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myouicieloz · 6 months

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Irene and you have been together for the past couple months, but have only gone as far as making out. But, this time is different and you tell her that you’re ready to go all the way, which leads to your first time together.(smut)

Show me how

Bae Joohyun x reader

Warnings: smut, nsfw

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: sorry for the wait!!! i wanted this to be sweet and cozy, almost like a hug from someone dear yk? i hope it is to your liking <3

Dating Irene was like a summer breeze: it was easy, fresh, and cozy, just like feeling the sun on your skin, after spending too much time locked up at home. Unlike your past relationships, you felt completely comfortable talking to her about anything. You were always on the same page, and you couldn’t help but fall in love with her more and more each day as you observed her kind, caring and cheerful nature.

Even though you have dated people before, you’ve never gone too far beyond just a few kisses or touches, simply too insecure and scared to be that exposed in front of others. Besides, you’d never actually trusted any of your past partners, either. They were clearly only using you for your body and your fame— trying to prove a point by attempting to ruin the shy, reserved girl from the group. As much as you knew that was how most of them saw you: merely a prize, waiting to be conquered, you couldn’t help but to feel used and lost, wondering if the problem wasn’t, in fact, yourself.

Which was the reason you were so insecure about evolving things with Joohyun, ever since you’ve started dating.

Truth be told, most of your hesitancy came as a way of protecting yourself. Being thrown into the industry by your parents so young— first as a child model, then as a trainee, and even now, as a senior idol— has pushed a lingering feeling of being constantly displayed to others on your skin, since that’s how you’ve always felt: exposed to tabloids and cameras in every way dimmed possible, from such a young age. Your whole life, ever since childhood, has always been rushed. Not once did you remember not being pushed to do things or act more mature than your age. In response to that, building up rough boundaries and ensuring your own peace and quietude were the first things you did, as soon as you managed to obtain full control of your life and your actions. You so desperately needed it; you’d accept nothing to be rushed, at least not anymore.

Which was why Irene and you were so perfectly matched. You felt it from the first time you were introduced to each other, through Joy.

You’d been talking nonchalantly in the girl’s parents’ cafe when Irene barged in, making you immediately drawn to her— as were everyone else at the establishment. She simply had such an angelical aura: like an untouched piece of marble, beautiful to look at, and too exquisite to touch.

“I think you’d get along well. You both seem like you need some company, you know.” Joy’s words made you both laugh awkwardly, at the time. Yet, she was right, in the end. Both of you had been alone for many years, longing for something that just seemed impossible to find in the current days. At least, not with such a technological world and people’s routine being so energetic, frantic, and intense.

After your first encounter, mediated by Sooyoung, you started seeing each other frequently. You enjoyed talking about art, and she’d even agreed to join you in your latest hobby: ceramics. The two of you spent hours together, getting messy with clay, laughing, going on coffee dates and walks in parks that were full of green— your favorite color, she quickly learned. It was easy to be in Irene’s presence, and, for you, it was even easier to fall in love with her.

You shared sweet kisses by moonlight, stayed up until late watching the stars, and for the first time in so long, life felt right to you; like it wasn’t made of demands or expectations that left a bitter feeling in your guts.

For once, you felt as bright and happy as a butterfly, in a garden full of flowers. With Irene, life had a meaning, a purpose.

She’s also been nothing but respectful to you in all those months you’ve been dating, too. Not even once had she pressed you about sex, always making sure you were comfortable with everything and ensuring you two talked out your issues and boundaries. You got to know each other deeply before your bodies interlocked, and that was something you’ve never had with your previous relationships. You loved Joohyun for who she was: the kind, attentive, caring leader and friend with so many deep interests and hobbies. You could spend the rest of your days with her and still feel like there were so many parts of her to unravel. She was indeed pure art, an untouched angel.

And, while it had been crucial for you to take things slow, you now realized you truly felt ready to take a further step into your relationship. She was patient, calm, and you felt ready. As you stare at Irene, chatting ever so sweetly with her bandmates, your chest fills with warmth, knowing much you absolutely adored being hers and how lucky you were to have her to yourself. You trusted your girlfriend more than anything in the world, and you desired her so, so much— in every way dimmed possible.

With that, couldn’t help but to gawk at her body as she walked towards the bar built in Yeri’s garden, the wooden structure put up to celebrate the maknae’s birthday. It was a simple and reserved celebration, yet your eyes were practically undressing your girlfriend right in the middle of the garden, for everyone to see.

You wanted her badly, like you’ve never wanted anything else in your life. And it’s not like you needed anything else, either. Not when you had her, making you feel so safe and secure. So right in a world full of wrongs.

Irene must’ve noticed the frown on your face— as you’ve always been pretty expressive— because she approached you quickly, placing her free hand on your waist in a delicate motion, “Hey, is everything ok?”

You take the drink she’s been holding in your hands and take a sip, nodding, “It’s all good. I’d like to go home, though. Do you think Yeri would be sad about it?”

You watch your girlfriend’s brows furrow, scanning your body in search of any signs of discomfort. When she doesn’t find any, her expression turns even more confused.

“I mean, we’ve just sang her happy birthday, and the girls wanted to—” You cut her by brushing her long, thick hair off her shoulders, fingers hovering her elbows as you bite your cheek to suppress a smile, once you feel her shiver. You’ve never touched her like this, specially in a semi-public space. Sure, you’ve fooled around many times, but you’ve never presented yourself with such assertiveness, such hunger.

Irene gulps. She feels her self-control escaping her body when your mouth brushes hers, mint breath caressing her skin. Yet, your sultry lips never found her mouth, and Joohyun finds herself opening her eyes— never even realizing when she closed them.

“Home, please?” You ask again, making a show of sipping on her drink. Irene’s gaze follows your mouth— all of her focus on the way you suck on the straw: so eagerly… much inappropriate for the scenery.

Safe to say, you find yourself humming happily in your girlfriend’s car not even five minutes later, as Irene eyes you suspiciously from the driver’s seat.

Despite nearly dying of curiosity, Irene doesn’t utter a word until you’ve arrived at your massive house, eyes still narrowed at your direction as if she expects you to regret your decision and tell her to go back to Yeri’s place immediately. She’s absolutely conscious of the anticipation working its way on her skin; it heats her to the core, and soon enough, it becomes impossible for her to stay put. Just the thought of having you, being the one who has the privilege to touch you, unravel you, make your eyes roll in pleasure… It’s enough for her panties to dampen and her hands close into fists, preventing herself from grabbing you by the hips and fucking you.

She licks her lips, staring at you through her lashes, still expecting. You’re the one in charge; with one word, your girlfriend will grant you all of your darkest, dirtiest wishes. The only thing you have to do is ask. Say it, even, and it’s yours.

You know it as much, as you interlock your fingers with hers and take your time going up the stairs, through the hallways as you kiss Irene without rush, ravishing her taste and her sweet, plumpy lips.

“I want you, Joohyun.” You breathe, guiding your girlfriend onto the mattress as you take your time untying your dress, letting it fall down your shoulders at its own pace. Even though you find yourself bare in front of her, you don’t feel threatened in the slightest. “Want you to make me feel good.”

If anything, you can only feel safe, respected, and loved. Feelings you’ve spent so long searching for. Far too long.

She extends her hand to you, holding you with such tenderness it nearly makes you melt on the spot. Soon, you find yourself under her, being smothered with kisses that trail down your chin to your neck and chest. However, Irene’s warm mouth stops just before touching you— to grant you plenty of time to process it all through, most certainly.

In fact, the words that brush past her lips reassure you of that, as she looks up, tone bearing a hint of hesitance. As much as she was nearly jointing from need, she wanted you to be completely clear of your wishes, “Are you really sure?”

You nod. “The most I’ve been in my entire life.” You murmur, scratching her scalp. Your touch is both reassuring and demanding, bringing her closer to your skin.

You let out a loud moan once her mouth is finally on you, and God was it worth the wait. Her saliva-soaked kisses leave a trail down your abdomen until every inch of skin is hers, and she’s reached your thighs. Her eyes are dark and don’t leave your piercing gaze, either, as she lowers herself until she’s reached your core.

You can tell she’s studying you: taking note of every touch, every kiss that has you gasping and stuttering. Irene takes delight in testing your preferences, attuning herself to what pleasures you the most. Ravishing herself with your body’s reactions, like the attentive woman she is.

“You are too beautiful, my love” She praises, grabbing both of your legs as she opens them, now presenting you completely exposed to her. You try to close them, involuntarily, but Irene shushes you, pecking the inner skin until you’ve relaxed enough for her to start teasing, once again. It’s only then that she bites, and even though her teeth barely sink in, it’s enough for you to jerk your body forward, a surprised gasp evading your lips.

It makes her laugh, adding another memory to her mind. “You’re sensitive, pretty girl.”

It’s the way she hums that provokes such sensations out of your body, you decide. The precise pressure her lithe fingers apply to your waist, the way she palms your breasts, twisting and pinching your nipples until they’re red enough to her liking— each time a little harder, to entice a louder moan. She’s playing with you as she wishes; as she’s always dreamed of, and it’s driving you absolutely crazy. You’re drenched, and Irene hasn’t even touched you properly.

She gathers your wetness with two of her fingers, going up and down on your slit until she’s gathered enough coat that she finds them sticky, noticeably wet. Only when she’s deemed enough, her fingers leave your sex and find their way onto her mouth, sucking without any rush. Your own throat starts to water as she does so, her eagerness dense enough to make you divert your gaze, feeling your face heatening up. You don’t keep your looks averted for long, since those same fingers gently tap your lips, gagging you as far as they can without making you choke.

“I’ll take care of you, Y/n.” She whispers, with her thumb caressing your mouth, encouraging you to continue. Which you do, with your eyes never leaving her hungry gaze.

Once she decides you’ve done your job of cleaning well enough, Irene’s attention returns to your pussy, as she lowers herself once again to your core.

“Do you want me here?” She blows on your cunt, smiling against your skin as she hears your loud whines. She does not pity you at all though, placing a languid, slurpy kiss on your pussy before moaning, too. This was heaven, for both of you, “Or perhaps here?”

You were sure you were mumbling too many incoherences, now. Not that you cared, anyway. You couldn’t, not with the way her nails were scratching your skin so gently, or her own wet, loud grunts that reverberated onto your pussy and made you see stars, not a single thought going through your mind. All you could think of was how desperately you needed to cum, how ardently you wish Irene’s mouth never leaves your skin.

You feel her hot breath fade from between your thighs. Thankfully, her fingers find their way to your dripping cunt before you even manage to whine, the mix of sensations making you press yourself onto her hand, so she’d reach further. You loved her so much. You needed more.

“S-so good.” You murmur, lost in pleasure. As soon as you close your eyes, dropping your head back to deepen your sensations, Irene places kisses onto your abdomen, now going all the way up until your lips interlock in a slow, deep kiss.

“Don’t close your eyes, my love.” She whispers, with her fingers still working onto building up on your pleasure. She squeezes one of your breasts as she says so, enticing another particularly loud moan from you—just as she intended to. Your sounds were the most heavenly melodies to her, and Irene simply couldn’t believe she’s spent a lifetime without hearing them. “Look at me when I fuck you. Fuck- you’re so tight, dearest.”

The low pitch in her voice makes you clench, humming as you keep your eyes on her.

Irene’s fingers are knuckles deep inside you, her rhythm intensifying as she nearly retreats them fully from your cunt to ram on you again. Your back arches, and she licks her lips, drinking from your reactions. It’s nearly unbearable, to have such focus on yourself; her sole attention, adoring and memorizing every inch of your body in her mind. Her gaze, so hungry yet compose, her light kisses on your burning skin, and her thumb brushing your clit without paying much attention to it—it all works you up to a hard, shaking orgasm. You can feel the waves of pleasure building up in your cunt, yet you can’t seem to muster the right words to tell Irene just that. It’s all glossy and unfocused, not even enough air to calm you down from the orgasm you can sense that is so soon.

“D-don’t stop, please. Oh my fucking— don’t stop, ’so close,” You manage to utter, gripping your girlfriend’s hair ever so desperately.

She does feel you, though. Before you even say it. Irene can tell, from the way your pussy clenches, tightening around her hold. “Come, princess. For me.”

The permission was all you needed to reach your high, and you nearly get overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you feel. It escalates to your whole body until you find yourself as a trembling mess, chest moving frantically to adjust your fast breathing. You let out an even louder whine as Irene’s mouth is on you again.

“Shh, take it easy. I’m just cleaning you up, love.” She tells you, once you try to move her head from her cunt. And, even though her words add a bit of a scold, there’s a hint of a smirk on her face, as she adds. “Don’t whine. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I left you so messy like that?”

Now that you’ve come down from your high, Irene’s words make you blush. She didn’t have time to make a joke or give you a reassuring tug, as she usually would, though. Her focus is on your sex, as she pays long, sloppy licks to it. Her nose brushes your clit— the post-orgasm sensitiveness making the sensation twice as hard, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning and begging.

“J-joohyun…” You try to get her attention, after what it feels like a lifetime. You can feel the pleasure starting to build up again, and your girlfriend is clearly dozed out, vigorously enamored with your cunt as she eats you out for her pleasure. With one last harsh suck on your clit, Irene abides to your wishes, her face now in front of yours.

You take a minute to brush her delicate features, before speaking anything. Her defined jaw, her long lashes, her lustrous eyes. You adore her; she truly makes you feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

“Perfect.” She murmurs, breaking the gap between you as her lips kiss you with gentleness. Her words make you smile onto the kiss, caressing her neck as you bring her even closer. “My love.”

“I could say the same of you.” You divert your eyes to the covers, insecure about your following words. Breathing deeply, you continue, “Thank you for this. And for not rushing me, even after so many months. I loved it, and I love to be with you.”

As you stare at Irene’s big, chocolate eyes, you find nothing but the purest form of love. There’s no possible way to not feel comfortable under such embrace.

“I’d wait many more. Years, even, if it means having you by my side. I’m in love with you, Y/n. Not just for sex, not for your body.” She clarifies, hiding her face on your neck as she always does, when you find yourselves tangled in a messy embrace. “I love you for who you are. Your qualities, your flaws, your passions… And I’m very thankful to feel loved in so many ways by you, too.”

You frown, playfully poking her ribs. “Are you saying I’m flawed?”

Irene rolls her eyes, silencing you with a kiss.

“Shut up, you idiot.”

And soon you’re making out again, with the promise of a long, long night. You feel respected, safe, and secured. As you run your fingers through your girlfriend’s small waist, you immediately know: there’s no place elsewhere you’d rather be.

#red velvet x reader #red velvet imagines #red velvet smut #irene smut #red velvet irene #bae joohyun #irene x reader #bae joohyun x reader #sol writes

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throneofsapphics · 5 months

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old faces, part two

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, death, and grief

Word Count: ~6.4k

A/N: I'm hesitant about this one, but I’m going to throw it out here anyway. feedback is more than welcome :) thank you to everyone who gave me the idea for this! the next two parts will be coming soon!

series masterlist

Rowan counted the whirls in the ceiling, the delicate and detailed decorations of their assigned suite in the palace. A window propped open, letting a dry summer breeze in. Aelin’s taste for luxury couldn’t compare to here. A few centuries of relative peace could accomplish that. She squealed in delight at the sunken bathing pool, filled with aromatic oils, candles lighting the edges, a window showing greenery beyond. Rose petals. There were gods-damned rose petals floating on top.

Despite his best efforts, his mind drifted to you and his daughter, Ceri. He fought the ugly resentment at your secret. Your actions were justified, but If he hadn’t caught sight of you, he could’ve lived the rest of his immortal life with no idea he had a child out there. Rowan ruminated on the fear that he’d somehow failed both of you - although realistically he knew there was nothing he could’ve done. He debated how he’d make up for lost time, how to convince you to move closer, how to gain his daughter’s trust.

“What’s on your mind?” Aelin asked, turning over to prop herself up on her forearm.

“Ceri,” the words came easily, but he hesitated to say you were on his mind as well. Aelin hadn’t given him any indication she was jealous, or that this would pose a problem, but it was foreign territory for both of them.

“They should both come to Terrasen,” Aelin murmured, catching his attention. Rowan’s head snapped, eyes widened. That’s … not what he expected her to say. Maybe that Ceri should come, at least for a few months a year, but certainly not his former … lover. His wife’s lips were curled into a smile, “I enjoy her company.”

He raised his brows. Considering how she’d treated Remelle, “She’s nothing like her,” Aelin scoffed, reading the words in his eyes.

It could be merely that Aelin enjoys her company - or that she wants to keep an eye on her. As usual, he wouldn’t know until Aelin decides to tell him.

