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sourcherryandsprinkles · 5 months

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Taking care of Coryo afte the bombing. He's being stubborn and doesn't want to rest and maybe says something hurtful to reader?

I started over three times...I hope you like it

Warnings: mention on bombing and deaths

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You were sitting by his side when Coriolanus’ eyes slowly opened, stirring from his deep sleep. He shifted in the bed and made a sound of discomfort, his shoulder throbbing.

‘’Easy, you’re gonna hurt yourself,’’ you said, helping him off his stomach and into a more comfortable position.

The scene had been horrifying to watch on the screen of the academy. No one knew exactly what had happened as the area wasn’t a very secured place. The screen had turned black after catching some of the explosions, leaving everyone in the auditorium worried for their fellow classmates — and tributes.

You brushed a hand through his hair, looking down at him. ‘’How are you feeling?’’

Coryo’s eyes met your concerned gaze. ‘’Lucy Gray, is she..?’’ he asked, a fog enveloping his mind.

‘’She is okay,’’ you reassured him. ‘’They took all the remaining tributes back at the Capitol zoo.’’

‘’I’m guessing they’re still going with the games.’’

You nodded. ‘’Do you remember what happened in the arena?’’

Coriolanus winced, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. ‘’It’s all a blur,’’ he admitted, his brow furrowing. ‘’Explosions, fire and…people were running and more bombs going off. Lucy Gray and I got knocked down when the first bomb exploded. I tried to get back up, but a piece of the arena’s structure fell on me. She came back for me.’’

You gave a sympathetic smile, continuing to run your fingers through his disheveled hair. You had been so worried when Tigris told you a piece of the structure had fallen on her cousin during the bombing. ‘’They were old bombs some rebels must have placed between the end of the last games and now. The area is not well secure, so they could have gotten in at night.’’

Tigris returned shortly with Sejanus behind her. He was bringing information on the tributes and mentors' conditions. Coriolanus nodded as his friend spoke, absorbing the information while you held his hand, stroking the back with your thumb. Four tributes and two mentors had died.

‘’Wherever Marcus is right now, he has more chances at survival than in the arena,’’ Sejanus said, still cursing his father for buying his old friend as tribute. It was sick.

Coriolanus sighed, the weight of the games and the Plinth prize still on his shoulders.

‘’You should rest,’’ you said to Coryo after Sejanus left.

‘’I don’t have time to rest. The games are tomorrow. I need to think of a strategy so I can make my tribute win—’’ He tried to sit up, his face twisting with pain. ‘’Fuck.’’

‘’You don’t care about the girl! I know you’re doing this for the Plinth prize, but no amount of money is worth risking your health for. You need to rest, Coryo.’’

A bitter retort escaped his lips. ‘’Says the one who’s family is bathing in money.’’ He stood, seeking support from the wall as his head began to spin from the concussion. ‘’If I don’t win this money, everyone will know about the Snow family’s downfall. There was an eviction notice on our door last week. Tigris tried to hide it from me, but I saw it. We can barely afford food, how are we gonna pay rent? I need to go to university. I have to support my family. Without the Plinth prize, none of this can happen.’’

His state of panic made his head hurt from the heavy thinking. Coriolanus groaned, the pain intensifying, and released the wall to cradle his head in his hands, causing him to lose balance. Instinctively, you moved swiftly, grabbing him before he could fall, and guided him back on the bed.

‘’I may not know what it’s like to struggle financially, but don't hold it against me for being born into my family,’’ you said, not allowing him to make you feel bad for your social class. He couldn’t take his frustrations out on you. ‘’I don’t prance around my family’s money like our classmates do, or look down on the less fortunate. If you want to secure this prize, you need to lie back and rest. You can’t make your tribute win if you can’t even stand on your feet.’’

One thing you had learned these past years was that Coriolanus was the most stubborn person you knew. His determination could never be underestimated, a trait that often bordered on obstinacy. It was a crucial part of what made him who he was. Fortunately, you were one of the only people who knew how to reason with him and talk him down when he was being unreasonable. It wasn't always an easy feat, considering his unyielding nature, but you had honed the skill of navigating through his stubbornness.

He let out a sigh of defeat, knowing you were right. ‘’What am I gonna do?’’ Fear and desperation laced his voice, pulling at your heartstrings.

You sat beside him and gently placed your hands on his face. ‘’We’ll figure something out,’’ you promised, letting him know he wasn’t alone. ‘’For now, you’re gonna lie back in bed while I find you something to eat. I can hear your stomach screaming.’’

Coryo managed a faint smile, appreciating your concern. ‘’It’s not that loud...’’

You gave him a look as his stomach betrayed him with a loud noise. ‘’I’ll be right back.’’

—

Hunger games / BOASAS taglist: @crossyourmindrights @ziggyneedsabreak @folkloreshorts @runningfrom2am @soulessien @itzfckingreal @creedsofapollo @heart-helmet @javden @definitelykyles @pumkinnroses @pepperonipastas @arzua10 @upwritingallnight @cruzgrecia @evelestrange

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#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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smileysuh · 1 year

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heir

🌙 staring. mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. As a princess, you’d grown up knowing you’d marry a prince and help him sire a number of adorable little royals. Truth be told, one of the things that had drawn you to Mingyu had been the way he’d interacted with his young cousins, children that would run up to him- and despite his princely stature, Mingyu always had time to entertain them, with a glint of adoration in his eye that had convinced you he was the one to marry- moreso than any of his older brothers.

cw/ tw. unprotected sex, breeding/baby kink, fingering, size kink, big!mingyu, mentions of mingyu taking y/n's virginity, dumbification, praise, finger-licking, etc... I petnames. (hers) darling, pretty little princess, wife.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.4k

🍭 aus. royal/prince au, established relationship, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. I wanted to do a short and sweet Mingyu smut, I figured prince au and breeding would be a fun variation from my usual work :)

You look like a dream; dressed to the nines, with a pretty, sparkling tiara atop your head. The hem of your gown brushes by the floor with each movement of your hips, and a hand slides across your corsetted waist-

Mingyu takes a sip of his scotch with a grimace, because you’re his dream, and yet, he’s not the one dancing with you.

“It’s a wonder that prince Minghao can’t feel your eyes glaring into the back of his head,” Prince Jeonghan says on Mingyu’s right with a knowing smile, and it causes the larger man to release a deep sigh.

“Am I being that obvious?” the newlywed asks; he’s still getting used to the idea that you’re his now, that there’s no risk of you running away, not that you would wish to-

“Yes,” Jeonghan tells him, “but with a wife like her-” both of them look to you again, and the elder of the two princes shakes his head, swallowing thickly, “who can blame you.”

You’d never do anything to hurt Mingyu, and the prince knows it. He knows you love him, through and through, or you wouldn’t have married him over one of his elder brothers, who are closer in line to inheriting the throne.

There’s something else, a different emotion hiding under the hot fires of jealousy that lick heat against Mingyu’s throat- a feeling in his chest that becomes apparent when you make your way over to him after your dance.

He’s proud that you’re his, and the jealousy of seeing you in the arms of other men doesn’t stem from the thought of losing you- but the thought of losing precious moments where you could be in his arms instead.

When the two of you arrive at your suite in the wing of the castle Mingyu had gifted you for your wedding present, your husband is quick to dismiss your royal ladies in waiting.

“But, her dress-” your head maid protests, as Mingyu ushers them from your room.

“I’ll help her out of it,” the prince assures the shocked and now scandalized trio of women who usually help you with your nightly duties, especially when removing a dress from a ball is involved.

But this won’t be the first time Mingyu helps you out of your clothes - he’d wrangled with the many lacy ribbons of your wedding gown after all - and it definitely won’t be the last, because when your husband turns to look at you, there’s a hunger in his eyes that you only see when a thorough unwrapping is involved.

You’re his little present, and you can tell that the prince can’t wait to get to you- God, he has a thing for opening you up-

“Darling?” You hold out your hands for him, and your husband is quick to approach you. “Are you alright?”

“I’m perfect,” he tells you, grabbing at your waist and leaning down to press a kiss you. His mouth lingers on your own, teeth gently grazing by your lip, and you find yourself sighing as you melt against his strong chest.

“You looked upset-” you try to continue as he moves to press his lips to your neck, “when I was dancing with Minghao-”

“Are you suggesting I was jealous?” Mingyu smiles against your throat, nipping at your skin and making you groan.

“Were you?”

Your husband’s hand slips behind you, and he tugs at one of the ribbons keeping your corset tight, the ribbed fabric slackens ever so slightly. “You're my wife,” he tells you, pinching your chin between two fingers, “I have no need to be jealous… do I?”

He’s so beautiful- his brown eyes dark and seductive, his lips as kissable as they’ve ever been-

“No,” you assure him, swallowing thickly. “No need to be jealous at all.”

“Good,” he breathes, releasing your chin in favour of spinning you around so your back is to his chest. His mouth returns to your throat, and he ghosts his lips to your ear, making you shiver with sensitivity as his fingers begin to work at your corset. “If anything…” he continues, “I was upset that other princes still find it appropriate to ask you to dance, even though you’re my wife.”

“Minghao only wanted to inquire as to how our honeymoon went.”

“And?”

He roughly tugs at the roping of your corset and you stifle a groan at the sensation before responding. “I told him I couldn’t have wished for anything better.”

“I’m not so sure that’s true.” Your husband’s breath is hot against your bare shoulders, and his words make your stomach twist into confused knots.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” he continues to unwrap you with unforgiving fingers, tugging at your corset, “I know it’s too early to tell, but I’m sure my little princess would love to have come out of our honeymoon more full than when she’s started.”

“Do you mean-” your heart is thundering in your chest and you can hardly find the words.

Luckily, you don’t have to, because your husband is quick to fill in the gaps, pressing his lips to your neck again as he whispers, “A baby. I know you’d like for me to give you one.”

“We’re newly weds-”

“So?” Mingyu chuckles, and a moment later your corset is undone enough for him to pull it up and over your head. “Tell me you don’t want to give me an heir.”

You open your mouth- but nothing comes out. Because Mingyu is right, as he always is when it comes to you.

Of course you want to give him an heir. As a princess, you’d grown up knowing you’d marry a prince and help him sire a number of adorable little royals. Truth be told, one of the things that had drawn you to Mingyu had been the way he’d interacted with his young cousins, children that would run up to him- and despite his princely stature, Mingyu always had time to entertain them, with a glint of adoration in his eye that had convinced you he was the one to marry- moreso than any of his older brothers.

Sure, being a queen would be nice- but you’ve never been one who thirsts for power. No, you’d much prefer a luxurious, happy life, with a husband who loves you, and children running around.

Mingyu also happens to be right about the fact that it’s much too early to tell if you’re pregnant. Your wedding night had been the kind of whirlwind that left you weak in the legs and unable to get out of bed- not that your husband had minded.

“What do you say, princess?” Mingyu asks, turning you in his arms so he can look you in the eyes. “Should we continue to practice baby making and hope this one sticks?”

“As if I’d ever say no to you,” you smile, pressing your hands to his chest and getting on your tiptoes to bring your mouth to his own.

It’s nice to already be thinking about children with Mingyu, and to be speaking about it openly like this. Your kisses are more passionate now, and his tongue slips into your mouth, teasing you.

A whimper bubbles out of your chest, and your husband returns it with a growl of his own. His hands slip down to your bum, and he lifts you off the floor effortlessly.

Despite the long fabrics of your gown, your able to wrap your legs around his waist securely, and Mingyu carries you the short distance to your bed.

He doesn’t simply toss you down, as a motion like that would dislodge the tiara from your hair. Instead, he holds you with one hand, reaching up to take the crown off your head while you marvel at his strength.

“Mingyu-” you whine his name as his lips make contact with your throat, tongue trailing up your jugular-

With your tiara safely in his grasp, he lowers you to the mattress, and your gown floofs out around you before he pulls away, straightening to his tall stature and looking down at you with lust filled eyes.

“You’re so beautiful-” he breathes, taking off his own crown. “How are you always so beautiful?”

He’s such a sweet talker, and it makes you smile as you gather up your skirts, teasing them up your legs.

“Would you hate me if I tore your dress?” Mingyu asks, and it brings you back to your wedding night.

“I could never hate you,” you tell him, watching as he sets your crows to the side, free hands now grabbing at your legs- “but my dress maker would have a fit.”

Mingyu sighs. “And we can’t have that, can we?”

“No,” you shake your head, “it would be unprincely of you-”

“Would it really be unprincely of me, naughty princess?”

His warm palm skims up your thigh, pushing your skirt fabrics and underdress higher.

“Very scandalous of the both of us, I think,” you tell him, shifting on the bed as your husband’s hands reach your panties.

On your wedding night, he’d simply burrowed under all the fabric, mouth eagerly searching out your pussy- but that’s not what Mingyu does this time.

This time, it’s his fingers that rub against your entrance, playing with you through your underwear. “Already so wet for me, darling,” he coos. “I didn’t realize talking about babies would do this to you.”

You whine his name as he pushes your panties to the side, and two of his fingers easily slip into your core.

“Such pretty sounds from my pretty princess,” he groans, thumb finding your clit.

The sensation makes you whimper again, pushing your hips up toward his hand.

“Steady, princess,” Mingyu warns you, free hand flattening in all the fabrics around your waist. He pins you to the bed as easily as ever, and there’s something so freeing in the slight confinement. “Let me open you up.”

He’s very good at foreplay- good at getting you prepped to take his cock. You’d been a virgin on your wedding night- as is custom for royals in your positon, and you’re still not used to the size of him- you’re not sure you’ll ever be.

But at least you can take two fingers easily now, and the feeling of them curling up and stroking your inner walls has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Does that feel good, princess?” His lips press against your inner thigh and you twitch at the feeling.

“Yes- Mingyu- you’re so good to me-”

“You deserve it, don’t you, wife?”

You moan as he crooks his fingers just right, finding the spot that makes your toes curl. “Yes- please-”

“Please what?”

You swallow thickly, grabbing at your skirts to pull them higher. “I need you-”

“Where?” he asks, stroking your spot, “here?”

“I want to be full, like you said-” It’s becoming harder and harder to form coherent sentences, your mind much too fixed on the feeling of pleasure that’s coursing through you with each motion of his fingers.

“How about you cum for me first?” He suggests. “You can be my good little princess wife and cum for me, right?”

His words make the chord in your stomach tighten, and when his thumb begins to rub gentle circles on your clit it’s enough to make you snap, gasping loudly as your orgasm is torn out of you by your princely lover.

“That’s it,” Mingyu groans, pumping his fingers in and out of your core expertly as his thumb continues to work your most sensitive spot. “You always sound so pretty for me, darling. My pretty little princess.”

You moan louder, enjoying the praise that always seems to tumble out of your husband. You love him more than you could ever express-

“Mingyu-” you whimper his name when the feeling of pleasure almost begins to be too much for you to handle, and your husband relents, slowing his pace and taking the pressure off your clit.

He pulls his fingers from you, and you open your eyes to watch your royal lover do something completely sinful- he licks his digits clean, groaning at your taste.

The vision makes your pussy twitch with interest again, and you let out a small gasp, feeling needier than ever. You’d never thought marriage could be like this- never thought you’d get as lucky as you’ve been with Mingyu.

“My love-” your petname for him draws Mingyu’s attention back down to you, and he takes his hand from his lips, spit covered fingers finding the buttons at the front of his royal attire.

“Just a moment, darling,” he assures you.

You’re impatient- more impatient than you’ve ever been in your life.

That’s the thing about Mingyu- with him, all your royal training can go out the window. He brings out the feral side of you, a side reserved just for him.

“I know, princess, I know,” your husband sighs, “I’m not sure I can wait either.”

There’s always so much fabric that needs to be taken off- so many buttons and ribbons and layers-

You don’t want him to tear your clothes, but you know neither of you have the time or patience for the dressing gown that’s still covering your form. So you do what you think will be easiest, moving slightly up the bed and flipping onto your stomach, hiking your dress up high to your waist, arching your back-

“Princess-” His voice is breathy, and a moment later he’s grabbing at your ass with his large hand, massaging you and pressing his warm palm to your skin. “You’re so beautiful- always so beautiful for me.”

“Mingyu-” you whine, “I need you-”

You can hear the rustling of fabric, perhaps the sound of your husband pushing his pants down, and then he’s joining you on the bed, mattress dipping to accommodate his size.

“How did I ever get so lucky?” Mingyu asks, pulling your asscheek to the side so he can access your core. The head of his cock presses to your entrance, and you can tell from the feeling of it that your husband has lubed it- likely with his own spit.

The thought has you arching your back even more, eager for him to push into you-

“Please-”

“Relax for me, princess, I don’t want to hurt you-” his breath is hot against your back, and it makes you shiver. You do your best to clear your mind, to release the tension in your body-

The head of his cock slips into you and you moan desperately, pressing your face down against the bed to muffle the sound-

A gentle hand wraps around your throat, forcing you to tilt your head out of the covers- “I want to hear you,” your husband whispers, kissing your cheek and nosing your skin. “Want to hear all your pretty sounds-”

“So deep-” you whimper as he sheiths himself inside of you, hips flush with your ass. “So big-”

Mingyu smiles, and you know he enjoys the size difference between you two- enjoys stretching you out to accommodate his massive girth-

In all your princess training, one of the big rules was never to swear, but you find all sorts of naughty words coming to mind as your husband ruts into you, quickening his pace as you get used to his cock.

You bite your tongue, releasing whimpers and whines while Mingyu kisses your shoulders and neck, one hand pressed against the small of your back to keep you pinned.

He’d been similarly trained, and the first ‘fuck’ you’d ever heard slip past his lips on your wedding night had opened the flood gate for you both- but in the short time you’ve been married, you’ve become accustomed to letting him make the first move.

Tonight, the first swear to grace your ears is a low “shit,” it’s whispered as his fingers dig into your hip, pace quickening- and your husband’s teeth graze by your ear. “You sound perfect, princess- I want to fill you so bad- you want to be filled, right?”

You moan loudly, nodding as you find your own words. “Please- Mingyu-”

“Tell me, darling, tell me you want to be full.”

“I want to be full-”

“Tell me you want to be bred- want to be all swollen and pretty for me-” He fucks into you harder. “You’re going to give me pretty little heirs- pretty little heirs from my pretty little princess-”

“I want to be bred-” you repeat diligently, grabbing at the sheets to ground yourself as the pleasure between your legs increases rapidly- “I want to give you all the pretty little heirs- please, Mingyu-”

“Your pussy is getting so tight around my cock, darling-” he groans sinfully in your ear. “You’re doing so well for me- always so good-”

“Please-” you whine again, feeling your orgasm getting closer and closer-

“Always such good manners too,” Mingyu chuckles, lips teasing by your ear. “Who’s my good, well mannered, needy little princess?”

