#like perhaps instead of seeing this as an excuse to leave the house.... maybe.... just maybe.... it's a sign that we need to tackle the

[dante-mightdie]

A small req? Wheree we're a milf and our incel son eventually joins the military (you choose if he joins the military or meets at a bar I ain't gaf) and meets Ghost, 141 whatever. He brings Ghost home to his basement room(or the 141 bb do whatever you want) and ghost is surprised n shi that we this incel momma when we com with snacks or something like 'get outta here mom you're embarrassing me Infront of my new friends!" Is our sons reaction or sum. And ghostie pookie excuses himself up to the bathroom to sloppily makeout with us 🥺

nobody look at me i’m foaming at the mouth

c/w: simon is kinda strange but in a weird sexy way, mentions of misogyny, talks of sex must no actual smut, housewife kink kinda

it’s no secret that your son is a nasty little misogynistic shit. everyone on base has had the experience of standing next to him on a night as out when he gets a drink thrown in his face by whatever girl is he was chatting to

they’d been there every time he dogs out in front of everyone when you visit him on base. watching your eyes well up when your son tells you that he doesn’t like your new haircut or dress, that you’re too old to wear stuff like that

simon tried not to judge, appearances can be deceiving. perhaps you’re not all smiles and baked goods, maybe you’re an awful mother behind the scenes. he really tried. until he found out the real reason your son treats you like shit…

“she made my dad leave. he told me after they divorced that she wasn’t giving him what he needed, that’s why he had to go and get it somewhere else.” your son finally admitted one night after going through half case of beer

simon felt his hand tighten around his bottle as your son continued to ramble about how you were always busy with shit jobs. waitressing, cleaning or retail. he spent most of his childhood never getting all the latest toys and clothes because you could never afford it, too busy catching up on late bills to make sure there was a roof over both of your heads

“she’s so selfish.”

‘fuck being non-judgmental’ simon thinks. this kid doesn’t know how lucky he is. having a such a lovely mum like you, never losing your patience with your son even when he treats you like dirt. always trying to greet him with a hug or kiss just for him to push you away. begging him to call when he’s away just so you can know your boy is safe :(

“sounds like your mad at your mum for being the one that stuck around, lad.” price buts in, shaking his head with a small laugh.

you had been a topic of discussion the night after your first visit to the base. the product of a few glasses of bourbon shared between simon and john

“did you see the new recruits mother? fuckin’ hell, if I were 10 years younger I’d be all over that.” price admitted, adjusting his hips as he leaned back in his desk chair. simon let out a small grunt of agreement, having thought about this since he first laid eyes on you

simon had come to the conclusion that you both just needed a good man in your life. your son needed a father figure that would actually stick around, he could tell by the way your son looks up to him and the captain, eager to impress them

and you. oh, you. with your sweet, simple dresses and adoring smile. simon wishes you’d smile at him like that. all that cooking that your son lets go to waste could go to him instead. you could cook his favourite dinners for him and take care of his house whilst he’s away at work, whipping the boy into shape. teaching him every thing that your sack of shit ex-husband clearly didn’t

he’d be so good to you too. he knows it’s been a while since you’ve had a man to take care of your needs. he sees the way you nearly drool as you watch him running laps around the field, tatted arms on display. he’d spit you open so nicely on his cock and he knows you’d take him so well too, your pretty cunt would he creaming all over him

he soon takes advantage of this knowledge, subtly convincing your son to invite him over to your home on leave. dropping some story about how his flat is getting some work done and that he only lives 20 minutes from you both. your son was quick to offer the lieutenant a place to stay, telling him that he could take your room. that you could sleep on the couch for a couple weeks.

‘we’ll share the bed.’ simon thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it to your sons face. can’t have this little brat meddling with his plan

his arrival is clearly a surprise to you from the way you rush about shortly afterwards to start scrubbing the house top to bottom, rattling off apologies about the state of everything. simon quickly shuts down any offer of him taking your bedroom

“keep your bed, love. I’ll take the sofa.” he grumbles, sipping the tea that you made for him whilst your son rolls his eyes from the other side of the kitchen

he can see the way your eyes look at him with this longing. he knows it won’t take much to get you into bed. poor thing that hasn’t had anyone to look after her for years

he spends the next few days proving to you that he can provide. helping you carry anything heavy, drying the dishes after you’ve watched them, fixing the handy jobs around the house

you’re constantly praising him, focusing your love and attention towards him instead of your ungrateful son and the boy hates it. which is just the cherry on top, simon thinks

“your mother is so lucky to have a son like you. you must help her around the house all the time!” you coo, fidgeting with your skirt

“my mum passed away… jus’ me left out of the whole family.” simon admits, solemnly

“you poor thing, I’m so sorry. you’re welcome here anytime…” you gasp softly, placing your delicate hand on his arm and squeezing the muscle of his bicep gently and simon is ashamed to say it made his cock twitch against his thigh

“thank you, sweetheart… such a lovely girl, aren’t you?” he smiles behind his mask, reaching over and wrapping his arm around your waist. he pulls you against him, putting one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he hoists you up onto the kitchen counter

he squeezes his large frame inbetween your spread legs, leaning forward to look into your widened eyes

“been so good to me, love. taking care of me. such a good mum to your son, ya just need a good man to be a wife to, don’t you?” he says, pushing your skirt up your lap and revealing your thighs to him

he feels your thighs squeeze his waist, an aroused reaction from you. your body slumps into his with a natural submission that makes his cock ache. he lowers his hand and hooks his mask over his nose, revealing the scar running over his lip

“s’alright, darling. ‘m here to look after you now. me, you and the boy will be a nice happy family, yeah?” he says with a small smirk. leaning forward to mould his lips against yours before you can answer

he hears the little whimper you let out as you kiss him back, a little sloppy and inexperienced from years of being single, too busy with your son and work to date

but that’s okay because simon’s here now. ready to claim his family.

#mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley

[selfindulgentpixies]

Soothing words and decaf

Satoru Gojo x Reader x Suguru Geto one shot

When nightmares wake you up once again your boyfriends decide they can't just leave you to sit up alone. Gn!reader, reader wears glasses and has bad eyesight, not stated where in the timeline this is. It's an AU where Suguru never left though. This is really just to comfort myself because my nightmares have been bad lately and making sleep super difficult. It why i've been slow on writing stuff because i'm tired a lot. Also i couldn't decide on just one of them for this comfort fic and needed to be doted on by both. Pls excuse any typos or mistakes

You wake with a start, a stuttering in your chest and a choked gasp. You gaze blearily up at the ceiling, your current location slowly invades your senses and pushes away the personal hell your subconscious  had been creating for you. There’s warm breath fanning over the crown of your head. It would probably be ruffling your bangs if not for the fact they were plastered to your forehead by the sweat. You glance to your right and see that at some point in his sleep Satoru had decided you were his personal teddy bear. Your eyes then drift to the left and you jolt slightly to find that Suguru is blinking back at you with a combination of tiredness and concern. 

“Another one?” He asks, voice low and thick with sleep. This had unfortunately become routine.

You go to speak and nothing comes out the first try but upon clearing your throat slightly and trying again you let out a small. “Yeah.. Go back to sleep, Sugu.” 

He huffs a little at your words and how you begin to try and wiggle out of Satoru’s arms without waking him. An impossible task given that all three of you weren’t what anyone could call heavy sleepers. Trauma will do that afterall. So it’s unsurprising when Satoru grumbles and tightens his grip on you. “You should take your own advice.” Satoru’s voice is just as gravely as Suguru’s and when you glance up you see him peering down at you with his impossibly bright eyes. 

“You know I can’t do that… Let me up and the two of you can get some sleep.” You scoot up to a sitting position, Satoru's arms wrapped around your waist making your task of reaching over him to the side table to get your glasses a far harder task than it needed to be. You whine and flop on him. Fine you’d just be blind. You wiggle down and under his arm, surprised he allowed you to do so as you slide to the end of the bed to get up. 

You didn’t feel like giving Satoru a chance to change his mind about letting you go so you don’t walk past him to get your glasses and instead just pad your way into the kitchen. Your shared apartment with the two men was so familiar you could probably navigate it wearing Satoru’s blindfold. 

Once you’re close enough to the microwave to make out the little glowing numbers you let out a huff. It wasn’t even five am yet. You’d maybe managed to get four hours of sleep which was becoming painfully typical. Today would be another day of surviving off coffee and hopefully slipping in a nap as soon as you got a chance. Your nightmares seemed to happen less when you slept during the day. 

You’re shuffling around the cupboards getting down what you need to make coffee when you hear quiet foot falls, perhaps near silent for someone else but your ears were sensitive and seemingly more so when you chose to mostly forgo being able to see. Anything beyond a couple feet away from you losing all clarity and blurring around the edges. Impressions of objects you only recognized based on familiarity.

Well mostly. “That’s the sea salt, love.” Suguru whispers against the shell of your ear as he takes the long cylindrical container from your hand to place back on the shelf and then grabs a very similar but not identical container that houses the sugar. 

You grumble. “Why do we even keep them next to eachother on the shelf?” Suguru’s hair tickling your neck makes you twitch slightly but you don’t brush it or him away as he leans over you, enveloping you in his warmth, resting his chin on your head as he bends at the waist and wraps his arms around your middle.

“Normally you’re wearing your glasses and can tell the difference.” there’s the smallest hint of amusement to his voice. 

You sigh. That was true. It annoys you but it’s true. You rock back on your heels and lean into his chest. “Really you should get more sleep. Go cuddle with Satoru, I’m sure he’s lonely trying to sleep alon-”

A loud yawn cuts through the kitchen as Satoru walks in. “Too late, already here.” 

“Seriously you both should-” 

“If we should be sleeping so should you. So either you come back to bed with us, or we’re all starting our day at this ungodly hour.” You feel Suguru’s jaw moving against the top of your head as he talks. 

You frown deeply, slouching in his hold. “I… can’t sleep okay? If i go back to sleep it’ll probably just start again.” 

Suguru hums and rocks the both of you back and forth. “Then it sounds like we’re all getting up then, right Satoru? “ He turns you both so you’re facing Satoru who’s much closer now.

Another yawn. “Sounds about right.” And as he says this he places your glasses on your face, bringing his own into focus for you. Satoru is beautiful as always but definitely looks like he needs more sleep. But you know very well how stubborn both he and Suguru are, they’re worse than you are. 

You cave. “Fine, stay up if you want then.” You wanted to sound petulant but instead you just sound tired. Suguru Squeezes you before rising to his full height and releasing you. “Go relax, I’ll make the coffee.” 

Before you can respond he gives you a small nudge in Satoru’s direction who doesn’t give you time to protest as he scoops you up and carries you toward the plush living room couch. He flops both of you down before rolling you so he’s squishing you into the plush fabric. “Satoruuuu-” You try to protest as he nuzzles into your neck. If you were more awake you might have caught on to what the two men were doing since in the kitchen Suguru put away the regular coffee and switched it out for decaf before brewing it. They still had some hope of lulling you back to sleep and caffeine wasn’t part of that. They knew you well enough that you likely just needed to be soothed and given time to get out of your head so you could be directed back to bed. 

“Mmm don’t want to cuddle me?” He pouts at you.

