Demeter only let her gaze fall to the ground, an expression he couldn’t read layered over any one emotion she could’ve been feeling. The need to take it back, to leave or apologize or just so something to diffuse the situation eating away at his resolution, but he attempted to hold strong, only biting his cheek as Persephone shook her head, probably formatting her own excuse and all the platforms she’d have to block him on as soon as she reached a phone.

Shockingly, Demeter was the one to break the silence, firmly refusing to address Hades, instead focusing her attention to her daughter. “You… like the subject you’re going into?”

Persephone’s eyes glinted, shakily nodding before she could muster enough stability to nod. “Mortuary sciences? I mean… I love it.”

“Please, don’t remind me.” She grimaced, but did her best to cover it, her gaze only dropping to the floor. She only shook her head, gracefully sitting down on one of Persephone’s technicolor sofas, rubbing her temples. “We can talk about it-” Her eyes flickered to Hades, for the first time since he’d walked through the door. “-alone.”

Hades didn’t need another excuse, saying something to Persephone before unceremoniously speed-walked out the door, fumbling with the knob and practically collapsing against the door when he managed to get outside. He felt tired, sweaty, overworked yet so energized he could hardly stand to stop moving. All he wanted to do was go home, sleep, run a fucking mile, but that didn’t stop a delirious, relieved smile from finding its way to his lips.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen Persephone so relaxed.

When she invited him back, reaching out two days after the incident and just when he’d managed to lose hope for a rekindling, he might have been over-enthusiastic, momentarily forgetting he had a life outside of Persephone and her family drama.

He wasn’t proud of what he’d done with that time, to say the least, his pathetic search for her channel almost immediately followed by a binge-session of her most popular videos, then her newest videos, then… well, all her videos. There were the make-up tutorials and daily vlogs he’d expected, but a good amount of her uploads consisted of Persephone simply existing, living her day-to-day life and making twenty-minute long rants about whatever was on her mind. Currently, his favorites were ‘Naming All My Houseplants’ and ‘I Know What Evapotranspiration Is And You Will Too’, both of which more than half an hour long and features a whiteboard Persephone seemed uncomfortably affection of.

But, that digital, peppy, manufactured version of her didn’t matter, not when the real girl was sitting in front of him, impatiently guiding him to her room and practically shoving him onto the bed, hastily sitting down beside him. It wasn’t the tranquility he’d expected from a weight being lifted off her shoulders, but she seemed more… active, lacking the exhaustion that’d been weighing her down, recently. He was happy for it, too, her giddy smile and small fidgets as infectious as they’d ever been. More so, even.

“I don’t think I even had to email anyone,” She sighed, the words coming out breathy, rushed but overjoyed, at the same time. “It was so easy, I’m still a little nervous. I feel like this is all just a perfect dream I’m going to wake up from tommorrow morning.”

He fought not to reach out, just letting himself fall into her relief, nodding as he tried to figure out what to say, how to say it. “God, I hope not. If I have to lecture someone else’s mom for a second time, I’m never going to forgive you.” He glanced around the room, like Demeter would crawl out of the floorboards at the mention of her name. “She’s not still here, is she?”

“No, absolutely not.” She had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing, but her eyes seemed to sparkle, doing more than enough to give away how she really felt. “She can’t be away from her farm for more than a week, the thing’s her life-force. I’m just happy she let me drive her to the airport, honestly. At least she hasn’t given up on me entirely.” Persephone paused, her skin paling. “But, she doesn’t know about the dissections yet, either.”

Hades chuckled, resting a hand on her shoulder, equal parts attempting to distract her and display his support, in one of the only ways he knew how. “Either way, I’m still proud of you. Your brilliant and brave and…” He trailed off, watching as she brushed her hair out of her face, the sunlight seeming to radiate off of her. Like a fucking goddess. The slip was unintentional, but… right, the words fitting perfectly on his tongue. “And I love you.”

She didn’t react, not for a second, her eyes staying focused on the floor in front of her. Her gaze was concentrated, but not scared. Not angry. When she broke the stillness, her voice was soft, hardly audible. “You do?”

The idea of taking it back crossed his mind, calling her a ‘close friend’ and just playing it off like nothing had happened, but he couldn’t. It’d already come out, and he couldn’t take it back. He didn’t want to.

“Yeah, I guess so,” He said, his hold on her shoulder becoming softer, but not falling away. “I love you. I think you’re amazing, and I think I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’re alright with that.”

“Is…” She grew quieter, gradually turning towards him. “Is there anything else you want to do?”

It felt natural, instinctual, leaning down as she closed her eyes. Their lips barely touched, at first, Hades more nervous than he should’ve been, leaving Persephone to deepen the gesture, her arms wrapping around his as he reached up, cupping her cheeks in an effort to bring her closer. With a small lick to her bottom lip, his tongue was in her mouth in a matter of seconds, the fight for dominance over the moment he pulled her closer, dragging her into his chest and dropping his hands to her waist, something Persephone reacted… positively to, something similar to a purr leaving her lips. That was enough for Hades to pick her up, handling her smaller form a little too roughly as he threw her against the mattress, his lips never leaving hers until he was kneeling between her legs, only seperating to catch his breath. Persephone seemed to need it, too, red-faced and panting, a wide grin spread across her features.

Hades wasn’t much better, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as he fought to keep from laughing. Persephone, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as self-conscious, giggling as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, her fingers soon running through his hair, combing through the messy locks, tugging whenever he nipped or kissed her neck. “Someone’s excited,” She teased, her laughter hitching when he bit down, hard. “Really excited.”

“Can you blame me?” He grunted, straightening his back. He’d never realized how small she was, her head just reaching his shoulders and barely half his weight soaking-wet. The idea made him feel smug, confident, enough to grab at her thigh with one than, letting the other trail down to her chest. With a quick glance up and a hasty nod on her part, he was pushing her shirt up, letting the material pull at her collar-bone before tearing at the pink-lace covering her chest. Her bra fell away with few complaints, leaving Hades free to suck and kiss as he pleased, groping anything and everything his hands couldn’t reach. “I mean, look at you,” He mumbled, his voice mostly muffled by her skin. “You’re fucking perfect.”

She tilted her head to the side, only to let it fall back as her back arched on a particularly harsh grope. The whimper that worked its way past her lips had Hades damn-near salivating, encouraging him to kiss down her stomach, lingering at her shorts before he took a deep breath, the fingers hastily rooted in his hair a good source of encouragement. Even then, it took a minute for him to fall into it, but with a few whines and moans from Persephone, his teeth were latched onto inside of her thigh, the flat of his thumb pressed against her clit, teasing her with so much pressure but so little movement while two fingers worked her open. He operated off of her reactions, his movements hesitant, but hopefully, enthusiastic enough to make up for the experience he lacked. She was so hot, so wet and tight and inviting, grinding down every time he curled his fingers and writing whenever he added another.

He didn’t know why he didn’t do this sooner, if only to feel her around him. She was so beautiful, like this, unashamed and blissful-

“Ha-Hades…” She whimpered, bucking into his fingers. He stilled, glancing up, and she threw her arms over her face, taking a deep breath before she could peak out between them. “If you don’t put something bigger inside me right now, I’m kicking you out.”

All he could do was nod, as overwhelmed by how blunt she was by the throbbing hard cock suddenly calling for attention between his legs. Persephone dragged him into another kiss while he worked, only breaking apart to tear off his shirt as he kicked off his jeans, their lips connected as he pressed her into the mattress, lining himself up with her entrance and thrusting in.

The sensation was nearly orgasmic on its own, Hades’ hands moving on their own, parting her legs to pump in deeper, to feel more of her. She didn’t seem opposed to the idea, grinding against him, whining and keening and moaning, the noises muted compared to the pulse pounding in his ears. Everything felt like a blur, time passing slowly yet too fast, thrusts and gropes mixing together, Persephone’s nails digging into his back and scratching just to ground herself. It wasn’t long before she clamped down, her cunt instantly turning into a vice-grip as she climaxed around him.

He hardly had time to pull out, cumming on her thighs without a breath to spare. Hades could feel himself collapse on top of her, just as emotionally exhausted as he was physically, but her arms only wrapped around his neck, thin lines of warm blood soon running over his skin. It felt right, natural and faultless and…

And perfect.

Because he loved her, so, so much. And she loved him, too.

What could be more perfect than that?

#commission #Commision #writing commission #comission #writing comission #not yandere?#god damn what do i even tag this

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calebswitching · 4 years

Text

Heart to heart with mom

Caleb has a long talk with his mother during parent week

@the-duvals

Clara and Caleb had agreed to meet at the gates of the school. She did want to try out this new supposedly 'classic Greek' cuisine, but mostly she wanted some time with just Caleb. She wanted to make sure she got time with all three boys alone during the week. Her dear sweet Nick was easy. They got into the kitchen and the communication flowed. Noah was impossible for reasons that she didn't want to explore. Caleb should have been easier, but her dear, logical, brilliant boy seemed to be... well she wasn't sure what, but obviously it had to do with the whole mess the month before. There had been no time to talk since he'd been missing for what felt like a year. Damn Mark for continuing to be in her son's life. She wasn't someone who liked violence, but God help that man if she ever got alone in a room with him. It all feels so out of her control. She smiled when she saw her son already there waiting for her. As soon as she was close enough she pulled him into a hug. "Oh... this is the thing I miss most. Getting to hug my sons whenever I want. I don't miss the science experiments in my fridge and growing on my windowsill but I do miss this." She steps back. "Let me get a look at you." It's then that she sees it. His collar is missing. "Oh... sweetheart."