‘In another world, I could’ve built a life with her,’ the thoughts of his past echoed. It was another world now, a better world. Building a life with you didn’t mean romantic, but a life where he could co-parent his child, where he could keep both of you safe and happy. It might be a better world, but there were still threats. Still people who would take the two of you, if only to have leverage over him and Aelin. A fist clenched in his chest, pressure building, squeezing, suffocating him - if anything happened to the two of you -

“We’ll keep them safe,” Aelin shifted and ran her hand up and down his arm.

‘We can figure it out tomorrow,’ Rowan had said. Tomorrow came in the form of a ghost from your past.

“It wasn’t wise for them to come again,” the blonde-haired emissary explained. Now bloodsworn to the Queen of Terrasen. Aelin, she insisted you call her.

You recognized Fenrys instantly. The two of you used to frequent enough of the same taverns and circles to know each other by name. The same recognition had flashed in his eyes, mouth turning up at one corner as he greeted you.

You blinked, dragging yourself back into the present. “So they sent you as a messenger?”

He snorted, “something like that,” and paused, onyx eyes assessing you as you fought the urge to squirm in your seat.

“And the message?”

“They want you to consider … relocating, for your safety. For both of you.”

His eyes flicked to the glass door, where your daughter played in the small garden beyond. There had already been murmurs, more inquiries about your daughter, more curious gazes.

“I’ve considered moving to Eyllwe.” You already spoke the language, and the climate was similar. It would be an easy adjustment, and closer to Terrasen.

Fenrys’s mouth parted, you’d surprised him with your answer, and it took him a few moments to reply. “We were hoping you’d consider moving to Terrasen.”

Exactly what you suspected. But, you had your daughter, Ceri’s, best interests in mind. Would she want to grow up under constant surveillance, for her every move to be watched, the pressure of her relation to the crown - even if she’s not in line for it. Possible slurs and taunts about the circumstances of her birth.

“Anywhere you go, she’ll eventually be recognized,” Fenrys said, as if he was reading your mind. Your knuckles whitened as you clenched your fists. He eyed you warily, sensing the protective instincts flaring inside you. “We’re not saying you need to move to Orynth, there’s other places if you want some distance from …”

Fenrys didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“Right,” you cleared your throat and stood. “I need to think about it.”

“Of course,” he recognized your not-so-subtle dismissal, and stood with you, depositing a roll of paper on the table. Your eyes narrowed, flicking between the scroll and him. Fenrys shot a wink at you, motioning for you to lead the way to the exit.

You paused at the gate, fingers curling around the latch, turning over your shoulder to look at him. “It’s good to see you.”

Fenrys understood the unspoken word, free.

“And you,” his throat bobbed, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The gate swung open, and he disappeared, footsteps silent as he rounded the corner. You took up a position on the bench, watching as the sun lowered, leaving a beautiful array of gold and pink hues, absorbing remaining warmth. Would Terrasen have sunsets like this? Gods, it sounded like you already made up your mind.

“Who was that?” Ceri chirped. She’d chosen to stay out of his way after the brief introduction, sending shy glances from the garden, and retreating when he left. You wouldn’t push her to spend time around someone if she didn’t want to.

“An old … acquaintance,”

“What’s an acquaintance?” She asked, the word foreign on her tongue as she drew out the syllables.

“Someone you know, but not a close friend.”

She nodded solemnly, as if this was crucial knowledge, and you couldn’t fight your smile.

“The Queen said we’re her friends now,” she bounced on her toes. We’re. Not just her, but the two of you. A small warmth bloomed in your chest, sobering as you realized the extra dangers of a friendship like that.

“That’s lovely.” She paused, remembering something, and sprinted inside without another word.

Ceri returned, holding a paper out for your viewing. “I want to give this to her.”

A drawing. Gray jagged mountains, dense forests, little rivers and valleys. The landscape had surprising detail, and nothing like Antica or anywhere you remembered showing her.

“I saw that in my dreams,” her small finger traced the outline of the mountain. Terrasen, the place popped into your mind, based on descriptions you read in books. Dreams, she was dreaming of a place she’d never seen.

“We’ll find a way to get this to her,” the words came out gently. At a young age, you lost faith in any kind of divine intervention, but this … this was too coincidental to ignore. A chill ran down your spine, only partially from the breeze. The sun had fallen, a gray sort of dusk replacing the orange hues from earlier, and you made your way back inside.

Your hands shook as you cut the seal on the scroll Fenrys left, unfurling the message. A list of different places in Terrasen; Perranth, Caraverre and Allsbrook. Promises the two of you would be taken care of, that you’d be able to find work, that there would be other children and day schools for Ceri.

But, this wasn’t a demand or order, it was a plea and offer. Even extended to your friend, Reya and her daughter Ani - Ceri’s best friend, if they showed desire to relocate as well. Ani would follow Ceri if her mother let her, and Reya expressed desire to visit Terrasen before. Reya’s family that had taken you in over the years. The day you arrived in Antica, just hours after you’d brushed the dust from the gate, an equally pregnant Reya sought you out, informing you your mothers had been friends - and because of that you were obligated to as well.

The Queen and King were practically bending over backwards to try and get you to come … or, they were genuine and wanted both you and your daughter somewhere safe.

Silver hair swished back and forth as she sat at her desk again, pencil already in hand - sketching out another drawing. If this was going to happen, you needed her to agree first. After you spoke to Fenrys tomorrow you’d bring it up, and the two of you would make the decision together.

“I don’t want to go,” her small foot stomped on the ground.

“Ani would come with us.” You weren’t surprised your friend agreed easily. “Your father lives there as well.”

Ceri put the pieces together quickly, asking for confirmation the day after they showed up on your doorstep.

“You said my father was a Fae warrior and royal,” she planted her hands on her hips. You nodded, pulling two chairs out, motioning for her to sit. Before now, she’d accepted your explanation - not asking for a name. The day would come eventually, but you thought you had a few more years. “He’s the King of Terrasen.”

“Yes,” you said slowly, letting her carry out her train of thought.

“Does that make me a princess?” You frowned as she spit out the word.

“Do you want to be a princess?” Her head shook rapidly and she scrunched her nose. Your mouth indented at one side. “Then you don’t need to be a princess.”

“If we move there, I have to be a princess, that’s what Ani said.” Her green eyes filled with tears, and you gently grasped each of her shoulders, crouching to be at eye level.

“Ani was wrong,” and you need to tell her mother to keep her daughter’s mouth shut, “you don’t have to be anything you don’t want to.” You brushed away one of the stray tears, opening your arms up to let her launch into you, running your fingers through the silver strands.

“But,” you murmured as she dug her face into your shoulder. “It’s not safe here for us, anymore.”

The words sliced into your chest - breaking away a small piece of you. The sanctuary you sought years ago, no longer a safe place to be. Just this afternoon you’d spotted two lurkers across the street, watching your home and the surrounding street. You tugged Ceri beyond the gate, slamming the wards in place, re-examining the marks etched in stone for any weaknesses or fading.

“It’s all his fault.”

No, no, no. This is not how you wanted the conversation to go. “It’s not,” you whispered, pulling her back. Her face was red, cheeks flushed in anger. “It’s not your father’s fault there’s bad people out there.”

“Why didn’t he stay with us?”

The animosity in her tone made your stomach turn. This conversation was coming, you knew it, and possibly long overdue.

“Your father used to serve a bad Queen, Maeve,” you started the hair on your arms standing up, “and I left, when I knew I was pregnant with you. To keep both of us safe. I didn’t tell him,” Her mouth parted to ask ‘why,’ but you held up a hand. “If he knew of us, he could have been forced to tell the Queen, who could do bad things to us or make him do bad things.” Her brows furrowed, and you wondered if you were butchering this explanation, but you were already started - you might as well keep going.

“I know he would have done his best to protect us.” You did know that, you knew the sense of loyalty Fae held to their children, the fierce protectiveness - you had it yourself. “But he was … bound to do her bidding, and if she ordered him to hurt us, he would have no choice. She may have been able to use you through him, and that’s a risk I'll never take.”

“Maeve is dead,” she stated, more to herself, but you nodded anyway. All of the children knew the story of the battle of Terrasen, of the war fought in Erilea. Reya was a widow, her husband died in Orynth, along with her brother. “Good,” her little fists clenched, shoulders rolling back. Maybe that protective sense extended to her Rowan, whether she knew it or not.

You cautioned her not to bring Maeve up to either of them, to any of the people from Terrasen, and that they would tell her if they wished to. There wasn’t a need to dig up fresh wounds.

One week left of the Royal visit. One week to try and figure this hellstorm out. Ceri’s reluctance transferred into your own. Perhaps Eyllwe would be a better option.

Fenrys came by in the early hours, letting you know Rowan, Aelin, and he would stop by later that night, after the sun had set. You promised a late dinner, and now grew to regret that promise considering how much you were panicking over the food. Keep it simple, your mothers words echoed in your mind as you put together the few heritage dishes she taught you, squinting to read the scribbled recipes, worn down by time and travel.

You felt more than heard their approach, the old magic swirling in the air, and the small ring of the ward’s alarms. Ceri followed you through the garden, less shy than last time, but still reserved as she half hid behind you.

The wards were up. Directly after the royals visited your home, you activated them. Only those you wanted to see the house or its inhabitants could.

Your eyes scanned the street beyond them, spotting two figures watching your house intently. They couldn’t see anything beyond the normal facade, the garden exactly as it’s supposed to be. Magic hid your figures, and the ones right before the gate. Did they catch their approach?

Still, you let out a low breath, focusing on keeping your panic down as you willed the magic to bend enough to let them inside.

“Those are clever wards,” the Queen commented, fingers tracing over the wyrdmarks carved in the pale stone walls.

“Thank you,” you forced a smile on your face as your hand shook lightly, gaze still on the figures across the street. This was the first time they stayed past sunset.

“Have they been bothering you?”

Aelin’s voice was low, but you recognized the edge of danger as she followed your gaze.

“They can’t see us.” A non answer, but before she could question further, you waved them inside. Rowan pinned you with a look that said he had more questions. Later, you mouthed. When Ceri was sound asleep.

Rowan watched you and Aelin go back and forth, discussing books - he’d forgotten how much you loved to read, debating who the better romance author was, the best and worst tropes. Things like; third act break-up, miscommunication, enemies to lovers, love triangles.

His attention switched back to his daughter, who had alternated questioning both him and Fenrys about everything, and especially magic. Each question she asked, he answered the best he could, and asked her more in turn. Rowan wanted to know it all, wanted to catch up on the seven missed years, and to catch up with you as well, to learn how your life had been, what raising Ceri was like, and how to be a worthy father.

“How did you learn Wydrmarks?” Aelin asked.

“My mother taught me,” you smiled at her, like Aelin was dredging up a pleasant memory. “I still have the books. She lived in Eyllwe for a while.”

Aelin asked her a question, in what he assumed was Eyllwe, and you joined in. Then, Ceri did, already speaking another language this young. That makes three he knows of; Eyllwe, Halha, and the common tongue. She inherited her mother’s intelligence, that’s for certain.

The three of you had a language you could speak in - one he couldn’t understand. Something told him that could lead to trouble. Fenrys caught his gaze over the table, smirking.

After dinner, he was informed his daughter had a gift for him and Aelin. Two drawings - of Terrasen. She was talented, especially for her age. The detail is what surprised him - vivid, as if she’d seen it with her own eyes.

“They’re from my dreams,” she piped up - and answered his question.

Behind her, your eyebrows drew together, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. Catching his gaze, you offered a half smile. An attempt at nonchalance, one he saw right through. You may have changed, but you still wore your emotions for everyone to see.

“They’re wonderful, thank you.” Aelin reached out, squeezing her shoulder.

He looked back down at his drawing, and spotted four stick-like figures, hastily added in a corner, the wax of the pencil fresher. She’d added them recently, maybe even an hour ago. The heights and hair colors made them easily recognizable, and filled him with some hope.

“It’s beautiful,” he finally looked up at her - into eyes identical to his own, but unburdened and radiant with joy. Gods, he’d do anything to protect that.

Ceri yawned, attempting to muffle it with her fist, blinking rapidly to try and keep her eyes open.

“Time for bed,” you announced, and she turned to you - a small pout forming, but yawned again and her shoulders drooped in resignation.

“Goodnight,” she said to the three guests, and dragged her feet down the hall. Five minutes later, you tucked the thin sheet up to her shoulders, making sure the window was propped to let in the breeze, pressed a small kiss to her forehead, and snicked the door closed - her breaths already evening out into a deep sleep.

They remained right where she left them - at the table. Rowan looked up from where he’d been studying his gift. “She’s talented.”

You nodded absentmindedly, sliding back into your seat next to Aelin. It had surprised and intimidated you when she claimed the seat by your left. But, she’d put you at ease quickly, easily guiding the conversation between your mutual interests.

“I never showed her pictures,” you cleared your throat. “But .. I'm assuming they’re of Terrasen.” Three nods.

“Have you made a decision about moving?” Fenrys braced his forearms on the table, getting right to the point. The others stiffened, but brimmed with anticipation.

“We’ve discussed it,” you tapped your fingers against the table. Honesty is the best way to go. “My friend said she’d go, but Ceri is … reluctant.”

“Have you tried to convince her?” Rowan replied harshly, a shadow of guilt following; as much of an apology as you’d get for his tone and implication. Not that you were owed one, you’d probably feel the same in his situation.

“This is her home, this is where her friends are, it’s not surprising she’s reluctant to leave,” you ran a hand over your face. And … you knew Antica was safer, but generational prejudices took time to undo. Terrasen used to be a safe place for Fae, interrupted by a decade of terror. It would take time to rebuild that legacy.

“She’s … open to the idea of a trial. To go for a few months, and see if she likes it. I promised her I won’t force her to stay if she doesn’t.” Years of building an iron will kept you from cowering under their stares. That was the only compromise you managed to come to. The next barb shot at Rowan before your filter caught up with you, “she inherited your stubbornness.”

That little comment lightened the mood, because Fenrys laughed, Aelin snorted, and you could’ve sworn a small smile graced over Rowan’s face. In all honesty, your daughter was a mini-Rowan in female form.

“I pity you,” Fenrys murmured, ignoring Rowan’s glare.

“I heard that,” a small voice chirped from the corner, and you groaned.

“She’s also quite skilled at faking her sleep, and eavesdropping” turning over your shoulder, you fixed her with a glare, and she looked completely unapologetic. You noted the natural breeze flowing through the window, strong enough it would’ve blown away her scent - and she managed to get close enough for her immortal hearing to let her eavesdrop without detection. “Did you hear everything?”

“Only about the trial visit.” You couldn’t scent a lie, and motioned for her to come to the table. If you’re speaking of her, she may as well be invited, and now that she knows - you doubt she’ll go back to sleep anytime soon. She slid into the chair next to her father, and you gave him a look to say; your turn. You did your part, he can do his best to convince her now.

Aelin and Rowan patiently answered all of her questions; is it safe? - yes, is it cold? - yes, are there ghost leopards? - yes, are they friendly? - Fenrys choked, and Aelin gave a firm no.

“Then,” Ceri cleared her throat. “Why should I visit? You’re not making it sound very nice.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you knew diplomacy was not in her future. Aelin spoke of the snow, sledding, the magic of the Oakwald forest, giant wolves, the Staghorns, learning to control her magic - that caught her attention, and by the gleam in her eyes; you knew you’d be moving to Terrasen, at least temporarily. There’s a reason Aelin makes a great Queen.

“You and your mother can choose where you’d like to live, if you come.” Aelin finished. Rowan’s jaw clenched, barely perceptible.

“What will she do with her work?”

“That’s for me to worry about,” you reached over the table, placing your hand over her own. She looked at you skeptically, but nodded. You’ve saved enough money over the years to keep the two of you comfortable for a decade or two - with careful spending.

“Your mother is talented enough to find work wherever she goes,” Rowan added, sending you a knowing look.

She tapped a finger against her cheek, looking between the four of you. “I agree,” she announced, and you watched Rowan - watched how his face lit up. Saw Aelin watching you, watch him. You tore your gaze away. There’s nothing left between the two of you, and you don’t want to give her any reason to think there might be. Even if you’d found each other at the right time, she was the perfect match for him. It only took hours in their presence to realize that. It filled you with a different sort of happiness; after everything he went through - he deserved the best love could offer.

The clock behind you chimed, you glanced over your shoulder - only ten, but you saw Ceri yawning, again, her eyes starting to droop with sleep.

“Are you ready to sleep now?” you asked her quietly. Maybe if you gave her the decision - she might stay in bed this time. She nodded, rounding the table and grabbing your hand. You stood with her, but she paused to look at Rowan.

“Will you tell me a story?” Rowan blinked once, but he agreed and stood, trailing after the two of you towards the bedroom. You sent a silent prayer to the Gods he’d given one that wouldn’t give her nightmares.