“You’re squishing me, you big menace!” 

The two of you go back and forth, you sinking back into the couch and giving Satoru his way despite complaining when what feels like suddenly Suguru is there holding two mugs of coffee and judging by the heap of whipcream on the third mug a cup of hot chocolate for Satoru. He kicks one of Satoru’s legs. “Move over and quit crushing them. “ 

Satoru grunts and starts to complain until he looks At Suguru and spots the mug topped with whipcream. He sits up quickly, suddenly looking angelic which earns a sigh from both you and the long haired man. You sit up and give Suguru a grateful smile as he passes you one of the steaming mugs. “Thank you, Sugu.” 

“Of course.” He leans forward and brushes his lips over your forehead. He gets you to scoot over slightly and as you often do you find yourself squished between the two men. You didn’t need to be squished, the couch was big enough, Satoru just seemed dead set on not moving further than he had to. 

You don’t really talk as you quietly sip at your coffee, instead listening to Satoru and Suguru talk about the upcoming day, voices low and soothing. You hardly notice when your mug is pulled from your hands and placed on the coffee table before you can spill the remnants of your drink on your lap. You blink rapidly realizing you’ve been completely zoned out only now to have Satoru’s face directly in yours. It’s brief because the next thing you know he’s picked you up for the second time that night, or rather morning. “Satoru-” You cut off in a yawn and wrap your arms around his shoulders, body shaking slightly with a stretch. 

“I think it’s time we head back to bed. Suguru and I have been talking to you and you haven’t even noticed,” he says amusement clear in his voice. You can hear Suguru in the background putting your mugs in the sink before following the two of you.

“Mm sorry,” you mumble against his shoulder, your glasses being pushed askew though you couldn’t care less. You feel more than hear Satoru laugh. And it feels like in the next blink he’s laying you back in bed, and gently slipping your glasses off before crawling in after you, wrapping you in his arms. It’s only a couple moments later that Suguru follows. A rough warm hand sliding under your sleep shirt to splay over your stomach. 

You’re finally back asleep then, safely tucked between the two of them where no harm can come to you, even if your dreams make you feel otherwise. The two of them will always be there to remind you that you’re safe.

@nanamikentoseyebags @strawberrystepmom @icy-spicy

@gojoest

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #gn!reader #jjk x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader x geto #rossi writes

[ruksahiroku]

Masochist MC x Lucifer

Woo, I actually made something for once!

Warnings -- Mature, Restraints, Whips, Pain, Pleasure, implied suspension.

Other warnings -- Not proofread for errors. I want to care, but I'm also starving, soooo...

It should be fine.

Minors DNI

“MAAAAAAAAAMMOOOOOON!!”

You were in your room watching DevilTube when you heard Lucifer shout through the house. I wonder what he did this time..? You stood, throwing your phone on the bed and wandering towards the brothers' voices.

“C'mon! You've helped me before, what's wrong with one more time? I won't do it again, promise!” Mammon sounded desperate.

You heard Asmodeus huff, “That's what you've said the past 300 years! I am NOT helping you this time, my poor hands would get wrinkled. No. Thank. You.”

You turned the corner and locked eyes with Mammon, who used you as a meat shield like usual.

“MC will help me, right?” Mammon cried behind you, “You'd have the honour to help The Great Mammon after all.”

You sighed, wondering what you were getting into. “Of course I'll help you Mammon. I always do, don't I? What are we doing this time?”

“No.” Lucifer's voice was harsh, and your eyes met his. “Mammon will clean up his mess alone this time. He will work for free, and pay for anything he eats. Then, when he's done, he will report to me immediately for further punishment.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose and waved Mammon away.

Surprisingly Mammon left, shoulders slumped. The rest of the brothers left one by one, leaving you alone with Lucifer.

“What did he do this time, Lucifer?” You cocked your head, thinking about seeing Mammon strung up later. It made a twisted jealousy form a knot in your stomach.

“He was caught selling things from Ristorante Six. Tablecloths, decor, utensils...” Lucifer shook his head, and sighed. “Sometimes I think he likes it when I punish him. I'll have to come up with something harsher for tonight. Perhaps he'll begin to be--”

You couldn't help yourself, “Punish me instead.” you blurted out, surprising you both as you stared at each other. You looked away, a fierce blush creeping across your face.

“Excuse me? MC, did I hear you correctly?” Lucifer took a step towards you and lifted your chin so you were face to face again. “Say it again.”

“I-I... Punish me instead. Maybe Mammon will behave if he knows that I will be the one taking the punishments.” Your face was red now, but your voice never wavered. “Don't go easy on me either.. Punish me like you would punish him. Whip me, and tie me up, make me into a chandelier while you and your brothers eat dinner.” Just the thought alone was enough to heat you up.

“And why should I do that, MC?” Lucifer was smirking, one eyebrow raised. He was toying with you on purpose.

You took a deep breath in, held it for a moment, then spoke, “Because I'm a masochist. Every time I hear one of them being punished, I would imagine it being me. To be degraded, humiliated, abused and hung like furniture...”

You were in Lucifer's room before you finished explaining it to him. You saw him smirk as he turned away from you and walked to his closet. When he turned back, you saw the whip he held.

“Come here.” It was a command, and you followed it. Lucifer smiled, “Good human. At least someone in this house will do as they're told. Now, I will give you the colour system for safe words, is that acceptable? Explain it to me so I know we both understand.”

“Yes, Lucifer.” You smiled back to him. It felt like a dream. “Green means I am good to continue. Red means stop, and it is over. Yellow means that I don't want to end, but I need something. Further communication is required.”

He nodded, “Very well. Then to begin, I'd like you to take off your RAD uniform. Set it here.” He pointed to a stool inside his closet. “You may leave your underclothing on, but the uniform is tailored to you. I would hate to have you miss classes because of this.”