“I am-” you shiver, closing your eyes and enjoying the perfect feeling of being fucked by your lover-

“Yeah, you are-” Mingyu breathes, pressing his fingers against your hip again. “You deserve to be full, right? Deserve to have that pretty pussy coated in cum-”

You love when he talks dirty like this, and you whine loudly in response, nodding as you hold off your orgasm, eager to reach your high with your husband.

“Are you close, princess?”

“Uh huh-” you nod eagerly, “waiting for you-”

“Yeah?” You feel him grin against your shoulder. “Good princess. Tell me you want me to cum with you.”

“I want you to,” you confirm.

“Say the whole sentence, darling, I want to hear the words coming from my perfect princess- wanna hear you admitting how dirty you are for me.”

“I want you to cum with me-” you whimper, a flush of embaressment heating your skin at the full admittance. “Want you to fill me up-”

“Fuck, you sound so good-” he groans. “I’m almost there- keep talking, keep talking for me-”

“Please- Mingyu- it feels so good- I just want to be full!” You give up on all your self restraint, and the moans of appreciation in your ear spur you on. “You’ll make me full- I know you will- always make me so perfectly full and satisfied-”

“Shit-” Your husband sounds glorious even when he grunts, and you think this must truly be love, as he pins you to the bed and uses you to reach his own end while you enjoy every moment of it- every motion-

“Please-” you say again, knowing that he loves it when you beg for him. “I’m so close- I just want to cum with you-”

“Then cum with me angel- let go and squeeze my cock with that pretty fucking princess pussy of yours-”

A shiver of stimulation runs through your form as you let go, and a surge of release jitters out from your core, causing you to gasp and grab at the bedsheets.

Your husband is moaning loudly behind you, and you can feel him cumming deep in your pussy, his forehad pressed against your shoulder, fingers digging into your hips as he rides you both through your orgasms.

You love giving in to Mingyu- giving him complete control. You trust him more than you’ve ever trusted anyone. The thought of having children with him is in the periphery of your mind as your heart races and your pussy pulses around his cock. Something tells you that the two of you will have no problem producing a sweet little heir.

“You feel so good- so perfect for me,” Mingyu groans in your ear as his thrusts begin to slow.

The most you can do is smile, mind too hazy to come up with a worded response- not that your husband needs one, as he presses kisses along your throat.

His hips come to a stop, cock still burried deep in your pussy. “You know… I’m not sure if this really did the trick.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, confused.

“I just mean… maybe you’ll get pregnant from this, but maybe I should strip us both naked and try again, you know… to better the odds.”

Yeah, you’ll definitely have no problems producing an heir with Mingyu, and with a laugh, you agree to the idea, knowing you have a long, wonderful night ahead of you.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! my soft spot for Gyu has been raging lately

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. “Are you sure my massive cock won’t hurt you or the baby?”

cw/ tw. unprotected sex, breast play, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise, breeding kink, early-stage pregnancy, quickie, etc... I petnames. (hers) pretty princess, darling. (his) perfect prince, my love.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.4k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 staring. mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

Your husband has been busy all day. He’s been in meetings of all sorts, and the brief interaction you’d had around lunchtime hadn’t been a long enough opportunity to tell him your good news.

Besides, you know how Mingyu is going to react once you tell him what your court doctor had told you in the morning, and you’d wanted him to be focused during his day of diplomacy.

You’ve been testing your own patience, and you’re nearly buzzing when Mingyu finally returns to your chambers after missing your nightly dinner in favour of royal duties.

It’s a stark contrast in moods, and you try not to overwhelm the exhausted man as he trudges into your room, royal jacket already half off and ready to be thrown on your bed.

“You had a long day,” you muse as you open your arms for your lover.

Despite being substantially taller than you, Mingyu bends down so he can rest his cheek against your bosom, and he releases a low groan. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Your fingers thread through his silky hair, and you do your best to calm yourself- to be a pillar of safety for the man you love, but within moments he’s pulling away from your chest and giving you a quizzical look.

“You’re heart’s racing,” he tells you. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” you shake your head, fighting the smile that threatens to overtake your features. “In fact… something is very right.”

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fazedlight · 1 month

Text

Supergirl the show poses a question: Who is the real Kara?

Kara Zor-El, Kara Danvers, Supergirl. Who's the mask?

In the beginning, Kara doesn't even know. In the aftermath of Krypton's and Kenny's deaths, she did everything she could to appear as normal as possible - there was little room for her own innate traits to shine through when she was being as nondescript and people-pleasing as possible.

But that's not who Kara is.

We get the first glimpse of who Kara really is during Flight 237.

This is not about her being Supergirl or her powers (though both are relevant). Kara has suppressed herself for over a decade. She's not going to make waves - until she has to. Our first real insight into who Kara is now is as a devoted sister. It wasn't until Alex's life was at risk that Kara started breaking out of her shell (and then there was no holding back).

Our protagonist is a mid-20s adult - this isn't a coming-of-age story in the traditional sense. But it is a story of finding oneself and what it takes to get there.

And it starts with defending found family after a lifetime of loss.

So Kara creates the Supergirl persona. I think the cape is a crutch.

People say "a crutch" like it's a bad thing. But crutches are actually pretty fucking useful. They support you when you need it, whether it be short-term or long-term. They help you get around when you otherwise may not be able to.

Kara was deeply traumatized by losing everyone and everything she ever knew, being thrown into a world that overwhelmed her senses and made even her most casual movements into dangerous ones, and was told she needed to suppress everything - who she used to be, what she was going through now - to survive.

To find herself again, maybe she'd need a tool to get past what she had been through! The cape became that tool. She was able to unbury the heritage she had been hiding, she was able to embrace the powers that had burdened her, she was able to find her own bravery (and reactivity, she's got flaws in there too).

Keep in mind, in the scene above, Kara isn't "human for a day". Kara is powerless... just like she spent the first 13 years of her life. Her bravery isn't about her powers or Supergirl; they just help her get started.

That's not where her growth ends.

Kara's instincts for helping people start getting unburied in season 1, and she is excited to tag along someone else's quest to figure out where future threats may lie, or figure out how she can use her powers in service to the DEO.

But it's not until this moment that she realizes that Kara Danvers can be more, too. Lena unintentionally launches Kara's career - a second pathway for Kara's desire to help people, growing into a passion she is going to pursue (even if she gets fired). Her worth is no longer just about her sun-granted powers or being Superman's "younger" cousin.

In season 4, we even see her realization that Kara Danvers can be more powerful than Supergirl, because some fights can't be won by fists. That's a real discovery for herself.

Which I think, looking back, might becoming especially baffling for her... because Kara Danvers was originally an identity imposed on her when she needed to hide.

It's important to note that, while Kara Danvers was originally a facade that Kara gets at thirteen, she doesn't stay a facade - even in the suppression era.

We don't see enough of who Kara is when she's on Earth, left to her own devices. But we see glimpses - we know she likes baking (and we know we shouldn't try what she makes), we know she paints, we know she listens to NSync and Britney Spears. She's a goofball (even when she puts on the cape). Kara Danvers starts as a facade, but becomes a vehicle for Kara to continue developing her personality, now in her new context.

Would she have the same interests on Krypton? Maybe some and not others, maybe some new ones that don't exist on Earth. We're all products of our environments, after all. Her interests as Kara Danvers aren't necessarily fake just because they're different than what she expected.

Though she'll never know who she would've become on Krypton.

Which brings us to Kara Zor-El - the identity that is frozen.

Most people aren't the same person as an adult that they were as a child. Interests, tastes, personality, world outlook, philosophy - all of these shift over time, sometimes dramatically.

Parts of her are going to be deeply rooted in Krypton, and she's going to have ties to a culture that no one else on Earth has. It's not an aspect of herself that she can erase. But it's also not an aspect of herself that was able to develop for the remainder of her childhood and early adulthood.

She, like all of us, was destined to lose pieces of herself. But some of her loss was very sudden, and the pieces she lost probably weren't going to be the same on Krypton. Of course, she has no way to know.

And I think that frustrates her.

I guess my answer to "Who is Kara?" is that the three personalities clash with and harmonize with each other. None of them are truly her. All of them inform who she is.

There's a young Kara Zor-El as her root that was torn from the ground before she could ever grow.

There's a Kara Danvers who formed the bulk of her life - a mask that was given to her, the only vehicle for her personality, who ultimately became someone she could embrace as worthwhile in her own right.

There's a Supergirl who distinctly separates from those around her, but lets her move past her numbness and reclaim her heritage.

And it's that clash that makes her a particularly compelling character.

Maybe that's a cheating answer to the original question.

But there's still a missing piece to the puzzle - because it's not just about Who is Kara? but also about Who does Kara want to be?

I think Supergirl is something that could fade if needed. If Kara lost her powers, she would find a new normal, so long as she was able to pursue her desire to help the world in some capacity.

But the truth of her is somewhere between Kara Danvers and Kara Zor-El. The truth of her is in what Supergirl allowed her to unbury, even if not directly tied to Supergirl herself. But Danvers and Zor-El are burdens, in a way. Lena is one of the few people who sees the person in between, who understands Kara on her own terms. Which is why Kara is terrified of Lena's rejection.

I think it's one of the most telling lines in the show - to be just Kara is to be free of her own baggage, to be able to embrace herself despite the pain in her history. Something I think we all want, that is never entirely possible.

But the pursuit is still a worthwhile one.

#kara danvers #supergirl #character study #headcanon #longpost #mel stuff

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 9 months

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darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 1: Sunrise

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Queen Aemma brings a new child into the world—you. As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon.

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the very first instalment of this series, featuring baby!Babey and teen-uncle!Daemon! This prologue will be the only Daemon POV of this instalment (or at least that is my current plan), and there will be several time jumps in keeping with canon. Please keep in mind that, as canon diverges around Episode 5/6 in this series, much of what occurs in the show will also occur as-is here, so don’t expect anything particularly innovative in terms of plot, lol. I’m hoping this will be an opportunity to establish Babey as a firm part of the storyline in a manner that is a little less ambiguous, and will also serve to provide more wholesome Babey/Daemon interactions to foreground their later shift. A couple things: there will be NO ROMANCE in this fic, because Babey is a child. Ew. There may be mentions of romance between other characters, but this story will be told firmly through Babey’s eyes and thus events are limited to her own interpretations.

Anyway! Enough from me - on with the show!

TRIGGERS: mentions of miscarriage/stillbirth, mentions of childbirth trauma, blood.

“And so it was that, in the summer of 109 AC, Queen Aemma took once again to her childbed, remaining there for near two days for what would be a difficult and taxing labour. In the early hours of the morning, King Viserys and his lady wife welcomed a living babe—but not the babe they expected. The arrival of a second daughter took both by surprise, for they had come to believe the child in the Queen��s belly had been their longed-for son. It was nonetheless announced that the Queen had been delivered of a healthy girl, and a great relief was struck up across the Realm, the bells of King’s Landing being rung from dawn to dusk and the people gathering on the streets in praise of their new Princess.”

- ‘Fire and Blood: Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros’ by Archmaester Gyldayn

It's quiet this time, he thinks. No snivelling midwives, no wailing… A good thing, surely.

Still. The silence, in all of its peculiarity, is unnerving. After the last occasion—the frenetic activity bustling up and down the halls, the yelling, the sound of Aemma’s screams, the stench of blood thickening in his nostrils as he stepped forth to take his first and last view of the purple, unmoving babe in the cradle he would never outgrow—the absence of sound seems almost foreboding. Should he not hear the child cry? Should he not be within by now? He would venture to knock on the door, but he dare not risk disturbing this fragile peace—especially if it is not fated to remain so.

Thus, Daemon Targaryen, eighteen summers of age and the King’s very own brother, waits in his seat opposite the entry to the Queen’s chambers as he has done for hours. And, as he sits, he prays.

Well—not pray, exactly. He’d have to believe in gods to do that. But, should a higher power exist, it cannot hurt to lend his own voice to the masses that even now attempt to muster enough mercy to grant the survival of his cousin and the child she has worked so hard to bring forth these past moons. Let them live, he urges, pressing the thought out into the air around him, into the sky far above the Keep. Let them both live.

“Any news?”

Daemon snaps to attention, head tilting automatically to the intruder. He suppresses a sneer. Now is not the time.

“Nothing,” he says, taking care to keep his tone even.

Otto Hightower sighs. “Well”—the Hand of the King moves closer, towering over Daemon with his hands clasped behind his back—“no news is good news, I hope.”

“Hm.” He’ll not dignify that with a response.

Hightower’s eyes narrow in on him. “There is no need to sound quite so downtrodden, Prince Daemon. I am sure the King will find some use for you… now that you are no longer his heir.”

He knows what the man is after. A display of anger, perhaps—maybe even hot-headed insistence on his part that his position stands as it has since Viserys won the throne, that the child is dead, that the Lord has every reason to fear him still. He won’t give him the satisfaction, though. If his brother ventures out to see Daemon once again railing at his most trusted advisor…

Daemon’s desire to meet his nephew outweighs his need to put this upstart in his place.

“Never fear, Otto.” He smiles, lips stretched wide with too much teeth, threatening more than welcoming. “I’ll always have a place by Viserys’s side. I am his brother. And you…” He looks the man up and down. Even now, the pin of the Hand is attached to the cunt’s lapel like a sycophantic badge of honour, gleaming in the golden torchlight. “What are you, exactly?”

Hightower’s jaw clenches. “I am the Hand of the Ki—”

“For now,” Daemon says, a smug half-smirk playing at the very corners of his mouth. “Don’t forget that. For now.”

What he doesn’t say is plain to read upon his face. One day, he’ll understand. One day, he’ll see you for what you really are. A leech, one who latches onto power and drains those who truly wield it dry.

The reminder makes Otto pale. “I—”

The door creaks open, the flushed face of one Viserys Targaryen appearing in the space between wood and frame. “Daemon.”

Daemon rises. “Is—how is—” He cannot get the fucking words out.

His brother grins. “Aemma is well, and the babe is healthy.”

He lets out a relieved breath, surprised to discover exactly how tense he had been since the messenger had roused him from sleep at the hour of the owl. That tension releases itself with the air he pushes from his lungs, his shoulders sagging from the freedom of it. Suddenly, his eyes no longer feel so wide, so fear-bright, and fatigue sets in. He is tired. But first—

“May I see him?” he asks.

At that, Viserys pauses, whatever he had intended to say to Otto left unfinished. He clears his throat, all joy fleeing his face. “Ah… About that.”

“Is the boy… crippled?” The Hand’s voice is hushed, apprehensive.

“No, no!” Viserys insists, shaking his head. “Only… she is small, quiet. Nothing at all like Rhaenyra was.”

“A girl? But Runciter was so certain!” Otto says, mouth parted in shock.

Runciter’s a fucking fool. Anyone who sets stock by his theories ought to be burned alive, Daemon thinks, rolling his eyes. He’d never liked maesters—any of them, least of all the doddering fuckwits appointed to the vaunted station of Grand Maester. That Runciter had gotten this wrong is hardly surprising. None of them seem to know what they are doing.

He pushes around his brother and leaves him to his latest inanity, moving onward to where his newest niece lay.

The Queen’s chambers are stifling, unbearably hot, the windows closed tight and the fires blazing in spite of the warmth already pervading the early hours of the morn. Another ridiculous notion, he suspects, though whether it be Westerosi custom or Targaryen superstition, he knows not. Perhaps dragonbabes can only be born into the fire they are made from.

Last time he was here, Aemma had been gaunt, eyes red-rimmed and near hysterical from the passing of her first, her only son. She’d laid weeping in her bloodied shift still, bedraggled hair sticking to slick skin as she’d mourned the child, insensate to kind words or reason from any who had approached her. Eventually, Viserys had demanded all who were not the blood of the dragon to remove themselves from the room. Together, he and Daemon had borne Aemma from her childbed, had taken her to the bath still waiting, had disposed of the last markers of gloom and tragedy marring the space.

Only those of Valyrian blood should ever bear witness to weakness from one of their own. Only those of Valyrian blood could ever understand the magnitude of such a loss. Their line had been dying out since the Doom—every death since only ever added salt to the wound.

What Daemon walks into this time is different. So very, very different.

Aemma is gaunt still, overcome by weariness, no doubt sapped greatly by the trials of such long labour. Shadows carve deep hollows beneath her eyes, skeletal, made almost sinister by the flicker of dim light, and her mouth is pale and cracked. Yet, there is naught but a buoyant sort of lightness adorning her face, shining more brilliantly than a crown ever could.

The chamber bears none of that ominous atmosphere that pervaded that night, instead filled with the heady scent of frankincense clogging each breath he draws, earthy smoke settling warm in his gut. The sheets are clean. The midwives calm. The Grand Maester, asleep in the chair by the fire.

And, in the Queen’s arms, the smallest wrapped bundle he has ever seen.

“Is that…” He swallows, dazed and speechless.

His cousin beams. “Come,” she says. “Come and meet her.”

Wordlessly, he approaches, taking care to make his footfalls light so as not to disturb the delicate creature enshrined in a mother’s embrace. As he draws close, he sees that the babe is not asleep as he had thought. Instead, open eyes look upward, deep dark indigo with the merest hint of lilac-violet-amethyst, the promise of Old Valyria in that muzzy, unfocused gaze.

This is the moment he meets you.

Aemma graciously accepts his silent question, relinquishing you to your uncle with naught but a gentle sigh and a stroke to the cheek. So little are you that you settle easily into the line of his arm, head to the crook of his elbow and rump to his cupped hand, light enough that it would be easy to forget you are even there. You let out a soft bleat, feet kicking beneath your swaddling—but that is all. For when that blue-nearly-purple stare shifts, locking with his, you fall silent, still. And so does he.

You are beautiful.

Of course you are. Viserys is hardly the handsomest of men, and Aemma comely enough though of no great noteworthiness, but their firstborn is about as lovely as any girl of nine summers can be. Your sister.

Gods, he thinks. Rhaenyra, an elder sister. The very notion of his spoiled little niece playing such a part seems unwittingly hilarious in this moment. She will not like being made to share her mama and papa—her uncle—with you.

Right now, that is irrelevant. His attention returns to the slope of your nose, the rosebud bloom of your lips, the blush of your rounded cheeks, tracking the near ethereal features of your face with a delicate fingertip. Newborns are dreadful looking things, usually, squished and red and misshapen. You look like a painting, or a doll made by the finest artisans, a sculpture rendered by magic rather than mortal hands. He wonders if it is love for you—and it is love, he has no doubt of that, for his love of family is perhaps the one true redeeming quality he possesses—that blinds him to any imperfection, or if you really are as lovely as you seem.

“What will you name her?” he asks, smoothing the cloths off your fragile little head to take the briefest peek at your scalp. Ah—there it is. Targaryen silver. With an Arryn for a mother, one could never be certain.

“Rhaenyra’s insisted on naming her sister Visenya.”

Daemon glances toward the foot of the bed. Viserys has returned, absent of his loyal hound, drawing near without his notice.