Against every instinct, you let them have some privacy after Ceri gave you a small nod. It was laughable that your daughter was giving you reassurance. Not quite ready to face Aelin and Fenrys alone, you leant stopped at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall. Rowan’s hushed tones floated through the open space, low enough you couldn’t quite understand the words.

“Y/n,” Aelin’s voice came through. Turning your head, you found her standing a few paces away. Either you were deep in thought, or she’s especially silent on her feet. Maybe both. Aelin tilted her head, indicating for you to follow. Fighting the scowl threatening to emerge - at the idea of obeying someone's orders in your own home, you pushed from the wall, leading her towards the sitting room. Dishes could come later, for now you let your body melt into your favorite armchair, a perfect view of the street beyond.

“Have there been many … lurkers?”

It would be so easy to lie, but she’d see right through those, and if you were going to co-parent … that’s not the foot you wanted to get off on. “Yes, a few each day.”

“Have they approached you?” Fenrys cut in quickly.

“They can’t see us, with the wards.” Aelin murmured something that sounded like; that’s what I thought, but you were distracted - glancing out the large window to see if they were still there. Sure enough, two shadowy figures remained, lurking across the street.

“How do your wards work?” Fenrys switched the line of questioning.

You studied him for a moment before answering. “I come from a family of magic wielders, and the lingering magic around the house built up over the decades. I used the Wyrdmarks to … direct it. It acts on my intentions, for lack of a better word. I’m not actively using my magic to surround the area” He looked at you, like he was prompting for more detail, “In all honesty, it would take me hours to explain each detail.”

“I’d love to hear it some day,” Aelin added, face light and smiling, but there was still a tension in her shoulders.

“Some day,” you promised. Maybe in the near future, maybe far away. If you ended up settling somewhere in Terrasen, you’d find a home already exposed to magic - maybe previously owned by magic wielders.

“It’s impressive,” you heard Rowan rounding the corner. Aelin had chosen the spot on the couch next to Fenrys, leaving Rowan to sit in the other armchair. Not quite as comfortable as yours. “What are you going to do about them?” He jerked his chin towards the window.

“There’s not much I can do,” you admitted. “They haven’t proven to be a threat, haven’t approached us.”

“Has anyone … approached you?” He leaned back, and you saw right through his attempt to look nonchalant.

“I’ve had a few questions about her, as expected.”

“What did you say?” Rowan pushed.

“What I’ve always said, that I don’t quite remember.” He let out a small grunt at her answer. It was the right thing to say, he knew that, even though it unsettled him. He wanted the world to know the two of you - you didn’t deserve to be some kind of dirty secret, he was proud to have Ceri as a child. And you as a … friend.

“You do have an army of cousins,” Fenrys commented wryly, shooting a knowing glance towards, and you rolled your eyes. It’s common knowledge there’s plenty of Whitethorns in Doranelle. Aelin was watching the interaction with keen interest.

Do they know each other? She asked, meeting his eyes.

Yes.

“How do you know each other?” Aelin questioned.

“We ran in the same circles.”

“Drinking circles,” Fenrys clarified. “You used to drink most males under the table.”

“That’s a thing of the past.”

“You never get a night out?” He recognized the glint in the male's eyes - if you ended up in Orynth, Fenrys might drag you out for a night to celebrate. It would be good for you; ‘you don’t know what’s good for her anymore,’ the voice in his head countered.

“Night’s in mostly. I try to keep a low profile.” Another way you changed. The old you never turned down a chance to go out - to feed off the energy of a crowd.

It was crowded, one of the more famous bards in town for the night. Crowded enough the two of you could slip in against the wall, hood disguising your features, Rowan’s magic redirecting your scents. Nights out together were rare. Rowan watched as the male sang, one of those songs where the crowd would join in - each line growing dirtier as it went on. You knew every one, and countered his incredulous looks with an unabashed smile, not one bit of shame.

He pushed himself back to the present. The low profile you built was gone now. You both knew it. Before, it’s unlikely anyone but the royals or courtiers recognized your resemblance. But with their visit - it was as clear as day.

“The truth will come out, eventually.” For once, he mentally thanked Fenrys for opening his mouth.

“I know,” there was quiet resignation in your voice. Mourning, almost. Mourning a life under the radar, a life without him. Rowan pushed the thoughts out of his mind, not a life without him - a life of peace. Whether you liked it or not, now that he knew he had a daughter, he had an obligation to the two of you. Beyond obligation, he had a desire to be part of her life, and that meant being part of yours as well.

“Will your friend join you in Terrasen?” Fenrys questioned.

“Reya … she’s said yes. She -” you choked on your words, on the memory, clearing your throat, “her husband and brother served with the Darghan and died in Orynth,” you were surprised your voice remained steady, “she’s wished to visit for some time now.”

You tried to hide it, but he still saw the one small tear welling in the corner of your left eye. Just one.

Rowan read between the lines. He recalled some of his conversations with Sartaq after the battle. He told, in hushed tones, of Arundin, the mountain where suldes, the spears all Darghan warriors carried, were planted after their deaths. He said their souls would roam with the wind, and maybe Reya was searching for theirs, searching for closure.

It was like someone threw a haze over the room with your words, the shift poignant, dark silence radiating through the room. They were good men, and Reya wanted to find closure. You were there through it all, through the news of their deaths, felt the loss and suffering along with their family.

A shadow crossed through Aelin’s eyes, a hint of guilt flooding over her features, and you felt the need to do something about it.

“Ani, her daughter,” you continued, “is very proud of her father, and so is Reya and her family. Before he left, he told us that he was proud to fight for a better world.” Aelin seemed to lighten at that, so you continued. “You’re probably tired of hearing things like this, but we’re all proud our country fought for you.”

You’re not certain why, but you wanted her to know that - to assure her, in case she hadn’t heard it before, or heard it often enough. Based on the grateful look Rowan shot your way, maybe she hadn’t.

“Were you here, during the war?” Fenrys asked.

“I was, my mediocre healing skills came in handy. There was still a city to run,” your mouth curved at the corners. The Torre had been all but emptied, and there was still a city to run. Some of the tension left the room, thank the Gods.

The moon had shifted, full and bright, and some of the light flowed through the room. Full moons, time for transformation. Fitting, considering you were about to uproot everything you’ve known for the last seven and a half years.

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” Rowan asked. Aelin cut a sharp look at him, but he ignored her. Maybe he could’ve phrased that better.

A soft laugh left you. Different, even your laugh was different, filled with a weariness that wasn’t there before. “We’ve always been ready to go at a moment's notice, but I’d say two weeks or so to wrap everything up.”

One week, they’d be leaving in a week. There’s no reasonable way for them to extend their visit, not without turning more heads. One week he’d be away from Ceri and you, a whole seven days where he couldn’t be there to protect the two of you. A week left in a city - with a target firmly on your backs.

“We’ll make travel arrangements for you,” Aelin’s voice cut off his thinking.

“There’s no need-”

“I’ll already be leaving at the same time, it’s no bother.” Fenrys interrupted you. Right, he’d be in the city an extra week to wrap up some negotiations. Rowan felt slightly better now. He’ll feel even better once he threatens Fenrys within an inch of his life. You narrowed your eyes at Fenrys, for the interruption, and he gave an unapologetic shrug and changed the subject “Has Ceri ever been on the water?”

“Not the open sea,” you grimaced. “I’ll make sure we have something for nausea.”

What are you thinking? Aelin caught his eye as you and Fenrys went back and forth, debating the best remedies for nausea. At least he could avoid your light-hearted bickering. There’s potential for the two of you to be insufferable together.

Once we leave, people will be more motivated to act. That tightness gripped his chest again.

Aelin frowned; I know. I’ll speak to Nesryn.

Y/n won’t like that, he cautioned, even though he didn’t particularly care what you thought of it. When it came to your safety, he’d deal with your irritation.

Nesryn can keep a secret. The woman had been a rebel.

Are you going to tell y/n?

Too nervous? Aelin teased him, and his nostrils flared. Fine, he could tell you.

He caught your eye, and waited til your attention directed to him. “Once we leave, there will be a bigger target on your back.”

“I’m aware,” you crossed your arms, “I do have a functioning mind.” His brows flicked, at least you still had some thorns.

“It would be wise to have someone aware of who Ceri is,” Rowan went on as you looked ready to interrupt - to tell him off, no doubt, “aware of who she is to me, and that the two of you would be a valuable hostage.”

He watched as you visibly stiffened, eyes hardening. Rowan knows you were aware of the dangers, but hearing them aloud would put another sense of urgency.

“We have a friend, who can have someone look out for you - until it’s time for you to leave.” He could read the words on your tongue; I can protect us. “I know you’re capable,” he assured you, “but it’s not a weakness to have an extra set of eyes on you and Ceri.”

Rowan watched as you came to the conclusion - watched how you’d swallow any kind of pride or ego for your daughter, for his daughter. He would’ve asked Nesryn to keep an eye out regardless, but having you aware and in agreement made it easier.

“Who’s your friend?”

“Nesryn Faliq.” The future Empress.

The whites of your eyes shone, even as you said, “I shouldn’t be surprised.” Your fist came up to your mouth, stifling a yawn. The clock chimed again. Eleven already.

“We’d best get back,” Fenrys pushed himself up from the couch, Aelin followed quickly, giving the two of you a moment of privacy.

“It means .. everything, to me, that you and Ceri are willing to come to Terrasen.”

“It’s a trial, remember?” You teased him. One year, that’s what Ceri, and by extension you, had agreed to. They had one year to convince Ceri to stay permanently.

“I know,” he nudged you with his elbow, drawing out another one of your laughs. Lighter this time. He felt himself falling back into the old companionship, the easy way the two of you had with each other. You’d been something between a friend and a lover. The closest thing he could come to friendship, while serving under Maeve. Temporary, but here you were seven years later - now to be a permanent fixture in his life.

Aelin and Fenrys waited for them at the gates, the two lurkers were gone now. Good, he might’ve done something impulsive otherwise, something that may have damaged relations between both countries. Fae may have few laws against murder, but that’s not always the case for the rest of the world.

“Will you be back before the end of the week?”

“I don’t think so,” Aelin said. “It’ll draw more suspicion if we’re seen coming here.”

If Rowan could, he’d spend the rest of his time here getting to know the two of you.

“I’ll be back,” Fenrys shot a wink at you. “You’ll see plenty of these two in the next year.”

He found himself studying you, again. You didn’t look disappointed they wouldn’t be back, but not relieved either. He didn’t know how to feel about it, how he wanted you to react. It would be too easy for this to be simple.

Aelin and Rowan sought out Nesryn and Sartaq early the next morning.

“We’ve just learned Rowan has a daughter in the city.” Aelin got right to the point. “She and her mother are moving to Terrassen in two weeks.”

Midnight eyes shot to Sartaq, who’s mouth tightened. They suspected something, but hadn’t known for certain.

“There was suspicion of someone related to the Whitethorns living here,” he said, “but we never confirmed it. Her mother is known to us, of course.”

Of course. Maybe you weren’t quite as low profile as you thought.

“Her work.” Nesryn clarified. “Although she’s done a good job flying under the radar.”

“Not good enough for my spies,” Sartaq added.

“After our visit, it’ll be too obvious. It puts a target on their backs.”

“We’ll keep our eyes on her. Discrete ones.” Nesryn said, before she could specify her ask for help.

“Thank you,” Rowan said, and she could hear the relief in his tone, sensing the small tension leaving him through the bond.

“You’d do the same for us,” Sartaq answered. They were allies, and the Khaganate had already done so much for them, throughout the whole war. Without a doubt, she knew she’d do the same. Rowan went on to describe what he’d seen, detailed descriptions of the figures across the street, and a brief description of the wards she has up - of how they hide you. Nesryn gave a nod of appreciation, and Sartaq still didn’t seem surprised. Aelin remembered Chaol telling her he had an extensive network of spies.

The conversation left them in a much better mood, easing some of their nerves. Aelin barely knew Ceri, or you, but already felt fiercely protective. Maybe even as much as Rowan did. She’d never replace you, she didn’t want to, but she’d be a part of your lives no matter how the cards fell.

#throne of glass fic #rowaelin x reader #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #rowan whitethorn x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n #throne of glass x reader

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hiraethwa · 3 months

Text

one summer day

05 saturn i. where ushijima finds you outside your house

<< 04 new dawn. | >> 06 saturn ii. | << the collection >>

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: sorry for the late post, life has been hectic lately. enjoy the angst! inbox me if you want to be tagged - ave word count: 1.7k warnings: angst, childhood trauma, parental neglect/verbal abuse, past death of a family member song: saturn by sleeping at last

april, second year

you taught me the courage of stars before you left how light carries on endlessly, even after death with shortness of breath you explained the infinite and how rare and beautiful it is to even exist

ushijima is full on sprinting to your house. feet slamming on the pavements, heart thundering out of his chest. how had he not known?

he remembers the words you uttered to him last year, seemingly random. but you had phased out when he asked you about it, lost in your own thoughts. and you had seemed so genuinely disturbed that he decided not to pursue the topic, letting it go.

“my little sister was a cat whisperer too.”

even earlier today. you had been so out of it, missing the conversation that you were in, when normally you would be listening intently. when you were always listening, even when you were pretending not to hear the stupid things they talk about.

he had patted your hair, checking to see if you were alright, and you gave him the same smile as always. others may be fooled by you, but he knew something was amiss. he had brushed it off, even though his gut told him something was not right, thinking you may have been tired from adjusting to waking up early for school again.

and you had been so quiet tonight when he walked you home. once again lost in your own thoughts, seemingly not noticing the orange cat that the two of you would stop and pet whenever he walked you home. he had stopped to give the cat a little treat before noticing that you had continued on, leaving him behind. as if your body was there, but your mind was not. like a ghost of yourself.

“how is she?” semi had asked ushijima when he returned to the dorms, bringing your homework that was left behind in semi’s room. that is new. semi never asked that question before when he walked you home in the past.

you, with your smile that shined like a gem but you rarely showed people, only those closest to you. you, with your radiant kindness that stayed always like a quiet strength, even to those you were not familiar with. you, with your quiet caring, always making sure no one is left behind. you, with your warmth that didn’t expect anything in return.

to him, you were the moon with many faces. not always seen, but always present. somehow, you two shared a bond that communicated with action more than words. two quiet people who preferred to do rather than say. to keep things to yourselves rather than burden those around you.

ushijima had known that you were independent to a certain fault, but not like this.

his fists clench of their own accord, mirroring the feeling in his heart. did you felt alone? he could not imagine the pain that you were going through right now, alone in your empty house. how had he not known?

semi’s words replay in his head. “miyamura-senpai asked me to keep an eye on her before he left for college. today is the anniversary of their youngest sister’s death.”

“my little sister was a cat whisperer too.” was. was. was.

he knew he could not have guessed that, rationally speaking. but if he had paid more attention, looked between the lines, perhaps he would have known sooner.

he should have more than enough stamina to run to your house and back to shiratorizawa round trip easily, but he finds himself out of breath as he rounds the corner to your house. the windows were dark, as if all the light had been snuffed out. something in him sinks. his heart? he isn’t sure.

“miyamura!” he bangs on your front door, hoping you weren’t asleep. if he had looked, he would have seen you squatting under the miyamura hyousatsu on the gatepost.

“ushijima?” your voice calls out weakly from behind him. he whirls around sharply.

“miya–” he wants to scold you for being so stubborn. for not relying on your friends. you did not have to shoulder this grief alone, if he could help it. not now, not ever again.

but he stops himself. because in the darkness of the night, illuminated by the streetlamps, you look so small. so defeated. like you had been carrying around all this grief with you your entire life that your shoulders sagged with the weight. that you were never given the permission to bloom. you had always reminded him of spring, but he didn’t know.

he drops his bag to the ground, homework forgotten.

“what are you doing here–” your words are cut off mid-sentence as his feet moves towards you without thinking, arms wrapping around your shoulder tightly and engulfing you in a hug. i am here.

his head sits atop yours, almost a perfect puzzle. then he drops his head next to yours, hand cupping the back of your head as he holds onto you tightly. “y/n.”

he’s never said your name out loud before. it was always miyamura, or miyamura-san. so when it comes out of his mouth, a dam breaks in you. tears come uncontrollably as you fist his clothes in your hands, trying to hold on, when all you were doing is spiraling.

you sob. crying out loud. all that raging grief that was somehow miraculously locked away in you comes pouring out. your voice comes out broken and ugly as your chest heaves up and down violently. your pained wails of grief and loss a jumbled incoherent mess.

ushijima stays with you like that for what felt like forever, as your pain breaks his heart over and over again, but all he could do was hold you and remind you that you are not alone, repeating the three little words over and over. “i am here.”

when your sobs quiet down, and your breaths slow steadily with your hiccups, he pulls away to look at you. or at least, he tries to. your arms are locked tight around him, as if he would disappear the second you loosen your grip.