Without a word you stepped past him and removed your school uniform, folding it on the stool. You stood in your underclothes, that blasted blush creeping back across your face.

Lucifer closed the doors to his closet, instructing you to stand facing the doors. “Good. Spread your legs for me, now.” As you did, he knelt to attach cuffs to your ankles. Each one was connected to a short chain bolted to the back of the door. “I don't bother doing this for Mammon, but I won't go easy on you. I don't want to seriously injure you if you squirm at the wrong time.” He ran his hands up your sides, and down your arms to your wrists. “Colour?” He raised your arms above your head to attach another pair of cuffs to the top of the door

You were breathing heavily. “Green.” Never in a million years did you think that you would obtain this sort of attention.

He stepped back from you, and you could hear him swing the whip a few times in practice.“Then we will begin. I will start with ten. You will count. If I don't hear you, or you miss a number, we go back to one. I will warn you only once if I cannot hear you. Are you ready?” His voice was distant, a cold professionalism running through it.

“Yes Lucifer.” You rested your head against the door, and closed your eyes, listening for the sound of the air splitting.

CRACK!

It stung more than you expected, and you gasped out in shock. “One.” You could feel a warmth blossom in your core, and your back.

CRACK!

You cried out, not expecting another blow to come so quickly. “Two.”

CRACK!

Panting for breath now, your entire body was on fire. “Three.”

CRACK!

It stung so badly, this is the bliss you were looking for. You couldn't help yourself, moaning, “Lucifer... Four...”

You heard the click of his shoes against the polished wooden floorboards, and felt his gloved hands against your body, slowly roaming. “Colour?”

“Green.” Your head lolled back against him as one of his hands wrapped lightly around your neck.

“Good. It seems like you're enjoying this, MC.” He chuckled.

He stepped away from you again, and you whined in protest.

CRACK!

Another moan of his name. “Lucifer..”

He never heard a voice so sweet. It made him want. He wanted this, you, moaning his name. He wanted to take you, hide you from the world, you were his. Instead, he readied for another swing, smiling. “I didn't hear you, dove.”

“I” You hesitated, voice full of lust, “I don't remember, I'm sorry.”

“Then we will have to start over.” He chastised you. “Now it will be fifteen, Understood?”

“Ye--”

CRACK!

You weren't expecting it, and your knees buckled. “One.” You straitened up waiting for the next.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

You screamed, unable to maintain your composure, or control your body as an orgasm ripped through you, staining your clothes. You heard a thunk as something fell to the floor, and Lucifer's hands were on you, holding you up, undoing the restraints.

“MC? Are you alright?” He looked at you, and his concern fizzled away into a cocky smirk. “You certainly seem to be fine. Color?”

“Green.” You said shakily as you regained some control over yourself. “Two, three, four.” You smiled to him.

He chuckled, “Very good, MC. Now, if you wish to be hung above the table for dinner, I should tie you up now. Usually I wouldn't do this, but it's my turn to make dinner tonight. If you are still okay after dinner is cleaned up and over, I will finish your punishment.” He removed the cuffs from your ankles first, then your wrists.

“I think I'll need to change first, please.” You said, looking away from him.

“That is out of the question. This is a punishment after all. Now everyone will know,” He lowered his voice, a possessive growl as he continued, “Just how excited you got from being tied up and whipped by me.” He licked his lips, looking at you like cornered prey. “Understood?”

“Yes, Lucifer” you whispered.

#obey me lucifer #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #ruksa's creations #obey me smut #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer x reader

[the-dawn-star]

Place to Stay Klaus M. x Gilbert!Reader x Elijah M. part. 26

A/N: And here we are again! This took way too long and to be honest I have been feeling really uninspired with this story (also life has kept me busy and I haven't felt the best). But still I would love to hear you comments and opinions about the story. Also, any comments are really appreciated!!

-S

+1500ish words.

The rain hit the car window, but I didn’t mind. It kept my awareness of reality attached and made sure I didn’t wander into an endless loop of daydreaming and panic inducing memories. Elena and Stefan were sitting in the front seats, but neither had said anything since leaving. Elena needed a while to process the idea of me kissing Klaus. 

Elenas’ unwillingness to speak clarified that when we eventually spoke, it would be a shouting match. So, I tried my best to prevent the collision, so I had taken the same. 

The sight of our front yard made my heartbeat spike up. With a quick look at the car’s display mirror, showed Stefan’s eyes, who I made eye contact with and showed me he had realized it too.  

Stefan was always polite to me, and valued him, but I avoided upsetting my sister for quite some time.. He was Elena’s boyfriend before my friend. He never stopped his brother from harassing Bonnie, Caroline, Elena, me, or any other woman.  

I was last to get out of the car and face my sister. She was waiting on the porch. All the sadness I had seen before was gone. For a moment, I had thought, for once, it would be just Stefan who proved me and my sister in the house wrong by getting out of the car. But it was better, Stefan a master at resolving conflict, and… just maybe, he might see my side of the situation, too. Or perhaps Stefan would take Elena’s side just because they are dating, but I wanted to. No, I needed to think positive. 

All three of us got nearly dry. I wanted to use the rain as an excuse to run upstairs. Hide until the tension wouldn’t be so high. However, I didn’t have time to execute my escape plan because of Elena’s eyes being glued to me.  

“I’ll get the ring.” Stefan exclaimed before almost running upstairs.  

Elena walked through the hallway to the kitchen. The fridge opening and closing gave her away. I didn’t want to leave the entrance like I could just run away from my sister again. So, with all the care in the world, I walked to the kitchen seeing Elena drinking water next to the island counter.  