He snorts. “How very like her.” ‘Tis true; Rhaenyra has always been fixated on stories of the Conqueror and his wives, in particular forming a fascination for the elder of Aegon’s Queens. It is a powerful name. A warrior’s name. He frowns. “A fine name—but not for this little thing.”

Visenya is anger and retribution; violence and chaos; death and destruction. Daemon can find nothing of the sort in you. Every part of you—from the tips of your fuzzed palewhite hair to the petite softness of your wiggly little feet—seems fit for a destiny of another kind. One of peace, of calm, of joy and goodness.

Aemma hums an agreement, wholly preoccupied with gazing at her newest child. “If she were a son, her name would be Baelon.”

“Hm.” Viserys steps forward, palm brushing featherlight across your side as he passes to sit by his wife. “Baelon and Visenya. Those are the names we had prepared. But alas, Baelon was not to be. And Visenya is not… right.”

Daemon stands, bringing you a scant few steps toward the window. Dawn is approaching. The sky has relinquished the darkness of night, and there, on the horizon, the faintest of ambers illuminates the locus where the heavens and the earth meet, silhouetting the city below. As he watches the sun rise, he just barely hears the staff behind him make their final exits, awash in a rustle of equipment and a hush of words offered to their mistress and exultant ruler.

A tiny noise below draws his interest. Your eyelids have drooped, soft lashes framing lavender lids that sweep across the skin of your cheeks. When he dips his finger into the parting of your mouth, you begin to suckle at him, reflex rather than need.

“What would you call her?” Aemma asks after seconds, minutes, hours. He turns, brow arched in surprise. She seems genuinely curious, though she is admittedly not one for mean-spirited japes as it is. His cousin has always valued his opinion more than his brother ever had, even if was she who had forced his bitch of a wife upon him. “If you could,” she adds, “what name would you give her?”

He looks to Viserys, wordlessly asking for permission. A dip of the chin is his response. Letting loose a soft grunt, he peers down at his small charge.

Visenya is too fierce. Gael too glum. Too many fucking ‘Rhae’ names, so no Rhaenys. Daella too bland, Saera too provocative, Alysanne too common.

And then, he thinks upon it. The perfect name. Your name. When he says it aloud, he is met with a shine in Aemma’s eyes, a gleam in Viserys’s grin.

“That is it,” the King says, nodding decisively. “That is what we shall call her.” Rising, he comes forward to clap Daemon on the shoulder lightly, hand warm even through the layers of his shirt and coat. “Thank you, brother.”

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, tipping his head.

There is a tightening in his chest, the sort of feeling that threatens to stop his heart from the depth of his own enduring emotion. As Viserys makes his way to the door to deliver the announcement—to proclaim your birth, to order the ringing of the bells, to declare your name for the entire world to hear and know—Daemon gazes down at you.

“What do you think, sweetling?” He says your name again.

This time, he swears that you smile back at him.

Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48798151/chapters/123097897

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daydreaming-nerd · 1 month

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Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader)

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

AN: Sorry I’ve been a little MIA recently. I was pretty busy last week, but I’m back now and I’m so excited to be writing this series!

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, Rhys isn’t the nicest in this but he has his reasons.

Word Count: 3,458

As I sauntered down the hallway towards my brother's study, I couldn’t help but feel my palms sweat and my heart race. It was the first time he had ‘summoned’ me in such a manner since we had escaped from under the mountain. That was a year ago, and ever since we made it back to Velaris he had been different. Colder. Not that I could ever fault him. Rhysand and I’s time under the mountain was grueling, but it was far worse for him. First he sacrificed his freedom to save Velaris, then he sacrificed his body to save me.

My whole life I had been told I beheld a beauty that was otherworldly. However, I had no powers to go alone with my looks. Once I got older rumors across Prythain grew of two siblings of night. Rhysand, who would be the most powerful High Lord to ever grace the land, and me, his younger sister who was born without magic but given the most coveted gift of all. Some even said that Rhysand stole my magic away in our mothers womb, making him the most powerful high fae alive and leaving me with nothing but a pretty face.

At first I loathed the idea of being powerless, but I soon realized the power my beauty had over others. High Lord’s begged for my hand left and right, males of reason and education would lose all inhibition around me. I quickly became The Jewel of Prythain, a name that was used far more often than my own. The second Rhysand and I’s mother and father realized that, they locked me away. Me and my virtue were far too good a bargaining chip to be let loose into the world. At first it was jarring, having all my freedoms taken away. But Rhys would always come home and tell me the tales of him and his new friends Cassian and Azriel. In a way I got to live through him and I was forever thankful for it.

When our parents died Rhys gave me more freedom but I neglected to take them. I became close with our cousin Mor and even spent time with his friends Cassian and Azriel, but that was the extent of it. I had grown so used to living in solitude that I didn’t long for much more. His time as High Lord was short lived, soon after the death of our parents Amarantha came into power and Rhys was to be taken under the mountain. As the princess of the night court, I had no other option but to go with him, or risk Velaris.

The second we were down there Amarantha sunk her claws into him. Rhys fought and resisted her, and for a few weeks he had been able to keep her at arms length. All of that changed when Hybern came to check on the state of things. He took one look at me and ordered Amarantha to hand me over to him, to be his whore. I had never been so scared in my life, and I had no idea what to do. Rhys spoke up and told Amarantha that if she kept me safe he would go to her bed willingly. It was enough for her to spare me, but it never spared me from the grief of knowing what Rhys was putting himself through to protect me.

50 years came and went until we were finally free from under the mountain. I remember the smell of night blooming jasmine gracing my nose as Rhys winnowed us home. Mor was the first to greet us, then Amren. Finally Cassian and Azriel flew to the townhouse and the sight of all of our old friends was almost unreal. As I watched them all embrace us, my eyes couldn’t help but float to Cassian. Had he gotten taller since I last saw him? Bigger muscles? More handsome?

After settling in Rhys changed. He was harsher, colder, no doubt the things he experienced under the mountain still plaguing him. He stayed in the townhouse while I took up residency in The House of Wind, both of us needing time to ourselves to process what had happened.

I had lived in the House of Wind for a year now, only seeing my brother once a month for family dinners, and I suppose today. I approached his office doors and knocked quietly.

“Come in,” his voice boomed, more High Lordly than I had ever heard before.

I step in the door and shut it quietly. For what reason? I’m not sure, there was just something about this new Rhys that made me feel so small, especially now.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask my brother, standing before his desk.

“Yes I did,” he started, sifting through papers. “I wanted to tell you that I finally read fathers will and there’s something in it that concerns you,” he says.

“What?” I ask in disbelief. While our father wasn’t a cruel man he never paid much attention to me, focusing all his attention on Rhys, his male heir.

“He has it written in his will that he struck a deal with Beron and Eris Vanserra years ago.” Rhys says sliding a paper over to me. “The Autumn Court will give us their armies if you marry Eris.”

I glance at the paper Rhys has handed me. Sure enough in fathers hand writing is a contract signed by all three parties. An agreement I was never told about until now.

“Hybern is on the move and Azriel say’s that he will dock on our shores when he arrives. I think now is as good as ever to call in the contract.” he states leaning back in his leather chair.

“You want me to marry Eris?” I ask, hoping it wasn’t true. I knew very little of the Prince of Autumn, except that he was a sadistic brute who had a way with women.

“Not just me sister,” Rhysand drawls sensing a fight. “It was our fathers will as well. I have every intention of finishing what he started. We leave tomorrow for the Autumn Court. You will meet Eris, and Beron and I will go over the details once more.”

Part of me boils at the idea of what my brother is saying but then I remember why our mother and father locked me up. Why every High Lord thirsted for me under the mountain. I could still hear their voices uttering, “There’s The Jewel of Prythian” and, “The most beautiful female of Prythain,” completed with, “I heard that Rhysand stole her power in the womb leaving her with nothing but her beauty”

This was my fate from the moment I came of age. A bargaining chip to whatever High Lord or Prince was willing to pay the most for. I wanted to scream and cry and beg Rhys not to make me do this. But then I thought of all he sacrificed for me under the mountain. I could do this for him.

“Then I’m excited to meet him brother,” I said, giving a fake smile.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Rhys smiled, the tension from his shoulders dissipating at my words of cooperation. “You are dismissed to begin preparations for tomorrow.”

I nod my head and take it as my queue to leave his office. The second the double oak doors close I feel my heartrate pick up and I’m suddenly dying for a breath of fresh air. I walk quickly to the front door, my dress billowing behind me as I try to keep my tears from falling. I sit down on the front steps of the townhouse and let the spring air blow across my face. My tears fell slowly but surely as I let all my composure go.

My mind raced with thoughts of Eris, all the terrible things I had heard of him over the many years. How other High Lords were terrified of the day Beron passed and Eris took his place. If they were terrified of him as a ruler, how scared should I be to have him as a husband?

A shadow slammed into the ground outside the townhouse pulling me from my thoughts. I tried to wipe my tears away and act like nothing was wrong, but I knew better than to think I could fool my Spymaster for one moment.

“Hey are you okay? What’s wrong?” Azriel cooed. Azriel and I had gotten close since I came back from under the mountain as he and Cassian also lived in the House of Wind. He had taken on the role of big brother since Rhys was battling his own demons.

“I just got done talking to Rhys,” I sniffled, feeling the large Illyrian sit next to me. “He says I have to marry Eris.”

“Vanserra?” Azriel clarified and I nodded. “He can’t be serious, Eris is a monster.”

“Apparently our father had it arranged years ago, but I didn’t know about it till now. We’re going to the Autumn Court to meet him tomorrow.” I explain, wiping my eyes.

“Well I guess that explains why Rhys called me down. Do you want me to talk to him? Maybe I can stop this.” Azriel says, taking my hand in his.

“No it’s okay. Rhys is right, war is coming and if this marriage can protect you and Cassian as well as our people then I’ll do it. Besides, Rhys sacrificed so much to keep me safe under the mountain, I owe it to him to do this.” I sigh, feeling my breathing calm down as Azriel rubs circles on my hand.

“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself for Velaris and you shouldn’t be trying to even the score with Rhys. Rhys did what he did because you’re his little sister and he loves you, not because he wanted an IOU,” Azriel explains, continuing to rub circles on the tops of my hands. His scared and calloused hands soothing me.

“Maybe, but I’m going to do it anyway. I won’t let this city down or my brother,” I say, taking a deep breath.

“Then you are the bravest princess I know,” Azriel says, kissing my brow. “Not that I haven’t always known.”

“Thanks Az,” I smile, bumping my shoulder into him.

“I’m sure this meeting won’t be very long, want me to fly you home when I’m done?” Azriel asks.

“That would be great, thank you,” I smile, even though my eyes are still glassed over.

With that Azriel went inside to talk to Rhys, leaving me outside to take in the fresh air. I sat watching the people of Velaris going about their daily lives. Couples holding hands on the Sidra, children playing in the streets. I couldn’t help but wonder if the Autumn Court would have a place like this, and even though I was still here I couldn’t help but feel a bit of prophetic homesickness.

The next morning was full of primping and trying on a million gowns. Rhys had sent Nuala and Cerridwen to make sure that I was groomed to perfection. Even though they had taken hours I couldn’t help but fuss over every detail while looking in the mirror in the living room of the townhouse. After I made sure that the pins holding in my crown were secure I smoothed my hands over my dress a million times, trying to wipe the sweat from my palms.

“You look beautiful,” crooned a deep voice.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, bumping into the table under the mirror and knocking over a vase. I turn to find Cassian standing next to me, red siphons faintly glowing and looking handsome as ever.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you,” he smiled, picking up the vase and turning it back upright.

“It’s okay,” I smile. “It’s my fault for being so lost in thought.”

“Everyone ready?” Rhysand asks stepping into the room where Cassian, Azriel and I have been waiting for him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I sigh, stepping towards him so he can winnow us to the Autumn Court.

The second we arrive I’m greeted with a cold chill running up and down my arms. The smell of wet leaves and woodsmoke surrounds me, and if I wasn’t being brought here to be sold off like cattle I might even say that I liked this place. Rhys led me up the stairs to the palace, Azriel flanking Rhysand’s side while Cassian flanked mine. The closeness of him almost made my skin buzz with excitement. I mentally slapped myself, reminding my brain that I was about to meet my future husband.

The palace of the Autumn Court is beautiful to say the least. The marble floors are bathed in amber light from the various chandeliers that hang from the ceiling and swaths of deep red and golden fabrics are all over the rooms. A set of large oak double doors opens before us and I’m greeted to the sight of Beron Vanserra sitting atop his throne, his eldest son Eris standing at his side.

Eris was tall and lean. His eyes were like molten fire and his mouth turned up at the sight of me. If I didn’t know a thing about his character I would’ve said he was handsome. The throne room was intimidating and I couldn’t help but notice that only one throne sat atop the dias. Apparently The Autumn Court didn’t believe in High Lady’s.

“Rhysand, welcome to my court,” Beron greeted us, stepping down to walk towards Rhys.

“We are honored to be invited,” Rhysand smiled with a charm that only he could possess.

“This must be your sister y/n,” Beron smiled. “Step forward girl.”

I wasn’t sure if Beron’s voice was like a spell that propelled me forward or if I was just so scared my body was acting on instinct. But the second the command left his mouth I took two steps toward him.

“Very nice,” Beron drawled as circled me like prey making my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I see that all the stories of her beauty are true. Can you vouch for her purity, Rhysand?”

“I can assure you that she remains untouched,” Rhys says and bile nearly rises in my throat.

“Wonderful,” Beron claps his hands together. “Eris why don’t you and y/n take a stroll around the terrace while Rhysand and I finalize the details.”

“With pleasure father,” Eris says, stepping down from the dias towards me taking my hand in his. “You are even more beautiful than the stories say,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my hand.

“You flatter me Prince Eris,” I smile, allowing him to lead me outside.

“I’ve been told that flattery is one of my many talents,” he smirks as the fresh Autumn air hits my face.

We walk until we reach the bannister of the terrace. I lean against it, peering out over the valley below us. Bright bursts of reds, oranges and yellows flow throughout the land, the setting sun making the scene picture perfect.

“Over there are the kennels where I keep my hounds,” Eris tells me, pointing to a large red barn off to the left.

“That’s right, I’ve heard you’re a magnificent hunter,” I smile, craning my neck to see more of the barn.

“It’s true, I’ve been hunting for years. I’ve tried thousands of other hobbies but nothing gives me quite the thrill that hunting does,” he explains and I can sense the double meaning in his words.

“What’s that over there?” I ask, pointing to a patch of land riddled with targets, bows, swords and what appears to be a fighting ring.

“That, my dear, is where my brothers and I train, and that’s where our sons will train once they can wield a sword,” he explains and his words make me sick.

“And if we have a daughter?” I tease trying to keep the conversation light.

“Then she will be a pretty little wall ornament for a future High Lord, just like you are,” he says brushing a hand down my bare arm. “But know this, you will bear me a son.” he growls and it feels like an order.

I swallow hard trying to keep the tension rolling through my body from gracing my face, “Of course my prince,” I say turning towards him.

From the corner of my eye I see Cassian leaning against the door watching the two of us, and I wonder if he has been here the whole time.

“Who are you?” Eris sneers.

Cassian straightens up, a playful glint in his eye, “I'm merely the humble guardian of your future wall ornament, ensuring she remains as exquisite as she is now." He says with a charming smile that would normally bring me to my knees. Instead it was taking everything in me not to laugh.

Eris’ jaw ticks at Cassian’s tone but he remains ever the calm and collected prince he was brought up to be. “Very well then.” was all he could say before we were interrupted by my brother and Beron.

“Look at them, they already make a very handsome couple,” Beron says to Rhysand.

“I can’t argue with that,” Rhysand smiles. “Come sister we’re going home, you and Eris will have time to talk later this week.”

I don’t argue or ask questions as I am dying to get out of this wretched palace as soon as possible. I bid my goodbyes to Eris and take my brother's hand as he leads me out of the palace and winnows us away. It isn’t until the scent of jasmine fills the air that I let myself finally take a deep breath. I barely have a moment to think before Rhys speaks up.

“Things went well, but Eris has asked for the contract to be changed,” Rhysand states.

“In what way?” I ask, fearing the worst.

“He wishes for you two to court for a month, if at the end of that month he finds you agreeable you will become his wife,” Rhys states.

In a way part of me is relieved, if at the end of the month Eris decides he doesn’t want me anymore I’m free. Free from this marriage, free to stay home with my family.

“Then I guess I’ll have to continue to spark his interest,” I say, my words betraying me.

“Precisely,” Rhys nods. “Azriel come with me I have a mission to discuss with you, Cassian fly y/n to The House of Wind.”

“On it boss,” Cassian replies jokingly, turning to me. “Ready to go?” he asks me.

“More than you know,” I sigh, tossing my arms around his frame and letting him fly me out of the townhouse.

I had always loved flying, I remember when Rhys first summoned his wings and was learning how to use them. He would come home with cuts and bruises all over him that Madja had to clean up. She always joked that he spent more time being bandaged up than he did in the air. But the day that Rhys finally learned how to fly he rushed to tell me all about it. Later that night he snuck me out of the townhouse and took me on a flight around the city. I had never felt so free in my life.

I felt the same way now as the wind whipped my hair behind me, Cassian’s warmth seeping through my clothes keeping me from getting cold. I tried to not breathe in his scent of cedar and leather, but with my face so close to his neck it was hard to ignore.

A sudden gust of wind had us blowing sideways and I gripped his neck tighter, peering down at how far the drop would be.

Cassian chuckled, “Don’t worry princess I got you,” he assured me, holding my body a little closer to his own just to ease my worries.

“I know you do,” I laugh nervously, trying to act unaffected.

“Are you sure? Because you’re still gripping my neck like you’re going to topple out of my arms.” Cassian chuckles again.

I loosen my tight grip, feeling embarrassed. “Sorry,” I murmur, trying to cover my blushing cheeks.

“No need to apologize,” he laughs, touching down on the balcony outside of the living room.

“Thanks for taking me home,” I say softly, turning towards the door.

“Of course, anytime,” he smiles before taking off into the sky again.

I watch his form disappear into the clouds and as I make my way into my room I can’t help but long for that smell of cedar and leather.

Part 2

Taglist: @crystalferret202, @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,

#cassian x reader smut #cassian angst #cassian smut #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #cassian x you #rhysand acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader smut #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel smut #rhysand smut #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff

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hellishgayliath · 2 months

Text

Clem’s Log

Hi big brother. Today’s March 10th I think? I’m not so great at remembering dates but Papa was dead set on it because that’s your birthday, it’s amazing how he’s able to remember stuff like that after all this time.

I know it’s been a while since we talked, ever since you left I had to take over bird scout duties and just never had the time to sit down and write. Everyone’s been on edge. Y’know I still hold onto that jar of cinnamon sticks you gave me. Started chewing on them out of habit whenever the anxiety and dread was getting to my head. They taste just like home..

…

Um..

Papa told me he saw you again.