“y/n, i am not leaving you.” you grip stays constant, and then slowly, after a while, it loosens around him, but does not fall away. it looks like you are intent on not letting go of him. “c’mon.”

he leads you into your house awkwardly, shuffling around with you still locked onto him, turning on the lights as he goes, knowing the place like the back of his hand from how often they come over when your parents are away for work.

“i’m making you tea.” you reluctantly release him from your arms as he sets a kettle of water to boil, but keep a hand on his shirt for good measure.

ushijima picks out sencha from the variety of green teas you stocked for him after noticing that he had been bringing his own supply of tea to your study sessions. he brews the tea in a teapot, carefully proportioning out the amount of leaves. and in your cute cat painted cup, he fills it halfway, gently blowing on the hot liquid before handing it to you.

you keep silent, sipping at the tea. he doesn’t mind, ushijima thinks. you were both on the quieter side. he likes to think that friendships are not defined by how much in common that two people have, or how much they can talk about, but rather the comfort in the silence that falls when the conversation stops.

“can i stay the night?” it’s not that he doesn’t trust you to leave you alone. he doesn’t want to leave you by yourself, and from the way you are holding onto him, he thinks that you don’t want to be there by yourself either. he doesn’t want to think about what could have happened if he didn’t come back. if you hadn’t forgotten your homework in semi’s room. if semi hadn’t told him.

you nod, gratitude shining in your swollen eyes, long dried from how much you had cried. with the hand that is still on his shirt, you tug at him to follow you up the stairs.

he realizes you mean for him to sleep in your room as you wordlessly roll out the futon that he carried from the guest room next to your bed. you show him to the bathroom for him to change out of his wet tear-stained clothes and hand over the set of clean clothes that you retrieved from your brother’s room.

you seem adamant on holding on to him by the edge of his shirt as he walks into the bathroom, almost like you would stay there as he undresses. but then, reluctantly, you let go of the small corner of the fabric that you had a deathly grip on and shuts the door.

when ushijima walks out, he finds you in the same spot he left you in. your breathing is slightly labored, hands fidgeting on your sides. he reaches for your hand, relinquishing the bottom corner of his clean shirt to you. you seem to settle down with that gesture, content with his presence.

he tucks you into bed, sitting next to you while regaling you with a tale of stars that were infinite. your grip on his shirt remains until you fall asleep, the crease between your eyebrows finally easing. at that moment in time, you look so peaceful in your sleep that he could have been fooled. the quiet one who is always taking care of her friends, never expecting anything in return. now he knows the storm that brews under your skin.

a sudden wave of exhaustion hits him then, as he covers your hand with the blanket and crawls into the futon, falling asleep almost immediately.

when he wakes up the next morning, he finds you curled up next to him, hair mussed from sleep, your hand in his, fingers interlocked perfectly.

in the days afterward, life carries on as usual. you pretend like that night didn’t happen, so ushijima follows suit. he can be patient. but he sees the cracks in the mask you don ever so clearly, stars shining through them. and he wonders, what happened to you in that house?

more and more, he notices the tenseness in your spine, the invisible weight on your shoulders. the look in your eyes that feels far older than it should be. and he feels this urge in him to wrap his arms around you and protect you from all the hurt that the world has caused you.

and then one day, when he finds himself alone with you, he blurts out the words he has been thinking about.

“you don’t have to be the person in your house with me.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated!

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folatefangirl · 3 months

Text

On The Darkest Corner of the Heart

A comment on how Booktwt, Booklr, and Booktok media reactivity has lost the plot

Or, I think y'all need to log off and touch some grass and think about your actions for a hot minute. Note: This rant is a tad long, because I'm fucking pissed.

Disclaimer 1: I don't personally know the author of this book or anyone screenshotted in the drama. We aren't friends. I have no reason to either defend nor criticize these people, except for the fact that I've been a primary reader of self-pub and indie books for almost a decade now, and yes, including romances that some people don't consider worthy of civility. I'm also a queer healthcare worker.

Disclaimer 2: I don't want anyone mentioned/screenshotted here to be spammed with hate. Please do NOT contact them, including any authors mentioned. I included the primary actors for the current drama primarily so people don't claim I'm talking out of my ass.

Book blurb:

Forbidden. That's what they are to each other. Maddie Stevens has never felt good enough. Not good enough to keep her parents’ love. Not good enough to be independent and stop being her brother’s problem. Not good enough to build the future she wants. When she injures her ankle before a ballet audition that could change her career forever, she’s convinced her life is over at twenty-one. What’s the point of having dreams when they can go down the drain at any moment? And because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, her physical therapist turns out to be a tank-shaped grouch who doesn’t even seem to like her that much. It’s totally unfair that, for six weeks, she’s forced to look at that handsome beard and listen to that deep voice that makes her head all dizzy. Top that with the fact that he’s ten years her senior, and falling for James Simmons is a recipe for disaster. But when their forced proximity makes the lines start blurring, the forbidden temptation becomes impossible to resist.

The Timeline:

Events preceding 2023: Lisina Coney, author of The Darkest Corner of the Heart, was born in 1999 in northern Spain. She worked as a translator prior to publishing books.

Initially I thought these books were only self-published, but in fact are published under the formerly indie publisher Page & Vine, founded by romance novelist Meredith Wild.

January 27th, 2023: The Brightest Light of Sunshine is published by nearly 24-year-old Lisina Coney. On Goodreads, it currently sits at 3.87 stars as of today, February 10th, 2024, with 27,727 ratings and 3,592 reviews. Note: For a small-time author, especially for a debut novel, these numbers are huge.

May 2023, Page & Vine announced that Big 5 publisher Simon & Schuster would distribute their books as an imprint beginning in summer 2023.

In mid-to-late 2023, Lisina's website and socials announced The Darkest Corner of the Heart, her second novel to be published with Page & Vine on February 20th, 2024. Note: This means the events below occurred BEFORE the book's publication.

February 5th, 2024: anaborbareads on Twitter/X posts the cover and other art of Darkest Corner with the text, "a forbidden romance between ballerina and physical therapist???? pls i need this book now 🥺✨💗🫶🏻"

February 6th, 2024: h0mmelette on Twitter/X responds to anaborareads with "the booktok genre of forbidden romance is hilarious. theyre straight… whats forbidden"

February 6th, 2024: a tumblr user reposts the twitter thread from above to tumblr. Other tumblr users reblog and add on, and it quickly goes viral.

February 7th, 2024: From what I can tell via reverse image searching, the first iteration of the fake ARC page that's going around appears to be from Twitter/X user queef1ng. About 4 hours later, the same fake ARC page was reposted on the tumblr post mentioned above. And from here, this story takes a turn from people wanting to feel like they're above a romance novel writer to potential legal territory.

Of the 122 ratings on Goodreads for Darkest Corner to date, 9 appear to be 1-star reviews and from what I can tell, most/all of them were only published since the events began on 06Feb2024. 71 are 5-stars and while some of those are ARC readers, many newer ones appear to be trying to counteract the review bombing from the fake ARC page.

As of today, February 10th, 2024, it looks like the book will still be published on February 20th as planned, but we'll see.

Wait, so how do you know the page is fake?

I can't believe people have been so gullible but fine, here's my analysis:

Lisina's real ARC readers have stated that it isn't from the book (not gonna document all of them in the screenshots but you can easily go to the book's GR page and see the ARC reviews there).

As other folks pointed out on the tumblr repost, no real ARC page does a weird review watermark like that. Speaking from my own experience in reviewing ARCs or beta-reading, I agree.

The font tipped me off because it looked like it had literally been written on a Fanfiction.Net page. Not that Verdana, font size 10, is unique to FFN, but it looks like fanfiction typed font. Which brings me to:

Literally how could you believe this author writes like this? You can read her website or preview her first book or just have the bare minimum common sense to understand what satire looks like. If you don't believe me (because I know framing a post like this will put a lot of people on the defensive), I've also included screenshots below. The prose and dialogue are COMPLETELY different from the alleged screenshot. The only thing that is similar is that both characters are ballerinas.

But wait, all of this doesn't explain why YOU, Cinnia, are so pissed about this?

You're completely right! It really doesn't. All of the above is mostly documentation so the naysayers can't say I'm just some silly fangirl of the author.

The initial premise of the drama is that you can't have "forbidden love" in an m/f relationship. First of all, William Shakespeare would like to have a word with you regarding Romeo and Juliet. Second of all, yes you fucking can. See also: Religious and cultural differences and human history for a starting point. I know it may be hard to touch grass and look at media that is not tumblr queer media-centric and understand that people who are NOT you might enjoy it very much. Note that I'm a queer person saying this and I do read or watch m/f media at times because I don't like limiting myself. Go watch Bajirao Mastani and enjoy one of the most beautiful movies about forbidden love ever produced.

The book itself falls into the medical romance subgenre. For those not familiar, these are romances (usually m/f) that often involve a healthcare worker and their patient. In the real world, where people touch grass, a healthcare worker like me having a relationship with their patient is such a huge ethical violation that it will get you fired. In Darkest Corner, James is Maddie's physical therapist because she's a ballerina with a sports injury and he is treating her. Ergo, it is forbidden for them to get together and the initial premise for mocking this book is on very shaky ground.

In fact, I'd go as far as to say that the folks mocking it seem to very likely not be familiar with romance novels and their subgenres at all, or else they'd be well aware of the concept of straight romances marketed as a "forbidden romance" because they're fucking everywhere on any place that sells romance books. I have a personal collection of over 14,500 kindle ebooks. While not all of those are romances, a good chunk of them are, so I think I can count myself as a bit of a source here, you know?

The fake screenshot and social media drama has spread to at least Twitter, Tumblr, and BookTok, which all have huge reader hobbyists. For a small-time author barely past her debut novel's publication, allegations of this sort tied to your author name and book titles can last on the internet and in web searches for a long, long time, hurting an author's career. Maybe you're like "boohoo, who cares about their careers, I pirate all my fiction books anyway" and well, a post like this was probably never going to convince you of anything. I'm talking to the folks who might still have a sense of shame and self-reflection. Authors, even authors tied to a Big 5's imprint, earn peanuts. This sort of manufactured "scandal" is not ideal when the book is weeks away from being published. In fact, if the book has fewer sales than the first book in the series, Simon & Schuster may have legal grounds to go after the person who made the fake screenshot. A smarter person would have kept that to the groupchat or posted it as a clearly marked fanfic on AO3.

As a reader, this also sucks because when shit like this happens, the reviews of a book are permanently biased by both the bombers and the fans of the author, no matter how good or bad the book ends up being. Do I know if this book will be a 1-star or 5-star now, based on the reviews? Nope. Will I read it? No, because I don't read medical romances as it's a squick for me. But I may read her first book, which has mercifully escaped most of the social media nonsense.

This isn't the first time booktwt/booktok/booklr has engaged in a similar mob mentality towards books they don't like and I doubt it'll be the last. See Blood Heir by Amélie Wen Zhao and the allegations that turned out to be false then, too. However, I would like to ask y'all to please check your sources and not blindly accept what someone says on social media as truth. Get used to doing the research because manufactured misinformation is everywhere, and it's not gonna get better. (And for fuck's sake, not everyone is gonna like the same books and fandoms you like! It's not illegal to enjoy reading different things!)

Screenshots/Evidence (click for better resolution):

#lisina coney #booklr #booktok #booktwt #book rants #cinnia says stuff #long post #very long post #screenshot included at the bottom of the post #darkest corner of the heart #the darkest corner of the heart #misinformation #edited to fix title

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holylottie · 4 months

Text

Aching bones, aching teeth [02]

masterlist [and warnings!]

PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x afab!reader

CHAPTER SINOPSIS — 1996, you pass your last moments on your hometown before heading to nationals.

NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please go read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)

Chapter 02 — between letters and lies

1996

Charlotte Matthews was born on a cold morning, at exactly 9:46 a.m., and her cries were so loud that the patients six floors above knew that a new life had arrived.

And Charlotte's childhood continued in the same way as it began: with a lot of loud crying. She was always scolded a lot, which is why she hardly cried these days, but there were two people in the world she could rely on to dry her tears.

One of them was extremely close, her childhood best friend, while the other, her grandmother, was still enjoying her retirement: traveling all over the globe. Charlotte tried not to miss her so much (tried not to feel so angry) but it was almost impossible; her grandmother raised her, the only one who gave her affection - and the only one who accepted her after the anniversary tragedy.

Lottie's house was huge and freezing, extremely cold during the winters and with a relaxing breeze during the summers, as if several ghosts were blowing eternally through the walls. As a little girl, Charlotte swore she could hear them.

Today, the only sound in her house was of shells hitting each other, a wind chime that you and her made when the voices in Lottie's head were almost unbearable.

Charlotte went downstairs, looking for one of her parents, but all she saw was the piano in the living room, quiet as a child.

Oh God, she's never seen a quiet child, she's never been one to begin with, maybe that's why she doesn't have any siblings —she sucked all the energy out of her parents before they could give her some company.

The girl huffed, crossing her arms as she looked for Genevieve, the new housekeeper. She thought about what might happen if she found her, what she would really do if she saw her. Charlotte would like the presence of someone older and more affectionate, but that didn't mean that anyone older was going to be affectionate.

She went upstairs again, back to her room and put on the first pair of boots she could find.

Then she went out into the yard, picking up her old soccer ball and practicing shots with herself, trying to score goals between her mother's flower chairs.

The Aetos family home was near a park with a beautiful garden with a statue in the center, and the bench facing this view was your favorite place. Far enough away from your parents, but close enough for them not to complain.

You held a book in your lap, but could only stare at the water moving up and down the white marble sculpted arms.

It was a perfect sight, a comforting silence and a calm that could only be replicated when you were in the presence of your best friend.

Your fingers clenched together, nervous, not that it was apparent, anyone who saw you from the outside would find a person as calm as the statue.

Your large, sad eyes were uncomfortable for your mother, and between humility or luxury, she seemed to see only the latter in your irises. More annoying than the eyeballs was the time you spent in the bathroom. Your parents hated your vanity.

Your yellow tights covered your scraped knees, burning from the fervent prayer you had said last night. You felt lost, begged the heavens so much to be heard, to be changed, but to no avail: you still had the same feelings —and blamed yourself greatly for them.

Was a confession still valid if you lied about the real reasons behind her actions? you confessed seeking forgiveness, not to find other people to blame.

You confessed, and spent more time practicing your dance routine until your toes hurt, spent more time sewing clothes without taking care with the needle; You tried everything to feel less guilty about your lack of guilt.

You did like your mother, like the time she caught you reading The Well of Loneliness, and made you clean the whole house on your knees, begging forgiveness for yours and the writer's soul. You wondered if your mother really knew about the story, but you didn't dare question anything, your mother had certainly chastised you because she had heard what the book was about.

Of all the literature you had ever studied, Russian literature was the one that had taken up the most space in your heart. The melancholy in every word was something no one else could replicate. At least, no one else you could read, as your Arabic was weak and minuscule.

The teacher had split the class into three and given them each a different Russian work. The group was divided into two and each member had to present their own opinion on the theme of the book —as well as doing the technical analysis that you loved so much.

And you got even angrier, you had read the book and loved analyzing it, what was wrong with doing it?

The theme of the book and Dostoevsky's damning phrases about self-opinion... A little ironic that you had got that part of the debate right.

You opened the book again, flicking through the pages as if the answers were going to leap out of the paper and straight into your head.

You loved old literature, knowing that someone, years ago, decades ago, held the same book and read the same words, made you feel as if you weren't alone in her world of thoughts —you were connected to everything and everyone at the same time, all the time.

However, the beauty of the author's words did not take away the sadness of their truthfulness, what hurt hurt, and only became art once it stopped burning.

You opened to any page, your eyes skimming over the paragraph marked in neon colors.

"We always think of eternity as an idea that cannot be understood, something immense. But why should it be? What if, instead of all that, you suddenly find just a little room in there, something like a village bath house, dirty, and spiders in every corner, and that's all eternity is."

That paragraph never left your mind. You had always wanted eternity, to leave a legacy, you wanted to be important, to be remembered, and thinking of eternity as a dirty little room began to drive you crazy. Did the infinitude of the soul really not matter that much? you weren't afraid of dying, but you were afraid of not having anyone to remember you.

Class passed by so painful slowly.

The biology teacher spoke about seaweed, about how they were everywhere — if there was light, there was seaweed. You looked at Lottie, on your side, imagining her engulfing you like the sea engulfed the land — if there was life, there was your love for Lottie.

You could drown in her love, — no, no, you wouldn’t drown —, you would willingly swallow more water than what you could take.

— Are you okay? — she turns around, asking with a pretty worried face.

How to tell all the complicated, sinful thoughts going through your mind? you never let yourself indulge in such desires —let alone recognize you had them. However, you knew it was clear: you wanted to keep being seen.