I heard Stefan walking down the stairs, most likely because he wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t startle us.  

I took my place on the armchair, not sure if it was a good idea if there was going to be a screaming match with my sister. Elena leaned to the counters not looking thrilled with the situation she was in.  

Stefan walked closer to me and opened his palm. That was the ring Jenna had promised me before her death. The ring was a small old golden band with little carvings engraved on it. I have looked at it since I was 10 years old.  

I picked up the ring, terrified like it could break against my fingers at any moment and turn into nothing. I turned to look at my sister, whispering thank you to her, but she didn’t look at me. Instead, She stared at the floor. I turned back to the ring on my fingertips before sealing it into my fist. I couldn’t wear it, not right now, at least.  

“Give the other one to her...” I turned to look at my sister, whose words had something that I couldn’t name or place. Stefan swapped a quick look with her for confirmation before tucking his hand into his jeans' back pocket and pulling out another ring.  

The Gilbert ring.  

Stefan handed the ring closer to me, but I couldn’t help but push myself against the pillow against my back.  

“I thought you would like to have it, just in case Klaus gets murderous against his brother’s ‘friend’,” Elena whispered, but still kept his eyes on the floor.  

I had always held the opinion that the Gilbert rings were not only ugly, but also useless in most situations. But still, wearing it might save my life one day, even if it forced me to wear such a massive and bulky ring.  

I took it from Stefan and examined it closer, running my fingertips against its rigid surface.  

I gave them one more look before closing my fist around them and I forced myself to close my eyes to make sure I wouldn’t get vertigo. Jenna had been so angry when she found out about our parentage. Especially when she found out that Elena had been in contact with Isobell... And now I had John's ring in my pocket next to the ring of the woman who I had considered more of a sister than an aunt. 

“Is that all...?” I asked.  I knew that saying thank you would have been the proper thing to do but for some reason the idea of thanking Elena caused my body to shiver.  

“That's all you are going to say?” And there it was... The anger, the disbelief, in my sister’s voice like I had murdered someone.  

“And what would you like me to say?” I asked completely calmly before standing up. I was ready to leave, leave anywhere that wasn’t this room. I wanted to go to my room, to my own special safe heaven where I could fall into dreamless sleep.  

But I didn’t get my chance, not that Stefan would have let me leave the room before Elena got out what she had been thinking about the whole car ride. The doorbell rang and I almost jumped because of my unpreparedness.  

Slowly, my sleeves being long enough to cover my fingertips and slowly I opened my fist with the rings inside and slid the bulkier one on to my right middle finger. 

Stefan let out a deep sigh before walking to the front door and opening it to the last person I thought I would see. Rebekah Mikaelson was standing at the door frame with a beautiful smile on her lips. Her eyes scanned through the room keeping her eyes on me for a second longer than the others, her smile softened, before turning back to Stefan. 

“What are you doing here?!” My sister asked, walking a bit too fast to the front door where the Original vampire was still standing. 

“I came to check on my friend. I know how bad you guys are at taking care of each other, so…” 

I picked myself off of the chair, but I didn't move closer to the door. Elena looked like she was ready to attack Rebekah, but I assume that it was due to walking in on me and Klaus. (Like it wasn’t enough that she had also walked in on me sitting on the counter pulling Elijah closer and closer to me). 

“Hey Rebekah..,” I whispered, bringing the woman’s eyes back to me. 

“Hello, darling. Great work with Damon but next time invite me so I can be a part of it.” 

I let out a small laugh but regretted it a second later when Stefan and my sister turned to look at me with a surprise on their faces. I dropped my gaze down. 

“Well now you have seen her, so you can leave…” Stefan tried to sound intimidating but failed to make any difference to Rebekah’s behavior. She was still looking at me, eyes fixated on me. 

Was she looking for injuries?

“Hmm...” Rebekah’s eyes didn’t leave me and if I knew her at all I might have been conscious of her eyes on me but maybe just knowing that she had come to check on me made my heart warm. Our eyes met for a second and I could see the worry in her warm eyes.  

Maybe if I hadn’t known of her supernatural nature or her family history, I might have become her friend the normal way – at school while doing normal schoolwork. 

“I don’t think so..., you see I have grown fond of our dear Y/N. 

I could feel my cheeks getting hotter, but my momentary shyness was ruined when Rebekah decided to step over the door frame making it clear to everyone that the Original vampire had in fact a permission to step into the house. The house that was meant to be Original family-free. 

Elena’s face dropped and I wanted to sink through the ground all the way to the core of the Earth. And by the looks of Elena, she looked like she was ready to attack me and end my life in seconds.  

Without raising too much attention to myself, I put the chunky, ugly Gilbert ring on.  

Maybe it was a good idea that Elena and Stefan gave me the ring...

...

TAGLIST: ( @dark-night-sky-99 @venomsvll @teenwolfbitches28  @haloangel391  @queenthorin1 @ollieandbonnie @hcqwxrtss123 @redwolfs-things @theweirdoleigh @mostly-meg @fandom-princess-forevermore @musically-ambiguous @isawritesstories @felinegrate @i-like-horror-andshitt @original-siphon @meyocoko @eddiebea @multistanhell @haroldpotterson @anastacia1705 @fictional-characters-i-love-them @beingsthings @kiaraandrea @hazgold @hallecarey1 @ethereal-imagies @pinknerpersona @ lil-writer-523 @malfoylaufeysonweasleybarnes) @queen-of-arda bellamy1998 @susannahmikaelson @kleinegamerin @alnitakstarsky03 @meme-queen-1999 @hellish-witch rosecentury

#the originals #the originals x reader #the originals x #the vampire diaries #the mikaelsons #the vampire diaries x #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus x y/n #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x y/n #elijah mikealson x reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah x reader #tvd x reader #tvdu #the mikaelsons x reader #elena gilbert #stefan salavatore x reader

[comfortless]

"held back by a leash that no one’s ever thought to untie, constantly growling and leaping at anything that gets too close just to simmer down to whimpering and begging the second he’s pet just once" ??? 😩 This is so real and relatable (I'm crying in the corner of my room). Lord have mercy, I need to kiss every ridge and groove on your brain.