Caleb should have been excited to see his mom. And maybe part of him was. He loved her, and he wanted to get a hug from her and to talk like they used to. He just wanted to soak up her maternal presence while he had a chance, since he got to see her so rarely these days. But he was dreading the conversation that he knew was coming. He hadn't told her everything that had happened in July, and he hated talking about it. Mostly because it flooded him with guilt. He had been so stupid, reacted entirely in fear instead of thinking things through, and he'd almost ruined his claim in the process. And he still wasn't wearing his collar. Which his mother was going to notice, certainly. Dad had noticed, when they'd gone to the book store together, but hadn't really commented, other than to ask a few gentle questions about how things were going with Eric. Caleb hadn't explained about the collar, but his dad had seemed mollified by his reassurances that he and Eric were working through things and were still together. But Caleb was sure his mother would want to know more. Still, seeing her smile at the sight of him made him smile too, and he sank into her hug. It was odd, because despite being both taller and broader than her, she still made him feel like he was the one being held against her strong frame and enveloped in her arms. Maybe it was a mom thing, a psychological thing, that she never lost the ability to make him feel safe like that. He pulled back, huffing a soft laugh at the mention of science experiments in her fridge. Then her expression changed, and his own smile froze, then faded. He looked down, ashamed. "It's, uh... it's okay, I've got a cuff." He held up his wrist to show her the cuff Eric had given him, which he began to fidget with. "Plenty of people have cuffs for their claims..." It was true, but it still sounded like an excuse.

Clara saw the change in him. At first it had been just as always. Her tall lanky man still seeming like just her her little boy as she hugged him. But as soon as she mentioned the collar he tightened up and closed off, his words sounding like nothing more than an excuse. Their claim hadn't been dissolved. Hector would have told her immediately about that. But now that she thinks back to their parting that morning he had been a bit cagey. "Yes, some people do choose cuffs for all sorts of reasons. Did you and Eric change your minds about having a collar?" She knows this wasn't some sort of aesthetic choice either of them had made. She straightened up and breath in deeply and let it out in a slow exhale. "Alright, listen my little dumplin' I know something real bad happened last month. I know you haven't wanted to talk about. Nick and Noah told me it was that damn... that it had to do with Mark, but kiddo you gotta tell your mom what's goin' on because I'm getting mighty worried right now." Her veneer always slipped away revealing just how much of a Texan girl she was in these moments. Moving to the big city, didn't change the fact that she was an Odessa country girl deep down. She took his hand and clasped it tightly in hers. "I love you Caleb Aaron Duv... Anderson and that will not change, but you've got to tell me what's going on." Her statement had all of the power of motherhood and Dominance behind it. A powerful combination of strength and love that no one could resist.

Caleb hesitated, unsure how answer. Because, well, yes, they had changed their minds, sort of. Or, Eric had, temporarily, while they worked on restoring trust between them. Fixing what Caleb had broken. But that wasn't what she meant, and Caleb knew it. She was asking if they had simply decided they liked a cuff better, and the answer to that was no. But then his mother continued, and Caleb was saved from having to come up with an answer, at least for a moment. Not that it made him feel any better. He could tell his mother was getting upset, because her southern accent was getting stronger. He ducked his head and shifted his weight uneasily, even as he held on tightly to her hand when she took his.

"I'm sorry, mama," he said quietly. He never called her that anymore, just mom, but it slipped out. He suddenly felt like crying, and it was mortifying. He was a grown man, he shouldn't break down in tears like a toddler just because his mom was the tiniest bit firm with him. He swallowed and kept control of himself, carefully. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry so much. I, um... I can't wear my collar right now." His hand came up automatically to touch his throat where it should be. "I'll get it back, when Eric and I... when we're okay again, I guess. But I..." He swallowed thickly again. This was so difficult to admit. "I broke his trust. Some of it was Mark's fault, but I could have told Eric what was going on. I had a chance, I could have gone to him. Mark was threatening to hurt me, or Eric, or himself, but... I still made a choice not to tell Eric. And I was the one who took the collar off. So when I got back to school... Eric wasn't ready for me to have again yet, is all. Because it- it stands for something I had- had broken." He grimaced, face screwed up, trying not to get emotional.

Clara's heart broke for he sensitive boy. All her sons were sensitive in their own ways. For Caleb it was different though because another human being had broken him open. He was like an open nerve and it was so damn unfair. She listened to him without interruption before sighing and nodding. She needed to be very careful here. Caleb was another Dominant's submissive now. And she herself had a duty as a fellow Dominant to look at this from that perspective as well as a mother who just wanted to protect her baby from everything and everyone. She pulled him into another hug and just held him. "Just breathe dumplin'. Just breathe with me for a minute. Okay?" She didn't care who was there or who saw. They could all get bent as far as she was concerned. She'd spied a small stone bench under a larch oak tree not far off and she pulled back to take his hand and lead him over. She sat and patted the space next to her.

"First, I'm so sorry all of that happened. Mark needs to be dealt with. This is completely unacceptable. He can't keep coming into your life and turning it upside down." She let that sit for a moment before continuing on to the tough stuff. "I love you, my own. I love you more than the sun... more than paprika and you know how much I love paprika." She chuckled wanting to keep things as light as possible. "I love you and I also know that you should have trusted your Dom. You know that, he does, it's not something that needs to be discussed too much. But what I think is the larger issue is that we might need to start really facing what his abuse of you did. Because dumplin' I know how much you trust Eric. That boy means the world to you and more than that, he taught you to trust after someone crushed all of your trust into dust. After someone you loved pulled trust from your heart fiber by fiber. I don't think trust is the issue here. I think trauma is the issue." She held his gaze. "Eric is right to wait until you've worked out this breach of trust. But how are you doing that? What work are you doing?"

Caleb let himself be pulled into his mom's arms again and tried to breathe, like she said. He didn't cry, but it was a near thing. He just breathed, slowly, counting to ten before exhaling again, then counting again, and repeating until he could feel the horrible tightness in his throat recede.

He followed her over to the bench, glancing around as he did. No one was nearby. Good. He didn't want an audience for this conversation. Obediently, he sat next to her, though he began to fidget immediately. He stared down at his knees as she spoke, though the comment about paprika got a weak chuckle out of him. He looked up at her towards the end, watching her with a worried expression. It was comforting to hear her say she knew how much he loved Eric. He was still so scared that people thought he was lying, and he didn't really love his Dom, or didn't love him enough, or the way he should. As she finished, though, Caleb looked down again. "...We're trying," he said quietly. "I'm still seeing my therapist. And I'm trying to do better about communicating. Eric says he just needs time... and I'm trying to be patient. He deserves whatever space he needs, after what I put him through. Especially after Mav..." His mother had heard all about that, back in May, when Caleb had missed his co-sub so much. "I hurt him, mom. I might still be dealing with what Mark did, but now he's hurting, too, and it's my fault." His throat felt tight again, and he grimaced and turned his face away. "I don't know how to handle it. I... I'm not allowed to leave campus with anyone but him or Noah right now, because he doesn't trust me, but I haven't told him that I'm scared to leave campus anyway. I'm glad I'm not allowed because then it's easy to use as an excuse if someone asks. I don't know how to fix anything. There's nothing I can do, but just try to be good, and obedient, and hope it's enough."

Clara again listened carefully and quietly. She let a breath of a laugh pass her lips as she reached up to cup his cheek for a moment. "That's a whole lot to unpack isn't it?" She tilted her head from side to side. "I believe you dumplin'. Neither of you are the type to give in are you? You'll keep trying. All claims have their problems. Your father and I have had plenty of tough times. Times I thought our claim might fall apart. And we've hurt each other. I hate to admit just as much as you hate to admit you hurt Eric. But you are admitting it. You are owning it and working to fix it." She smiled wanly. "You don't have to know how to fix it. Sometimes I think it's the effort that is the answer in and of itself. Claims are never easy. You have to work." She nodded. "I know how hard it is, but give him that space right now. There's a lot he's working through as well, I'm sure." She shook her head. "Oh dumplin' you are good. You are such a good submissive and Eric knows that. I think it's not your obedience that needs to be addressed. It's that fear. You've come a long way toward rebuilding your ability to trust. I saw that the last time I was here, but then the fear came and shattered it." She rolled her lip in and out before looking back at him. "Would you be alright with me talking to Eric? Not to put him on the spot or try and hurry him or anything like that. Just to give him the chance to talk things through."

Caleb ducked his head down and nodded. It was strange to hear his mom admit to having hurt dad, or vice versa, but logically he understood. Two people couldn't live together for three decades without at some point hurting the other one's feelings. It had always just seemed like his parents' relationship was perfect, and that they both always knew what they were doing. But of course they had been young once. He let out a breath and nodded. "I'm trying," he murmured. "It's so hard, mom. Because he's my Dom. It's so hard to give him space, when I need him so much. We're sleeping in the same bed again now, but the first few weeks, when we weren't... I couldn't sleep. I felt so guilty just being in his bed, when he was in the spare room. But he wouldn't listen, and I didn't want to push, I didn't want to argue over something so inconsequential... And I know he's trying to be what I need, too, but it's all so delicate, I'm scared to push him on anything." He let out a breath when she reassured him that he was good. Oh, how he wanted that to be true. It was easy to let himself believe it, at least for a second, coming from his mom. But she was right, he knew, about the fear. It was poison, and he didn't know how to be rid of it. He bit his lip, nervous and unsure, but nodded. "If you want to," he said softly. "Just please don't make him feel bad. He's so worried that he's not a good Dominant. He thinks that all this is at least partly his fault, and he blames himself for not realizing what was going on with Mav, and he's scared he isn't doing enough to help me. And I don't want him to feel any worse. He's been so good to me. He doesn't know how good he is."