It took a lot of effort for you to talk, but you opened your mouth more, asked questions, broke the silence quite a few times… The team had given you a voice.

— What happened to Allie… It was truly scary — you decided to say, looking at the hand Lottie had put on the table, aching to be touched too — I never saw someone bleed so much.

It was a lie, but you never considered yourself much of a person to be upset about your bloody wounds; you bled paint, glitter pens, strawberry jam or a ribbon, nothing much human.

— Let’s think about something else, shall we? — Charlotte wanted to punch Taissa (more for giving bad thoughts to you than actually hurting Allie).

—y/n, there’s no one more blessed than you, — Laura Lee started to say, a smile so gentle on her face that the sun itself could burn — you truly are gifted, such as me, for having you.

You smiled too, enticed by the words of your childhood company. There was tension in the circle, with all the girls saying sweet (yet imposing) words to one another.

— Laura, you are one of my best friends and I’m so glad God led me to you, you shine as bright as the sun — you loved Laura, you hoped Laura never realized how sinful you were.

You two both hugged a very tight embrace, going to another lady. You stepped in front of Shauna, tilting your head at the girl.

— Y/n, you have a… a very nice taste in clothes and phrases.

You giggled lowly, shaking your head.

— Should I be upset about your delay? — you two both laughed slightly, you blinked one eye — I really enjoy you, Shauna, I enjoy your big eyes and big words.

She didn’t say anything back, and soon you were passing close to Natalie: — I don’t really have anything nice to say about you…

— Oh, fuck off! — she muttered back, smiling like a fool while going in Jackie's direction.

— Taissa, you are very pretty, and perhaps too witty for your own good.

— Y/n, you are the second best on the team.

And you didn’t even get upset by it, rather the contrary, you immediately assumed Lottie was the first —and you were so happy to be so close to Lottie in Tai's view.

Finally, the time came, the lamb walked in the direction of the flames.

— Lottie! — your voice was like a surprised giggle, staring deeply into the girl’s — I know God exists because I looked you in the eyes.

— y/n… — she took a deep breath, lost in words, swallowing everything she truly wanted to say, but she smiled — if God exists, I wonder when he will bless me with your lips.

Of course, this wasn’t what she truly said. In fact, Lottie kept quiet. She gave one step ahead and hugged you tightly, whispering on your ear:

— God exists in your embrace.

Charlotte's house was not only large and full of rooms, but it was also full of space in the backyard —a plot big enough to have a vegetable garden and a pond you could bathe in.

You weren't the biggest fan of pieces of water where you couldn't see the ground, so you loved being in the lake at Charlotte's house, where the water was almost crystal clear, showing the stones. You couldn't even think of what that pool of water must have cost Mr. and Mrs. Matthews.

Lottie was in the water, while you were sitting on the edge with your feet dangling and creating little ripples, you had leaves, twigs and flowers around, creating crowns of petals and plants. Charlotte stared at you curiously, wondering what you were thinking, although she knew that if she asked, the answer would be the same: "I'm not thinking about anything, dear Lottie, just feeling how much I love you and-"

Oh, right, that part wasn't really sincere, but Lottie liked to imagine you following the script that her own head was creating.

When Lottie thought of you, she didn't think of a love that warmed her all over, but a love that would cook her in an oven at 200 degrees and consume her entirely.

She imagined you sitting at a beautiful table, waiting for her heart on a platter.

She imagined that you would accept the dish, that you would eat every morsel, saying promises of love —she imagined that you would accept her into your body in every way.

— Do you think the dinosaurs knew they were about to die? It makes me so sad to think that they might have just thought it was a miracle that such a shiny thing had come so close... — You pressed your lips together, stopping weaving the leaves to stare at the work in progress and pulling Charlotte out of her own head — I guess that's how it is with all warm and shiny things, one day they turn you to dust...

— Do you think it would have been different? If they'd known?

— A lot of people only start to love once they know they may never love again, don't they?

— Well, that's Confucius' logic... But I don't know if I'd like to know that the end is so near, sometimes ignorance can be a gift.

— But it's still a lie.

— But it's going to end anyway, darling... What difference does a beautiful lie make? — Lottie stared at her best friend, she knew that nothing was more important to you than the truth, that's why everything was so painful and confusing for you.

Lottie realized that she had to be honest.

— Y/n, I need to tell you something, — she said, smiling nervously.

You looked at her curiously, stepping into the river to be closer to Lottie.

— I’m terrified of nationals. You need to come, I’ve asked the coach to put you on the regular.

You sighed slightly, thinking about how Allie couldn’t play any sooner.

— It’s a great opportunity for you, Lots…

— I don't want it for me, I want it for us.

You stared at your best friend, a confused smile on your face, wondering how you should handle this situation.

— applepie, I need you to trust me on this... — Charlotte said, her voice serious, moving closer and wrapping her arms around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder — please.

You turned your head, leaning it against Lottie's, your nose taking in the scent of your friend's hair cream. The water around you was cold, but your body was warm —your heart too.

— Okay... a test...

“My dearest, Charlotte

I must apologize, I am not a good person with words getting out of my mouth, but, hopefully, I will be able to make them worthy of writing in this letter.

I tell you how much I appreciate you, however, I must confess, it's surprising for me how unsure of it all you seem to be; I suppose our own light truly can make us blind.

I feel like those words weren't enough, so I hope I can make you believe it with this list.

— I love the way you look at me after I say something you disagree with; I love how you expect your eyes to say everything you can't; Most of it all, I love how they truly say it.

— I love how when you laugh (truly laughs) your eyes become very small; I love how your cheeks work as a happy measure, I know when a joke is funny when I can't see your eyes.

— I love how you tilt your head when you are trying to make people see your point of view.

— I love that when you frown, your lips are pressed together, like you are sending a kiss to those you disagree with. I suppose you are just so full of love that your body releases it without even wanting to.

— I love your smell; I can sense everytime you enter the room, it's there instantly and I look for it like a dog in an airport. I never cared that much about perfumes, from all the five senses, smell was the one I took for granted; however it is different now: I find myself taking deep breaths around you, so usually that everytime I see a pretty fantastic view on my walks, I end up lacking air.

— I love your hair; I love how your bangs are always so neatly trimmed and placed, like the wind isn't a bother to your lines; I love how you play with it when you are filled with concentration.

— I love your fingers and how they look for my hand;

— I love your skin; I love how you glow in the sun, like Apollo is making it shine just for you; Deeply, I bet he is, how could the almighty god of art not wish to perpetuate the beauty of the most beautiful creation in the mortal realm?

— I love your mind most of it all, how you think; I love how you stay dedicated to one single singer but listens to multiple songs of various people; I love how you speak your mind when you are comfortable enough; I love how your favorite shows are the ones you didn't even finished watching, there's something very pure of loving a thing you don't even know how it's going to end; I love how one of your favorite colors is grey but you only uses light tones; I love how your biggest dream is to work paleontology, how you wish to dive deep into the past and look for answers; I love how your favorite animal are dogs because you see them more (what is strange for me at first, how can you have as your favorite something so daily?; until I realized that what you love the most is to have company; I do not wish for you to prefer anything else.);

— I love dogs (now).”

You took a deep breath, putting the decorated letter inside Lottie’s locker and walked straight outside, ready to enter the bus and be taken to the airport; leaving the confession letter to your future self.

Leaving to the future.

#itmighthavebeenlibrary #yellowjackets #reader insert #autistic lottie matthews #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #aching bones aching teeth

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bellabraus · 2 years

Text

It’s Not That Bad, Sweetheart.

Part Two

summary: Y/N finds herself working at the Hawkins pool, where she crosses paths with the one man she thought she could avoid: billy hargrove.

warnings: 2 year age gap between reader (18) and billy (20), inappropriate/suggestive language and content

female reader. this is a long chapter, kind of. thank you for all the love on pt 1.

————————————————————-

Your summer has been going incredibly slow and boring. In some cases, you could make “slow and boring” fun, and that was by having extra money to spend on random things. But you didn’t, you lacked in that department. Of course, your parents could provide extra things besides food and shelter for you, but they wanted you to make your own income.

That’s why you started working a summer shift at the Hawkins Pool. A place with all of your least favorite things: children, swimming, being sweaty, and Billy Hargrove. It was a sacrifice you knew you had to make, and at least it would be earning you more money than you already had.

As you fix the straps on your red lifeguard swimsuit, you contemplate your decision of choosing this job. Was it worth it? Probably not. The swimsuit fit weird and you were uncomfortable. The straps were too tight, the life guard logo was weirdly made, and you looked weird in it. The mirror you were staring into was practically judging you.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes to try and make up for the hours of sleep you missed last night. You step into your black flip flops as you reach for your red bag that has “LifeGuard” in white writing plastered right on it. You were in the woman’s locker room. Well, at least the part for only female employees. It was eery because there was no one there with you, and you weren’t the biggest fan of empty spaces, so you tried to get changed as fast as possible.

As you rush to leave the locker room, a teenage girl bumps into you. You’re stunned by the sudden action, but when you widen your eyes to react, you notice she’s around 15 years old. Your eyes soften, knowing that she’s just young and maybe lost. She’s just as shocked as you are.

“I am so so sorry. I didn’t mean to run in here like that!” She exclaims, worried. You clutch onto your red lifeguard bag. You smile softly to let her know she’s not in the wrong. “No worries. But I do have to direct you to where you need to go because this room is employees only.” You didn’t want to order her around, but that was part of your new job. Being stern. She nods, and rushes away from you and to a clump of teenage girls, all giggling. You rolled your eyes. Just a prank.

All throughout high school you had been teased by girls just like that. And here at 18 years old, you were still being treated the same. It didn’t matter what you thought because you needed to start your shift. Your eyes scan the vicinity of your workspace, A.K.A the pool. The pool is light blue, reflecting the sunlight. The pool is absolutely crammed with tons of Hawkins residents. It was hard to pick apart different people when they all looked like one big mass.

You take a deep breath, making sure to calm yourself down. As soon as you take a few steps over to your lifeguard chair, you see none other than Billy Hargrove sitting on his 6 foot tall chair topped with a complimentary red and white umbrella to shield himself from his sun. His lifeguard chair is parallel to yours, and you find yourself in perfect view of him. Not only did you despise Billy Hargrove, you hated looking at his horrible, ugly, gorgeous face.

You ignore this and make your way over to your designated white chair. You sit on the top and overlook your view: a bunch of playing children and teenagers. Kids in Hawkins weren’t that stupid, so maybe they wouldn’t need saving because none of them would drown. At least you hoped. Your thoughts abruptly end because as soon as you’re beginning your next thought, you connect your sunglasses-covered eyes with Billy Hargrove. You hope he doesn’t notice you’re looking, because you see his head facing your direction. He quickly looks away as a teenage girl below begins a conversation with him. He looks disengaged, yet interested.

You hadn’t seen Billy since the night he was drunk and stumbled into your room. You thought about that night a lot. The way he had pushed your hair behind your ear, or the way he carefully sat in your bed, or the way he was so nice, or the way that he wanted to talk to you, or that way that he-

You needed to stop thinking about him. You palmed your forehead as you distract yourself from your overbearing thoughts. You link your eyes to the mass of people in the pool, hoping to keep a close eye on everyone. After all, it was your job.

It only takes about 5 minutes before you spot a tiny child flailing around in the water. “Fuck,” You curse to yourself. You quickly take off your sunglasses and dive into the water along with your life guard raft. You locate the child and as soon as you do, he hooks his tiny hand onto your arm, and you carry him out of the crowded pool. The kid’s no more than 6 years old, which makes you even more upset. He was placed into the water without even knowing how to swim.

As soon as you reach the edge of the pool, you lay him down on the ground. You can feel the attention from the people in the pool, but all that mattered was keeping this little boy safe. The boy starts vigorously coughing, and you wait for him to finish. When he’s done, you check his pulse and thankfully, he’s breathing. You release the biggest breathe you’ve ever taken as the kid clings onto you, basically thanking you for saving him.

Suddenly, the sun is shielded from you and you’re faced with a blanket of shade. What could really shield the sun in a time like this? You look up, and to your expectations, it’s Billy. Billy crouches down and looks at the small child clinging onto you. You hold the child’s head to soothe him from the scary situation he just endured. He takes one quick glance at you and then at the child. He raises his tall body up and you can tell he’s preparing to say something.

You were right, because as soon as he’s on his feet, he yells, “Who’s child is this and why the hell is he unattended at a crowded pool?” The staggered children in the pool look frightened from the tone of Billy’s voice, and none of them voice anything. But then, sudden loud footsteps make their way toward me. “George!” It’s the clumsy teenage girl from earlier, and this time, she was not giggling with her friends. Her face was full of concern, and not the fake kind.

“So you mean to tell me, you left your little brother unattended just so you could be with your friends?!” He says, raising his voice at the scared teenager. She gulps, “No! He’s not even my little brother!” He rolls his eyes, ignoring her fear.

“Get outta here.” He says sternly, almost freaking you out when he’s not even talking to you. She quickly picks the little boy up out of your arms and swings him into her arms, and the little boy clings himself into her arms. He waves at you from over her shoulder, smiling through his missing front teeth. You wave back, smiling.

Billy reaches his hand at you, ushering you to grab it. You grab it and he pulls you up in one swift motion, basically sweeping you off of your feet. “Let’s get back to work, little girl.”

•••

Work was over now, and you found yourself sitting in the break room, alone. It was 8 pm, and you were paranoid, to say the least. Munching on your Cheetos, you were worried some monster would crawl into the room. You kept telling yourself, no monsters would ever enter Indiana, that’s stupid.

You buried yourself into your favorite black zip up, hoping to drown in your own thoughts. Your favorite thing to do was think. You barely get any time to do so because you hear noise from the men’s locker room. You clutch onto your lifeguard bag, practically shitting your pants. You praying to God that it’s just nothing and you’re going crazy, but that doesn’t work, because a tall male figure makes it’s way into the doorway.

You scream, getting ready to run, and it sounds like something straight out of a horror movie. Never in a million years would you expect that sound to come out of your body. “Jesus!” Billy yells, “Calm the fuck down, Y/N.” He raises both eyebrows, looking seriously concerned. You slap your hand onto your chest, placing it above your heart, taking a moment to adjust to calming down.

You don’t even get the chance to calm down or even let your heart beat get slower because you’re faced with the godly sight of Billy’s wet hair and his shirtless, half-naked body. It was crazy, how one man could have so many abs on his stomach. And how those abs could be so tan and so perfect. A white towel sits on his waist, covering his lower half, and you find yourself getting lost in his appearance. He’s quick to notice though, because he’s so used to excessive attention. “Like what you see?” He smirks, trying not to laugh. You don’t hesitate to laugh though, “In your dreams, Hargrove.”

“Worth a shot.” He shrugs, leaning his bare body against the wall. You couldn’t help but wonder, did he remember that night? The night where he came into your room. You try to stop yourself but the thoughts rush in too fast, and before you know it, you’re asking him, “Why did you come into my room?”

Still leaning against the wall, he links his blue eyes with your eyes. No matter the occasion, you were always lost in them. They drove you crazy. No matter what age you guys were, they always would. They do say that eyes never age. “Because I wanted to.” He licks his lips.

Now you had confirmation. Billy Hargrove remembered your encounter, you didn’t know why or how, but that made you feel content. Like you were cared about. You try to hold back your smile, still mesmerized in his presence. You force your smile back in by pulling your lips in, trying not to respond with something stupid. As much as you wanted to tell him, “That’s not enough, tell me the real reason”, You didn’t.

He begins walking over to you, gripping onto his towel to prevent it from falling off of his body. He finishes his confident strides as he’s finally face to face with you. He has a light smirk on his face, and you make a mental note not to fall for his undeniable charm. He meticulously places his big hand onto your jawline, which recedes onto your cheek as well. You don’t know how to feel, but all you knew, was that this was making you feel good. You were a mess around Billy, and this was only the second time you’ve met like this. Maybe it was because of his abs, or maybe it was because of his…

He places his forehead onto yours creating immense contact. Your lips are barely apart, and your noses are almost kissing. You didn’t know what his end goal was here, but you wanted to know. You needed to know.

He moves his thumb carefully on your cheek, rubbing it. You can see his smirk-smile even though you guys are so close together. You knew Billy’s version of smiling was smirking, well at least you thought it was.

Then, out of nowhere, he retracts his touch from you. You feel your heart drop, you feel like you just went down a rollercoaster and suffered the terrible drop. You felt robbed, like if someone stole your candy from you on halloween. He’s still holding his smirk, but this time, it’s a slight smile. His face is still stern, but he makes it clear when he says, “See you tomorrow.”

And there he goes, walking away from you and disappearing into the men’s locker room. You were confused and feeling lost.

“What have you done to me, Hargrove?”