When he and a couple of the others were out on patrol with Mr. Leo and big sis Luci I mean COUSIN SERGEANT Luci haha, I think she’d resent me calling her that but I know she secretly adores me.

…

They said.. they said when they saw you you were.. already turned.

You knucklehead I guess that’s why you left in the first place but to leave without saying anything to anybody?! You know Uncle Mikey would’ve helped you like he did with the others that were infected. Or did you already know that it would’ve been pointless? Don’t you at least owe your own little sister a goodbye?! Dummy dum dumdum..

…

Papa thought he could somehow magically get through to you, y’know make you remember who you were before life went crazy.

I heard from Mr. Leo that Luci tried to stop Papa from acting like a idiot and getting himself killed. But she ended up getting hurt instead.

Bad.

…

Next thing Papa knew, you and Luci were on the ground, with only one of you moving. Judging by Mr. Leo’s face when I saw him come in, he looked very torn and distraught about a very tough call he had to make. I can already guess what it was he had to do. Cousin Luci is in rough shape but insists on rejecting any medical help saying it’d just be a waste of time and resources. Doesn’t she know we’re just trying to help her? The dumdum… Don’t tell her I called her that. I just don’t want to lose her too.

…

Papa said he could’ve sworn he saw a little smile on your face when he cradled you. Maybe that’s you finally realizing you’re not being controlled by those monsters anymore and can now be at peace knowing you can’t hurt anybody else. At least that’s how I see it. It must have been terrifying to go through that alone.

…

It’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not FAIR IT’S NOT FAIR

They said they couldn’t even bring your body back because of safety reasons and that it would put the base at risk of being tracked so I couldn’t even get to see you one last time!

I miss my big brother, I miss your dumb goofy smile, I miss us having bug eating competitions and laughing at you nearly choking on a beetle, I miss falling asleep on each other while watching tv, I miss seeing you chase after the raccoons with a broomstick whenever they raided our trash cans, I miss the dogs, I miss the taste of fresh fruit, I miss our HOME! I just want this nightmare to be done with. I’m just so.. tired..

…

Papa told me they at least gave him the chance to make a grave for you and to say his goodbyes. I should’ve been there with him saying them together.

He just looks so defeated and sad. I insisted to him that we at least put together a funeral service for you so the rest of us can say our peace.

…

It was nice.

Uncle Mikey and Bao combined their powers to transform the room into a beautiful recreation of a lush meadow full of butterflies and yellow daffodils while Mr. Tello played some lovely music he still had saved recorded in his tech. It was so tranquil it almost makes you forget for a second you’re in an apocalyptic hell scape.

I think you would've loved it.

…

Talk to you again soon and happy birthday you numbskull. I love you.

I miss you..

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elliesbelle · 10 months

Text

nobody compares to you

chapter 7

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, dealer!ellie, LOSER!ELLIE, cursing, ANGST, use of marijuana and alcohol, brief mention of death, descriptions of a weapon (it's just ellie's switchblade), sexual speech and content, brief mention of violence, brief description of homophobia, ellie's POV, minors do not interact

word count: 3.5k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

“Ellie, seriously, calm down. Also, can you hand me the fucking joint already?”

Dina watches as Ellie paces back and forth across the living room of the apartment Ellie shared with Jesse. She’d come back early from her Electrical Engineering Design class after silently storming out a mere 15 minutes into the lecture. She had her Particle Physics class in less than an hour, but she had very little intention of attending.

She’d even bailed on making a quick stop at Ruston Coffee in order to reclaim the jacket she’d lent to Daniela. She had four unread texts from her, but she ignored them.

“Dude, I just—” Ellie starts.

“I know,” Dina replies. “But can you blame her?”

Ellie doesn’t reply, instead angrily groaning as she plops down next to Dina on the couch. She hands Dina the joint, which was already half-burnt.

“God, at least ash it first,” Dina complains, taking it from her and flicking the dusty remains into an ashtray on the coffee table. “Anyway, what the fuck is she supposed to do? Not move on from you?”

“No, but—”

“You’re only this mad because Abby Anderson’s the one she was seeing before you,” Dina says before taking a hit of the joint. “I mean, you’d still be irritated if it was someone else. But now, your ego is a little bruised.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Ellie scoffs. “And she and I weren’t seeing each other, we—”

“It’s been two fucking years. You need to stop saying that shit.” Dina interrupts, getting exasperated.

“We literally weren’t—”

“Who the fuck cares, Ellie?”

“D—” Ellie attempts, but Dina continues.

“She was in love with you, and you were so fucking in love with her. And don’t try to pull that shit with me, saying that you weren’t in love with her.” Dina adds, seeing that Ellie was about to interrupt once more. “Everyone saw it, and everyone knew it. Fuck, even Joel saw it, and it’s Joel.”

Ellie says nothing, choosing to stare intensely at her fists. They were turning white from how hard she was clenching them in agitation.

It had been so long since she’d seen your smile, the honest and genuine kind that you used to flash at her countless times. She hadn’t seen it since before your cousin Rafael passed away. The way it’d adorned your face so naturally just now, it broke something in her today the moment she glanced your way. Something that she’d hastily patched up after you cut her off completely. And for Abby Anderson to be the reason for that smile…

Dina purposely blowing smoke in Ellie’s face wakes her up from her reverie.

“The fuck, D…” Ellie complains, coughing and fanning a hand in her face to clear the smoke.

“Jesse and I love you very much,” Dina continues, ignoring her curses. “But to be honest, we’ve kind of been pissed with you for a while now.”

Ellie’s eyes shoot up to frown at her.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Dina sighs.

“We love her a lot too, you know. And we miss her. The past year, she’s pulled away from us because of you. And we would have pushed, but she asked us not to. She asked us not to choose and to just keep being friends with you like normal.”

“I—“ Ellie stutters. “I didn’t know that.”

“Because she told us not to tell you.” Dina sighs. “Even after you hurt her, she still thought about you. She knew how much we mean to each other, and she didn’t want to get in the way of that. And that’s why she hasn’t told either me or Jesse what happened between you two when you took her home at the end of that summer.”

Ellie puts her head in her hands, recalling that drive. That day rattled in her mind constantly over the past year or so. She’d tried consistently to repress it at first, but it was all cemented in her mind: your nervous twitching and fidgeting, the way your lips trembled when you spoke, the redness of your eyes as you fought not to cry. Eventually, she gave up trying to forget it all; deep down, she knew she deserved to live with the guilt.

“Fuck.” Ellie sighs.

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a few moments as Dina finished the rest of the joint, eventually putting it out on the ashtray.

“So,” Dina finally speaks. “You gonna tell me what made her break up with you?”

Ellie sighs.

“I don’t think you really wanna know, D.” She mutters.

“You know,” Dina says. “It’s not really fair that you’ve had me and Jesse update you nonstop the past year on what’s been going on with her, but then you won’t tell either of us what went down.”

“It’s just…” Ellie continues, thinking. “I know you both think I was real shitty for what I did to her. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t think that. But I don’t want you both to think that I’m a complete and total asshole.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are a complete and total asshole.” Dina shrugs.

“Oh, you dick.” Ellie says, smacking Dina’s arm a little too hard.

“Ow!” Dina complains, rubbing the spot where Ellie hit her. “We don’t all go to the gym religiously, you know. Some of us are delicate!”

“Pussy.” Ellie chuckles.

Dina rolls her eyes before getting up from the couch.

“Anyway, get your shit together, Williams. I gotta go.” She says. “Got class in about 20 minutes.”

“Skip it.”

“No. Go to your next class, Els.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Ellie says dismissively, brushing her off.

Dina said her goodbyes and waved before leaving the apartment, locking the door behind her.

Ellie sat with her thoughts for a moment before getting up to walk to the kitchen. She grabs a mug from the cabinets, one decorated with a red-winged blackbird on one side and a sandhill crane on the other. After she nearly fills it to the brim with whiskey, she begins drinking it impatiently as she makes her way into her bedroom.

She places her now half-empty mug on her bedside table before plopping down onto her bed. Not bothering to remove her dirty Converse, she stares up at the prickly, white ceiling.

Abby Anderson? Why her?

Her tattooed arm was positioned above her forehead while the other laid on her side, her old, trusty switchblade suddenly in her hand. She starts playing with it mindlessly as thoughts of you swim inside her head.

When the fuck did she start seeing her again? She didn’t even like Anderson that much…

Ellie’s mind was a battlefield. She begins recalling memories of you when you’d talk about Abby Anderson, trying to discern the level of attraction you had for her from the bashful looks on your face and the dreaminess in your voice. At the same time, she was trying to push away her own emotion from those memories: the forced smile she’d give you when you brought Anderson up, the way she bit her tongue from unleashing nasty, sarcastic retorts about her, the seething rage she felt as she stormed away from you the first night she dropped you off at Anderson’s dorm.

She didn’t even… She only slept with her once…

Ellie thinks about that evening, when she watched you getting ready. She tried desperately to shut out the images of your tender eyes begging for her approval, your messy hair cascading down as you’d taken it out of its bun, every curve of your body that she was allowed a glimpse of when she’d helped you dress, your lips…

Anderson was just some fucking hook-up, I know she was…

Ellie remembers miserably how she waited until you’d completely turned away to watch how mesmerizing you looked as you ascended the steps to Anderson’s dorm. Ellie remembers the disappointed look you had on your face, crest-fallen that she’d kept you at arms-length the rest of the evening. She remembers wanting desperately to call out your name, stop you from walking through the door, and claim you for herself. She remembers nearly doing so, but her courage had not moved swiftly enough.

I fucked her hundreds more times… There’s no way Anderson is pleasing her like I did… I’m the one who knows how to…

Ellie begins speculating on what you’ve been doing hanging around Anderson again. There’s no way that you were just friends. She sees the way Anderson swaggers when they occupy the gym together, her flirty smirk as she greets people as she walks down hallways. Ellie recognizes another lesbian player when she sees one, and she knew for a fact how popular Anderson was with other girls. And more than anything, Ellie knows how beautiful you are. She knows that anyone within five feet of you would be delusional not to want a chance.

Anderson’s not her type… Anderson is not her fucking type… What the hell is she doing? She can do a whole lot fucking better…

Ellie’s thoughts unravel as she wonders about what Anderson was saying that was making you laugh so much. She obsesses over the way you were touching her arm, how your fingers brushed over her muscled bicep. She torments herself about what you were letting her do to you at this very moment.

I just… I just fucking saw her a couple of days ago… She’s single, she looked fucking single…

Were you spending the night at her place this evening? Were you all dolled up today just to see her? Is Anderson taking you out on a date tonight or is she bringing you straight to her bedroom? Has she touched you already today? Has she kissed those cherry-flavoured lips of yours once more yet? Is she lifting your dress over your head or are you doing it for her? Is she kissing your neck as her fingers make their way down into your underwear to—

Ellie sits up all of a sudden, yelling in frustration and hurling her switchblade across the room. She breathes heavily as she stares at her knife now fastened securely into the drywall, halfway stuck resulting from a throw a little too vigorous.

“Fuck me.” Ellie huffs, disgruntled, not by the damaged wall, but by the jealousy smoldering within her.

Why?

Ellie picks up her half-empty mug of booze and chugs it. As droplets of whiskey dribble down her chin, she glances at the painted birds on her now-empty mug.

Joel had bought it during a trip to a thrift store when she was 14 after she’d begged him to get it for her. Every time before the school year started, she’d always be sure to pack it to take with her, a piece of home. It was her favourite mug and it reminded her of her father.

She missed him. She wished she was back home in Jackson with him right now, away from these problems. Life felt so much more simple when it was just her and Joel, just the two of them against the rest of the world. But she was no longer 14 and no longer an innocent.

Ellie sighs. She deliberates for a moment or two. Maybe she could call Joel, tell him what was going on. He knew her best, besides Dina and Jesse. He usually steered her in the right direction, whether it was in a way she initially agreed with or not.

In the end, Ellie decides against it. Explaining lesbianism to a well-meaning but clueless 60-something-year-old man was hard enough. Having to illustrate the current state of her love life? Ellie didn’t have the time or patience to describe to her father how lesbian situationships worked, much less what a “situationship” was. She’d give him a brain aneurysm within thirty seconds of her explanation.

She also thinks back to the last conversation she had with Joel about you. He’d given her yet another caring but stern lecture before she headed back to campus for this school year. She knows deep down exactly how her father felt about you. Is that what she wanted to hear right now?

Ellie lets herself fall back onto the bed, pulling her phone out of her pocket once her head hit her pillow. She swipes away yet another text from Daniela without bothering to skim it and opens up Instagram. Almost instinctively, she switches over from her main account to a separate one.

For the first three months after you and Ellie fell out, you had her number and all her socials blocked. She hadn’t exactly tried to reach out to you during that time, but she hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to lurk. She’d treated it like she was defusing a bomb: she’d delicately open up social media, hastily type in your name, only to be abruptly greeted with blank screens. She wasn’t surprised. But whether out of pure curiosity or masochism, she’d continued this routine of searching your username on different platforms just to stare at nothing for a couple of minutes.

Ellie wasn’t sure what had suddenly prompted you to one day unblock her from everything. For a while, she waited to see if this meant anything, if you were going to reach out to her in some kind of way. But after a few days of nothing, she accepted the continued, albeit unblocked, silence. She wasn’t naive; she never expected you to come back to her. At least she could still snoop in peace.

Though not exactly adept with social media, Ellie wasn’t stupid. When she wanted to look at your Instagram page, she did so through a fake, secret account that she’d made solely for that purpose. It felt pitiful to do so, at least at first. But she’d known you had no intention of speaking to her again, and therefore no longer needed to impress you; so she swallowed the feelings of shame and self-disgust every time.

Switching over to a blank account with the user name “br!ck_master2013” that has 2 followers (both of which were bot profiles) and was following 0 accounts, Ellie types in your username by heart in the search bar. She scans your Instagram page for any changes. You don’t update it often; your last post is from early the previous summer and is just pictures of your family cat Clementine who had passed away.

A purple and orange circle dances around your icon, indicating you’ve posted something on your story within the last 24 hours. She let out an agitated breath before pressing her thumb onto the mirror selfie you’d set as your profile picture.

There are four stories: the first is from 22 hours ago and was a fan art post of a video game she knew you liked, the second is from 18 hours ago and was a picture of the mocha frappe Dina had gotten you the day prior with a caption thanking and tagging Dina, the third is from 15 hours ago of a post that read, “Don’t Want To See Trans People? Gouge Out Your Eyes” (prompting her to chuckle to herself), and the fourth is from this morning. Ellie’s breathing hitches.

It was a selfie you’d taken in your bathroom before you left for class. You’d captioned it with “fuck mondays but at least i’m cute,” an understatement in Ellie’s eyes. She was only permitted a minute to gaze at you in person earlier today, and it was from several feet away. A picture doesn’t amount to the real thing, but at least she can fully drink you in with her ocean green eyes this time, completely at her leisure.

You were wearing that same pretty, floral sundress, the sweater you were wearing earlier missing from your ensemble in the photograph. She doesn't recognize the dress, so she figures it must be new. Ellie thinks it looked like it was made for you, the way it fits you so perfectly.

She then dares to stare at your face. Even after all these years, she revels in how flawlessly you were always able to have your makeup complement your appearance. It was a gift, really, how you used colours to, not create your beauty, but accentuate it. And you seemed to have gotten even better at it now.

Ellie keeps taking in your image for what feels like a hundred years until your Instagram story closes out on her. She blinks and then sighs.

There’s no way Anderson hasn’t made a move on her already.

Ellie reaches underneath her bed and grabs her laptop. She knows what she was about to do pushed her even further into loser lesbian territory, but she had passed the point of caring long, long ago. She opens up her laptop and clicks on the Spotify application on her desktop.

The window pops up to display a few recommended albums and playlists. Scrolling past her most recently listened to song (“Novacane” by Frank Ocean), she clicks on the little icon on the top right that says “Friend Activity.” A sidebar opens up to reveal icons of a handful of Ellie’s friends. And of you.

When you’d blocked Ellie from everything, she guessed correctly that you wouldn’t think of blocking her on something as trivial as a music app. Most people in your generation didn’t really pay much attention to these stupid little details. But Ellie did. And she was thankful you didn’t.

Ignoring what songs the rest of her friends were listening to at the moment, she looked for your icon to see what you were playing. According to the tiny grey letters next to your picture, you were listening to “decode” by some artist named Sabrina Carpenter.

Ellie chuckles quietly. You had a rather wide variety in music taste, always having been musically inclined. But you weren’t immune to enjoying and fixating on what she would call “generic, top 40 pop straight girl music.” She’d tease you about this relentlessly, to which you would respond by turning the song up even louder and belting your heart out to it. Even though it was in the act of defying her, Ellie always noted internally what a pretty voice you had when you sang.

She figures that this artist was your current new fixation. She grabs her spare earphones from the drawer of her bedside table, plugging them into her laptop. She clicks on the song you're still listening to and lets it play. As the song progresses, Ellie feels her heart sink.

♫ You're good at the fallin', not the stayin' there / You're good at the givin' too much, then gettin' scared

You're good at impersonating someone who cares / And you had me for a minute there ♫

Ellie shifts her laptop to one side and rolls to the other, allowing the music to continue in her ears.

♫ But now I wonder why / I let your confusion keep me up at night

I'm so tired / Reread every single undertone ♫

Ellie sighs, hooking an arm underneath her pillow, clutching it tightly as she clenches her jaw.

♫ There's a weight off my shoulders now that I don't chase you / Bein' myself, did that emasculate you?

Learnin' from you that I can walk away too / And you had me for a minute too ♫

Ellie frowns, closing her eyes, allowing the song to envelop her in shame.

♫ Now I wonder why / I let your confusion keep me up at night

I'm so tired / Reread every single undertone and I—♫

“Yo, Williams—” A voice interrupts with a knock on her bedroom door.

Ellie shoots up from her bed, earphones tearing out from her ears.

“What?” Ellie answers, irritated.

Jesse’s head pokes itself through the doorway. His expression turned into amusement once he saw hers of annoyance.

“Oh, sorry, dude. Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine,” Ellie lies, relaxing a little and tapping the spacebar to pause the song. “What’s up?”

Jesse scans her features further. He took a step in, leaning against the doorframe.

“You alright?”

“All good, dude,” She says, closing her laptop and hopping off her bed. “Was just having a bad dream.”

Jesse considers this when his eyes wander to Ellie’s knife sticking out of the wall.

“Bro.” He says, pointing to it.

“It was a really bad dream, alright?” She shrugs.

“Els,” He groans. “If we don’t get our security deposit back—“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll fix it.” She says, crossing her arms. “What did you want?”

“You got a second? Got someone here who wants to buy.”

Ellie sighs.

“Yeah, okay. They good?”

“Should be.” Jesse confirms.

“Fine.” Ellie replies, standing up straighter and rolling up the sleeves to her flannel.