"Oh dumplin' of course you need him. And you can tell him that. Giving him space doesn't mean he stops being your Dom. In fact I think telling him exactly what you just told me will go so far to rebuilding his trust. Telling him how frightened you are to go into town. Telling him all of the feelings you're having." She paused. "This is going to be hard for you to hear, but you might have to argue with him. You're going to have to fight like hell for him. And part of that is going into that uncomfortable space where you tell him all of these things. You're working hard to keep him comfortable, but sweetheart in the end he doesn't want comfort he wants you. That you are floundering without him will not make him feel upset. It might be hard for him right now, but he's your Dom and he needs to know that you need him. Clara shook her head. "I will not be making him feel bad. I promise. I want to be a Dom he can talk to as well as someone who knows you and knows the situation." She nodded. "I think it's possible that with what happened with Mav, he's dealing with his own kind of trauma. That's what I'm concerned about. You're both hurt and your traumas are banging against each other. It's not about one or the other of you being 'bad' or 'doing it wrong'. You both just need a little guidance to get back on the path."

Caleb let out a breath and sagged a little. She was right, he knew that. Communication, wasn't that what Eric was always telling him? He needed to speak up, say how he felt. But he'd been so scared lately that if he asked for anything, Eric would just give it to him, regardless of how Eric actually felt. That Eric wouldn't take the space he needed if Caleb asked him for anything. But then again, maybe that was just another failure to entrust his needs to his Dominant. Wasn't the point of submitting to Eric to let him choose how and when Caleb's needs were met? He was just so scared of doing the wrong thing, and it seemed like anything he chose had a good chance of being wrong. "I know," he said quietly, miserably. "I think he knows that I need him. He has to know. But... you're right, I know you're right. I'll do better, I promise." Caleb sagged a little and tipped to the side to lean against his mom, putting his head down on her shoulder. "I hate that he doesn't think he's a good Dom. I don't know what to do to convince him. I can't even begin to understand how he could think that, but he really does. He worries about not being good enough, and losing me and our claim because of it. And it's hard for me to understand because... I know I've told you about how amazing he is, mom, how patient he is with me, but... Everyone says their Dom is wonderful and amazing, it just sounds like I'm in love with him. And I am. But he's more than that, he's so good, and I don't understand how he doesn't see it. He got me to trust again. He did. When we met... I couldn't even admit to being upset in front of him, he tried to get me to tell him what was wrong one day and I hid in his bathroom because I couldn't do it, and he wouldn't let me leave while I was upset. I know I still struggle with trust, but I never would have come so far without him. Never."

Her sons were forever open books to her. Their thoughts were written across their beautiful faces. "Good boy. You'll feel... well you'll feel nervous and maybe a little worse at first, but in the end you'll be glad you opened up to him completely. Share it all with him, dumplin'. I know it's scary but share the good, the bad, and the ugly. Might be he shows you how mighty beautiful what you think is ugly actually is." When he leaned against her, she put her arm around him and held him tight. "There's nothing you can do. He's got to learn that for himself. These are the things that will make him truly understand what it means to be a Dom. Not the surface trappings. Doms hafta dig real deep to find what truly makes them a Dom. What makes us deserving of these marks." She nodded. "You love him and that's a very good thing because you have so much to love, but it's all of the other things that makes your claim strong. Stronger than this. You're both stronger than this." She thought about Caleb hiding in the bathroom unable to talk about his feelings. He's come so far and a lot of that is owing to Eric Anderson. "I'll talk to him. You'll see he'll come around. In the meantime just open up all of yourself to him. I promise you won't regret it."

Leaning against his mom, Caleb was able to believe, at least for the moment, that things weren't hopeless. That he could say all these things to Eric and it wouldn't be scary. And it made him feel better that she wanted to talk to Eric, too. Hopefully she would be able to tell him just how good he has been for Caleb, and what an amazing Dom he really was. Maybe hearing it from another Dominant would help. "Thanks, mom," Caleb murmured. "For talking to him. I'll do better, I promise. I can be patient. I want my collar back, but I can wait until he's ready. My instinct is always to keep quiet, not bother him, not burden him. But I know you're right, that isn't submitting, it's holding back, and it's not my place to choose what he does or doesn't do for me. I have to tell him what's in my head, or he isn't making a decision not to give me what I want, I'm making that decision for him." He let out a heavy breath. "It just feels like I'm being demanding, you know? I don't want to push for more than he wants to give."

"Of course Cay. I will do anything to help." She felt her heart break a little. "And I know you'll do better, because you are better. You are wonderful. You're an amazing man and a beautiful submissive. And bit by bit as you heal and he heals you'll see that it will get better for both of you." She nodded. "You will need to be patient about the collar for now. Tell him everything, but let him decide when to put that collar back on you. He will, dumplin. I have no doubt about that. But yes be patient. When he puts it on you the second time it will be for a stronger claim. You will remember that day forever." She furrowed her brow. "You're absolutely right. There may come times that you're not ready to talk or that you need to make a decision for yourself. You're a submissive, not a slave. When those times come you just need to trust that you can tell him about that too. This is why we all gotta go to Institute. None of this stuff is at all easy."

Caleb nodded without lifting his head from her shoulder. "I know that, mom. That sometimes I have to make decisions and boundaries and it doesn't mean I'm being disrespectful. It's... Sometimes it's hard because somewhere in the back of my head is this voice that I should just submit, regardless of anything else, but I know I'm not a slave and I get to have a say. It's not really an issue, since Eric always asks how I feel about things. And I'm getting better at telling him even if he doesn't ask. And I have a safe word. Not just during scenes. We have a second one. I haven't had to use it much, but it's for times when I don't know what to do or I'm nervous and I need him to check in with me. Heisenberg. You know, because it's an uncertainty principal."

Clara smiled. Her sweet, scientific boy was still just that. "I think that's an excellent strategy. Having situation specific safewords is a good practice that not many claims take advantage of. Your father has a certain gesture that is situation specific." She smiled warmly thinking of her submissive. He is where the boys get their sensitivity from. "Can't tell you what it's for since that would be breach of his trust, but I can tell you that it has been real helpful. But let me ask you something. Have there been times especially recently that you've needed to use that safeword, but you held back?"

Caleb felt a little better when his mom approved of their strategy. The information about dad made him lift his head to look at her curiously. Internally, he debated whether it would be a bad idea to ask dad about it. He didn't want to make his dad uncomfortable, but he was suddenly very curious. His mom's next question, though, made him look down again, and he shrugged. "I don't know," he said softly. He hadn't thought about that, lately, but now that she brought it up, he realized she was right. He looked away, feeling guilty. "Yes. Probably. ....Definitely. I was trying to just accept what he wanted... But yeah. There were times."

Clara took his hand and squeezed. "I'm not asking to put you on the spot or make you feel bad. But you gotta let that boy know these things. That's why he wants you to have that safeword. It's not a limited supply that you have to save up. You need to use it whenever you feel uncertain. That's how he will know when you are having troubles. He'll figure out the things that trigger your anxiety. He'll figure out what things are connected to your trauma and bit by bit he'll be able to shield you from them."

Caleb grimaced but nodded. "I know, mom. I can do better. I've gotten better, I promise. Better than I was a year ago." He let out a breath and leaned his head on her shoulder again. "I will do better. I just want to be good, and make him happy. I hate that he has to be so careful with me. I hate being so difficult. And he always says I'm not, that I'm not difficult and it isn't a sacrifice, but that's not true. He doesn't want me to think I'm difficult because then I won't ask for things, but I'm not an idiot. The times he stays up with me in the middle of the night because I had a panic attack, or he changes his plans because I reacted badly to something, all the times he sets aside what he wants because he's worried he'll make me uncomfortable. I know you're right, and the right thing for me to do is just to communicate and be honest and use my safe word, and trust him to make space for himself too. But I just hate how difficult it is for him. It isn't fair to him. He doesn't deserve this."

"I know sweetheart. I know." She didn't want him to think she didn't know how hard he'd worked. "This is just a little speedbump on the path. You'll both be stronger once you get past it." She shook here head firmly. "You are not difficult. You have been through difficult things. Eric knows that and he loves you. He chose you. He cares about you. He wants you as his submissive. All of those things are part of being a Dominant. They are the the things we want to do for the people we care about. We want to stay up late to comfort them. We want to help them and guide them." She paused, using her finger under his chin to make sure he was looking in her eyes. "I happen to like Eric and I happen to think he deserves to have a wonderful, caring, intelligent, and sensitive submissive like you."

Caleb grimaced but didn't argue. He'd learned by now that there was no point in arguing when someone who loved him tried to convince him he wasn't difficult. He knew he was, but he also knew they would never admit to it. Because they loved him, and they would do anything for him, and they didn't want him to think of his needs as an imposition. But that didn't mean he wasn't difficult. Love didn't make something easy, just doable. He let out a breath and nodded, listening to his mother, and then looked up at her when she prompted him. He wasn't expecting what she said, though, and it made him smile and look down shyly. "Thanks, mom," he mumbled, feeling a bit awkward with such open praise. He knew his mom loved him, but that was a long string of positive adjectives she'd just used. "...Eric agrees with you, just so you know. We'll be okay. I'm okay. I promise."