The way I giggled when you mentioned his fleshlight is crazy. I was actually thinking of saying something similar but then I decided against cause the message would've been too long. I was trying to decide if he would be the type of man to get one of those insanely realistic sex dolls. Maybe he felt particularly desperate to have something in his bed (something that can't just get their clothes and leave before he wakes up) or he would just be curious. If he actually got it, by being impulsive, now he has this thing in his house and kind of regrets it. Yeah, it's soft and doesn't look bad, but it definitely doesn't look like a real woman either. It gives him the uncanny valley effect and puts it out of sight for now. How would he even get rid of something like that? Is it recyclable?

I've got brainrot when it comes to this man, I know. I might start reading Letters to Milena by Kafka so I can yearn more accurately for a man that doesn't even exist. This time I have no nice poems to quote but I feel like Konig is very much Sleep token coded. Idk what type of music you like but their lyrics are yummy.

P. S. Your fics are like vitamin D + Omega 3 getting me through this shitty British weather with my sanity more or less intact. Lots of consensual kisses!

oh my gosh and you are more brazen than me because i thought the same, just… kept that to myself!

if he has the money why would he settle on some little silicone tube when he could at least have something to cuddle up with, too? it isn’t like he has visitors often (or at all), though there are some nights when he definitely feels pathetic and disgusting for having it: haphazardly shoves the doll in the closet and settles for his hand instead…

also much to ponder in regards to his impulse control…! for the most part, he probably considers himself to be pretty rational; reasons with every decision by thinking well, x happened so then comes y. his dating life is shallow at best and utterly devoid of anything at worst, it’s… reasonable that he would have some sort of outlet, even if he knows that buying the damned thing has basically sentenced him to never having any sort of stable relationship. if some sweet woman actually gave him more than just the time of day, if she actually wanted to be with him but… she sees that mimicry of a woman’s warmth lying in his bed? she’s either laughing at him or immediately making up some excuse to leave. and if that happens, then of course he’s got to find a way to get rid of it. he’s tossing it in a hole in his backyard or burning it. sorry environment. this is König’s world now and the sex doll can no longer be in it..!

he would never pull something comparatively ridiculous in his career, maybe a few mistakes here and there but he plays a character when he’s König. and König is all menace or indifference, never the pitiful thing that gets so wound up over his own purchase he’s got to destroy it at all costs. though in the time that he did have it… the soldiers around him are certainly aware that he had some ‘girlfriend’ he spoke rather highly of at home that always had her legs open for him. he never seemed in higher spirits, though…

Letters to Milena is sooo quotable for him. i will give you this one: “Auch ist es vielleicht nicht eigentlich Liebe wenn ich sage, daß Du mir das Liebste bist; Liebe ist, dass Du mir das Messer bist, mit dem ich in mir wühle.”

i have an entire ridiculous playlist that is just… all over the place with songs that remind me of him, perhaps i will give Sleep Token a chance and throw a few onto it! ^^ i am always looking out for König-coded songs… Never Land by Sisters of Mercy is possibly my favorite to suggest when it comes to him. <3 the full length is my go to but - a fragment encapsulates it almost as well!

burying you in a world of hugs right now, anon! pleeease send your weather my way! it is HOT here! your messages are vitamin C and a lovely cup of earl grey to me! <3 i am glad that you appeared!

[haddonfieldwhore]

face down - nick jones

nick jones (house of wax x reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: depictions of physical and verbal abuse, abusive bf (not nick), violence, blood, language

@visceravalentines

you stormed away from the diner as you ignored the sound of your boyfriend seth calling after you.

“don’t walk away from me, baby.”

“don’t call me that right now, seth. leave me alone.” you crossed your arms over your chest as the cold air hit your skin, having left your jacket inside the booth. you had been out for a date when you’d gotten annoyed with him checking out the waitress, and he had said some really hurtful things back- about how just cause she was better looking didn’t mean he was gonna leave you for her.

“it was a joke-“ he said, catching up to you and tugging at your arm. you held your ground, refusing to look at him even as he stood in front of you, blocking your path.

“it’s not funny when you check out anything that breathes,” you mumbled.

“what did you say to me?” he said, his grip on your arm growing tighter.

“nothing, let’s just go home-“

“don’t fucking lie to me. repeat what you said!” he shook your shoulders roughly, and you finally looked at him.

“i said it’s not funny! i don’t care if it was a joke-”

“well then maybe i was serious! you want me to go fuck her? is that what you want?” as he continued to blow up at you like he always did, you failed to notice the group of people you would’ve recognized if you were looking, notice the argument.

“no, seth i-“

“well then what is it? huh?” he shoved you backwards slightly.

“stop it! god you’re such a dick sometimes!” this time you fell to the ground as he shoved you again, landing on your ass in a puddle. you flicked the water off your hands which stung from scraping against the ground when you landed, little rocks poking into your palms.