“Cool. You might have actually met him the other night.” Jesse jabs his thumb towards the living room, beckoning her to follow him.

“The other night?” Ellie questions, trailing after.

“Yeah, he was with us at the diner after the party.”

“Wait, what?”

Before Jesse can answer, Ellie’s eyes fall on who Jesse had brought into their apartment. Wearing a backwards cap, a plain navy blue t-shirt & khakis, their visitor looks like every other standard, forgettable college frat boy.

But Ellie didn’t forget. In fact, Ellie remembers exactly who he was quite well.

“You remember Adam?” Jesse asks.

“Man, really? Didn’t clock you as a queer.”

“Yeah,” Ellie answers, eyes seeing red and hands balling up in fists. “Yeah, I remember you.”

author’s notes:

okay so part of why this took me so long to write and why it also took a lot of convincing on my own part to post is cause i was writing it from ellie's perspective and that was a lot harder than i thought!! didn't plan it to be this way tbh but that's what flowed and well, here it is!

i hope all the college descriptions i’ve been writing have been realistic enough! i had a messy collegiate experience myself and i ended up dropping out after a few years, so i’m just trying to write from experiences from so many years ago (i legit researched what kind of classes aspiring astronauts need to take cause we know our girl wants to go up in space).

the birds on ellie's mug are just references to a couple of my gf's favourite birds (she's an avid bird watcher and she loves birds hehe)!

also idk why i know ellie's a whiskey drinker, but god i just know she is. what butch lesbian is not a whiskey drinker (just from personal experience, don't kill me).

you get a gold star if you got that "brick master" reference ♡︎

i also don't know why i know ellie would listen to frank ocean, but god her loser ass would be LISTENINGGGG to frank ocean. thank you also to everyone for bearing with me and my current sabrina carpenter phase rn ♡︎

does anyone else still look at their friends activity on spotify or is that just me. i love seeing what my friends are up to! i use the airbuds app too, i feel so involved. yeah, that is a pic of me from many years ago as reader's tiny little icon the spotify pic, that's the most y'all get as a pic of me rn sdklfjsd

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriessxinthespring, @amitycat, @thefishymissy, @yevheniiaaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam, @elliesnoviecita, @digit4lslut, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky, @qtefolleunpez, @libr4sonsa, @17luv, @robinismywifee, @villainousbear, @ashlynnnnnnnn15, @scarlettadore, @vianna99, @g0n3girls, @totheblood, @embermdk, @awyunh, @kenz-ee, @marvelwomen-simp

#nobody compares to you series #ellie williams #dealer!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #belle speaks #belle writes

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lordofdestructionm · 1 year

Text

The fear behind the manic grin

I know I have a reputation as a feral Vikdecai account (I mean can you blame me?) but all the characters in Lackadaisy are amazing and the main cast all have their own interesting stories playing out

Case in point the musical, poetic and lovably derranged Rocky Rockaby who thanks to the Pilot (for what will hopefully soon become a full series) a new large audience being introduce to

But there is one moment where the feral energetic grinning persona slips and we see the face a of a broken young man in a state of total despair, before mercifully Mitzi decides to lighten the tone

This is key to understanding Rocky and his motivations

After being abandoned by his father and his mothers death from illness Rocky was raised in his early years for a period of time by his aunt Nina along with his cousin Calvin (Freckle)

However, due to some as yet unrevealed tragedy, Rocky was ejected from the Mcmurray house and spent the following years riding the rails

He stayed in touch with Calvin, writing him letters about his adventures, and as you would expect from a flamboyant personality he exaggerates what a big adventure it was how optimistic he was feeling at this time as he travelled from place to place working various assorted odd jobs between 1921 and 1924

The Lackadaisy Wicki provides a nice breakdown

But of course the reality is quite different. Having no home, no family and no friends outside what brief and fleeting acquaintances he made on the road took its toll

But that changed when he found himself joining Zib's band in 1925 which at that point was playing exclusively for the Lackadaisy Speakeasy. For the first time in years he has not only found somewhere seemingly more long term to be but back in the place he thinks of as home

But even this seemingly positive change does not get to last long. Atlas's death in 1926 throws everything into uncertainty and without its leader and despite Mitzi's best efforts things begin to decline both financially and in terms of manpower.

Those that remain do so for various reasons despite leaving arguably being the smartest option. Rocky does so because he is done with drifting and is determined to hold onto the solid ground he has found no matter what. He makes this desperation clear to Calvin

Though it should be noted while he wants the Lackadaisy to be saved he wants it done on certain terms. Specifically ones where he is the golden boy that saved the day. He is desperate to ingratiate himself to Mitzi. This is in part due to him having a crush on her, but even this is tied to his perception of her as a "damsel in distress" that he can ride in and rescue, and in the process secure a permanant place for himself

This is why in both the pilot and the comic he is so devastated when he sees that she is dissapointed with his efforts.

This is also why in both you can see a barely passive aggresive attitude towards Wick.

Its not just that he is a rival for Mitzi's affection, the friendly wealthy industrialist who clearly has a thing for the beautiful widow threatens to make Rocky and his efforts to be the Knight in shining armour redundant and equally so Rocky himself.

If he invested his money in the Speakeasy he would be the hero and Rocky would just be the clown that tried so hard (risking his life even) but failed, only for some handsome aristocrat to stroll in with his chequebook

Rocky fears being adrift again. Of feeling alone and unwanted again. He is willing to go to extreme lengths to prevent that from happening. To feel wanted, included and loved he will start as many fires and thow as much dynamite and dodge was many bullets as it takes

Lets keep spreading the good word and hopefully our lovable pyromaniac and the rest of the cast will get the long running episodic series they deserve to have their stories told (and of course get more love for the comic)

#lackadaisy #lackadaisycats #tracy j butler #rocky rickaby #calvin mcmurray #freckle #ivy pepper #viktor vasko #mitzi may #wick sable #pilot #comic #atlas may #1920s #cats #gangsters #prohibition #animation

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months

Note

AITA for not wanting to be in my cousin's life? This will be long, I'm sorry

I (f19, but this started at 15) have a rough relationship with my family, I don't have a better word to describe them as besides just not the best towards me. But the real issue now is that I don't want to be involved in my cousin's (f8, but this started at 5) life. This sounds very silly, I know, but let me explain. My cousin is physical in how she expresses herself towards me (she likes to throw things at me and hit me and bite me, and I can't do anything about it because I get in trouble if I do). I have a severe nut allergy and there have been multiple times she's been caught trying to smear peanut butter on me or in my mouth while I slept. She likes to tell me she wishes I'd just eat the peanut butter so she'd never have to see me again. She just hates me, honestly (I'm not sure why, I've never hated the kid, I'm not mean to her, none of us have been able to figure out why and when asked she just says she hates me because she hates me)

The house we lived in contained just me, her, my mother, and my uncle. She is not abused by either adult, before anyone asks, she's actually quite spoiled due to the fact that they can't discipline her in any way without risking her being taken away. And I don't hate her at all, I'm bitter about how she treats me, but I know she's only a little kid. However, I just don't like being treated that way. I recently moved out and I told my mother that I didn't want to be part of my cousin's life until she stopped treating me that way. (Info: My mother thinks she treats me this way because she's a kid so she can't vent her anger out on the adults and I was the only other kid she could vent it out on.) My mother thinks I'm being cruel and punishing my cousin, she says I'll regret this choice and that my cousin will be all I have one day so I shouldn't do this. I've tried to explain that I'm not doing it to punish my cousin, it's just not good for my mental health and I can't be around this behaviour anymore. Other family members and family friends have agreed with my mother, but my friends think my decision is right. Since moving out and not going through that every day, I've started to feel better about myself, my depression isn't as bad and I don't have as much anxiety when I go to sleep. That is kinda swaying my decision to me thinking I'm right for choosing this for myself, but I still worry my mother might be right and I might be ruining my cousin's mental health by leaving.

I want to add that I know I'm way older than her, and some of you might be wondering why I don't stand up to her, but I could never do anything to stop her. I spent many years in foster care due to issues with my family (my mother, specifically), and I know that even the littlest thing where I live can get your kid taken from you. If I even raised my voice at her to tell her to stop and she told someone, she could be taken away from my family and I can't do that to her, I know the horrors of foster care. I also have spent most of my life being abused and don't know how to protect myself or defend myself in situations like these. Please keep this in mind when/if you call me pathetic or stupid, trust me I know I am.

Please, I know a lot of you may think this is silly or dumb or bait, but I need to know aita for not wanting to be in my cousin's life?

Reasons I think I might be NTA: I think my decision is good for both of us and I believe I should put mental health first in this case as it can be dangerous in the future if I don't. I don't want to stay longer and end up hating her, she's just a kid and doesn't deserve to be hated.

Reasons I think I might be TA: This could be seen as punishing her, and she might hate me more for it. She's already started being meaner to other kids now that she can't vent it out on me and I'm an adult so I can take it better than one of her classmates could. She might think her behaviour drove me away and blame herself.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 18 days

Text

Datura Pt 10

Summary: Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you realize what you have to do to ensure you and Rhys survive the Mountain.

Content Warnings: Character Death (not MC), blood and gore, canon typical violence.

Author's Notes: Sorry ya'll I got sick twice and then got hit with a massive case of writer's block. I think I rewrote this twice and stared at a blank Google Doc for like three days before I managed to get it to make sense. Thank you all for your patience! <3

Previous Chapter , Masterlist

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Every step back into the dark, the torches fewer and farther between, is both a relief and a pressing weight on your shoulders. Relief because you’re away from Amarantha’s cruel gaze, away from the leering stares of the crowd and your cousins; a relief because there’s a High Lord waiting for you to come back. You’d never admit it to him, but his presence is soothing, grounding--something you desperately need after the mess in the Throne Room.

The guards are in no hurry, unlike your initial removal from your cell; all four of them move in sync, having done this thousands of times. It must be a lot of work, tending to every person that Amarantha deems unworthy of her court--it has to be a lot, if the amount of locked cells you pass are any indication.

You keep your head to your chest as best you can around the collar, eyes pinched to avoid the constant change in lighting. They’ll adjust soon.

It’s because you’re focused on not tripping that you don’t see the guards ahead of you stop until you slam into the back of one of them. You reel backwards, expecting to be shoved or punished for the stumble, but the guards don’t react at all. They remain frozen, staring straight ahead.

A glance at the ones behind you to confirm they look the same; it’s as if time has come to a halt.

“Um, hello?” You risk waving a hand in front of one of their faces, fully expecting them to grab your wrist and throw you, but they still remain unmoving. Creeping a little closer, you can see the glazed look in their eyes, like they’re suddenly not seeing. One of them has drool running down the side of his face.

“They can’t answer you.”

You jump with a shout of surprise.

A female’s laugh echoes off the walls, footsteps approaching, though it’s still too dark to see where it’s coming from.

“Did you really think we’d leave you here with Amarantha?” Dagdan sneers as he comes to stand between the first two guards. He leans an elbow against one of their unflinching shoulders.

You can feel more than see Brannagh take up the spot between the other two guards at your back.

“You left with Tamlin,” you say. Maybe they really did get in your head and this is some terrible dream they’ve orchestrated to get into your memories. Despite the pain still throbbing in your skull from earlier, you check to make sure your shields are in place.

“The Throne Room sure,” Brannagh replies. “But the bitch is too busy having a temper tantrum to notice that her toy is even gone. By the time she figures it out, you’ll be gone.”

“Why? What do you want?” You ask, head spinning. They’d planned this. They’d riled Amarantha up on purpose to distract her from seeing them move you. They’d probably been in the guards’ heads from the beginning.

“As we told her,” Dagdan says, pushing off his perch to step closer to you.

You take a step back and bump right into Brannagh’s chest. Her bony fingers wrap around your arms and hold fast, her nails biting into your skin.

“Hybern wants you tested and ready, and I don’t believe for a second that you’re her submissive little pet.”

You focus on your breathing as pain prickles in your fingertips, your jaw, your powers itching to come out and protect you. One breath, and then another. You are in control here; you can do this, just like you practiced.

“Amarantha took my powers,” you say.

“And yet, you still reek of them,” Brannagh hisses in your ear.

“I think that’s sweat,” you retort.

Dagdan grabs the chain still hooked around your throat and yanks, cutting off your air supply as it jerks your head upward. “You think you’re really funny, don’t you?”

You gasp for breath as the metal digs into your skin. “I don’t have any powers!”

In the time it takes to blink, they’ve winnowed you away from the guards, out the tunnels, and to the lip of one of the Mountain’s cave entrances, where Tamlin remains waiting. The light is so blinding you throw your hands over your eyes with a scream that makes the twins chuckle in amusement.

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Dagdan says.

Sunlight might as well be flames against your skin, the burning making tears stream down your cheeks, even through the protection of your hands. Amarantha would have been better off blinding you in one fell swoop, it would have been less painful than this.

Indifferent to your pain, or perhaps relishing it, Dagdan yanks your chain and drags you out into the sunlight for the first time in months. Brannagh drags Tamlin in a similar manner, the High Lord still silently following along. You’d imagined this moment a thousand different times, in hundreds of different ways; the feeling of sunlight, of the wind against your skin was foreign, none of your dreams could do it justice. And the crispness of the air, the lack of dirt and decay in your lungs, it was enough to make you fall on your knees and sob--you would have, if you weren’t still being dragged.

“We’ll get to the wall and Tamlin will show us the gaps,” Dagdan explains, though the High Lord of Spring gives no confirmation that he hears him. “Once we find a weak spot, we’ll put you to good use.”

You can’t let that happen. If they find out the truth, they will use it against you, and then Rhys is dead, but there’s no chance for you to make a break for it yet. Trying to keep up with the pace they set so you’re not being dragged is useless, it’s like trying to run and after being caged for so long, your body can’t keep up. The exertion and the heat makes sweat drip off your forehead, the collar around your neck slick with it as it scrapes back and forth against your skin. You’ve got no choice but to follow them until they get to the Wall, and maybe then you can find a way to get free of them.

The Mountain exit has deposited you somewhere in the heart of Spring, though you don’t recognize the blooming forest at all. It must be on the other side of the High Lord’s estate, where you’d never had reason to be. If Tamlin recognizes his woods, his lands, he gives no indication of it, his emerald eyes still glassy and unfocused as Brannagh drags him like a dog on a leash behind her. You’ll have to find a way to get him free of her before you break away from them, there’s no way you can leave him alone with her like that. Amarantha has already done enough to him, you can’t abandon him to Brannagh too.

They walk for a long time, following deer paths through the woods. Though they carry no map, it’s clear they’ve studied one before coming with the way they pick their way around. Brannagh complains about the mud the deeper you all go, but you savor every splash of it against your skin, relish every brush of bushes and vines and the faint song from birds somewhere overhead. It might as well have been a lifetime ago since you’d last touched any of these things, your world shifted to nothing but stone and rock. You’d savor this, stressful as it was, when you eventually have to go back into the dark.

Because you will have to go back.

Even if you find a way to get Tamlin somewhere safe, you have to go back to fulfill your bargain. If you run away now the magic of the bargain could very well kill you.

Dagdan slows as the path ahead splits in two directions and you lean against a large tree to catch your breath, the bark rough against your skin. The noise of your company makes a squirrel jump from its roost and run for cover a few yards away and you watch it with the fascination of someone seeing the world for the first time. How are you supposed to go back into the dark when all this sunlight and fresh air exits? How can you go back into the cramped space of that tiny cell, with nothing but the cold to greet you when there is this kind of warmth in the world? It’s not fair!

“It’s right, you idiot!” Brannagh snarls when her brother hesitates.

“No it’s not,” he counters. “The map said left.”

“It’s right,” Tamlin says, his voice lifeless and slurred.

The twins turn to stare at him for a moment, before Dagdan huffs, “You better not be wrong.”

Tamlin goes back to staring into the sky like he hadn’t heard the threat and you push yourself off the tree to get a better look at him. It’s impossible to tell if he really is just high and delusional or faking it at this point, but if it’s the latter, maybe giving the twins the slip won’t be so difficult. You try to shift closer to him, but Dagdan yanks you away before you get more than a step.

They’re separating you intentionally, it would seem, with Brannagh staying a few feet behind you.

You check your shields as you walk, then the glamor, just to make sure they hadn’t heard any of the plans in your head.

The sun is high by the time the four of you make it out of the woods and into a set of grassy plains that stretch for half a mile before it meets a shimmering wall of magic. At the right angle it's almost invisible, save for a faint pink hue. The closer you get, however, the more your hair rises on end, the more the air smells sickly sweet from the magic used to hold the barrier in place. You’ve never been this close to the Human Lands before, and even though the Wall veils it from sight, you know it's just beyond.

“Ugh,” Brannagh says, crinkling her nose as you all pass through the waist high grass. “I can practically smell those human pests from here.”

Dagdan runs his tongue over his thin lips. “I’ve missed the fun we used to have with our pets, don’t you?”

You shiver under the implication in his tone. You’ve never met a human before, but they sound awfully fragile from the stories and you doubt they’d hold up under anything your cousins could throw at them.

“How close is the nearest hole?” Brannagh demands.

Tamlin slowly turns his head from side to side, golden hair flowing across his temples as he searches for the right spot. “About a mile,” he says finally, gesturing with his chin to the left of you.

The Wall doesn’t look any different from where you stand, but you don’t know enough about the magic used to build it to dispute his claims. Neither do the twins, as they don’t question it, and drag the two of you along the path indicated until you reach the spot. It’s of no help though, because the hole in question is about the size of a fist, just big enough for you to crouch and peer into the forest beyond the magic barrier. It smells different from this side of the Wall, newer yet dead somehow, like there’s no magic at all beyond the barrier.

“I should have figured you’d be stupid,” Dagdan snarls. Turning to his sister he adds, “I told you he was too pretty for his own good.”

You bite back a laugh despite yourself.

Brannagh yanks on Tamlin’s chain like one would a misbehaving dog. “I didn’t think I needed to tell you that we needed to be able to fit through it!”

“Oh,” Tamlin says with a shrug. “Then it’s the other way.”

And so, you go back the way you’d come, and further, to the next spot, larger than the last, but still not big enough for any of you to fit through, to which the High Lord insists there are more if you keep going further. It’s very much the same answer at each spot you find, making you walk back and forth until the path back starts to blur in your mind and the sun begins to set. It’s too dark to go back, especially with the growls of things from the edge of the woods rising to meet you, so they tether you and the High Lord to a large tree while they collect firewood to make camp.

You sink down into the damp earth with a grunt, legs sore beyond belief. It’s been too long since you’ve been able to properly stretch your legs.

Tamlin slowly lowers himself to sit next to you. “There’s a lot of boggie in this area,” he says, not looking at you. He keeps his gaze in the other direction, focusing on some bright flower bushes in the distance. There is no slurring in his speech anymore.

“So this was on purpose?”

He grins, pleased with himself. “I’m not totally useless.”