#stranger things #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #steve harrington #romance #television #fanfic

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joellkeeny · 2 years

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✧*:･ﾟtoxic!steve x fem!reader part 4

warnings: some more angst. a bit of canon trauma talk.

part 3. part 5.

— ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

July 17, 1986, Hawkins Indiana.

☁︎ now fresh out of highschool it can be hard to decide what you want to do with your life next, it wasn't just some game you could skim through, or don't care about the outcome, this was your future, the one thing you'll do for the rest of your life. So it's safe to say you felt the pressure rising and rising and eventually decided to take a year off before college.

☁︎ senior year was nothing but quick flashes of quizzes and anticipation for starting your adult life, so it wasn't a surprise when one day you just woke up with a diploma in your hands, parents clapping happily and proud of your accomplishments, and before you knew it, a wave of something vague; nostalgia and maybe even melancholy was coming in just at the thought of the friends and teachers you left behind to take one step further into your adulthood.

☁︎ him on the other side, spend the rest of his year trying to pass his classes, and most importantly catch your attention just like you tried to do it for the first three years of highschool, failing miserably. It was purely ironic, the one who was set on getting you to like him and be all over him, was now battling with his unprocessed feelings, feeling the guilt gnaw at his heart each time you turned away from him or didn't smile back or refused to talk to him. You were mad, of course you were, he basically broke your heart without even knowing it, then wondered whatever he did wrong to be treated like that. Of corse you didn't offer him an explanation because that would mean giving him a chance to explain himself and even apologize, something you certainly didn't want to witness. And now, after the mall 'fire' he was still stuck in Hawkins, not a bright future ahead of him as he took a job at Family Video, alongside his new partner in crime, Robin. She's one with the group by now, having went though all the trouble with the Russians, left with enough trauma for a lifetime. They have been attached to the hip ever since, always getting mistaken for a couple or siblings which always resulted in her denying the fact profusely, putting accent on the fact that her and Steve were purely platonic."With capital P."

☁︎ the mall tragedy didn't affect you directly in the slightest, more so getting angry whenever you had to witness people around you complaining about it for the sole reason of lacking a place to go shopping, no matter the lives which were lost in the process, whose families were still grieving over the tragedy. Though having cut all of the strings with Steve, you knew he took a job at Scoops Ahoy, some silly little ice cream parlor, close to the GAP in that same mall. For a few days, you were frantic, trying your best to find out if he was one of the victims, and you hated yourself for that. You let yourself think of him again, feel something for him, in this case being worry, but you knew his parents were huge people town, so it wouldn't go unnoticed if their son had died. Though that didn't calm your nerves that much, you knew he was fine, yet it still wasn't enough. You want Steve in any way you can get him. An acquaintance, a friend, a lover, a boyfriend, you'd even settle for an enemy if that meant exchanging some words with him, messing around from time to time.

☁︎ his next destination was Family Video, a small place filled with heaps and heaps of tapes, from the latest documentary, to the newest action movie. You always stopped by to pick out some new tapes, though hating Keith's interest in you, you put up with it, even threw some of your own glances back at him just to get that much appreciated discount. And now that one of your oldest friends came to visit during the summer break, you knew you had to pick out somethng to fill your time with while she spend the night over.

☁︎ pushing open the glass door, you hear the clink of the bell above you, letting the door fall shut as you advance towards the counter where none other than Robin Buckley sat, legs perched up on the seat in front of her own, flipping lazily through magazine while the torid summer sun breached the windows. It didn't help that the AC is broken too, leaving her sweating out bullets through the entirety of their 8 hours shift. "Welcome to Family Video, how can I help you?" Her voice though coated in sugar and accompanied by a sickly sweet smile, you could clearly see that it was just a reflex at this point, her customer voice being pretty convincing at this point.

☁︎ you look around at the stacks and racks of tapes in alphabetical order before deciding. "I'm looking for the sci-fi section." You don't take offence in her tired groan as her feet thump down from the other chair, getting up and motioning for you to follow her. She guides you to the back of the store, converse squeaking against the floor as she drags them over it lazily presenting to you the said isle with a small 'sci-fi' sign obove it. She leaves you there, going back to the counter while tugging on the front of her shirt frantically in a weak attempt at cooling herself off. You browse through the options at hand and you spend some time deciding over your pick, eventually carrying back to her 'Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back' and 'Back to the future', the latest flick you've heard everyone talk about. She begins to type in the titles before a groan echoes from the back room, door still closed. You try not to pay attention to it until it flings open and a voice, much deeper, rings through the room. "Rob, c'mon, I need some help in here, the AC is driving me nuts!" He complains, a hand waving through his sweaty chestnut strands of hair which you recognized all too well, a screwdriver in his hand, indicating the thorough battle which was currently going on between him and the uncooperative machine. "I'm a bit busy if you can't see, dingus." Her retort leaves you silent, partly because you didn't expect him out of all people, former King of Hawkins High, to let little Robin Buckley, former band geek and nerd, insult him like that. She motiones to you and Steve opens his mouth, just about to argue, the words remaining stuck on the tip of his tongue before he closes it sharply, blinking at you, just as shocked. She stares between the two of you, sensing the awkward tension before silently backing away, walking to the back of the store where Steve sat blankly. Robin steals the screwdriver from his unmoving hand and closes the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone. Gulping, you remember the fact that you were supposed to still be mad at him and he seems to see the change in your eyes instantly. You drum your fingers against the counter, eyeing the tapes and the computer, still on. He seems to catch on your silent request, knowing you don't have it in you to ask him politely for it.

☁︎ "So uh, how you've been?" His question comes out reluctant, testing the waters to see if you're still holding the grudge. You don't dignify his question with an answer, just stare blankly at your nails and wait for him to finish up. He types in the titles and glances at you, seeing as you still avoid his gaze. "Look, I'm sorry..." He begins, and you don't even let him try to apologize before you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. He hates himself, almost just as much as you do, he remembers why you act the way you do around him, though vaguely. There's bee too much going on in his life, too much change and grief in just one year to be bothered with something so...small. Not that it didn't matter to him, you just never gave him any reason to believe that he should try again, so he left it in the past.

☁︎ "That'll be 10.78$." He announces, handing you the tapes and waiting for the money. As you hand the requested amount to him, you make one of your first mistakes, you look into his eyes. There's a little self-pitying smile on his face, those perfectly arched brows of his pulled together slightly, his lips pressed together. Everything about his expression tells you he's sorry, not entirely sure what for, but he is and you know the acting skills of Steve Harrington, he could practically charm his way out of any situation and in anyone's pants if he tried hard enough, so it wasn't something shocking that you didn't want to accept his apology, especially after not trying to do so sooner.

☁︎ second mistake, you feel sorry for him. It's not intentional, but as you stand there, you realize that you're not ready to leave yet, though you know that's the logical thing to do, you won't admit it but you missed him, missed that stupid face and that silly crooked grin you still haven't caught a glimpse of, missed his touch, his flirty remarks and by the knowing look in his eyes, he knows you do too and that gives him the slightest bit of hope that maybe one day he'll be able to call you a friend...and maybe even more, though he's not sure if you'll be able to look past his old highschool persona; cocky and full of himself, in order to start liking him again, because he knew, oh he knew you liked him, maybe a bit too much at that time, and he also knew your feelings had been one sided at that point, causing him to break your heart. Or at least that's what he realised later on, and he felt like a downright fool for not doing so a lot sooner.

☁︎ after about a minute too long of eye contact, you realise you're staring, gazing at him and his features you once got lost in highschool, let his warm honey eyes charm you into his car where he simultaneously rocked your world and ruined that sweet, shy girl you once were. And then your third and final mistake; you spoke back to him. It didn't seem polite, even if he did what he did, to leave him like that, you're not a savage, so after finally putting an end to your staring contest. "Thank you, Harrington." You will a small smile on your lips accompanied by a curt nod as you take the tapes and make your way out of the store, feeling him practically bore holes into your back as you leave. Not even halfway out of the door before Robin is bursting back in the main room, whisper shouting at him a faint: "Dude what the fuck was all that about?" And he just replies with a sigh, you can almost picture him rubbing a hand on his forehead in defeat the other settled on his hip. And only when you hear the door fall shut behind you, you let out the heavy breath you've been holding ever since you spoke to him. Maybe, just maybe you don't hate Seve Harrington as much as you thought you did.

taglist: @dahliamae @intoxicatedapple @thatstoomuchman @luvingsteve @joekeeryswife @myloveeddiemunson @baekhyummies @freezaz123

#stranger things #x reader #steve harrington #fluff #st4 #steve harrington is pretty #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve the hair harrington #steve stranger things #stranger things blurb #angst #steve harrington angst #fem reader

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motownfiction · 1 month

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one year after the accident

One year after the accident, Lucy still can’t even think about Cherries Jubilee at Baskin-Robbins. It’s not that she’s ever actually eaten it. As a matter of fact, she’s not sure she’s ever known anyone who’s eaten it. It’s just that whenever she would go into the Baskin-Robbins down on the corner with Sam, they’d make jokes about “obviously getting a scoop of Cherries Jubilee.” The joke began sometime in the ninth grade, when Lucy was going through a phase, trying to find the most unique names for a baby girl in her future. How insightful of her, really. When she read Cherries Jubilee on one of the ice cream tubs, she thought one of those would make a great name. Probably Jubilee. She made the mistake of saying it loud, and Sam – never one to miss a beat – immediately said, “Why not both?” Thankfully, Lucy laughed, and it spiraled into a joke that lasted until the day he died. No one else was ever really in on it. That’s what made it special. Lucy and her friend of distinction.

One year after the accident, Lucy can’t think about “Angel Baby” without remembering that time at her parents’ Fourth of July barbecue. It was the summer between ninth and tenth grade, right after she got the guts to tell Sadie that she was in love with Will. But she didn’t need to admit to Sam. Sam understood everybody. The minute that strange song by Rosie & the Originals began to play from the Callaghans’ turntable, Sam knew what was going on. Will didn’t. He was minding his own business, eating a hot dog, assuming that Lucy could never do something romantic for him, not after all this time. But Sam knew. He sprung into action, spilling some of his Coke on the vinyl tablecloth, and met Lucy in the middle of the driveway for a slow dance. He sang the song in a high falsetto because of course he knew all the words to it. He said they’d make Will jealous. Lucy laughs now, thinking Sam must have wanted to make Will jealous of Lucy, too. Maybe. What a sweetie he was, even then. Especially then.

One year after the accident, Lucy tells herself that she doesn’t have the right to miss Sam. Sure, they had a few special moments, but everyone else in her life was closer to him. Sure, they loved each other as friends, but that’s not the same as losing a son, a brother, an in-law, a godfather, a best friend whom you’ve loved even longer than the wife you’ve known since first grade. None of those people want to see her grieve for him. She’d be making it about herself. It’s not that she didn’t lose Sam. It’s that the people she loves lost him more.

One year after the accident, Lucy tries to pretend like there isn’t a hole in her heart … like her soul doesn’t scratch like a record after it’s been left on the wrong side too long. One year after the accident, she doesn’t even think about whether she should be feeling any way else. That’s just not what you do.

It’s not what you do.

(part of @nosebleedclub poetry month challenge -- day 6!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: lucy callaghan #ch: sam doyle #dynamic: friends of distinction #year: 1982 #year: 2003

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willkatfanfromasia · 11 months

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It's gonna be a long one y'all

A Matter of Chance -13

The birds cooed their customary morning calls, waking the forest inhabitants save the two who never slept

Nandini’s head buzzed with worried, hopes and ideas for tackling her situation.

Aditha’s head buzzed for a completely different reason

Nandini hadn’t yet given him an answer.

She’d retreated into her own world after listening to him and he was terrified.

He’d not given her much to go on except his affections. The thought of catty palace women who donned the finest, brightest clothing but had the ability to sting and bite as any predator sent her running he guessed.

Heavens, she probably still saw him as a delusional teenager who hoped for the impossible.

‘Tis true he turns into a lovesick lad when she’s mentioned – but that doesn’t mean the intervening years hadn’t affected him.

Years in the battlefield made him a cynical, weary old man before he could complete his 30th summer.

He had no patience to tolerate rose eyed young ladies far removed from reality. Nor was he willing to suffer scheming wannabe princesses who sought titles, jewels and more for their clan.

No fault of these ladies, he thought, not all young women can advance themselves without marriage.

War made him realise that life was fleeting and ideals of peace, love must be preserved no matter the cost.

And he wasn’t willing to let go of the only one who held his heart.

These philosophical musings were just an attempt to prevent his spiral into worrying about her lack of response.

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

Nandini decided this was it. Krishna had not tested her with so much heartbreak since childhood for nothing. Afterall, why hadn’t these experiences broken her fully? Why did hope remain in her heart?

She’d decided that she wants to remain by Aditha’s side. He’d promised to protect her and she had nothing to lose. She feared her piety turning into a curtain for misery, more than dreading any royal dynasty.

Oh lord! What was she to do? Who must she tell first- her Anna or foster parents?

She, in her nervousness, bounced into a worried Aditha and started regaling him with plans

“We shall be engaged at the forest Krishna temple! Then we can head out Nay! We must visit your barracks first. Do you wish to marry here itself- or do you have another temple in mind?”

Aditha’s sleep deprived brain took the barest moment before it was flooded with euphoria

She still loves me. She wishes to marry me

He’d yell it to all the surrounding villages if he could.

He embraced her. Nothing mattered more. He dreaded to think what his life would be without her.

The couple giggled at their own reactions and decided to head to the temple for morning prayers.

This was Nandini’s first time walking unaided since her injury and she wished to thank Krishna for her recovery – both of body and heart.

She noticed Aditha unabashedly gawk at her during her walk, interspersed with moments of worry when she stumbled.

They prayed at the temple. Nandini cleaned the environs before lighting the lamps and placing fresh flowers.

She offered the deity fresh fruits and milk before singing prayers as Aditha looked on peacefully.

The hopeful couple thanked God for reuniting them and sought His blessings for their union.

They returned to the hut to plan their next course of action. The royal family’s disapproval stemmed from her lack of identity and the fear of people not accepting a commoner as queen.

Nandini had long lost interest in finding the identity of her father. She’s lived far too long thus for his identity to have any bearing on her life.

Even a king siring her won’t undo all her life’s pain, she wryly mused

Her foster family would worry given their past entanglement – she needed to maintain a foothold before telling them.

Thirumalai anna- her dear foster brother- was her only hope

On the other side , Aditha too thought of someone who could help him- his dear friend Vallavarayan Vanthiyadevan

A romantic at heart, awareness of his Liege ‘s heartbreak and in possession of cartloads of charm- he was the right man for this job.

Aditha said he’d take her to his barracks. He explained it’d be better to reveal the news in a controlled fashion to those around him.

Nandini agreed, thinking it’s almost time for her brother’s customary visit.

She’d always known her brother’s career was not quite as it seems. The secrecy and vagueness in his description, coupled with an erratic schedule made one thing clear.

He was extremely important to someone but can’t reveal how.

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

Aditha helped her pack the contents of her hut into cloth bags and helped her up his horse.

She was wrought with nervousness- how was everyone going to react? Those who mocked her as a child certainly won’t spare her now!

Her guilt over leaving behind the Krishna temple, that gave her livelihood and a purpose to live on too weighed on her.

En route through the village, she stopped by the old priest’s house. Few years ago, he’d taken pity on the pious Mournful looking young lady and offered her this responsibility.

She bid Aditha to wait outside as she conversed with the elderly gentleman. She hesitantly explained her situation seated on the thinnai, hoping he won’t see her as a deserter.

The old man’s eyes shined with comprehension. “Wheb I first saw you, you seemed to be completely detached and aloof. I had hoped Krishna would light our life with purpose and of course love. This must be fate- it is His will” he said and granted her leave with a blessing.

Her heart seemed a little lighter as they journeyed on. Aditha said he’d written to the soldiers to prepare for a guest but hadn’t yet given them details.

Aditha’s horse neighed as they approached the destination, with the guards outside immediately recognizing their master. As they neared the barracks, Nandini could see soldiers realize there was a woman atop the crown prince’s horse. They began lining up at the entrance.

Her heart raced “heavens, so many people”

“What if they misunderstand my presence here” “how can I handle the disapproval of so many?”

She instinctively accepted Aditha’s hand and descended. He began before she could worry more “By Shiva’s grace, I have found my ardhangini. I am extremely pleased for she has accepted my suit and wished to introduce her to all my brothers in arms. Gentlemen, behold your future pattathu arasi (empress)”

Various qualities are attributed to military barracks; silence wasn’t one of them. Nandini’s stomach lurched..

The concurrent thunderous cheering sent her into a mix of relief, joy and anxiety.

The soldiers who’d long resigned that their master, known for his bravery and honor, would never wed unless for political reasons were gleeful beyond relief.