#mama duval

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 5 years

Note

So, I just read it on Twitter and had to share it with you. “Climate change has fucked up seasons, does this mean Hades and Persephone’s deal has changed? Is she getting her cheeks smashed for longer now? Is Hades okay with random dick appointments rescheduling? Is Demeter going crazy? Is she going stupid?”

“Your mom must be going fucking nuts, huh?”

It’s 3:32 AM in the morning, the halls of the palace are fast asleep, and the only sound is the soft, muffled crackling of the eternal fires the burn just outside the large, arched window of their bedroom.

For millennia, Hades never really payed much mind to what humans were doing to the world. The wars, the bloodshed, the atrocities— it was always a part of mankind, for as long as he could remember. He’s aware that his mindset is probably do to the fact that he grew up during a time when all of these aspects were very common, so he was numb to them, to an extent.

But in all of his years of life, Harry had never witnessed humans actually be able to push the boundaries of their powers to the point where it was impacting the actual planet.

Bombs are the obvious factor, as well as mass deforestation, oil wells, mines, and so much more. However, amidst all of these impacts humans lay upon the world, none of them had ever had a direct influence on Harry’s life. He’s sequestered so far down in the depths of the earth that humans can’t possibly reach him here without kicking it first.

That was until global warming became an issue.

Well, an issue for those who live above ground. For him, it was actually working out quite to his advantage.

He’s knows it’s a horrible thing to say but he’s already in Hell so he doesn’t really have much to lose. Actually, he has so much more to gain.

Since global warming is a direct line to climate change, all of the seasons have been thrown out of their natural order. Fall and Winter used to be strictly six months, which is when Persephone would be down in the Underworld with him. As soon as the first of the seventh month hit, it was time for her to go back to Olympus with her mother for their given time of Spring and Summer.

The end of the six month period was usually when the weather would start to warm up on the surface, resulting in Persephone having to go and take the reigns of her godly duty with Demeter. But increasing climate change has been tinkering with the technicalities for the last few years and most of the time, it’s in Hades’ favor.

It’s been two weeks into the seventh month, and with temperatures still near freezing in some areas of the world, Y/N has managed to use this as an excuse to extend her stay with Harry. And since the weather is too risky for crops to start growing, Demeter’s hands are tied in her own grape veins, much to Hades’ glee.

This brings them to where they are now, snuggling cozily under the charcoal black duvet of their humongous bed, legs intertwined as his wife cradles her head against his bare chest, the tips of his fingers tracing both of his names down the expanse of her spine.

The last two weeks had been a hell of a ride, literally and metaphorically.

It reminds Harry of how when they had first gotten married, they had been going at it like rabbits for the weeks that followed, as if the world could end any minute.

But now, it was The Weather Channel that could potentially throw a gear in their little extravaganza. They had been safe thus far into the month, so every day was a triumph, and triumphs obviously have to be celebrated.

The amount of fucking got so embarrassingly frequent, in some embarrassingly unequip places, to the point where one of the cleaning servants had walked in on them in a storage closet when Harry was supposedly at an emergency meeting on Olympus.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been more mortified then when the servant handed him a freshly cleaned towel and said, “Here, you’ll need this for when you’re finished.” before closing the door behind her.

Harry looks down at Y/N, not being able to keep a gentle smile from tickling his lips as she presses her ear over his heart, comforted by the mellow thumping that had been harsh and fast-paced a few minutes prior. He ducks down and presses a caring kiss between her sweaty brows, her skin still hot and clammy from the exertion he’d just put her through.

His voice comes out as a raspy laugh and she can feel the edges of his mouth drawing up into a sly simper against her forehead.

“She must fucking hate me right now more than ever, too.”

Y/N pinches at his tummy in a cautionary manner, but she can’t fight the amused scuff that escapes her. “It’s not like you’re responsible for the weather, though.”

Hades shrugs one shoulder, his dark emerald eyes glistening in the buttery light of the fires below that stream in through the glass window. His tone is cocky and self-indulgent.

“But I am responsible for this.” He streams his fingertips down the dip of her back and onto her ass, moving the sheets down a tad to reveal a darkened outline of his handprint. “And that’s enough to cause her to plunge the world into another Ice Age.”

Persephone fully laughs now, her eyes squeezing shut as her whole face lights up like the Northern Lights and Harry can’t resist scattering a dozen kisses all over her cheeks and nose. She just looks so fucking cute when she smiles like that.

Hades cups the side of her jaw with his fingers, thumbing over the faint dimple on her chin as he rubs his nose over the tip of her’s. Even though his plump, wine-tinted lips carry a tender, sleepy grin, she can hear the sadness weighing his words. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Persephone sighs deeply, reaching up to push her husband’s damp, chestnut curls away from his forehead, combing them back from his softening eyes as he swallows heavily, thick eyebrows furrowing as he tries to keep his emotions from registering on his face. “I don’t want to either, but I have to eventually.”

Harry nods his head emptily, the tip of his cold nose running up and down the suppleness of her cheek. “I just don’t want this to end.”

Y/N snorts lightly, trying to lift the mood of the conversation. “Yeah, I get that. Then you won’t have anyone to ride you in the bathing pool.”

She thanks the gods that it works, heart fluttering in her chest as Harry breaks out into a fit of that high-pitched laughter he does when he can’t control himself. His entire face changes for a moment, his nose crinkling upwards as the corners of his eyes wrinkle in delight.

“Am I wrong?!” She teases, poking him in the stomach and sides until his hands are fumbling for her own, his giggling intensifying when she buries her head into his neck and starts blowing raspberries against his skin.

“Okay, okay!” Harry can barely breathe, his ribs aching but in the best way and he can’t seem to stop beaming. “You’re kinda right.”

Y/N halts her attack, mouth dropping open in fake appalled shock, eyebrows flying upwards outrage. “Are you serious?!”

She tries to yank her wrists free from her husband’s large hands, but his fingers only tighten to keep her from going at him again. Persephone lays there writhing from side to side, yelling out all types of vulgar language that is gradually dissolving into bundles of banter and giggles as Harry makes kissy-faces, warning her to calm down before he “gives her a taste of her own ambrosia.”

Y/N, in the spur of the moment, mounts herself on top of Harry in a whirlwind of messy sheets, straddling his hips with her thighs and trying to tug herself free that way, but his hold is beyond godly. She releases an exasperated groan, slamming their conjoined hands down against his stomach, satisfied at the pained grunt he chokes out. “You deserve it, you prick.”

They are both still grinning from ear to ear, Y/N’s hair a tangled mess of flyaways as she slumps down in defeat against Hades’ lap, pouting and fuming jokingly.

When Harry sees his wife has come down from her bloodthirsty rampage, he slowly unclamps his fingers from her wrists, shrugging his eyebrows warningly. “I’ll pin you, babe. Behave.”

Persephone raises her own eyebrows challengingly. “Oh, yeah?”

Before Hades can react, she has his wrists crossed above his head, pressed into the mound of elegant feathered pillows below him. “How’s that, then? Turned the tables.”

Harry cocks his head to the side with an arrogant air as his bare, tattooed chest heaves alluringly. He runs his bottom lip under his top teeth as the corners turn up into a presumptuously attractive smirk, voice holding faux surrender. “You’re absolutely right, darling. I completely, totally lost. I have you sitting in my lap, naked, with a perfect view of your tits, which is the most dreadful defeat I can possibly imagine.You won.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow. It’s all a game— just for shits and giggles— but the way he’s eyeing her with that amused, conceited smirk makes her want to slap him across the face.

“You’re an asshole.” She huffs, nails digging into his wrists.

A holographic green glint flashes across the whites of Harry’s eyes, irises glowing with a watery jade hue as he mopes at her tauntingly. “Oh, but I thought I was a ‘prick?’”

Now he’s really asking for it. Practically begging for her to do something to make him take it all back. As if reading her mind, Hades flicks up a single eyebrow, and she can read his expression clear as crystal.

What are you gonna do about it?

Y/N can feel her nostrils flaring ever so slightly at the dare, and what drives it forward it that even though she is the one who is supposed to have Harry pinned down at her disposable, it looks more like he has his hands crossed behind his head, waiting for her to bend to his will.

It’s infuriatingly hot.

Something glints out of the corner of Persephone’s eye, her gaze rising until it lands on Hades’ wedding ring as it hugs his finger, the giant emerald jewel glittering in the muted amber lighting. He follows her locked stare, jaw flexing as he tilts his head back against the mattress, trying to find the target of her distraction.

His ring.

He very seldom takes it off, to the point where he has a tan line around the area. It’s his most prized possession, accompanied by his crown, his emblem, and Cerberus.

Y/N quickly wraps her fingers around it, pulling it off swiftly and holding it up above his head, sticking her tongue out at him playfully. “Good luck getting it back.”

Her plan backfires almost immediately.

She tries to swing herself off her husband to get the prize as far away from him as possible, but she had forgotten that their bodies had been tangled together in the sheets. Instead of making a speedy escape, she topples off his sideways, landing face-first into the fluffy duvet.

Harry’s muddled snickering mocks her.

The next thing she knows, Persephone is being scooped up in a pair of strong, lean arms, her back hitting the pillowy mattress and bouncing lightly. Harry’s body collapses over her’s, his hips snug between her thighs as his palms press down against the bed on either side of her head.

He moves strands of her hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ears as his face hovers over her, grin plastered all over it. “That was cute, pet. Ten-out-of-ten for effort. Execution? I’ll give you a two-out-of-ten, only because I love you so much.”

Harry shifts into his forearms, holding his left hand up and wiggling his ring finger. “Now give it back.”

“No.”

He rolls his eyes in mild irritation. “Give it back before you drop it behind the bed, you dolt.”