“It’d be a shame if we accidentally caught its attention,” you muse. There is a fog starting to creep in, stealing the warmth of the day, hiding whatever monsters lurk in the depths of the woods.

“They’re not armed enough,” he adds. “It’d be quick.”

Too quick, but what can you do about it in the end? “Can you get us unchained?”

“I think," he replies with a wince. “You still got claws you can use, just in case?”

“Me?” You say with feigned ignorance.

He risks a glance to where the twins are bickering about something in the tree line. “You don’t think I believe Rhysand wants something to do with you out of the goodness of his black heart, do you?”

You bristle at the words, fangs threatening to slip out. How dare him!

“He clearly means to use you for something, and after that fight with the chimera, I think it’s pretty obvious that he wants to wield you like Hybern did your mother.”

“It’s not like that,” you snarl. Rhys is nothing like Hybern!

“Isn’t it?” He hisses. “Let me guess, he tried to befriend you, acted all concerned about your powers being untested and untrained? He offered to help you get a handle on them, makes sure to run you through all the steps because he’s concerned about your well being?”

He doesn’t let you get a word in before he adds, “He did the exact same to me.”

You run a hand absently over the bargain mark. Rhys was many things but he'd never stoop so low as to use someone like that. It's unthinkable.

“And when I realized how he’d manipulated me, when I stopped giving him exactly what he wanted, do you know what he did?”

You watch the twins continue their argument into the darker parts of the edge of the woods to avoid looking at him.

“He killed my parents, my brothers. I am the only one left.”

That couldn’t possibly be true!

“Rhys gets what he wants, or he makes your life a living hell for it,” Tamlin snarls. “He’s just as bad as she is, he’s just better at hiding it.”

You've managed to reign in your temper until that point. “That’s not true!” You snarl. “He’s nothing like her!”

Tamlin huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “He’s really got you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? I bet the second you get out of here and away from them you’d run right back to him.”

You stiffen, not because it’s not true, but because all day the only thing you’ve been thinking about is how you don’t want to go back. Selfishly, greedily, all you could think about was how unfair it was to have to go back, you hadn’t once thought about him.

“He’d do the same for me,” you whisper, hand pressed tight to the bargain mark because you know he would. Without a thought for how long he’d been underground, without a thought for how unfair it was that he couldn’t keep his freedom, he’d come back for you, fight for you. How could you be so selfish and abandon him, bargain or not?

“You can’t be serious,” Tamlin replies. “Why would he come back for you?”

The ink is warm on your skin, a living, breathing thing that doesn’t just mark you, it’s part of you. Part of him. It’s a living tether that flows between your souls, ties you together. It’s him, but it’s you, it’s…

The realization slams into you like a brick. You’d known it too, that morning when Amarantha had taken your powers, something had shifted into place and you hadn’t been able to place it. “Because,” you stammer as you brush a mental hand against that tether, the one that had linked your minds together from the start, that had allowed him to reach for you on Calanmai all those years ago. It had been so easy for him to find you, not because of his powers, but because of what was already there. “Because he’s my mate.”

Mate. Rhys was your mate. It was as if all your questions had clicked into place, why you were always so eager to be near him, and him you, why he’d been so back and forth in the beginning. He was your mate.

Tamlin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause those are titles that mean anything.”

Shit. Your eyes go to Amarantha’s mark on his chest. “I’m sorry for everything she’s done to you.”

He growls, eyes flashing. “Bonds mean nothing. They’re just a way to make us animals that need to breed. They don’t guarantee protection or affection, it might as well be another collar.”

You glance over to where you’d last seen the twins. “So when they’re gone, will you fight her?”

“No,” he says. “I mean to disappear into the Human Lands and not look back.”

“But you can help stop her!” You persist.

“No one can, she’s too strong,” he returns, eyes now flicking to some noise his keen ears hear in the woods beyond you. “And if you’re smart, you’ll go too.”

You’d left your mate with Amarantha. “I can’t do that.”

He shifts so he can get a solid grip on your chains. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

There’s little time in between the moment he starts yanking on the chains, the branch they’re tied to groaning in protest, and the point when Brannagh starts screaming as whatever monster Tamlin had heard approaching finally makes itself known. You know the stories of the monsters Amarantha had unleashed on the courts, but you’ve never seen them for yourself, you have no idea what to anticipate. And truth be told, you’d rather not stick around to learn the truth. You help Tamlin grab the chains and pull until the tree starts to bow and bend under the strain. The chain is rough against your skin, tearing at your palms, but you grit your teeth and plant yourself firmly into the ground as you tug. Between the two of you, it doesn’t take long for the branch to snap off, the tree swinging wildly back and forth as the broken piece of wood goes flying through the air. Your chain slips free, flapping in the wind like a scarf as Brannagh continues to scream.

Tamlin doesn’t stick around to see if they’re being eaten or not, as soon as he’s untangled from the branch, he takes off in a sprint back towards the Wall, to whatever hole is big enough for him to escape through and into the Human Lands. You want to be mad at him for being a coward, but truth be told, you can’t. After all Amarantha has put him through, you hope he can find peace.

You hear Dagdan draw his sword behind you, hear the metal clang against something with claws, but the woods are shrouded in the fog now. Brannagh's armed as well, maybe they’re strong enough soldiers to make it out alive. You’re not going to stick around long enough to find out.

You’re used to the dark, it’s comforting to have nothing but the stars overhead. It had felt like a disadvantage before, but now, now it feels like home. You take off in a full sprint, holding the length of your chain in your hand to keep it from rattling too hard and attracting attention. Tree branches and vines slap at your arms, face and legs as you run, not daring a glance back, and it doesn’t feel all that different from the dream that brought you out on Calanmai, though a few flowers leading the way would have been appreciated this time. You’re moving on instinct more than anything, back the way that feels right.

Soon you stop hearing Brannagh’s screams, though you’re not sure if that means they’re dead, or if they’ve won. You push yourself as fast as you can go, lungs and legs burning in earnest now. You’ve got to make it back, you can’t get caught out here.

The Spring Court is a blur as you find the fork in the road you’d come to earlier and tear down the deer path that should lead you back to the Mountain. Distantly, over the sound of your own ragged breathing, you can hear something moving overhead, a distant flapping sound that’s far too heavy to be a bird. Nothing ever comes into view though, so you do your best to stay in the shadow of the bigger trees as you push through the underbrush.

Cauldron you’re out of shape! You can’t help but stop, hands on your knees, gasping for breath. Sweat drips off the ends of your hair as you bend over, struggling to get your breath back. When this is all over, you’ll take up running, you vow to the Mother.

Time's a ticking thing in your head and you force yourself to keep moving, even if you have to walk until you can breathe evenly again. A couple of steps is still movement in the right direction, still keeps some distance between yourself and whatever threats remain behind you. There’s a clearing up a head that you’ll need to be quick to get through unseen by whatever is flying around above you, you take care to get your breathing under control by the time you make it to the edge of it, and then sprint as fast as your legs can carry you.

It’s not fast enough. Something rock solid and incredibly fast slams into you from behind, sending you flying into the muddy earth with a breath stealing thud. Something with claws drags you up by the back of the neck, laughing, the sound a horrible wheeze of breath that makes your blood run cold. The Attor.

“Look what we have here,” it leers.

Your legs dangle off the ground, body limp in its clawed grip. “Let go of me!”

Darkness ripples in front of you, twisting like a vortex as it spits out the Evil Queen, fire wreathing her claw tipped hands.

Shit shit shit.

She sharpens the flames into points, like twin swords in her hands and she stalks towards you, snarling.

“Wait! Wait!” You plead.

“SILENCE!” She booms. “I’ve had enough out of you, you stupid little brat!”

You twist desperately to get out of the Attor’s grip, but it remains unmoving. If you can’t fight your way out, you have to be smart about this. “My Queen please, let me explain!” You can do this. You can make sure you get back to your mate in one piece, and maybe buy Tamlin the time he needs to escape. You all deserve to be free, there are no exceptions.

The playcatting makes her pause at least, so in a rush you say, “My cousins did something to my guards on the way back to my cell and they winnowed me out before I could even yell for help. I swear I wasn’t trying to escape.”

“Liar!” She snarls, but she doesn’t move any closer.

The Attor’s grip on your neck is bruising, makes your collar bite into your skin hard enough to draw blood. “They led us right into a bunch of boggies and I came back looking for help. Please, you have to save them, I think Tamlin is hurt!”

Invoking her mate makes all her reservations fly out the window. “Where is he?”

“I can take you there,” you say.

Maybe you’ll fulfill your bargain right here and now and let her own monsters finish her off, or maybe there will be such a mess you can convince her that Tamlin’s dead and it’s no use looking for him. One way or the other, you’re buying yourself time, so you take them back the way you’ve come.

Cauldron it feels like your legs are made of bricks by the time you stumble back into the woods. It’s a mess of gore and blood by the time you get back, Dagdan’s broken sword clutched in a hand detached from the rest of his mangled body. You vomit into the bushes when you see what’s left, what you and Tamlin have left them to.

Amarantha goes through the gore, kicking over the corpses of the monsters, searching for any sign of Tamlin among the bodies. You know there’s none, but there’s barely enough of Brannagh to identify, so you say, “Mother’s tits he was right here with them!”

The Queen remains rooted in a pool of blood for a long time before she throws her head back and roars so loud leaves fall off the trees. “My mate!” She wails. “My mate!”

You turn away like you can’t bear to look any more and truth be told, you can’t. Is this what you’ve become? You let them walk right into this trap without remorse, without a second thought, and they were dead. Horrifically, irreversibly dead. Their bodies as mangled as the chimeras you’d killed in the Pit, as mangled as if you had done it with your own claws. This was what you had been worried about in the beginning, this lack of hesitation, this easy decline into the monstrous death goddess your father wanted you to be.

And you’d do it again. It was not a question, you feel the surety of it in your soul. For your mate’s freedom, to fulfill this bargain and to be free, you’d do it again with no hesitation. You would play the monster over and over again.

“I do not smell him here, My Queen,” the Attor says as he sniffs around the bodies.

If his nose is that good he’ll be able to scent his tracks right through the gaps in the Wall. If she finds out he ran from her she’ll never let him have a moment of peace again.

“If he got away, where would he go?” You ask, pretending to look around for tracks. How long would it take for his scent to fade? How much time can you buy him with the Attor sniffing around like a bloodhound?

“He would come back to me,” Amarantha snarls. “My mate would come back to me, he would know better than to go anywhere else!”

“But if he was injured, maybe he’d go to his manor first, for aid?”

Amarantha’s eyes are wild as she nods, panic clouding her judgment. Good, you can use that. “We should head that way, see if he collapsed on the way maybe?”

Her eyes narrow. “Yes, yes I should. You, little mouse, are going right back to your cell.”

Back to Rhys. It’s an effort not to run your hand over the bargain mark, as if touching it might open the bridge in your minds so you could at least feel him at the other end of it. It’s the Attor’s sniffing that keeps you from acting on your impulses. Could bonds smell? You think they might. You have to be careful, have to play up the roll you’ve stepped into to ensure that no one is looking too closely at your motives. You’ve already gotten two people killed tonight, have already been stripped of all your dignity and agency, what is a little more? You throw yourself onto your knees, trying not to think about the blood and gore seeping into your skirts, feigning panic. “Please, please, My Queen, don’t lock me back up again. Please! I want to be useful, I want to make up for my mistakes. Please!”

“You’re wasting my time!” She growls.

The Attor grabs you by the neck again as she motions for him to follow, your skirts dragging through the gore as they set off in the direction of the manor. Despite her threats, she lets you be dragged along as she scours the ground for any signs of Tamlin. There’s none of course, but by an extreme stroke of luck, there is a wounded boggie crawling its way up the hill ahead of you, its blood trail hiding Tamlin’s lack of footprints. By the time it’s dispatched and she arrives back at the manor, the sky is starting to change colors, and you’re trying not to nod off.

Amarantha rips the doors off the manor when she finds it empty. “He can’t be dead! I’d feel it!” She insists to no one in particular.

The stone steps leading into the house look comfortable enough to curl up on and sleep. You give yourself a little shake to clear the thought away as the Attor says, “I’ll try and get a view from above, My Queen.”

Good, he won’t be able to scent Tamlin from the sky and he won’t be able to see him through the wards on the Wall. You’ve bought him a couple hours, you can do nothing but hope that it’s enough.

“Don’t return to me until you’ve found him,” Amarantha orders.

You’re swaying on her feet when she grabs your arm and snarls, “If I find out you delayed my search in any way I will make you wish you were never born.”

You nod, “We’ll find him, my Queen.”

She winnows you both, the empty swirling vortex flying past you before it deposits you back outside the mouth of one of the many caves. Dozens of guards are waiting, more chains in hand. Your hands shake at your sides at the sight of them.

You draw a breath, forcing yourself to not look at them as they approach. You were never really free anyway, none of you would be until she was dead and this Mountain was rubble. “What will you tell my father?”

One guard grabs the end of your chain, the other clamps a pair of binders on your wrist. But Amarantha grins as she says, “I’ll tell him they foolishly crossed you.”

“But I didn’t do anything!”

“Then it’ll be our little secret, won’t it, pet?”

----------------------------

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year

Text

My Dear Wife - Lloyd Hansen Series

Character: Lloyd Hansen x Rich!Female Reader

Words Count: 3200

Summary: Our reader was safe from the hostage situation, and she got her answer for all her problems. But did she make the right choice being married to a lunatic sociopath?

Check out Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 (Extra Story)

A/N: This is the continuous chapter from 3 Billion Divorce. <<<Check it out if you haven't read it.

And check out my other stories from Masterlist.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Thank you so much for reblogging the first chapter. 💕💕

I want to write the aftermath of the day Lloyd came to the reader's office with the divorce paper.

But I feel the story would be better when both characters get to know each other.

I would appreciate any comments and feedback you can give me. Please tell me if you have any ideas and feedback for part 3.

Don't be shy if you want to be tagged for part 3. 😄💕

In the family, there will always be an evil uncle, aunt, or cousin who says hurtful things. Their bullet would be:

"Why are you still single?"

"How much is your salary?"

"When will you get married?"

"My son/daughter just got promoted or bought a new apartment."

They will say anything to make their family better than anyone else.

The only choice is to ignore them and not return for another family gathering.

But with you, it's a different case. You wished they would say hurtful things rather than try to get rid of you.

They have shown you their true colors after your grandfather's funeral.

Their first act was you woke up at a mental hospital with the note that you're delusional.

You ran away and sued the hospital.

They even use your friend to spike your drinks. Since that day, you lost your friend, and you never took a sip that was being offered to you.

You almost got killed on the airplane, but the pilot didn't want to risk his life, so he told you the truth.

You can't even stay at your own house. Cause assassins always break in to get you while you're asleep.

That's just some of the cases.

After the suffering, you've been facing all these years.

It's time to get revenge.

You got an instant husband who is an expert at handling problems.

After your secretary sent the money, Lloyd untied the rope around your hands. What a paranoid man; he didn't trust you until he got the money.

"Mr. Hansen, where is my bodyguard?" You couldn’t stop worrying about Jimmy after the car crash. You didn’t know what happened to him.

He is still sitting and reading the contract. "Aren't we supposed to be husband and wife? Call me Lloyd, or hubby, or babe. Take your pick."

Lloyd wants to tease you and is curious about your response.

You’re not amused with his jokes, "Lloyd, I want my bodyguard to be alive and healthy."

Oh well, you’re not in the mood for jokes. He snapped his finger to his soldier to come forward. The soldier speaks softly, almost whispering, "Her bodyguard lost too much blood."

Lloyd clenched the soldier's collar, forced him to bend, and pointed his gun. "I don't care, treat him. If he needs to bathe in blood, so be it. Or do you want to pay the penalty of 3 billion?"

"No sir." The soldier shook his head and started to run.

He put down the contract and clapped his hands. "Good news sweetheart, your bodyguard is resting. He got dehydrated."

"So what does my precious wife want me to do?"

He strolls towards you. "Do you want to finish them as quickly as possible or slowly by torturing them?"

"The second choice."

"I thought you wanted them gone."

You scoffed. "They will lose their will to live when they see me become the head of the company."

Lloyd felt a shiver when you said that. He likes it when you sound desperate but bossy at the same time.

"I need to ask you, are you sure you want to pay me that much money? I could give you a discount if you want."

You shook your head. "It doesn't matter to me as long as I'm alive."

You walk around him while your eyes stay focused, looking at his blue eyes. "I see how you work, kind of spontaneous but deadly. You immediately betrayed my relative after I offered you more money."

Suddenly you stopped and smirked, "That means you're not afraid or just don't give a shit. I need a fearless man who is also a lunatic at the same time."

"Besides, I'm worth more than 40 million dollars."

He felt shiver again, and now his heart was beating loudly. He doesn't understand why.

Lloyd's hands cover his face. "Stop, stop, I'm blushing because of your compliment."

"We could write this into our marriage vows."

You rolled your eyes. "By the way, is there any room that I could use? I want to rest."

Lloyd smirked, "Oh honey, I haven't decorated the bedroom for our wedding night."

You sighed heavily, your finger running through your hair."Lloyd, Right now, your wife is exhausted, 4 hours ago, I thought I would die. I have no energy to banter with your joke."

"Okay princess." Lloyd raised his hands; he knew it was time to stop teasing you. "My man will take you to your bedroom. By the way, my room is next to yours. If you feel lonely, just knock." He winked at you.

You rolled your eyes. "Ooh, and I want to have breakfast tomorrow. Black coffee and egg Benedict."

‘GASP!' Everyone inside the house was astonished at how brave you were giving orders to their boss.

"Don't tell me 1 billion is not enough to get me proper food?"

You shook your head.

Lloyd looked at you.

You didn't know the last time someone gave him an order, that person got thrown into the sea.

This is the first time a guest has ordered breakfast in his mansion. To be exact, a former hostage became an honorary guest in his house.

At the stairs, you look down at him. "Don't make me regret investing in you, Lloyd."

His jaw twitched, but he stared at your back without replying.

He never tries to prove himself. But to you, he has too. He doesn't want to disappoint you since you gave him so much money.

God, he loved a challenge.

He snapped his fingers to call the servants, "Tell our chef to give his best for tomorrow."

After you closed the door behind you, you finally took a breath.

Honestly, you didn’t plan to sleep, but after you find the answer to your problem, you feel somewhat relieved, and the fatigue you've been holding in for four years finally releases and drains your energy.

It’s a funny world; you feel safer sleeping in a house full of guns. Everyone here wears weapons like accessories.

*****

While you are resting on the second floor, everyone is working since Lloyd orders his IT team to start looking at your family.

It will take a while to get the info; while waiting, Lloyd took a cigarette to the terrace. He took a deep puff and exhaled smoke as he looked at the garden.

He thought he could finish this job easily. But now it’s more complicated.

‘BZZT’ The sudden vibrating phone woke Lloyd from his deep thoughts. He grins when he sees the caller.