War and administration were Aditha’s only priorities. He tried sharing the joys and sorrows of all the soldiers but his air of melancholy didn’t go unnoticed over the years.

They were surprised that he’d made a love match and were determined to make it work – even if others didn’t like a commoner wedding a prince.

Vanthiyadevan, lord of Vallam and Aditha’s dear friend, could barely believe his eyes when he received his message.

Lover of love itself, he had plans up his sleeve.

He marched forward to greet the couple with his signature grin “Welcome Welcome to your Highness and your lovely fiancée”

Nandini calmed down slightly seeing a friendly visage. “That was a glorious welcome, friends, now let’s head inside “ boomed Aditha’s voice.

The couple and some close associates entered the largest tent of that encampment. Nandini felt terribly out of place – a tent filled with enough finery to rival a palace.

She seated herself on a velvet lined stool, noticing the persian rugs, gold chalices and engraved furniture, trying not to let her insecurity show.

Aditha noticed and came to stand by her side, laying a hand over her shoulder. He was flanked by his 2 friends and grandfather.

Chieftain Malayaman certainly wished for a noblewoman to marry his eldest grandson. But witnessing his pain and desolation firsthand made him grateful for any joy in his grandson’s life.

Nandini noticed the reactions of the three new men, the elderly warlord who seemed to judge her without animosity, Vanthiyadevans friendly face welcoming her and the last one…. Parthibendran tried to seem civil but failed to hide his awe of her beauty.

He openly gaped at her, much to her annoyance. Her betrothed seem to notice and decided to draw attention “ you’re all here because you’ve stood by me over the years. I need your assistance once again”

Malayaman professed his support but requested them to marry after reaching the Thanjavur. “It will strengthen the validity of your union in the public's eyes “ he insisted. Nandini felt Aditha squeeze her shoulder, so she agreed when he said they shall consider it.

Vanthiyadevan merely wished them once again with a cheeky smile and said mysteriously “Do not worry my lady. While I cannot predict the nobility, the people will welcome your presence!”

Nandini highly doubted that, but decided not to contradict. Even though Parthibendran was testing her patience, she didn’t wish to lose a potential ally- regardless of which of her virtues drew them in.

@nashibirne @nspwriteups @vibishalakshman @thelekhikawrites @dr-scribbler @kovaipaavai @budugu @dosai-maavu @matka-kulfi @nirmohi-premika @yehsahihai @curiousgalacticsoul @rang-lo @harinishivaa @dr-scribbler @chiyaanvikram @celestesinsight @inveter @deepti1011 @vidhurvrika @itszhunotz @babayagahunt @thegleamingmoon @maisadalawa @ragkee @inlovewithfictionalbeings @happysharkdragon @gowrimenonop-1 @ramcharanobsessed

#ponniyin selvan #aditha karikalan #nandini x aditha #nandhini #ponniyin selvan fanfiction #nandini x karikalan #nandini

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found--family · 11 months

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So I have a few weeks until my new job starts and I want to work on something in that time. I'm not sure what I feel like writing (I'm kinda in hibernation bc it's winter rn and the last time I felt motivated to write was on-the-job in summer). I have dozens of wips and outlines to choose from but these ones are top of the pile bc they're fun..

[1] Nursery AU: Paradise Nursery

Dean is grieving his recently deceased mother. He's in his early 30s and was her carer for the better part of a decade; he has no friends and no life to turn to for comfort or distraction. He needs a new job and to learn to navigate his loneliness. He ends up working at the garden nursery where his mom worked decades ago. Dean meets Cas and falls for him but also makes new friends in Charlie and Jo and Bobby and others.

Cas is the newly appointed manager of Paradise Nursery™ and he's not enjoying it; he misses the small minutia of everyday plantcare and loathes the pressure, office-based and people-interactive duties, and trying to find a buyer for the business his father left him in charge of. Cas is a single parent to Jack and guardian to Claire and gave up on finding love long ago, instead focusing on his children and the work he's passionate about. But then he meets their newest seasonal hire Dean who becomes a bright spot in Cas' workday.

As they become tentative friends and try to suss out whether their feelings are mutual and how to go about them, Dean is dealing with his problematic father while Cas is dealing with his arch nemesis - fresh-cut flower farm owner Crowley - who wants to purchase Paradise to eliminate Cas as a competitor while expanding his own empire.

Boss/Employee. Mutual Pining. Alternating POV. Misunderstandings. Familiar Faces and Friendship. Slow Burn (legit). Strangers to Friends to Lovers.

A/N: this one is close to my heart as it's inspired by my own experiences; every day I worked I was inspired to write something for these two. Still not sure whether to keep this one contained at the nursery or follow Dean as the season dies off and he finds work elsewhere? Endings are hard and I'm still living mine, so.

[2] Dan In Real Life AU: Here Comes The Sun

Based on the movie but with its own flavour. Dean is a late-30s widowed songwriter and single father to young Audrey. The whole extended family is spending two weeks at Grandma Mildred's lake house for some quality time together before Autumn settles in. On his solo drive to the house, Dean meets Cas. There's chemistry and Dean thinks maybe there's something between them.. but he arrives at the house to discover Cas is dating his oldest friend Benny. Things are rocky at first but during their time together Dean and Cas grow closer until they can't deny their feelings any longer.

This one has intial Cas/Benny with some open relationship vibes but also cheating. Still trying to decide whether to write some explicit Cas/Benny scenes. The plot is heavily inspired by the movie but goes its own way. The whole two weeks will be covered day and night with alternating POV but mostly Dean and Cas.

RomCom with Family Dynamics. Lots of Familiar Faces. Papa!Dean. Alternating POV. Mutual Pining. UST. Strangers to Lovers. Happy Ending (for everyone, I promise).

A/N: I started writing this in.. 2020? It was my comfort fic but life changed so much that year I just couldn't stick with it. I've tried going back to it multiple times but kept getting caught up on how to finish the next chapter. I've done a bunch of art for this and would love to get it finished, but there's a lot of plot to still figure out (sometimes filler stuff, sometimes main events of the day).

[3] Movie AUs: numerous!

I love subpar action comedies (and romcoms) because they're such easy fic fodder for Destiel. Simple, readymade, perfect practice for writers to work on our skills but don't have the time or brain capacity to work on plot.

I have outlines of a few I really want to Destielify: The Lost City (a fun little adventure with unique plot I'd love to give our guys), Knight and Day (made before algorithms it's overlong and full of secondary locations - better off as fic), Red Notice (terrible twists but it had some fun ideas so I'd tweak the plot in various ways), Ghosted (subpar with bare bones I'd like to put a bit of meat on), Quantum of Solace (the most straight-forward Bond flick, a filler in the franchise and easiest to create a standalone au with).

A/N: if you haven't checked out SPNMediaBigBang go do that now. I'm terrible at bangs but I'd love to write a few fun movie fics and post chapters every week.

[4] Gotham Knights AU: make it Destiel

(GK being cancelled is another blow for queer rep and spncast stans but I hope it motivates fans to create more fic for this awesome show!)

The AU I've been working on is 'inspired by' not straight copy. It features batman-inspired Dean and harvey dent-inspired Cas with turner-inspired Jack.

Cas goes from being Jack's uncle to his guardian after his father was killed by the city's vigilante saviour The Hunter - who Jack once idolised but now thinks is a villain; naive Jack is out for revenge, to reveal The Hunter as a badguy and see him taken down. And he's not the only one looking for The Hunter's true identity. Meanwhile, friends and longtime mutual piners Dean and Cas finally act on their feelings for each other - but then shit goes down.

Friends to Lovers. Guardian/Single Dad Cas. Vigilante Dean. Heroes & Villains. Mutual Pining.

A/N: I started drafting the outline for this halfway through s1 of GK. It utilizes the darker vibes we get from Jack in season 14, which I love. And no, it's not related to my Destiel AU gifset series, sorry!

⮑ with all that in mind..

#my destiel prompt blog + ao3 is @theheartchoice btw 💕#destiel #fanfiction #thoughts #myedits #spn polls #deancas #wips #(no one look at my Crazyhead or Fly By Night wips. im just not feeling them atm bc they're young deancas..#plus i haven't posted in almost a year so i wanna work on sm i can fully flesh out #and these fics are the easiest to work on bc i have the plots and inspo at the ready..)

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bookaddict24-7 · 3 months

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REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

EVERY WEEK I WILL POST VARIOUS REVIEWS I’VE WRITTEN SO FAR IN 2024. YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY GOODREADS FOR MORE UP-TO-DATE REVIEWS HERE.

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51. The Clue in the Diary by Carolyn Keene--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Four stars because I've been waiting to get to this one in the series. We finally meet Nancy's series boyfriend here and he is a very keen guy. So swell. LOL. To be honest, knowing that he becomes her series boyfriend made it all the more obvious because of his behaviour. While he wasn't the first guy to catch Nancy's eye, he's the one that was the most persistent.

The mystery in this was pretty good--it made me feel like I was watching a mystery show. I think it might be one of the more layered mysteries so far in the series. And I don't mean that in that it has multiple mysteries, but in the sense that it felt like it had more heart than some of the other books in the series (so far).

Anyway, this was the last audiobook at the library of this classic series, so I don't know if I'll be reading beyond this, but maybe one day I will.

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52. The Winter King by C.L. Wilson--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

I came across THE WINTER KING on Tik Tok and I remember thinking, "This sounds like a book full of tropes I'm going to love." I was correct.

Wilson has created a beautiful and fantastical slow burn of a romance where the spice and sexual tension may be immediate, but the romantic part of the story is a slower burn. And the best part is that while these two are coming together and pulling apart, there is an actual fantasy storyline happening at the same time. There was always something happening and it was all being told in dual POV, which I'm very grateful for.

I'm a sucker for a FMC who has always been underestimated and treated less than she deserves, only for her to prove everyone wrong and for things to finally go her way. This book was full of those moments and they were like catnip for me. The brooding hero making her feel like she isn't wanted, when he in fact is too scared to get close to her because he wants her? Yes please, melt me.

Also, the side characters were great! Especially a younger one that comes into the story later on. Everything just came together so beautifully and ugh, I'm so glad I finally read this.

I highly recommend this for anyone who wants a slowburn, but sexy fantasy novel that also has a pretty great storyline.

By the way, I went to bed very late last night because I kept adding ten more minutes to my audiobook timer. I couldn't stop listening!!

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53. The Language of Seabirds by Will Taylor--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

THE LANGUAGE OF SEABIRDS, right from the beginning, has this beautiful and nostalgic air to it. Over the span of a few days, we get to see the MC learn more about himself, what it means to speak up, and the power that words and actions can have. It also shows how infallible even parents can be when they are somewhat just as lost as we feel.

Dealing with divorce, a father who is acting differently than normal (given the circumstances and his one too many drinks), and that in between chaos of deciding what life will look like post-divorce, our MC's summer isn't off to the best start. When he sees a mysterious and cute boy running on the beach past his temporary summer home, it sets of a chain of events.

Their adventures (and misadventures) over those two weeks gave me the greatest sense of nostalgia for those summer nights that can only truly be experienced while being a kid. The ending took me out, emotionally, and had me teary eyed in bed at 330 in the morning.

Also, I want to say that this book is 100% a middle grade book because the characters are only 12, but this is probably one of the most beautifully written middle grade books I've read. It felt very literary and almost older than the intended audience--not because of content, it was all very age-appropriate--but because of that feeling it made me feel of summers lost, and the way the story is written and presented. I think this is a great book for people of all ages to read, especially those who want to reminisce on their first loves, especially those who couldn't pursue said first loves because sometimes there can be truly negative consequences, or simply the fear of acknowledging that love.

The author also included an author's note about what he wanted to invoke in this book and truly, he fully did his work. What a gorgeous and under-appreciated book.

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54. How to Bite Your Neighbor & Win A Wager by D.N. Bryn--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I'll be honest: I never knew this book existed until I came across it on Libby. It looked fun (from the cover alone) and listen, who doesn't like a vampire romance now and then? I will say, though, that while this cover is very indicative of the emotion between these two characters during this act, this book was surprisingly...not what I was anticipating?

I thought this book would be spicier and just MORE. By the end of the book, I felt both relieved and a little let-down. Relieved because I was counting down the minutes until the audiobook ended and a little let-down because, like I said, I wanted more. I wanted the climax of the story to give me more. I wanted the romance to feel more...passionate? I don't know. It all felt a little too easy? And at times, I totally forgot these characters were adults. I thought that this could have easily been a YA novel, the main difference is that these characters are old enough to work office jobs.

I did like the diversity (both racially and body-type). I also really liked the one MC's best friend, she was great and I loved that she kept that MC levelheaded.

I enjoyed how they fell in love. It reminded me of past novels I've read where one MC shouts out that they love one of the characters, which gives me that "Aw" feeling. But I'm still a little salty that this was a vampire romance and it wasn't very sexy.

Anyway, if you like contemporary fantasy novels with vampires and close door romances, I think you'll enjoy this one. Was it silly at some points? Sure. But well, it wasn't the worst vampire book I've read!

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55. Hideaway by Nora Roberts--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Another day, another Nora Roberts book I've thoroughly enjoyed. I'm beginning to see the somewhat formula behind some of these books and I'm not going to lie, for the moment, I'm really enjoying said formula.

One of the beautiful things about HIDEAWAY is the familial love and how thoroughly this MC is loved. And even though I had to suspend my disbelief in the beginning (how is a ten year old capable of so much???), I was hooked.

Roberts has such an addicting way of writing. Her books are so much more than the fluffy romances people have always classified them as. Yes, there's romance in this, but it's also a thriller with some people who would heavily benefit from serious therapy.

It was also interesting seeing such a wealthy family have such a warm core.

Will definitely be picking up another Roberts novel!

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56. You & Me by Tal Bauer--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

⬆️⬆️ Real footage of me after I finished reading YOU & ME after only sleeping for two hours because I couldn't put the book down.

Listen, I'm an avid reader. There are some books I love and then there are some books that make me say, "I don't care about sleep, give me all the pages." YOU & ME was one of the latter books for me. I wanted to know what would come next, I wanted to know if these cinnamon rolls would get their shit together, and I especially wanted to see the father/son relationship be healed.

This book has hype behind it and it is completely worth it.

This is like one of those rare books that you immediately know will both linger with you long after it's done, and will be something you're going to re-read in the future.

I loved their love, I loved their relationships, and I loved seeing the unravelling of the mess that we are introduced to in the beginning. This is a story about love, hope, friendship, and heart. I loved it so much.

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57. Barbarian's Prize by Ruby Dixon--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I was excited for this one because LOOK AT THAT GORGEOUS COVER! While it's not my favourite book in the series, I found it did hold some pretty important themes.

The FMC is dealing with some serious trauma after being r@ped various times when she was captured at the beginning of the series. I think that's one thing that's easy to bypass in the past few books--the trauma these women went through after being capture is sometimes swept aside in order to get some sexy times. But I liked that Dixon let her FMC heal herself before she gave her heart to her mate. I'd call this book more a sobering moment in this spicy series.

I liked the MMC because he knew what the FMC needed and how to respectfully approach her. Maybe the bar is set in hell, but I thought it was sweet that he wasn't as pushy as all of the other male aliens around them. God, that's such a weird sentence to write. LOL.

Anyway, onto the next one!

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58. Mindy Kim, Class President by Lyla Lee & Dung Ho--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I think that books like this one are such important reads for the little readers in our lives. Not only does it teach the reader more about a culture (key words and phrases and snacks), but it also teaches them the importance of kindness, bravery, and how to approach scary moments in life.

Mindy faces her class's presidential elections in this one and while the teacher comments on the importance of voting and using that right we all have, we also watch Mindy overcome her fear of public speaking and how it's okay to be an adult with fears (her father), or my favourite, how it's okay for adults to have stuffed animals.

I love seeing Mindy grow in each book and I will never get over how adorable she is! I think this is a great and under-appreciated series.

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59. Indian Horse by Richard Wagamese--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

INDIAN HORSE is an emotional punch of a book. I think it's definitely one of those books that will haunt the reader for a very long time after the very last page. It was beautifully written, but it was also written with the phantom blood of those poor children who suffered, died, and were permanently scarred by residential schools.

Triggering is one of the first words that comes to mind when I now think of this book, but it's also so incredibly important.

This is the perfect of example of using and excelling at something to run and try to escape from the monsters in the dark, but that not even something you once loved can be a permanent escape. Monsters always find a way to find us in the end.

God, this was a beautiful and heartbreaking book--made even more so knowing that while this is a fictional story, the events are not wholly confined to this book. The horrors these children suffered will forever haunt our society. The cowardice and monstrosity of using religion to dehumanize people is something worth burning in hell for.

So, though it is triggering and traumatizing, INDIAN HORSE is a must read, since sometimes it is the most jarring books that have the greatest impact.