“woah- let’s calm down, alright dude?” a new voice said above you, and you looked up to see a familiar face standing between you and seth. nick jones, who you had gone to high school with, and his friends had been gathered nearby when the argument broke out, and nick couldn’t help but intervene. maybe he was just itching for a fight, or any excuse to punch someone, but either way you were grateful. you wouldn’t say that the two of you had ever been friends, but you’d been to a few of the same parties and always enjoyed spending time with him when your paths crossed.

you thought back to the time you managed to save him from the cops, who had been chasing him for stealing something, when he bumped into you on the street and said he needed a favour. agreeing without much time to think about it, you had never expected the favour to be him pulling you around the corner into the alley and kissing you deeply. as the two of you made out, the cops passed right by, nicks plan going off without a hitch.

“i owe you one,” he had said, before lighting a smoke and going on his way, leaving you wondering what the hell had happened, and perhaps a little disappointed it was over so quickly.

that was before you were with seth, and he could never know about it, not now as nick was inserting himself into your relationship drama, not ever. the thought of any guy even looking at you set your boyfriend off.

“why don’t you back off and mind your business. try not to fall down so often, huh babe?” seth tried to play it off like nick and his friends hadn’t just watched him shove you to the ground. you didn’t know what to say, instead sitting in the cold water on the ground in silence. seth didn’t put his hands on you often, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened either.

“ahh see i don’t think i can do that.” nick replied, standing his ground.

“back off, blondie; before i get angry.” seth threatened, but nicks jaw just tightened.

“you gonna make me?” he asked, and seth scoffed before swinging a punch at his jaw. nick managed to catch it and send one flying back, hitting seth square in the face. seth dropped to the ground as you felt arms gently helping you up, and you looked at the two girls who were holding you. you recognized one to be carly, nicks sister, and her best friend paige. you thanked them, before turning towards nick. stepping between him and seth, who from the ground was spewing threats and insults at both you and nick. you placed your hands on nicks chest, and pushed him back gently.

“come on, he’s not worth it. don’t get in trouble over him,” you pleaded, and nicks breathing calmed down, his hands landing on your hips gently.

“wouldn’t be my first time in handcuffs over some scumbag,” he joked, spitting on the ground next to seth, but letting you drag him away.

“that your new boyfriend?” seth called after you with blood dripping down his chin, and then yelled to nick. “they’re a lousy fuck anyway- you can have them!” you both ignored him, and nick slipped his baggy black hoodie off, draping it around your shoulders. you thanked him as you shivered from the cold weather, your clothes being soaked in water not helping. you welcomed the warmth of the soft material, and also took note of how good it smelled, a mixture of nicks cologne and cigarettes.

“are you okay?” carly asked you, and you nodded.

“uh.. do you want to join us? we’ll grab a table.” paige offered, and you nodded, realizing that since your date blew up, you hadn’t eaten and were in fact starving.

“that would be great. thank you.” the two girls and their boyfriends, wade and blake you recalled, along with their friend dalton, headed off to grab a table, leaving you and nick alone.

“thank you. you didn’t have to do that for me.” you said sheepishly, watching intently as nick lit a cigarette, the grey smoke trailing from his mouth in whisps.

“don’t mention it,” he shook his head. “guy had it coming. you alright?” he asked.

“yeah,” you assured him, looking back to see seth getting in his car and speeding away.

“i’ll drive you home later, don’t worry.” nick offered, following your gaze to the disappearing vehicle as it tore out of the parking lot.

“do you have a car?” you asked.

“yeah- whichever one you want,” he joked, gesturing to the variety of cars in the parking lot, and you laughed.

“thanks, but i don’t want another fight breaking out if he happens to be there when we show up together. you’ve already stuck your neck out enough for me.”

“then you come to my place.” he said, like it was obvious, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“it’s that simple huh?” you laughed, and he threw an arm over your shoulder.

“yeah, why not?” you thought about it, and decided it was a much better option than going home where seth might be waiting.

“sounds good to me,” you agreed. hesitating fora moment, you wrapped your arms around nick, and he seemed a little surprised for a second before hugging you back, his cologne hitting your nose again as you buried your face in his chest. he held you tightly, rubbing your back reassuringly until you pulled away. “seriously. thank you.”

“come on, let’s go before they think we got lost or something.” he pulled you gently hand in hand towards the diner, and you followed close behind him.

“i guess we’re even now?” you asked, referring to the alleyway kiss.

“i guess we are,” he smiled, pulling you into the booth next to him, his arm securely around your shoulders. “although i did always want to punch that jackass in the face so…”

“me too,” blake agreed from across the table, and you laughed.

“i’m starting to wonder what i ever saw in him.” you shook your head, feeling a weight off your shoulders without seth around, even with the literal weight of nicks arm around your shoulders. as if he read your thoughts, he removed his arm and you felt slightly disappointed, until you felt his hand on your thigh, squeezing gently. this was definitely not how you thought good day was going to play out, but as you looked at every one sat around the table, you realized you weren’t complaining.

leaning into nicks side, you didn’t notice him raise an eyebrow before smiling down at you, and deciding that he would happily beat the shit out of anyone who tried to hurt you again.

#nick house of wax #nick jones imagine #nick jones x reader #nick jones #chad michael murray #house of wax 2005 #house of wax #tw abuse

[chilly-me-softly]

The photo • Jack Grealish

It's pouring rain, you can't see the back of your hand. The car has stopped along the road and in an attempt to want to call someone to pick you up you realise you've left your bag in the office. What else could be added to the list of the worst night of your life?

It sounds like the beginning of a horror movie, or the end of your life. But you don't want to panic, you're trying to stay as clear-headed as possible to figure out the best thing to do at that moment.

"Okay, I can stay here and wait for the rain to stop at least. But it could take all night and there seems to be someone in the house there. I just have to be brave and-" a sharp tap on the window makes you startle, with your heart pounding in your throat you throw yourself out of the car. Bad move when you think of all the movies you've seen but you've definitely been known to not think too much before acting.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"What you have been doing outside my house for days!" a guy with an umbrella yells at you as if he hasn't just given you a heart attack. And you certainly don't let him get away with it, yelling to be heard from above the rain that has already drenched you.