Y/N rattles her head in defiance, fist tightening around the obsidian ring as it remains pressed against her husband’s chest.

Harry gives her a ominous look, tilting his head to the side with a cautionary tone. “Give me my ring back before I give the other side of your bum a matching handprint.”

Instead of just giving in and returning the jewelry, Y/N decides to take the more complicated (and irrationally ridiculous) route. She pops it into her mouth.

Harry is so surprised he doesn’t blink for a few seconds. Then, he breaks out into awed laughter.

“You’re such a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? S’fucking impressive.” He shakes his head in disbelief, ghosting his index finger along her Cupid’s Bow, licking at the corner of his mouth coyly when he feels her lips twitching beneath his touch. “Now be a good girl and spit it out.”

Her words are muffled over the object. “Make me.”

A dark aura falls over Hades’ face, his hand coasting down from playing with her lips to wrapping delicately around her throat in foreshadowing. His voice is low and assertive. “You know I fucking will.”

“That’s what I’m betting on.”

Harry’s mouth curls into an evilly delighted simper. “Alright. You asked for it.”

Hades grabs one of Persephone’s knees, spreading her legs open roughly and using his own knees to keep her parted wide open. The ring finger of the hand around her throat presses against the center of her lips, the other hand wandering down and cupping her bare crotch without any warning. The two middle fingers of his right hand press deeper against her slick folds until he can feel the bud of her clit, and that’s when he starts wiggling the digits back and forth.

It starts off softly, but is quickly molding into a faster, messier, more eager pace. He usually eases her into sex because he knows how sensitive she can be down there to the point where she’ll cum without much work, but since they’re pitted against each other rather than together, dirty war strategies are expected.

Y/N’s legs act on instinct, trying to clasp shut as she feels her entire body coursing with electric shocks of sudden euphoria. However, the knees he has against her’s keeps her open, allowing him to do whatever he deems fit.

Persephone’s hands desperately grab at her husband’s, trying to get him to stop; she’d clearly overestimated her confidence level. She’d assumed he would just bury himself inside her, a strategy she knows how to fight with the right amount of willpower. But her clit is way more sensitive than anything else on her body and he’d gone in without remorse.

“T-That’s not fair! H-Harry, you can’t just— fuck, oh my God!” Her back arches up from the bed, thighs quivering as she feels deep pulses of pleasure pounding at the pit of her stomach.

Harry’s lips are flushed against her throat, placing hot, sloppy pecks across her juglar as he feels her getting wetter and wetter over his fingers. “I fucking warned you, sweetheart. I’m gonna make you cum like this, without me inside you. It’s what you deserve for being such a brat.”

“P-Please—!”

“Ring.” He growls demandingly, his second middle finger pressing harder against the center of her colored lips, the rest of his digits gripping her jaw firmly. “Now.”

It’s as if Y/N’s brain is no longer in control of her actions, her body acting on sheer adrenaline. Her mouth drops open on command, and she can feel Harry’s triumphant grin stinging across her jaw.

“That’s what I thought.”

The digit dips in and the ring slips past a third of it before Harry pulls it out. He makes eye contact with his wife, ducking down to whisper his next words across the shell of her ear.

“You’re gonna be the one to put the ring back on me.”

With everything that is happening, Persephone has no time to unravel the riddle behind Hades’ words. One of her trembling hands reaches up for his hand, trying to obey him in her drunken state of shock.

But he stops her with a light shake of his head, wet curls bouncing. “Not like that, baby.”

Harry then shifts his body over smoothly, the hand that was between her thighs slamming down beside her head to hold himself up as the hand with the ring takes its place.

In one quick, expert move, he plunges his two middle fingers inside Y/N, and the experience is almost out-of-body.

She can feel the abrupt chill of the metal ring making contact with the skin around her entrance, and then he’s slipping his digits further inside her, the ring pushing against her tight hole and running down his finger until it is snug in its rightful place. Until Harry is knuckles deep and she feels like she’s going to pass out as her senses go into overdrive.

Y/N is bucking and writhing against Hades’ hand, whimpering and whining and pleading with him to stop toying with her. To just fuck her already.

“Oh, I will, love. I’m gonna fuck you with my fingers first. Play with that spot inside you that I know drives you fucking wild. And then, I’m gonna proper raw you until you can’t even stand.”

Harry’s fingers slip out completely, only to pound back inside her harder this time, her whole body jolting upwards against the bed sheets as her throat aches with a broken yelp.

“I’m gonna make you apologize for calling me a prick—” his fingers draw out and slam back in and she’s so wet he can fucking hear it— “and an asshole—’ the same motion again, but this time she feels his teeth staining her neck and jaw with bruises— “and I’m gonna make you scream so loud, they’ll hear you all the way up in Olympus.”

And with the way he rams his digits back inside her, she knows he’ll make good on that promise.

#hades!harry

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chrisevansbabymama · 5 years

Text

Daddy Hair Care - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - Mommy’s Boy:

Chris. Was. Bored.

He looked at Dodger with envy, as he was sound asleep on his little bed. If only he could fall into a nap to cure his boredom, but it seemed the harder he tried the more alert he became. Without Mya around, he always noticed how quiet it was and how such a small person could occupy so much of his space and time. He wasn’t complaining, at all. His eyes scanned the living area of their suite; her toys were neatly strewn here and there, serving as a reminder of her absence. Her little tea-party table hosted two teddy bear guests that sat on separate chairs, the other two empty; reserved for Chris and herself, and a little space in between with stacked cushions for Dodger because she didn’t want him to feel left out.

Now Chris wished she was there: poking his ear, playing with his beard, painting his toe nails, smothering Dodger in hair gel, watching cartoons all day long and pouring him fake tea and pretending to eat cupcakes. Sometimes they bought real food for the tea party but they mostly ate it at the big dining table because Chris couldn’t last long in that small space.

Clearly, his life was all about Mya, Dodger and scripts. Even more now, that he’d brought Mya with him to New York for the next few months whilst he was rehearsing for Lobby Hero, she was his priority. He wasn’t too sure how it was going to work once the shows started; whether it was fair to have her shared between Seb or his assistant Tiffany, or if he would rather just take her back to LA to stay with her grandma. The latter seemed to be a more stable solution for her because soon after his Broadway days, he would be filming his last Avengers installment, which meant more time away from home and her. His heart ached at the thought, he’d bonded so much with her in the last few weeks that they had been in New York together and had seen so much growth in her every day. He feared that very soon he’d be missing out and hearing about it over the phone from her grandma. It just wouldn’t be the same. She was picking up new words, new habits and even copying his behaviours; which he often found funny.

“Oh man!” she would exclaim if she dropped a toy or made a mistake.

It used to be ‘oh shit,’ (well, only once) because she’d heard it from none other. Chris quickly realised how much of a sponge she was, even when he thought she wasn’t watching or listening; he would later see her exhibit his behaviours.

Or she’d greet Dodger with a, “Hi buddy,”

And in the mornings, she copied her dad’s routine too; she would brush her teeth with him, wash her face and splatter water everywhere, and mutter a small “oh man.” After brushing their teeth and washing their faces, Chris would pick up a script or newspaper to read over breakfast, Mya would bring her drawing pad. Breakfast was always a fruit platter and dry seeded bread; or plain oatmeal with just a drizzle of honey since he was slowly easing into his Cap diet. Mya drew the line at the dry seeded bread though, she preferred white bread smothered in butter and jam, and instead of a coffee or green juice like her dad, an orange juice was her go-to. Chris always diluted it because he found out that Mya and sugar were a dangerous combination, add Dodger to the mix and it was a real fucking party.

“Yuck!” she grimaced at the oatmeal once when Chris had tried to get her to try something new.

“One bite, look, daddy’s putting Nutella in it,”

“No, don’t want it, yuck,” she then fake gagged, making Chris stop immediately, sighing and gave in to her demands of jammy toast and a bowl of strawberries.

“What kid doesn’t like Nutella?” he mumbled to himself.

Chris finally pushed his hair back and compartmentalised the wistful spiral of thoughts and checked his phone, hoping that maybe Sebastian had texted to say she wanted to come home. He wouldn’t even mind if Mya had decided she missed her dad too much and cut their little ice cream date short. He was regretting telling Sebastian to bring her back when the sugar had worn off. Checking the time on his phone; it’d only been an hour since they’d left and it was going to be a while until they came back. He exhaled, and called the best person to help him get him out of his misery, before he let the thoughts build up and exacerbate his anxiety.

So Sebastian was right, Chris concluded begrudgingly as he held the phone to his ear; his life truly evolved around Mya, Dodger and scripts.

“Hey ma,” he said.

“Hi honey, I was just about to call you once I unpacked,”

“Unpacked?” Chris enquired.

“The grocery - I’m just coming in from the market, I’m hosting a dinner tonight,”

“Just what I wanted to hear to make me homesick,” he laughed softly.

“You okay sweetie?” Lisa asked, pausing deciphering her son’s deflated tone.

“Yeah, just feel...empty…bored. Mya’s gone out with her best friend Seb, and Dodger is sleeping. I don’t know what to do, usually at this time we’ll be watching Curious George together or at the park or debating what to eat for lunch,”

“Aaw, that’s normal,” Lisa said. “You just need to find something to do to without her. It’s okay to have an independent life outside of her, it’s not good for both of you to always be in each other’s space,”

“It’s hard, I’m trying to let go, but I feel bad if I don’t spend much time with her because once my shows I won’t be around much and then it’ll be Avengers soon after and we’ll have to be away from each other again,” Chris explained. “I seem to cope better with this when she’s not around because then I’m not physically in close proximity to be so protective of her,”

“But think of it this way; once you finish with this Avengers film, she’s all yours. You did say you wanted to take a break after and let her go to school,” Lisa reasoned.