"There's a new job for you." That British accent sounds annoyed, probably caused by Susan's nagging.

"Can't. I'm busy."

"I thought you'd done with the last mission."

"That one is done. This one is different."

"What is it?"

"I got married."

"...."

"You're… not… laughing. Are you serious? With who?"

"Y/N L/N."

Lloyd moved his ears away from the phone because Carmichael cursed too loudly.

"L/N? Don't tell me she's from the conglomerate family L/N & Co?"

"Yes."

"I heard she will be appointed as the leader next year. Lloyd, you lucky bastard."

"Thanks man. Hey, can you send all the files of the L/N family?"

"Sure. Consider this as a wedding gift from me."

That phone call was short but helpful. The best part is Carmichael didn't ask questions and was ready to help him.

In a few minutes, Lloyd received the files. It seems like the CIA has been sniffing around. Everything is here.

Your grandfather has eight kids, but after your father died, that left seven kids. 5 aunts and two uncles, that’s how many opponents you have to deal with.

The fight is different with your uncle and aunts because they don’t mind getting their hands dirty as long as they achieve their goals.

The files have dirt ready to use if the agency wants to blackmail your family. Your uncles embezzled the company money; there are also some cases of sexual harassment.

Your aunts do money laundry using their art gallery and boutique shops. Their husbands are politicians, it's obvious they received a bribed.

He got the info and everything he needed, and next, he opened your files.

Only your father chose to be low profile. He handles car manufacturers. He’s good at his job, and the car he designed improved. Your mother is just an ordinary housewife. Your family is quite normal than other relatives.

But the normal life is gone when your two uncles fail a mega project and humiliate the family business. It made your grandfather mad.

Your grandfather chose your father as the next successor, but before the official announcement, your parents died in a car accident.

It is still a mystery where the driver went missing.

There’s a big question mark on the files. A big chance the one who hired the assassins is in your family.

Your grandfather took you in, and you became a prodigy under his wings. Everyone knew you would be the next successor.

After high school, you decided to study abroad, not in an Ivy League university your grandfather told you to attend. This is the first time you disobey him.

He only participated in your graduation and asked you to get a master's at Harvard.

Lloyd chuckled about the fact you went to the same university “No shit, she's a fellow alumnus.”

This time you did what he asked. While getting a master, your work in the company as an intern. It was difficult, but you learned a lot.

The way you work in business also improved; your grandfather often asks your opinion to find solutions. The interaction between you both made others jealous.

There’s also a hospital record of a car and ski accident. All the evidence showed all the equipment was broken on purpose.

"Such a heartless family." Lloyd shook his head; after he dug deeper, he realized your family is more complicated than he thought. Money is more important than blood.

After finding out what happened, there’s an uneasy feeling knowing you’re alone right now.

Lloyd went into your room to check in; he knew this house security was top-notch, but it doesn’t hurt to check. He could talk to you until you fell asleep if you were still awake.

When he went in, he saw you sleeping peacefully.

You were wrapped in a white blanket like a burrito. He looked at you, defenseless like a bunny.

He leaned down a bit before sitting at the side of the bed; you didn’t even notice. You must be exhausted.

He can’t imagine if he were in your position—four years of running and hiding. Surviving without any military background is quite impressive.

Lloyd knew his job was to protect you and stay professional, but right now, he couldn't help feeling protective towards you; he wanted to get all your relatives to the basement and torture them to death.

“Don't worry, I won't let you get hurt. I swear in the name of 3 billion dollars." He whispered before leaving the room.

Usually, he doesn’t care if his client is satisfied with how he does his work. But with you, he wants to see you smiling and proud at his job.

*****

The next day,

The sun was beaming through her blinds, causing you to stir. It’s been a long time since you’ve awakened from a deep sleep. You felt refreshed.

“Rise and shine.”

Your body jumped; you didn’t realize someone else was in the room.

There he is, already in his best outfit. He dresses like he wants to go hunting. In contrast, you look like a mess. There’s nothing underneath the blanket since they didn’t provide you with any spare clothes.

You clenched your blanket when he walked towards you. His right knee rests on the bed while you move backward, but he moves faster. You flinched without realizing it.

As a woman, you know he has a beautiful body at first glance. Even his perfume smells nice. Too bad he’s a lunatic.

While you were lost in thoughts, he swept you with the blanket into his arms, cradled you to his chest, and carried you out of bed.

“Ah! What are you…?!”

Lloyd smirked; he found it amusing to see you caught off guard. “Didn’t you ask for breakfast?”

He carried you to the dining room and put you near his chair. In a few minutes, people appear, their hands carrying a food tray. They put down the food, and there it is.

You could smell good coffee in a glass, not instant coffee like you always made, and egg benedict. The food looks beautiful. You’ve always wanted to have an aesthetic breakfast.

You touch the coffee cup, enjoying the warmth in your hand. Lloyd thought you were scared. “There’s no poison in it.”

“I know.” You bring the cup to your lips” I remembered your vows.” You want to giggle, but you hide it by sipping the coffee.

Lloyd burst into laughter. It turned out you were awake. You keep surprising him. He felt like he had achieved something when he saw you enjoying breakfast.

Suddenly one of the servants knocked on the door. "Sir, they're here."

"Great, let them in."

After he gives permission, you see a group walking into the room. Each of them has a different style.

You have so many questions; Lloyd said, "You are my honor guest. And you deserve the best treatment. I got the best hair stylist, and fashion expert to treat you."

Lloyd smiled generously. "This is my first gift to you."

"After you're done, there will be another surprise waiting for you." He said before leaving.

After the makeover is done, you feel like you are being reborn. It’s been a long time since you got pampered like this. You got to admit he did a great job.

Before you go down the stairs, you see the silhouette you’ve wished to see.

“Jimmy.” You ran down to hug him.

“You're okay. I'm so glad.” Jimmy sighed, relieved; then he talked in his serious voice, "I know we're desperate but not this desperate to make a deal with him."

The moment he woke up, he punched one of the soldiers. No wonder why the car chasing is too much. It was Hansen Security who got hired. He heard about the company. They are famous as gruesome and heartless mercenaries. They will use every method to finish their job.

He was confused, and even though the soldier got hit, he wasn't mad. It turns out you made a deal with their boss. The money you offered was insane. But to you, money is not the issue.

"I care for you like my own kid. I don’t want you to get hurt."

You want to cry when he says that. You've known him since your grandfather was still alive. He's a man of loyalty, and you're grateful for that.

"This is why I made a deal with him. I don't want to lose you. Even though we're not related by blood. But to me you're family.”

Jimmy sighed again because you were right. There's nothing else you can do.

“Ehem, pardon me for interrupt. But boss wants to see you both.”

The soldier guides both of you to the room. He opened it with a passcode. When the door opened, you were awed by how many screens were inside and computers.

“Sir, the honored guest is here.”

Lloyd was looking at the screen when he turned around and became quiet when he saw you. The stylist he hired did a great job. You look different... in a good way.

He cleared his throat. “I want to show you something.”

You saw the screen behind him.

“Before we start planning to made your relative suffer, there’s another thing you should know.”

A picture of a news article and a photo of a wrecked car is shown.

“Car accident that happened 19 years ago."

Your body flinched when you saw the pictures. It's a taboo topic. Nobody around you will try to open the Pandora box.

But this man… just opens the source of your trauma.

Jimmy was ready to destroy the hardware if you asked him to. Because this is your nightmare.

On the other hand, Lloyd discovers new facial expressions from you. He likes looking at you as being weak. Lloyd wants to punish you a little bit. He still holds a grudge when you humiliated him last night.

"I found the missing driver.”

“They made it look like an accident. But I found the driver and the person who hired him."

"Who?!!" You've been looking for the answer but always found a dead end.

"The eldest child from your 3rd aunt's family."

Your cousin? That most spoiled person you've ever known?

You remembered another cousin making fun of him, saying he needed a nanny to wipe his ass until he was ten. He couldn't even pass every test unless his parents bribed the schools.

You heard he worked as a notary, but he was stupid. The land he handled for a mega project doesn't have a permit. While the investors had put their money. For sure, they sued him.

He came to your grandfather, begging and crying for help.

He was the last person you could ever think of.

"Your aunt and her husband get rid of all the traces."

Lloyd's words hit you like blows to the chest, and each of them made you lose breath. You always want to know the truth, but the pain is too much. You struggle to stand on your own feet.

"Yeah…, there's …no way…. he can work ….alone."

Lloyd noticed you start panting, your eyes not focusing anymore on the screen.

"What about…my other… family? Do they… know?"

"All of them are working together. "

"Urgh." The pain in your chest became unbearable. So their condolences at your parents' funeral are an act of pity? And your grandfather?

That's when you realized.

Oh, God.

Your grandfather knew the TRUTH. That's why he chose you as the successor to forgive his children.

Your vision becomes blurry, your legs wobble, and it feels like the floor is moving.

Lloyd moved fast when he noticed you couldn't stand on your feet. He caught you before you fell.

Your hand clenched his shirt to make him bend down. Your face and his were so close that you could feel his breath.

You saw his expression, he was not worried, but you could feel he was amused seeing your reaction. This bastard does this on purpose cause yesterday you embarrassed him.

There’s no way you would cry in front of this psycho.

"Forgot… what I said….last night. I want them…gone."

Lloyd smirked. His hand removed yours that was holding his shirt. He touched your knuckles and kissed them gently. "As you wish my dear wife."

A/N: What do you guys think about this chapter? If you have any ideas for part 3, please tell me. It will be helpful.

Don't be shy if you want to be tagged for part 3. 😄💕

This chapter is from Lloyd Hansen's Series - 3 Billion Divorce.

And check out my other stories from Masterlist.

Check out Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Extra Story

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blueicequeen19 · 8 months

Text

Charter Ch. 7

Warnings: drama, angst, public-ish fondling

The amount of rage I feel is otherworldly. After watching him dismiss Shoupe then John B and now me.. I’m ready to break something. I follow him back out front but halt my steps when I see him helping customers, like he didn’t just give me the best two orgasms of my life. But watching him lather on the charm for these two rich bitches seems to piss me off more. Especially as they soak it up and cast me shitty looks. I’m sure I look freshly fucked and I’d love nothing more than to rub it in their faces who’s cock was just inside me but I bite my tongue, busying myself with restocking.

“If you ever need help, let me know. I know good help is hard to find.” I hear one of the bitches say. I shoot her a look at the same time JJ glances at me. I know he’s trying not to laugh but fuck him too.

“I’ll keep you in mind when we’re hiring again.” JJ lathers on the charm and I could kill someone. I make my way out the front door and down the pier. I needed to clear my head. I’m half way down the dock before I stop, panting to catch my breath. He was in me like a sickness. Like a disease spreading throughout my body that would surely kill me. What had started as harmless fun had quickly turned into something else. I fucking missed him

“Y/N!” I startle at the sound of a familiar five years olds voice, followed by fast approaching footsteps. Summer barrels into me just as I turn around, engulfing me in a hug that could bring tears to my eyes.

“We came to see you and daddy!” Summer beams up at me just as Sarah and her daughter approach. I smile and she smiles back.

“She was insisting.” Sarah says, rubbing her daughters back.

“Come on, let’s go say high!” Summer leads me back towards the Charter until her and her cousin decide to race down the dock. Sarah shakes her head with a laugh, falling into step with me.

“John B told me what happened with Chelsea. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into the middle of that mess.” Sarah says, watching as the girls burst through the door to no doubt bombard JJ.

“Thank you. Definitely wasn’t expecting it.” I shrug, my eyes on the slats beneath our feet.

“Listen, JJ is difficult.” Sarah pulls me to a stop and I face her. “He didn’t come from a loving home. I’ve never even heard what happened with his mother but his father was an abusive addict who was gone more than he was here and when he was here, he was getting JJ to fix up his messes. JJ’s had a shit hand in life and then everything with Summer happened. Despite everything, she brought him back to life. She gave him purpose. But JJ has a tendency to push people away that get too close to their little bubble. He doesn’t want to risk Summer getting attached or hurt so if he’s pulling away, it’s because he’s scared.” I blink back at Sarah, my heart in my throat.

I don't know what to say so I only nod. We agreed in the beginning that this was only sex, no feelings. And so far I'd been wrapped up in baby momma drama and felt more feelings than I cared to admit. Sarah gives me a hug before following after the girls and into the shop. I can see JJ laughing as the two blonde headed girls talk adamantly to him. I was practically blinded by the twinkle in his eyes from how happy he was. Maybe I wanted him. But I didn't want to complicate his life either. I didn't want him to feel like he had to choose. So with a heavy heart, I hung my shop key on the hook next to the door, JJ's eyes immediately finding mine through the window. I turn away and make my way across the street to where I'm parked, refusing to let him see my tears.

It’s been three weeks. To say I miss him would be an understatement. But I refuse to acknowledge it. So I stay busy working at the bar and taking care of Bo. I entertain Jared when he comes in for drinks because I'm bored and need the tips. He begs me to take him back and I ignore him, moving to a different side of the bar. Part of me was afraid that Chelsea or her Goons would show up here but so far there's been nothing. My life had become boring and uneventful.

Part of me had expected some sort of reaction from JJ but I was also glad there hadn’t been one or else I’d have given in to him. Even if it made me sad. That’s why I stayed busy. I couldn’t miss him if I was too busy to breathe. It was the late nights when I was alone that emotion would choke me. I’d picture his grumpy attitude as he roughly bent me over the workbench. Or the spark in his eyes when I got mouthy as he thrusted into me. My stomach filled with butterflies and my pussy throbbed just thinking about him inside me again.

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?” I looked up at the sound of Jared’s shitty tone of voice, having been lost in my own head and going through the motions of making drinks.

“Jared, I’m working.” I signed, handing off three more beers to a couple of rowdy college guys. I could practically smell the fraternity on them.

“You’re always working. You never answer my texts or calls even now that you’re not with that asshole anymore.” Jared scoffed, downing his beer and sliding the empty bottle to me

“I wasn’t with him.” I muttered, uncapping another beer and giving it to him. I almost missed the way Jared tensed and his eyes narrowed.

“Right. You can fuck him all you want but you can’t be in a relationship with me. When did you become such a slut?” His words light me on fire. I could’ve hit him with an empty beer bottle but I resisted, gritting my teeth.

“The moment his big dick pushed inside me.” I spat before I could stop myself. Jared’s eyes flared and his hand on the bar balled into a fist.

“Fuck you, bitch. I’m done wasting my time.” Jared snatched his beer up and stalked off, shouldering other people out of the way.

“I need a break.” I muttered to my help, yanking my apron off and storming into the back. I let the back door slam behind me as I collapsed against the brick building. The bar rested on the pier, the back of the building facing the ocean so I watched as the son disappeared beneath the water and blanketed OBX in darkness.

“Ya know, if he hadn’t walked away from you when he did, you’d be throwing me out of this place.” I startled at the sound of JJ’s calm voice, whipping my head around to face him as he approached. My stomach immediately knotted with nerves and longing.

“What are you doing here?” I finally managed, my heart in my throat. JJ leaned against the building next to me, his bright blue eyes on my face like he was searching for something.

“I needed to see you.” He said it so matter of fact that all I could do was nod and turn away.

“It’s not just sex anymore.” JJ said smoothly, turning so he was leaned against the building and facing me.

“No.” I agreed, refusing to look into those eyes again.

Just being near him again made it hard to breathe. It had only been weeks but they’d been so long. I could smell the salt of the ocean on his skin, the weed on his clothes, the alcohol and mint on his breath, the shampoo in his hair. I blinked away tears as I shook my head again.

“I don’t think it ever was just sex with you.” JJ’s words radiate into my chest and I fight back a sob.

Suddenly his hand grabs the back of my neck and yanks me against him, his mouth finding mine in a bruising kiss I’m too weak to fight. A needy sound leaves me as I wind my arms around his neck and lift up on my toes to get as close as I can. His tongue finds mine as his hands tighten on my body, one on the back of my neck and the other on my back under my tank top.

JJ turns me so my back is against the brick again, his body pinning me in place as his tongue tastes the inside of my mouth. We make out like horny teenagers. Messy and full of tongue and teeth. I couldn’t stop. When he pops the buttons on my shorts and slides his hand into my panties, I nearly groan with relief.

“God, you’re so fucking wet.” JJ moans against my lips, his fingers massaging my slit. My knees felt weak and my legs trembled while he teased me.

“I missed this.” He applied pressure to my clit between kisses.

“I missed you.” Two fingers slid inside me and I gasped, gripping his shirt as he leaned over me to bury his face in my neck. I widened my legs as much as I could but the tight fit felt too good. Feeling him stretch me with two fingers and then three felt too good. His teeth graced my neck as I shamelessly rolled my hips to meet his hand, trying and failing to stifle my moans against his shoulder.

“Cum for me right now then take me home so I can fuck you as hard and fast as I want.” JJ practically growled in my ear, his free hand pinching my pierced nipple through my bra.

“Oh god!” I cried out, the orgasm washing over me like a tidal wave. My body shook uncontrollably and my legs nearly gave out as he worked me through it then didn’t stop. I suddenly heard footsteps off to my right and turned to see Jared there, looking like a deer in headlights before his gaze turned murderous. Why had he come back here? To find me? Hoping I was alone?

JJ turned his head too, looking right at Jared as his fingers worked harder, faster. I could feel the tension between them as JJ claimed me now like he did the day Jared came in the shop. JJ used his free hand to tuck his shirt over something, showing Jared the gun on his hip as he fingered me. I looked away from Jared’s rage and kissed JJ’s Adam’s apple. He swallowed and I bit him.

“One more then I’m going to fill this pussy with something else. Come on, baby. Cum all over my fucking hand.” I cried out again, throwing my head back against the brick as I came. It might’ve hurt if I wasn’t riding out the best high of my life.

My breathing was uneven and I could barely stand by the time he was done pumping his hand. I turned and thankfully found that Jared was gone. He probably would’ve charged JJ the moment he pulled his hand back out of my shorts and sucked them clean then kissed me again.

When I pulled back, I was breathless and exhausted. Yet I felt lighter than I had before. Like a weight had been lifted off. I smirked at the bite mark on his throat and he smirked back looking hungry as ever.

“When is your shift over?” JJ asked, pressing his pelvis against mine so I felt how hard he was.

“Anxious?” I tease, cupping him through his shorts. JJs eyelids fluttered and he pulsed in my hand.

“You think I won’t fuck you against this brick wall too?” JJ warned, leaning in to capture my mouth again. I wanted to give in. I wanted to feel him inside me more than anything else but we needed to talk. We had to have a conversation.

“J, we can’t just rush into this with sex. We have to talk.”

“Then let’s talk. Come over when you’re done. Bring Bo if you have too. Summer is with John B. I’ll make us dinner and we can talk. No sex until we do.” I could’ve melted at the determination in his voice. How much he wanted this.

“Deal.” I said, holding my hand out for him to shake. He took it.

“Deal. I’ll see you soon.”