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Have you read any of these books? What are your thoughts?

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Happy reading!

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tiredqueermushroom · 2 years

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Post CR3 Episode 30 Thoughts: The Calloways and Intention/Impact

So I was right in my previous post that Birdie and Ollie are both irresponsible idiots. They willingly left their child daughter in the care of a known hag called the Fatestitcher and are then surprised when it's implied that Ira; you know child kidnapper/experimenter may have struck a deal with said HAG.

Trading away portions of their daughter's life/time. Her childhood in exchange for materials. Birdie and Ollie left Fearne when she was 8 years old, she's now 112 that is over 100 years of Fearne's life gone. And when their daughter brought up the years lost, they continued to brush it off until their daughter pieced together in like an hour of knowing Ira. They had 6 years to suspect something was fishy, 6 years to ask Ira what exactly they were building. 6 years of complete and utter irresponsibility.

Now I'm gonna talk about Intention vs Impact. Some may argue that Birdie and Ollie aren't bad parents because they ment well, that they risked 6 years of their lives, they had to work with morally dubious people all for they sake of their daughter. To keep Fearne safe. I have no doubt that they both love Fearne with all they have, but love isn't the only thing that makes you a good parent. They ment well, therefore they're good parents. The ends justify the means.

Now let's look at the impact of their actions. Fearne is a complete stranger to her parents, Fearne is so emotionally constipated that at the reveal of her being traded all she had to say was "Well that puts a wrinkles on things." Fearne has lost over 100 years and lived 100 years without her parents, that she can never get back.

They risked Fearne's childhood and lost. They should have never played with Fearne's life like that, they robbed her of her autonomy. Even if it was accidental. They knew Morri was a hag. They knew she was a Fatestitcher. Yet the played with Fearne's life, and yes, it was for Fearne's safety but was her safety really worth this?

I've seen people compare Birdie and Veth. Yes they both left their children in the care of others, for that child's safety and in Veth's case to give her time to reevaluate whether being a stay at home mum was what she wanted to return to. The difference is intention and impact.

Veth's intention: Keep Luc safe and have time for some introspection.

Impact: Luc was kept safe with his father and veth created a life where she runs a summer camp and takes care of her son.

Birdie's intention: Keep Fearne safe while she and Ollie further investigate Rudius.

Impact: Fearne has over 100 years stolen from her by a known hag and they may have unintentionally helped build a device that does something and accidental trading their daughter to said fatestitching hag.

It doesn't matter what their intentions were anymore because the impact has irreversibly changed Fearne's life, a life they accidental traded away.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #birdie calloway #ollie calloway #ira wendagoth #fearne calloway #brief mentions of veth brenatto #long post #cr meta #charcter analysis #its all about impact #the road to hell is paved with good intentions #good people aren't always good parents #at what point do you stop and weight the cost #they love fearne but are so dumb #fearne needs some hugs #morrigan the fatestitcher #my meta

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jegulushouse · 10 months

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Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, Nott, The Malfoys and Regulus Black Are All Double Agents:

⦁ Though married to Lucius, Narcissa helped Voldemort, mostly through helping Lucius, without becoming a follower herself. She's not a death eater and doesn't have a dark mark. Lucius never was faithful to the cause and a spy from the start. He thought purebloods were superior but not in a start-a-war-over-it kind of way. Over time, he came to dislike half-bloods and muggle-borns less.

⦁ Nott's wife, like Narcissa, wasn't an official death eater. She wasn't even that supportive of Voldemort's cause but she loved her boys (husband and son, Theodore) who loved her so she supported her husband and when she died suddenly from illness (with her son and husband present), Nott also started to waver on where he stood. He turned to Dumbledore as well.

⦁ Regulus became a death eater not long after Sirius ran away. Probably the same summer.

⦁ Regulus believed when he joined up while still a student at Hogwarts. After graduating, he became disenchanted by the cause (he thought Voldy was nuts and muggle torture was horrifying) and the world became much larger outside of school and his parents hold, and he lost the belief in the blood supremacy rhetoric (he was able to see things for what they were). He remained a death eater out of fear and to protect his parents and keep his friends who were true believers.

⦁ The summer following Regulus' graduating, Voldemort decided to test his defenses around his horcruxes and requested Regulus' house elf, Kreacher, which he left to die. Kreacher didn't die and Regulus managed to figure out the whole horcrux thing out.

⦁ In cannon, Regulus tried to destroy it, was semi-successful and died in the process. In my AU, the near killing of Kreacher and creation of horcruxes prompted Regulus to take action in a somewhat different way. He realized Voldemort meant to keep going forever. He shared what he knew with Dumbledore. They started devising a plan based on what Kreacher told Regulus to work on that aspect of the war against Voldemort just the two of them. Regulus became a double agent for Dumbledore's cause but not a member of the order.

⦁ Regulus, Nott and the Malfoys were spies for Dumbledore and a source of information for the order before Snape. Double agents were kept need to know but they knew about each other.

⦁ Peter Pettigrew became a double agent for Voldemort in secret in the Spring of 1980. He began leaking order information to Voldemort. This was the beginning of the order members and friends suspecting each other. The war entered its most desperate phase as death eaters began systematically murdering order members. People who stood out against Voldemort were marked by death eaters as well. Nobody felt safe.

⦁ Peter ratted the Potters out to Voldemort on October 31, breaking the charm and making them vulnerable. He was over-eager and Nott saw him arrive to the meeting as the meeting he took part in ended and overheard the location of the Potters. He didn't create a fuss of seeing Peter and left quietly. He thought it odd so he mentioned seeing Pettigrew to Regulus who didn't see anything but he knew better.

⦁ Regulus made a quick plan. He sent the Malfoys to Dumbledore, Nott to the Potters and he went to the cave (if Voldemort was going to die, Regulus wanted to keep it that way).

The Attack In Godric's Hollow:

⦁ Help arrived in Godric's Hollow a few moments too late.

⦁ Voldemort got there first.

⦁ Nott arrived second. The lower level was a disaster and James was pinned, unconscious, under an old, solid wood bookshelf with an obvious bloody hair line from a head injury.

⦁ Dumbledore arrived a few minutes after Nott with the Malfoys and Aberforth Dumbledore, Frank and Alice Longbottom and Voldemort was quickly losing his assured win.

⦁ James was severely injured in a minor explosion which destroyed part of the lower level of their house; a moment of leniency from Voldemort for a pureblood. Voldemort was interrupted on the top level where he was trying to kill Harry and Lily was protecting him. He tried to spare her and she refused, like in cannon. Upon realizing Dumbledore plus others were in the house, Voldemort knocked Lily aside to take a last second attempt on Harry's life which backfired, killing Voldemort like it did in cannon with an explosion that tore a hole in the house. A minorly injured Lily was a witness to what happened and saw Voldemort flee in a non-physical form.

⦁ Remus was wolfing out with the moon and Sirius was with him as full moons were used for missions most often and otherwise his mate would be alone; Sirius didn't think he'd be needed elsewhere.

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gothamxwattpad · 11 months

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This Is GothamX

GothamX.

Chapter One: The First One Pt. One

Word Count: 2147

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How did we get here? And I'm not talking about how our parents met and did the things that led up to the big mating ritual. I mean, for fuck's sake, we're up to our knees in snow, blood-splattered snow.

I will ask again; How. Did. We. Get. Here? Was it the consequences of our actions or was it all going to happen anyway? I know the answer but it's a long story. And as much as I would like to say that it's my story, I can't.

No, this is. Gotham's story; its past, present, and future. Like I said, it's a long story, some of the best ones usually are. Do you plan on sticking around? I'll guess we'll find out.

August 1st, 2018

This is Gotham, man years after the rise and fall of its best and worst, the city, it teems, or it's trying to. Gotham, winters are brisk and drawn out, dismal and beyond the bounds of hope. It's a miracle if we even make it out alive. Winters in Gotham push people to their limits and then further. And like thin ice, people crack under too much pressure and they fall into chilly, deep depths and drown.

But it's Gotham summers that catch people by surprise. Between the noise; AC units and fans, the mix of loud music and people yelling, slamming doors, car horns, sirens, and gunshots. And the hellish temperatures that make pavement blister and test the tempers of all beneath the summer sun.

There's a reason why most prefer the city nightlife. On nights like tonight, we scatter across the city but mostly within the Shallows, a small section of Uptown that's nestled in between Crime Alley and the Bowery.The Shallows, appropriately named by Gotham's strays because of the idea that the city is like an ocean. The Shallows is where the small fish swim among slightly bigger fish and hope they avoid being eaten or in our case, drown.

Yes, the Shallows. My home and home to many. Me and many strays and street kids, Gotham's forgotten youth. Bruce Wayne once donated a large sum of money to the city for the kids in the system. But it dried out years ago and according to them, there are too many of us to support so they no longer try. And they have the audacity to question the authority issues that we have after they beat, starve, and ignore us.

Most nights we gather at a small skatepark within the Shallows. We call this place Anarchy Row. There's no origin to the name, it's just a place that exists for us to congregate.Anarchy Row makes up three corners of a wonky concrete triangle. The spiky-haired crust punks with their battle vests and spray paint. The corner that's occupied by Uptown's gang kids, one of them being the daughter of the infamous Andre Scott. The skaters take the middle, an assembly of young and old, doing tricks and trading decks and stickers.

The final corner; the corner of the lost and miscellaneous; my corner. It's a little different than the other two due to the set of metal bleachers that sit right beneath the brightest lights in the park. I understand why the others choose the shadows. The bleachers are too open and well-lit even if they have the best view of the park and surrounding area, like the empty grassy lot that's between us and the road.

I hear my name called out over the music and noise, "Aurora!"

Crossing over from her corner is Brandy Scott and her older cousin just a couple paces behind her like a protective guard dog.

"Where's your boy tonight?" She asks as she nears the bottom of the bleachers.

She's referring to my best friend, Zachary, who is usually never too far away from me. But tonight’s weather is decent, clear skies, moonlight, and not too hot. He’s running the streets with the rest of the street artists.

“That’s a good question. He’s probably close by.” I answer as she takes a seat.

“Probably? You two are almost inseparable.” She replies with a smile, “I hope you don’t mind me joining you for a bit.” She adds.

Brandy Scott; she and I met in juvie last year, butting heads until we settled our differences. The thing that bonded us was the night a group of girls from Midtown cornered us in the bathroom. They aimed to inflict harm on us until she told them who she was. Her last name means something to those who run the streets, like me.

“Brandy, these bleachers are for anyone who wants to sit.” I say with a light laugh.

She nods her head and relaxes, taking off her mini backpack, “My parents have been asking about you a lot lately. Maybe it's time for a visit.” She says, digging around in her bag. It has been awhile since I’ve seen them, I used to come and go almost daily.

“Yeah, I should drop in and socialize for a bit.” I tell her as I watch the corners mix and mingle.

Andre and Monica Scott are nice people, despite their extracurricular activities. They welcomed me into their home after we got out of juvie. They kept my stomach full, clean clothes on my back and gave me a safe place to sleep when I needed it.

“It’s really quiet out here tonight, huh?” She comments, breaking the silence.

“Brandy! Bro, that’s not something you say aloud!” Her cousin exclaims as he too joins us.

He’s right though, it’s like telling the universe to spice things up a bit, and it’s never in a good way.

I catch something moving in the corner of my eye, a figure crossing the grassy lot towards the park.The first thing I notice is the spiky mohawk, then the attire; it’s Zachary, in his usual regalia of black leather boots, ripped jeans, a denim jacket and some sort of graphic tshirt with questionable designs.

Tonight’s shirt is white with a hand gesture of a middle finger. And a red stain down the front- blood.

“What happened to you, man?” Brandy’s cousin, Trey, asks as Zachary strolls up.

Unbothered, Zarchary just smiles and shrugs before making his way up the bleachers to me.

“There appears to be a new group in Crime Alley.” He announces with more enthusiasm than I believe one should have after being bloodied.

“A fair sized lot. Territorial, as you can see by the blood stain that I may never get out of this shirt.” He adds, still with an odd amount of enthusiasm.

“Nobody wants to play by the street rules anymore.” Trey complains, shaking his head.

“What were you doing in Crime Alley?” Brandy asks with sass.

Crime Alley, that’s deeper water than the Shallows and if you’re not a strong enough swimmer you can easily be swept out further.The tide changes are unpredictable too. Zachary is lucky that’s all he left with.

“I was looking for something, a wall.” Zachary answers vaguely, as he often does.

It’s a habit that he has, it comes and goes, on and off. It usually takes him time to break the habit after he sees his parents. They ask too many questions.

“I hope that wall was worth it.” Trey pipes up again.

“It was actually. Check this out.” He replies, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket.

I watch him tap in his password and swipe around and with a massive grin he hands me his phone.

The wall; a white painted brick wall, home to a massive mural that must have taken a significant time to paint.

“Holyshit.” I say aloud, realizing what it is, a piece by the anonymous street artist only known as the White Rabbit.

The White Rabbit is the name of a comic book series that popped up in early spring, a story of a young woman trying to survive in a city under tyrannical rule. She dons the mask and identity of a former vigilante hero, the White Rabbit, to help inspire the people of the city to fight back against their oppressor.The comics flew off shelves almost immediately, it was a story that felt relatable to Gotham’s youth.And like the great Bat that used to watch over Gotham back in the day, the White Rabbit artist did too, until tonight.

“The White Rabbit is back.” I sigh as I pass the phone down to Brandy and Trey.

The wall was painted in various reds, oranges and yellows. It was a mask made of burlap and complete with a colorful background of either a sunset or sunrise. It felt like a message, a vague one at best. The artist is known for it, leaving massive pieces of art in different places in the whole city.Little signs of life and color.

“I guess this is worth a busted nose.” Brandy sighs, handing the phone back to Zachary.

I just want to know who punched my friend.

“Aurora’s making a face.” Trey says with a chuckle.

“Stop making the face.” Zachary grumbles at me, even though his face is fighting off a smile, “We’re keeping the peace tonight.”

Keep the peace. He knows me well enough to know better. Brandy and everyone else knows it, I’m not one who just simply keeps the peace.

“Aurora, are you going to keep the peace or not?” Trey taunts.

I’m thinking about it. For the most part, Zachary James Martin is the peace. He doesn’t enjoy conflict and fighting. I am the opposite. I am the chaos.

“So, you bumped heads with the playground kids?” I joke, trying to ease his concern.

That’s how we met, as kids, on a private school playground. Zachary was being pushed around by some older boys, and me being me, picked up a tree branch and swung it around until the boys got the idea.

“That’s my favorite thing about you, Aurora, you have jokes. You always have them.” Zachary replies with a laugh.

“Something’s going on in Midtown.” Trey announces suddenly, looking down at his phone.

There’s a shift in the mood around Anarchy Row. The corners are packing up their belongings and turning off the music.

Zachary pulls his phone out to find a breaking news bulletin, “Bank robbery in Midtown.” He says to me.

We watch the footage of Gotham City Central Bank fully surrounded by GCPD and SWAT teams with armed vehicles. Helicopters with spotlights flying above the bank as people gather at the barricades to watch.

A large armored truck speeds down the street towards one of the barricades. The bystanders and police scramble to dodge the oncoming truck as it breaks through and drives up the stone steps in front of the doors.

A small handful of armed men exit the building with duffle bags and climb into the truck and for a moment all is dead silent.

A loud explosion takes out part of the wall and doors of the bank, causing a panic as a cloud of smoke and dust blocks the view of everything.

A single large figure emerges from the hole. The dust clears and the figure becomes clearer to see. The individual dons a clown mask; pasty white face, badly painted lips and wild green hair.

“Holyshit!” I blurt out as they step forward into one of the spotlights shining above from one of the circling helicopters.

The person removes the mask and drops to the steps at his feet.

“He’s back!” I exclaim just as all live footage is cut off.

He’s back. The Mad Clown. The Clown Prince of Gotham. The Joker.

We can hear the sirens in the distance. Northern Gotham police are heading south to assist, leaving Uptown to fend for itself.

“Now what?” Zachary asks once things calmed down.

Only a handful of skaters and punks remained in the park and there was thunder in the distance. The night’s social activities were coming to an end.

“Mom and dad are going to want me home soon.” Brandy says with seriousness, “Aurora, come with us.” She insists.

“Yeah, I should probably head home too. My parents are going to be calling and wondering where I am.” Zachary replies, “You should go with them tonight. Stay up late, paint your nails and do that weird face goop stuff that you girls do.”

After rolling my eyes and losing the fight with Brandy’s convincing puppy dog stare, I nod and come down from my spot on the bleachers. Giving Zachary a hug goodbye, I follow Brandy and Trey across the park to the car, listening to their sibling-like bickering about not staying up all night laughing and such.

I relax into the black leather seat as we head south, watching the world blur by as it begins to rain.

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