Chris nodded, as if his mom could see. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess it’s just still getting used to this parenting thing,”

“And you’ll keep learning. Use your time alone to rest and unwind, or go out, some ‘me-time’ will be good for you,”

“Mmhhh,” Chris contemplated, he wondered if that would make him selfish. He quickly snapped out of the thought. “Jheeze, Chris, such a downer. Who’s coming to dinner?”

Lisa laughed at her son, imagining his face as he ridiculed himself, “Your uncles, Scott, Shana, Carly and the kids. It was Scott’s idea. Think we’ll be seeing you here anytime soon?”

Chris bit his bottom lip, racking his brain quickly for his schedule; “I have a week off in a month, I don’t know where Mya will be. I’ll figure something out,”

“Would be good for you to take sometime out and switch off, and have her here to play with her cousins,”

“I need it, maybe we could do Disney with her. She’d love it,”

“Maybe more you, than her,” Lisa corrected, knowing very well, that any excuse for Chris to go to Disney, he would exploit it.

“There’s some truth in that,”

The conversation progressed with Chris asking what was on the menu for dinner; he really missed home. He loved his mom’s cooking, being around his siblings and their kids, and friends and their kids too. Boston gave him that respite to be just himself and fully relax which he couldn’t do here in New York, the fact that he was living in a hotel, (which wasn’t a luxury that he took for granted) served as a reminder of his double life. Even his home in LA, the extravagant house tucked in the hills with other celebrities as neighbours, was of the same sentiment; but nothing ever compared to Boston. He found it more grounding and the pace of life was slower, no one cared who he was there nor even noticed him, because in Boston no one is ever looking to spot a celebrity.

It made him terribly homesick to know that his family was going to be gathered under one roof and enjoying each other’s company, whilst he sat alone in a hotel room, not sure if his daughter would even be back to join him for dinner.

“So, if you do come to Boston in a few weeks, should I expect a guest?”

Chris could tell by his mom’s intonation that she wasn’t talking about a friend like last time, when he’d visited with Seb. She was referring to a woman. For some reason when his mom brought up the topic about his dating life, he didn’t mind so much; supposedly he knew he couldn’t be defensive with her like he was with his friends, she could read him like a book, even over the phone. He was always honest with her because she always gave him the space and opportunity to be vulnerable with her; the same kid that ran home at 13 years old to tell her he’d just lost his virginity.

“Afraid not, it’ll just be the three of us as usual,”

“Are you looking? Have you been dating – because you have been quiet the last few weeks, I thought someone’s come along and stole your attention,”

“You can blame my new schedule and these two kids of mine,” he said referring to Dodger as well. “And no, I haven’t been looking or dating. I just don’t have the time,”

“You do right now in this very moment, Chris,” Lisa challenged.

“You say it like I can just walk outside and pick a woman,” Chris scoffed.

“You know what I mean, I’m just saying,” Lisa reasoned. “And it’s been so long since you’ve been on the scene, you might lose your charm if you keep away,”

Tickled by her honesty, Chris drew his head back with laughter, “Wow, my own mother ladies and gentlemen,”

“I just want you to be happy,”

“I am ma,”

“Yeah, but there’s something missing. Do you really want the only company you keep around you to be a toddler and a dog that you can’t have adult conversations with? Is this why you’re always on Twitter now?”

Chris roared with laughed again, this time his hand grabbing his left pec, slightly offended but she was actually right. He would find himself berating Donald Trump on his TV screen and look to Dodger and Mya in shock for their support.

“Can you believe this guy?” he would ask exasperatedly, receiving nothing in return but questioning glances from the dog and toddler. He would then go on his Twitter and continue his rant, starting a dialogue with his congregation of followers or his industry allies.

“You’re unbelievable,”

“Food for thought Chris. Speaking of food, I really have to go start prepping all this, Facetime you later when everyone’s here?”

“Yes, please do,”

“Give my grandbaby a hug and a kiss for me, okay? I love you,”

“Love you ma,”

Before hanging up, Lisa fired her one last shot, “And join Tinder or something, that’ll cure your boredom,”

Chris chuckled in disbelief when she hang up abruptly after her Tinder proposal. Clutching a cushion to his chest and deciding to take his mom’s advice – not to join Tinder, but to revel in his quiet time, he put the phone on the table. He was going to count sheep until sleep consumed him, because frankly he needed the rest. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day, and he would need all the energy he could muster to spread evenly across his Lobby Hero rehearsal, interview with Jimmy Fallon, and a press event in the evening.

Chapter 3

______________

Disclaimer: Gif Not My Own

Tagged As Requested: @mississippifangirl @thinemineours @tessathedragon @thottio @caninoona @eratotalles @allonszassbutt @thinemineours @dreamingwithmendes @void-imaginations @daybreak96 @l-auteuse @cliffordasparagus @bumber-car-s

#Chris Evans #Chris Evans gif #Daddy Hair Care #chris evans fanfiction #Chris evans fan fiction #Chris Evans fanfic #Chris evans fan fic #Sebastian Stan #Sebastian Stan imagine #Sebastian Stan fan fic #Sebastian Stan fanfiction #Sebastian Stan fan fiction #Chris Evans woc #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x black ofc #daddy chris evans

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indescribablechoices · 5 years

Text

where you abandoned things

Pairing: Liam x MC (Alicia Harper)

Word Count: 5274

Word Count: Piece By Piece by Kelly Clarkson

Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @kennaxval @thehonorarybeaumont

Synopsis: A figure from Alicia’s past turns up, and Liam learns why his wife has never spoken about her family before. (I wrote most of this on my phone so please forgive any errors)

“So, everything is all set for the trip to Italy next week?”

Alicia nodded as she scrolled through the reports on her laptop, barely looking up at her husband who sat opposite her on his own laptop at their kitchen table, “Francesco is expecting us at dinner once we arrive.”

Though they both had secretaries and several members of staff in charge of their scheduling, they liked to take some time once every few weeks to sit down and go through their calendar together so that they could arrange the things that the staff wouldn’t do themselves. A weekend getaway to their cabin in Lythikos; a wedding present from Olivia, or a simple date night; something they promised themselves at least once a month, even if it just meant cooking pasta and watching a movie.

“Do you think slipping into a red dress will sway his opinion like it did last time?” he smirked, glancing over his screen at her.

She met his gaze with a raised eyebrow, “Darling, I’m seven months pregnant. I don’t slip into anything anymore. So no, there will be no slinky red dress. I will just have to charm him with my winning personality and whatever soccer stats I can remember.”

“You might want to call it football if you want to win points with him,” he pointed out.

“Hush you,” she stuck her tongue out at him before she turned her attention back to her screen.

There was a brief knock at the door to the royal apartment, and Bastien stepped in.

Before Alicia could even lift her head to smile in greeting, his next words sent a chill through her.

“Your Majesties, there is a Mr Chase at the front gate asking for entrance.”

Without a thought, her hand went to her bump, clutching it protectively.

A frown crossed Liam’s face immediately, “I don’t know anyone by that name, and I’m certainly not expecting anyone today. My love, are you…” he trailed off when he saw the look in her eyes, “Alicia, are you alright?”

She ignored him, keeping her eyes focused on Bastien, “What does he want?”

“He didn’t say specifically, my Queen, he was asking- well, demanding, to be let in so that he could speak to you,” he said, “We were going to send him away, but…”

“But what?” Liam frowned, “Who is this man?”

“He’s insisting that he is Queen Alicia’s father,” Bastien said.

“I see,” she nodded slowly, her voice quiet before she stood, “You may let him in. Have a meeting set up in the drawing room in the east wing. Ask the kitchen to prepare a simple tea. Very simple. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he bowed his head slightly then turned to leave before she called after him.

“Actually, Bastien, have the kitchen prepare the best afternoon tea they can in ten minutes. To show our guest true Cordonian royal hospitality.”

“I’ll have it arranged,” he nodded once again and left.

With Liam still watching her with a confused expression, she strode across the room to the bedroom, heading into their shared walk-in closet. As she began to rake through the rails of clothing, Liam followed her in, leaning in the doorway.

“What is going on?” he asked.

“Apparently I have a meeting in ten minutes,” she said, yanking an outfit off of the hanger and stripping her clothes off quickly to redress.

“With a man claiming to be your father?” he raised an eyebrow.

She shimmied herself into her floral skirt, focusing her eyes on buttoning up her white blouse, “He is my father.”

“You… you’ve never mentioned him before,” he said, keeping his tone neutral despite his confusion and frustration at his wife’s behaviour.

She grabbed a pair of soft pink shoes from her shoe rack and slipped her feet into them, “There wasn’t ever anything worth mentioning. I haven’t seen him since I was seventeen years old.”

“I see.”

She pulled a pink jumper down on top of her blouse before setting the look off with a jewelled necklace that Liam had given her, “Don’t worry, this won’t take long. He never hangs around long enough to make it worth my while.”

“Alicia-” he started to say but she brushed past him, bending over her vanity for a moment to apply a quick layer of lipstick and a brush of powder before heading back out into the main room. He followed her out, catching hold of her hand when she went to pick up her phone, “Talk to me.”

“I don’t have time for this right now, Liam,” she said, her tone hardened.