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #obx2 #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #outer banks x reader #blueicequeen19 #outer banks fanfiction

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ladyescapism · 1 month

Text

Nothing - Azriel

summary: Azriel's mate will never see another Starfall.

a/n: Star Fall Week 2024! I was inspired by the third prompt from this post, but I wanted to change it to make it hurt more. I almost cried writing this so read at your own risk.

masterlist

warnings: terminal illness, death, suicidal thoughts

wc: 1,200

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She put her dress on. It was a struggle, as it was most days. Everything from getting dressed, to eating, to talking was getting harder and harder.

Azriel had taken her to every healer in Prythian. None of them had any treatment, just ways to keep her comfortable until the end.

Everyone knew she was sick, but no one but Az and Thesan knew the prognosis. She didn’t know what was worse, leaving this world or leaving Azriel.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

She turned towards the voice in the door. Azriel stood there, looking dashing as ever in his black suit, only two siphons glowing. He let the love dance in his eyes, an attempt to hide the sorrow also present.

She had asked him not to mourn her till she was dead. But that seemed to be an impossible task.

“Thank you, darling.”

He walked over and took her face in his hands. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Her hands found his torso, feeling the corded muscle and breath there. His warmth spread to her cold fingers even through his clothing.

She pulled away. “Ready to go?”

He silently scooped her into his arms and walked to the balcony. The flight was quiet. Neither of them wanted to speak, lest the truth ruin the evening.

This would be her last Starfall.

Madja had told them last month. The illness had spread too far. She would be gone before year’s end.

The River House was decorated with lights and paper stars that she and shown Nyx how to make last week. The ball room was already crowded with attendees from every court. She could see Helion laughing with Lucien by the drinks. She saw Kallias and Vivienne with their daughter talking to Thesan.

The latter looked over and met her eyes. He said something to the Winter royals and began walking to them.

“Cousin,” he greeted on arrival. “I did not know if you would find the strength to join us.”

“Starfall is my favorite holiday,” she responded. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Thesan embraced her tightly. He was not an emotional male, but she knew that he loved her dearly.

The rest of the Inner Circle descended upon them. Within a few moments, both her and Azriel had drinks in their hands and were looped in on all conversations.

She didn’t know how long had passed before Rhys tapped a fork to his glass signaling that he wanted to speak.

“I will not keep your attentions long. However, Feyre and I have decided to take this opportunity with everyone gathered to make an announcement.”

The Inner Circle already knew but didn’t dare spoil it for everyone else.

“Feyre is pregnant with our second child.”

Joy spread through the room. Before it was over, the blue and green light began to dance across to sky.

She took ahold of Azriel’s arm and pulled him in to dance. In years past, he spun her around the dance floor in graceful waltz’s and twirled her till she couldn’t walk straight. Tonight, however, they simple held onto each other and swayed to the beat as the rest of the party buzzed.

She only released him to her High Lady, who had declared that she would dance with everyone on her Inner Circle that night.

She found her way onto a patio, hoping to get a moment alone.

Nesta found her a moment later.

They shared a glance. Their skirts brushed together when Nesta came to stand by her side.

“Are you having a good time,” she asked.

Nesta just looked at her, maintaining a stare that only she could. She just looked back, never balking from her greatest friend.

“You’re not getting better, are you,” she finally asked.

She couldn’t think of anything to say. Should she lie and protect Nesta’s peace for a long as she could? Or tell her the truth and let her friend live in worry and fear for the next few months.

“Don’t even try lying to me.”

Well then.

“No, I’m not getting better.”

Nesta was silent.

“How long?”

“How long have we known or how long do I have?”

Pain and shock radiated across Nesta’s face. “What,” she croaked out.

Tears finally fell from her eyes as she looked at her friend.

“Everything,” Nesta demanded. “Tell me everything.”

“There isn’t much to tell. There is nothing anyone can do.”

“No,” Nesta started.

“Nesta,” she interrupted. “This is not the time or the place. I will tell you more tomorrow.”

“No, tell me now.”

Her temper flared. “I do not want to spend my last Starfall arguing with you and explaining all the horribleness that is to come. Let’s just get inside and dance and drink and have fun, okay.”

When she turned back to the ballroom, her heart broke.

There it was. The perfect scene. Feyre was holding her son and she swayed to the music. Her mate was standing with his brothers, enjoying the sight, too. Morrigan was dancing her heart out. Amern was with Varian and Lucien was with Elaine and Thesan was with his lover. Everyone was smiling or laughing.

Everyone would be fine without her.

A sob racked through her chest before she could stop it. Nesta grabbed her arms as she fell to the floor and held her head to her chest.

“I don’t want to go,” she cried.

Thankfully, the door kept her crying unheard, but Azriel came to find her as soon as he felt her distress down the bond. Nesta slid her over to her mate and left them be.

“I don’t want to go, Az.”

“I know,” he soothed.

“I wanted more. I wanted more life with you.”

Azriel didn’t know what to say.

She had wanted to die a warrior’s death when she was young and had no one to live for. After Azriel, she wanted to grow old with him. She wanted children and grandchildren and to simply live more than she had.

She has asked Azriel not to mourn her till she died. She never considered that she would mourn herself and the life she never got to have.

Azriel took her home and put her to bed. There was no bargaining with the illness or with the Mother. She knew that and so did Azriel.

Solstice Night

They decided to not set a place for her. They all knew that there was a hole where she used to be, they didn’t need a spot next to a mourning mate to punctuate it.

They still talked and laughed and joked as they did before. Azriel still hadn’t managed a smile since her death. Joy seemed so foreign that he wouldn’t recognize its face, let alone invite it in.

Feyre had her second babe, another boy. He was new and perfect. Azriel had not held him yet. He could imagine infecting such purity with his agony.

Somehow, he found himself at the table with food on his plate. He ate the food before him, not caring what it was, just that it would get him through this night.

He didn’t feel anymore. There was the sadness. There was the anger. There was the longing. That ad all been delt with.

Cassian had held him as he cried for the first time in centuries. Rhys had let him punch and kick and scream his anger out. And he had made it thought the night where the longed to join her wherever she went.

He was now an empty male. He had no mate, no love, and no light.

Where she was, there was nothing. And that nothing would be where would spend the rest of his days.

tag list:

@feysandzoyalailover @fanfictioniseverything @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @singhillada @marina468 @acourtofbooksandshadows @kristeristerin @xcastawayherosx

#acotar #acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #star fall week 2024

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blitheringmcgonagall · 7 months

Text

Someone was asking me did I think Sirius was cunning or had lots of Slytherin traits.

I don’t think so at all.

The Slytherin traits are essentially:

Cunning - this is not the same as intelligence or cleverness. It’s the quality of being astute or sharp in practical matters; the ability to find and pursue the most advantageous course of action, sometimes at the cost of moral compromise. Canny, crafty, weighing up the possibility and deciding based on what’s going to be in your best interests. Someone who is cunning has the ability to achieve things in a clever way, often by deceiving other people. When was Sirius like this? I’ll tell you who is cunning and shrewd, it’s Albus Dumbledore.

Ambition where in canon was Sirius ambitious? If he was he’d have pretended he was a good, obedient son and not run away and gotten blasted off the family tree. He might have stayed on and lied to them all, then if he was also cunning he might have brought Voldy down from the inside. Sirius like this? Nope!

Resourcefulness he’s pretty resourceful fair enough

Pride where in canon is he proud? Pride is a feeling that you respect yourself and deserve to be respected by other people; Pride can also have a negative meaning and refer to exceedingly high self-regard. Sirius is shown as racked with guilt about making Peter secret keeper, doesn’t believe Harry will want to live with him when he offers, didn’t try to leave Azkaban for 12 years because he believed he deserved to be punished for being responsible for the Potters’ deaths. He’s kind and thoughtful to Harry and his friends and to animals. He can be cutting towards others that he dislikes but that’s not pride. He’s rude to Kreacher but it’s not because he thinks he’s superior to house elves but because Kreacher hated Sirius and adored his mother and brother.

Self-preservation Sirius scores -10 points!

Shrewdness as above, not a talent of his

The Gryffindor traits are:

Daring To be daring is to be bold, adventurous - a quality possessed by people who tend to take risks. The fellow who became an animagus as a teenager and risked Azkaban every full moon to run wild with his pack. The guy who joined the Order at 18 to risk his life fighting against the bad guys. “What’s life without a little risk?” Now you’re talking!

Nerve Some common synonyms of nerve are audacity, cheek, chutzpah, effrontery, gall, hardihood, and temerity. While all these words mean "conspicuous or flagrant boldness”. The fella who got millions of detentions with his best mate, who loved breaking rules, who nearly got arrested by muggle policemen for his antics, while wearing a stupid, brazen phoenix t-shirt, who converted a muggle motorbike into a flying machine? The guy who taunted his psychopathic Death Eater cousin? Who told Snape about the Whomping Willow… Ah, yep, that’s him!

Chivalry - polite, kind, and unselfish behaviour, especially by men towards women. As noted above, he’s very much like this to Harry and the other children. He tells Hermione she’s the brightest witch of her age. He buys Ron a present of an owl. He’s caring of Buckbeak, he’s great pals with Crookshanks. He risks the dementors’ kiss to buy Harry his Firebolt and watch him play Quidditch and help him fight Dementors. He was polite to Molly despite the fact she told him he wasn’t there for Harry growing up (when he was innocently imprisoned in Azkaban!!) which was very upsetting.

Courage - courage is taking action in spite of the fear you feel. Standing up to his family, fighting against Voldemort in the first Wix war despite being outnumbered 20:1, fighting in the second Wix war to try to protect and save Harry etc etc

Sirius: "What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard that ever existed? Only innocent lives, Peter!"

Peter Pettigrew: "You don't understand! He would have killed me, Sirius!"

Sirius: "THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Bravery the quality or state of having or showing mental or moral strength to face danger, fear, or difficulty. It wasn’t just the above, it was also agreeing to live in Grimmauld Place so he could let the Order use the safety of the house, despite the painful memories of a bad childhood and the death of his brother, despite sounding depressed/PTSD/drinking heavily during that part of the book. Resisting Snape goading him for sitting in the house and doing nothing.

“I don't like being back here...I never thought I'd be stuck in this house again.”

😭😭😭

Determination managing to become the first prisoner to escape from Azkaban etc

#Sirius is all gryffindor sorry #he’s really not a slytherin at all #other people have slytherin qualities like Snape Reggie and Slughorn #he doesn’t #neither does James #marauders era #Sirius Black #sirius deserved better

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magicfootballstuff · 1 year

Text

Blind Date (claudia pina x reader)

Summary: In which you find yourself a reluctant victim of Alexia's matchmaking services. And maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.

———

Your leg bounces up and down beneath the table as you wait for your date to arrive. You don’t know anything about her except that her name is Claudia. Though Alexia has promised that you’re going to get along, you can’t calm your racing heart while you wait.

It’s not even that this is a blind date that makes you nervous, but this is pretty much your first proper date full stop since coming out. Sure, you’ve had a couple of disastrous attempts at trying to talk to girls on dating apps, but Alexia is certain that she’s found “the one” for you and after weeks of her begging you to give this mystery girl a chance, you eventually caved and agreed to the date.

You really doubt that your first ever date with a girl will end up being “the one”, but you’ve got to get off the mark at some point and in the worst case scenario, you’ll be one terrible date closer to finding the actual woman you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with.

You glance up and see a girl being directed to your table by a waitress and know without even needing to ask that this is your date because you recognise her. You’re not a total diehard football fan but you’ve been to watch Alexia play enough times to know that the person walking towards you right now is Claudia Pina.

Of course Alexia would set you up on a blind date with a footballer. And not just any footballer, but one of her own teammates.

“Hi,” you say, pushing back your chair so you can get to your feet and greet her with a hug. “Claudia, right?”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Claudia says.

As you take your seats, you fall into silence. Your mind goes blank, completely forgetting how to start a conversation. Though you were nervous before the date, you hadn’t anticipated exactly how awkward it would be to have dinner with somebody you know nothing about, and you curse Alexia for pushing you into this.

“So, um,” you stammer, “you play football with Alexia?”

Claudia looks up from the menu in her hands and you find yourself caught in the piercing gaze of her blue eyes.

“Yeah,” Claudia answers with a nod. “She’s always been like a big sister to me but as I’m getting older she’s started getting invested in my love life. Or lack of it.”

Claudia gives you a wry smile that immediately makes you feel more at ease.

“Don’t worry, there’s no expectation tonight,” Claudia continues. “I agreed to this date mostly to get Alexia off my back. If we have fun that’s a nice bonus.”

You relax slightly knowing that Claudia feels the same about this date.

“Ever since I came out to my cousin she’s been desperate to set me up with someone,” you explain.

“Your cousin?” Claudia frowns at you in confusion.

“Yeah, Alexia.”

Claudia’s eyes widen suddenly.

“Alexia is your cousin?”

“She really didn’t tell you anything about me, did she?” you ask, laughing in amusement.

You probably should have expected this - Alexia told you next to nothing about Claudia either, maybe knowing that you’d be more determined in your protests if you knew she was setting you up with one of her teammates. You wonder if Claudia would have felt the same way if she knew her date tonight was actually related to Alexia.

“No,” Claudia admits, shaking her head. “All she said is that you were nice and not a murderer. Which, of course, made it sound like you might be a murderer.”

Claudia’s blue eyes twinkle as she gives you a look as if asking you to confirm or deny the theory.

“Don’t worry, the only person at risk of getting murdered is Alexia,” you grin.

“What did she tell you about me?” Claudia asks.

“Not much. That she had a friend she thought I’d get on with. She said you were funny.”

“Shit,” Claudia groans. “I think she might have already oversold me to you.”

“Well she didn’t tell me you were this pretty,” you say, feeling a surge of bravery - this is supposed to be a date, after all.

Claudia smiles at the compliment and counters, “And she didn’t tell me what a charmer you are.”

You smile to yourself. There’s plenty of time for this to go wrong, but Claudia’s warm personality and the immediate chemistry between you has already started to settle your early nerves.

———

You don’t know exactly what Alexia’s logic was behind setting you two up on a date, but what you thought was probably going to end up being an awkward dinner between two random single people that Alexia knows, ends up being a really good date. It turns out you have more to bond over than just your resentment towards Alexia for pushing you into this, and the conversation flows effortlessly as you eat.

Alexia was right, Claudia is funny, but you also get glimpses at other things that you really like about her - her passion, her goofiness, her kind heart.

The restaurant isn’t far from the sea and once you’ve eaten dinner and agreed to split the bill between you, you decide to go for a walk along the seafront promenade that looks out over the beach. You’ve just missed the sunset, but the shades of orange and pink still spill out across the sky as night continues to fall.

“You know, this is actually my first date with a girl,” you admit to Claudia, as you walk side by side along the beachfront.

“Really?” Claudia asks. She laughs, then says, “I don’t know if that’s good or bad for me.”

You’re having a good time, the conversation is easy, and the awkwardness has long since faded away. You’re having fun and you’re not afraid of letting Claudia know that.

“You’re setting the bar quite high.”

“My first date with a girl was a disaster,” Claudia tells you. “I was so nervous that I knocked over not one but two drinks. Then at the end, I went in for a kiss and she pushed me away. Turns out she had a boyfriend and had no idea I thought it was a date.”

You can’t help but laugh at Claudia’s misfortune.

“No way.”

“Yeah,” Claudia nods. “I only found that out after I’d paid for everything. Talk about humiliating. I didn’t go on another date for months.”

“No wonder Alexia’s having to set you up if you’re that bad at reading signals.”

“Watch it,” Claudia warns you. “I’m still a bit traumatised by it all.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m really enjoying myself tonight. Way more than I thought I would. Sure, I’m a little disappointed you haven’t spilled a drink on me yet, but apart from that I’m having a lot of fun with you.”

“Fuck,” Claudia says, stopping in her tracks.

You stop walking too and turn to look at her.

“What?” you ask.

“I really want to take you on a second date,” Claudia admits with a grimace.

“Is that … is that a bad thing?” you ask cautiously.

“It’s a terrible thing,” Claudia explains. “Do you know how insufferable Alexia will be if she finds out her matchmaking has been a success?”

With Claudia’s words, you can already imagine Alexia’s glee. She’s right - facing Alexia will be torture.

“Bold of you to assume I’d say yes to a second date,” you can’t resist teasing Claudia. “I mean, I’d be up for it, but I don’t think my boyfriend would be too happy…”

Claudia smacks your shoulder.

“You’re as annoying as your cousin,” she says, before she adds with a smirk. “Better looking though.”

She starts walking again and you fall into step beside her, your heart doing a little flip when she reaches for your hand and tangles your fingers together.

“If you keep saying stuff like that I’m going to want to kiss you,” you tell her.

“Stuff like what, that you’re annoying?” she asks, turning her head and arching an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, just like that.”

“You’re annoying,” Claudia grins at you.

It’s probably as clear an invitation as you’re going to get. You stop walking again and step closer, waiting for some kind of signal from Claudia that she doesn’t want this, but her eyes drop to your lips and you know she does. One of your hands goes to her waist, barely grazing her jacket as you let your eyes flutter shut and dip your head to kiss her.

Claudia responds straight away, much more confident than you in the way her hands seek out your hips to hold you close as her lips brush against yours. It feels so right, the connection you’ve made with Claudia over dinner translating immediately into physical chemistry too.

You can hardly believe this is actually happening. You started tonight expecting the worst but here you are, on your first proper date with a girl as she kisses you against the backdrop of ocean waves and orange skies. It’s not your first kiss with a girl but it might as well be, for how right it feels compared to the ones that have come before.

After a minute that feels like forever you pull back, though only just far enough that you can look her in the eyes.

“So, is a second date still on the cards?” you dare to ask.

“Kiss me like that and you can have whatever you want.”

You don’t know if that’s an invitation to kiss Claudia again, but her lips are so addictive that you lean in for another kiss anyway, more confident the second time around as your hand slips beneath her jacket to hold her waist.

When you eventually break apart, you smile at how pretty she is in the evening light, and wonder if the slightly dazed expression on her face is mirrored on your own.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For the kiss?”

“For a great first ever date,” you clarify.

“And the kiss though, right?” Claudia grins at you.

You slap Claudia’s arm lightly, then let your fingers trail down the soft skin of her inner forearm until you can hold her hand again, and you resume your walk along the beachfront.

“The kiss was nice too,” you hum in agreement. “Look, if Alexia asks how tonight went…”

“We had a good time but we’re just friends?” Claudia suggests, arching an eyebrow at you.

Even after one date this feels like the start of something really special. Alexia may be able to claim credit for introducing you to each other, but you want the chance to get to know Claudia without your cousin’s meddling, and if you tell her tonight has been a success then you know Alexia will continue to interfere.

You smile across at Claudia and squeeze her fingers as you say, “It’s like you’re reading my mind.”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #claudia pina x reader #claudia pina imagine

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