He had never seen her like this before. He had seen her upset, and he had seen her angry, but this was something else entirely. He could see a deep-seated rage behind her eyes, but there was a quirk to her expression that told him that this was something she had been dealing with for a long time. She had never spoken about her family to him. She had mentioned her mother a few times, but never any siblings and certainly never a father.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his grip loosening as her eyes met his, “Whatever is going on, whatever you need; I am here for you. Always.”

She let out a quiet sigh, “I know. Just hearing you say that means more than you can know. And I promise, I will tell you everything, but right now, I need to go.”

He nodded, “Okay. Just… Text me if you need me.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out of their apartment. With her shoes clacking loudly on the stone floors, she made her way across the palace towards the east wing.

Once she reached the door to the drawing room, she paused and took a deep breath. Mara, who had been guarding the door, glanced at her.

“Queen Alicia, would you like me inside with you?” she asked.

“Just for a moment or two, if you wouldn’t mind,” Alicia said.

“Of course, whatever you need, my Queen,” Mara gave a brief nod and opened the door for her, entering quickly behind her.

Alicia’s eyes fell immediately on the man sat on one of the elaborate couches, staring awkwardly at the tea and cakes that had been prepared and served on elegant silverware. It almost made her smile to see him so out of place.

If there was one thing she was grateful for in her life, it was the fact that she looked nothing like her father Andrew Chase. She had taken her dark hair and olive skin from her mother, not the thinning blonde that sat atop his pale head. He had dressed in an ill fitted and mismatched suit. She knew that that was likely his attempt at effort.

He turned when he heard the door open and a smile spread across his face.

“Alicia?” he was on his feet in a flash and rushing towards her, “My god, it’s been so long, you-”

He opened his arms to hug her, but all it took was a slight nod and Mara was stepping in front of her, blocking his path.

“I suggest you take a step back, sir,” Mara said calmly.

He stopped in his footsteps, looking between his daughter and her bodyguard, “Oh… right… Yes.”

Alicia glanced at her, “Thank you, Mara, that will be all. You can wait outside.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” she gave a stiff nod and stepped out of the room.

Alicia stood, hands held behind her back as she looked at her father, “So… long time no see, Dad.”

“Too long,” he sighed, “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t talk to your daughter in over nine years,” she reminded him.

“You’re angry,” he noted, retaking his seat on the sofa, watching her as she sat opposite him.

“Oh, I’m far past angry,” she told him, taking hold of the teapot and pouring hot tea into both cups, “I haven’t had the energy to be angry at you since I was a teenager. I’m just confused as to what you’re doing here.”

“I wanted to see you.”

She let out a hard laugh as she added cream and sugar to hers, stirring it gently, “And it has nothing to do with the fact that I live in a palace now?”

“Of course not, I…” he trailed off as she raised an eyebrow at him, “That’s how I found you. You’re all over the papers back in the States; the New York waitress marrying the foreign prince. I heard the stories, but I didn’t-”

“King.”

“Excuse me?”

“I married a foreign king,” she said simply, taking a sip of her tea, “So you saw my face in the papers and decided to just drop by? You didn’t think to call or write first?”

“I didn’t think you would reply.”

“Fancy that,” she mused, setting her tea down and gesturing to the extravagant cake stand, “Apple tart? The Cordonians do love their apples.”

He met her eye, then nodded to the tea set, “Is this meant to show up your father? Flaunt your wealth? I’m half surprised you didn’t serve me water and a crust of bread.”

She smirked slightly, “Believe me, it was tempting. But I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction… So. You flew all the way out here. You put my security team in a tizz. What do you actually want?”

“I told you; I wanted to see you.”

“To see me, or the wealth I’m supposedly flaunting?”

He shook his head to himself, “You’ve always thought the worst of me.”

“Because you never gave me a reason not to,” she said, “Did you expect me to jump into your arms and forgive you for everything just because you showed up here? One spontaneous, and unwelcome, visit doesn’t make up for everything you’ve done.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s a start,” he sighed, “Look, Alicia, I know I’ve been an asshole in the past-”

“That’s an understatement.”

“But I’m trying to make amends. For not being there for you when you were a kid, for letting your mom raise you alone. After you left for college, I thought I would never see you again. But then I saw you in the news, and then you were married and now you’re having a baby, I just knew I had to see you.”

She watched him for a moment, taking a mouthful of tea, “Let’s hypothetically say that I believe you, that’s it’s all true and you really have come to see me out of the kindness of you heart, what now?”

“Well, for one; I’d like to meet your husband. All I’ve heard is that he’s a royal. He has to be some guy to steal your heart… Though I suppose the crown and the castle are a pretty sweet deal,” he cracked a smile, but she met it with a glare.

“I didn’t fall in love with Liam because he’s a king,” she said, “I fell in love with him because he’s a good man; the best man I’ve ever met.”

“Well you certainly must have enthralled him to propose to an American girl with no noble heritage.”

“That doesn’t matter to him. It never did. I had to prove myself to the court and to the people, but never to him. He loves me. And don’t you dare think otherwise,” she snapped.

He chuckled to himself, “You always did have a quick temper. It was a joke, don’t worry.”

She continued to glare at him. How little he really knew her. He was the only person she ever lost her temper with. Even through everything that had happened in Cordonia, with the engagement tour and the scandal, even the assassination attempts, she had kept her cool, no matter how much she wanted to shout and scream.

“So you want to meet Liam,” she said quietly, “Then what?”

“Then I’ll obviously we can make arrangements for me to visit more so that I can visit my grandchild.”

At that, she couldn’t hold in the laughter that bubbled out of her, “You have to be kidding, right?”

“Why would I joke about that?” he frowned, “You’re my daughter. Your child is my grandchild. I want to be a part of their life.

“You think you can just show up back in my life after nearly ten years and expect to suddenly be a family?”

“Alicia, please-” he started to say but she cut him off.

“Why the sudden interest in my baby’s life? Have your other children back in Michigan not given you grandkids yet?” she challenged.

“You… You know about them?” the frustration dropped from his face, replaced with utter confusion and a hint of defeat.

“I’ve known about your other family since I was fifteen. I wanted to surprise you for your birthday that year, so I saved up all of my allowance and whatever money I got from running errands and took a coach to find you. I got the address from some old mail in your apartment. I walked right up to your front door the day of your birthday to surprise you and heard voices from the backyard. When I went around, I saw you there, with your wife and your son and other daughter, all laughing as you had a lovely barbeque and a big cake, living your fucking perfect little white picket fence life,” she snapped in anger.

“Alicia-” he reached his hand out to take hers but she pulled away sharply.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, furiously blinking back the tears that were welling up in her eyes, “That’s why I told you that I never wanted to speak to you again. Not because of your other family, but because you never told us; because you lied. You were my favourite person when I was a kid. You would show up out of the blue and take me to the zoo and let me eat ice cream all day. But you weren’t there for the times when I needed you. You weren’t there at my first soccer game, or the time I was lead in the school play. You weren’t there taking photos of me when I went off to my first school dance… You weren’t there when Mom died. You didn’t even come to her funeral. I had to come home from college and arrange the funeral all by myself. I kept thinking one day you would walk through the door like you did when I was a kid. You would walk in and you would give me a hug and you would tell me that everything would be okay. But you didn’t.”

“Alicia, I-” he began to stammer but she held up her hand to silence him.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. You have no idea what I have been through to get where I am today. But I did it. And I did it without you.”

Before either of them could say another word, there was a gentle tap at the door and Alicia rose to her feet, “Come in.”

The door opened slightly and Liam stepped in, dressed in his pale blue shirt, waistcoat and trousers; an outfit he knew she loved. His sleeves were rolled up and his hair a little messy, just a touch of casual to put his wife at ease, but formal enough so that no one could mistake his commanding presence.

She crossed the room to greet him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I heard raised voices, I wanted to check you were okay,” he said quietly to her, wiping away one of her stray tears with his thumb, his other hand going to her bump.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “It’s just… difficult, seeing him after all this time. I can’t tell if he really is trying to turn over a new leaf.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, “I’m here. Whatever you need.”

She took his hand and turned them both to face her father, “Dad, I would like you to meet Liam. Liam, this is my father; Andrew Chase.”

Andrew was on his feet promptly, eagerly taking Liam’s hand before he could offer it, shaking it vigorously, “It’s an honour to meet you finally.”

Liam offered him a cool, charming smile that Alicia had seen him give various dignitaries, “The honour is all mine.” He gestured back towards the couches, “Please, sit. I see the staff have prepared quite a wonderful tea, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“Quite right,” Andrew nodded, retaking his seat as Liam and Alicia sat opposite him, all busying themselves making tea and chewing awkwardly on apple tarts.

A silence set in between them all for a few moments before Andrew broke it to ask the real story about how the couple met, and whether the reports of assassination attempts at their wedding were true or simply overexaggerated American media. Liam did most of the talking, Alicia sitting there quietly as he spoke, lightly tracing her fingers over her bump. She felt the nudge of a soft kick against her palm and it kept her grounded, settling her mind as it still raced over the hundreds of possibilities as to why her father was really here.

“So, I know it’s not common knowledge in the news yet, at least not worldwide, but are you guys having a boy or a girl?”

That question snapped her back into the conversation and she sat up slightly, “Only our closest friends and family know. Most of the staff don’t even know. It’s better that way. It lets the press have their field day with polls about what we’re expecting, and it doesn’t land any scrutiny based on our baby’s gender.”

“Oh,” he said quietly, “Right…”

Liam glanced at her awkwardly, but she took a sip of tea, looking at her father over the brim of the cup, “And it’s kept under such tight wraps so that no one sells the story to the press.”

“Alicia!” her father gasped, “I would never-”

“Oh please,” she scoffed, “You have never turned down an opportunity to make a quick buck. How much money did you ‘borrow’ from my mom? All of your hairbrained business schemes and investments. One of them must have worked out, your suburban dream house was pretty nice.”

“Alicia,” Liam said quietly, laying his hand over hers.

She let out a shaky breath, collecting herself before looking at her father, “Look… We have had our ups and downs, to put it mildly. I was clearly the product of your affair during work trips to New York. I can get over that. I can get over the fact that you never told me about your other family, or the fact that they probably don’t know about me either… But you’re the one that walked away, so I’ll hope you understand when I don’t trust you or your intentions anywhere near my family.” She stood, “I’ll have someone prepare a room for you. We’ll talk more later. For now, I need to go and lie down.”

She left the room before anyone could say another word, marching back towards the royal apartment. Liam was quick behind her, following her into their bedroom where she curled up amongst their mass of pillows. He kicked his shoes off and joined her, wrapping his arms around her from behind to hold her safe against his chest.

They lay together in silence for a long while, their hands laced together across her bump, legs tangled together. Liam began to wonder if his wife had fallen asleep, but she eventually spoke.

“You must think I’m such a bitch,” she said softly.

“Alicia, you are a bitch and I love you for it,” he murmured against her ear as he tucked her hair out of the way, “And given the circumstance of what I’ve gathered from my brief meeting with the man, I can see why you’re so sceptical. I’m beginning to understand why you never mentioned him.”

“I never thought I’d see him again. Especially once I got here. It was easy to just pretend he didn’t exist,” she admitted, “I certainly didn’t need my past examined by the press, and I didn’t want any chance of feeling obligated to contact him.”

“What happens next is your decision,” he told her, “There is no obligation for you to keep him around. I’ll escort him out myself right now if you want.”

“As much as I would cherish the sight of you kicking my father to the curb outside of the palace,” she hummed with laughter, “I need to know if he really has good intentions. If I deny our baby a chance at a grandfather because of my own daddy issues, I’ll never forgive myself. I… I know what to do.”

She rolled over in his arms, pressing a kiss against his mouth before clambering out of bed. She told him she’d be back, then headed out of the apartment after grabbing something from her desk. She found her way to the room that someone had arranged for her father. She knocked a few times, and he quickly answered.

“Alicia,” a small smile wavered on his face.

She stepped inside and he closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath to steel herself then looked at him, “I’d like you to stay. For a few days. Nine years is a long time. Perhaps people can change. I may never truly forgive you for leaving the way you did. But in a few months time you are going to be a grandfather.”

She handed him the copy of her last sonogram. He held it, looking down at it with wide eyes, “Is this…?”

“That is your granddaughter. We’re going to call her Lyra.”

“Lyra,” he said softly, “It’s a beautiful name.”

“I need to get back, I have a meeting this afternoon. But I’m hoping you’ll join Liam and I for dinner,” she offered.

“I- I would be honoured,” he stammered, barely lifting his eyes away from the sonogram.

“Then I’ll see you tonight,” she said and quickly left. She muttered a few words to Mara as they made the walk back to the royal apartment, and her bodyguard gave a quick nod and left her once she knew she was safely inside.

Dinner that night was tense to begin with. Liam had attempted to ask questions about Andrew and what he did for a living, but he had simply muttered something about his own business before diving into his own questions about the baby, asking every detail he could about her pregnancy and any plans once the baby arrived.

Alicia answered his questions with an enthusiasm that Liam hadn’t expected. He watched as she chatted excitedly about the nursery decorations and their plans for the birth announcement and even telling him the middle names they had planned and who the godparents would be; something that they hadn’t even told their closest friends.

But it warmed his heart to see her with an actual family member for once. It had upset him greatly that she’d had no one close to her personally to invite to their wedding, only her friend Daniel from work. Perhaps this was a real opportunity for their family.

Later that night, once dinner was over, they sat together on the couch, Liam typing up notes for their meeting with Francesco next week, Alicia reading a book, propped up against a number of pillows.

She had been quiet since they got back, but he put it down to the emotional rollercoaster of a day she had been through. And yet, he couldn’t help but notice that she kept checking her phone.

“Expecting a call, my queen?” he asked quietly.

“Honestly… I don’t know,” she told him, “I-”

She was cut off by the sound of her own ringtone. She answered it quickly, muttering a few ‘rights’ and ‘okay’, before saying that she’d be right there and hung up.

“Alicia what’s going on?” he frowned.

“Just… stay here. This won’t take long.”

She stormed out of the apartment, finding Mara waiting for her outside of her father’s room once she arrived.

“Your Majesty, would you like me to handle this?” she asked.

“No, this is something I need to do myself.”

“Of course,” she nodded.

Without a second to knock, Alicia entered her father’s room, not even surprised when she saw him furiously tapping away on his laptop that was set up at the desk.

“You son of a bitch,” she hissed as she slammed the door closed behind herself.

“Alicia!” he leapt to his feet, knocking the chair over in the process, “What- what are you doing here?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Find out what?”

“How long did you wait before you tried to sell everything I told you about my baby to the press?” she asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted.

“Do you think anything happens in this palace without me knowing about it? I’m the fucking Queen of Cordonia! Did you really think that you could just send off a few emails to the tabloids without anyone noticing? This building has one of the best security systems in the world. No communications make it outside the walls without pre-approval. Your emails bounced back to my bodyguard personally.”

“Alicia I can explain-”

“I knew you weren’t here for a heart warming family reunion! Why do you think I told you everything?”

“You set me up!”

“No!” she yelled, “You don’t get to stand there after sending every piece of information about my baby girl, along with her sonogram, to the press and then accuse me of setting you up! You made that choice!”

“Just let me explain!”

“Fine. Go ahead. I’d love to hear this,” she waved her hand, stalking over to stare out the window, her arms wrapped around herself to stop him from seeing her shaking hands.

“One of the papers reached out to me. They did some serious, probably illegal digging, and found out that I am your father. They badgered me for information about you and the baby. And when I couldn’t give them anything, they offered me money. Big money. Money that I couldn’t turn down. So I came out here. I thought… I thought maybe it would be a chance to reconnect with you. I could send off a few things to impress the papers, and I would get you back in my life,” he sighed.

“How much money?” she asked quietly.

“What?”

“How much money did they offer you?”

“Ten grand flat rate. More if I could get a copy of the sonogram. Twenty if I could get a name,” he admitted.

“And then you thought you could just keep coming back, keep selling information about my daughter. Get a family and make some money while you’re doing it,” she rested her head against the cool glass for a moment.

“Look, whatever you think of me, know that I really did want to be back in your life. I… I don’t have much in the way of family anymore.”

She turned to face him with a scoff, “Why? Can’t your white picket fence family stand you anymore either?”

“As it goes, no, they can’t,” he huffed, “My son Jamie went to college and when he got back we… we fought a lot. So he left. My daughter Cora left with him, went off to med school early to avoid me. My wife stayed long enough to get the divorce through and made sure I had nothing but the bare bones of the house before she left as well.”

“I’d almost be glad to hear that you’re not just a shitty father to me if not for the fact that you’re a bastard and you got nothing less than you deserved,” she seethed, “And I’d bet whatever you and your son fought about and he left over wasn’t your fault, hm? It’s never your fault. You can’t just own up to the fact that you would sell me out, you obviously did it because your poor, pathetic ass was left alone.”

A silence fell between them for a moment before he looked at her, “What happens now?”

“What happens now is that I make you an offer,” she said, “I will give you $25,000. That should be enough to cover what you were going to get paid by the press. Should be enough to keep you company without your family at home.”

“Alicia, thank you, I-”

“On one simple condition,” she said, “You take the money and you leave Cordonia tonight. You go back to Michigan and you never step foot in my country again. You never come back, you never try to contact me, you never see me again so long as we both live… Those are my terms.”

“Alicia…” he said quietly as she moved to leave.

She spun back to look at him, “That money… it’s to keep you away from my daughter. I need you to know that. I don’t care what you tell the papers about me, or my life, or whatever story you need to spin to make some money. But the minute this involved my daughter you lost any chance of ever being part of her life… I struggled for years trying to get over the fact that you were never there for me. I thought I would never truly be able to trust anyone again. Those doubts and fears kept me from love for so long. And then I met Liam. And he was so good. Good in a way that you never could be. He has his responsibilities, and his things that keep him away from me, but he always comes back. And I was scared for so long about having a baby, because I didn’t know if I could trust anyone to be a father to my child. Because of you. But he is going to be a better father than you could ever even dream of being. He loves me, and he loves our little girl so much. And I know that no matter what happens in our life, he will never do to her what you did to me. If I can promise my daughter nothing else, I can promise her the unconditional and unwavering love and loyalty of her father. That is what a parent does… Goodbye Dad.”

She left the room quickly, not stopping when he called after her. She told Mara to make sure that he was gone as soon as possible, even if it meant putting him on the royal jet. She sent a text to her assistant to set up the money transfer as she walked back to the apartment.

She closed the door behind her, leaning against it, the cool wood bringing her back into the reality of the moment. She took a deep breath and choked out a wavering sob as she slid to the floor, her tears flowing freely as she cried. She barely even registered the sound of Liam’s voice until his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight as he rocked her and kissed her hair. She clutched to him, burying her face in the soft material of his shirt.

“I’m here,” he assured her quietly, “I’m here.”

And in that moment, that was all she needed to hear.

#okay so this is just me ranting about my girl's past like... Liam's here so #the royal romance #liam x mc #king Liam x mc #king liam #alicia harper #writing

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