"Excuse me?"

"You journalists just don't have an ounce of dignity"

"Please, who knows you!"

"Wait... you're not a journalist?"

"No I'm not"

"Who are you then?" faced with your merely furious face, the boy seemed to change expression raising an eyebrow and perhaps wondering if he was really wrong.

"Just a loser I guess. My car broke down and I don't have a way to call for help" you sigh and in that instant a gust of wind to turn the boy's umbrella upside down, thus leaving him without his protection.

"Come into the house"

"What? No way" maybe it's just your wounded pride from the scare or the slight fear that all the stories you hear around has established within you with time, but the proposal doesn't entice you at all. Even if you are alone, with no way of getting home and no money.

"Come into the house with me, come on" but then you reconsider looking him in the eyes and deciding only to trust him, starting to run after him to the front door of his house.

"Hold on let me get you a towel"

"Thanks" you murmur again in front of the door, this time inside though, waiting for him to return without moving so you don't make a mess.

"Jack. My name is Jack"

"(y/n)"

"Bathroom is down the hall if you need it"

"Thanks really, but I just need to make a phone call"

"Here. The least I can do after almost assaulting you" you dab at your hair to keep it from dripping, picking up his phone and dialling the one number you had memorised over time and which had earned you much teasing from your family.

-

"I got you a shirt while I was at it" Jack had given you your privacy on the phone call, going to change having soaked himself a little. The call had been short-lived, your brother would arrive as soon as the storm faded, and in waiting for the host you had walked into his living room. There was a fireplace burning and your body had been drawn to it, seeking warmth after all that water had made you a piece of ice, hanging your jacket on a chair and pulling it closer to dry faster.

You didn't want to pry, your gaze had begun to wander on its own over the countless photos placed on the fireplace frame. Jack with his family, Jack with some boys, maybe his friends, with children. And yeah, reaching out to see the frame hidden by the others had been your idea.

"What happened?"

"Why do you have a photo of me on the chimney?" as usual you didn't think, you could have run off without saying anything and waited for your brother outside. It would have been better than getting killed by someone who is so obsessed to keep your picture instead of replacing it for the one he bought the frame for in the first place. You knew that job would bring you trouble sooner or later.

"Your what?" a flash of alarm passes through his eyes and there it is, you think, the way you're going to die. But the doorbell rings and suddenly you are relieved because your brother is there with you. Because it must be your brother, or you don't know what else to do.

"Wait a minute. It's not what you think" the boy rushes to the door, grateful for whoever it is but not so grateful that he didn't check before opening it after all.

"Oh Jack you're home. I saw the lights on in passing, thought I'd check to see if you were there"

"Megan this isn't a good time and we've already talked about it, you can't just come over whenever you want" but she pretends not to hear him going straight into the living room.

"Megan" Jack hurriedly goes after her trying to stop her but she is already in the room and more importantly she saw you.

"So it's true" this other stranger approaches you, "You"

"Have we met?" you are confused, disappointed at the face of another unknown person. All that could easily be a dream, it could make sense only that way.

"You have no chance with Jack. You're just a rebound he'll soon throw away" and you really aren't getting it, but her intimidating tone prompts you to react. You might as well have some fun.

"You're the previous one?"

"Excuse me? How dare you"

"What, you get to say whatever you want and I don't?" the grin on your face sends her over the edge, you can almost see the smoke coming out of her ears.

"You're a bitch! Jack will never love you like he loved me!" and then icing on the cake, you find yourself wet again because of her and a glass of water on the coffee table nearby.

Jack almost drags her away after that, while the chick still screams like a desperate woman in a vain attempt to make the guy feel sorry for her.

"Guess I'll take that shirt"

-

"I'm sorry about what happened" you had taken some time to change your shirt, thinking whether it was better to stay there until your ride arrived or face everything else. When you'd come out, Jack's mortified face was the first thing you'd seen.

"Who was that?!"

"My ex"

"She knows the meaning of the word ex right?!" he chuckles, running a hand over his face, exhausted.

"If she didn't know before she does now" he mutters and you flash a smile before going to sit down on the couch next to him.

"Why did she believe I was your girlfriend?" he stays silent, shifting his body forward so you can't see his face properly and sighing. "For that photo" he admits.

"Oh right, you still owe me an answer"

"Listen, I had just bought the frame and that picture was already in it. I might have made her think that--that we were together. But only to get her off my back I swear"

"Crazy" and maybe if all that hadn't happened that night you wouldn't have even believed him, all so surreal.

"Yeah" your eyes meet for the first time since his confession, you give him a small reassuring smile. Certainly much lighter than a few moments ago.

"I thought you were going to kill me" you suddenly admit to lighten the mood, the boy at your side laughs surprised.

"What?"

"That's true! A shiver down my spine seeing my face there in that frame. Only my mother has one like that"

"I'm sorry. I never thought I'd meet you" he chuckles again.

Then a honk echoes through the air, a quick glance outside tells you that this time it really is your brother.

"Well I gotta go"

"Okay. It was nice meeting you" Jack lowers himself slightly to leave a kiss on your cheek.

"Bye fake boyfriend"

#jack grealish #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish imagines #jack grealish one shot #football imagine #football imagines

[thevikingwoman]

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 918 | Read on Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Meryta Khatin x Emmanellain de Fortemps | start of HW | fluff/romance Rating: Gen (overall explicit). Morning after, Fortemps thoughts

Reprieve - part 3

“Ahem.”

Meryta opens her eyes slowly, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She’s pleasantly warm, snuggled beneath heavy blankets, against a soft warm body.

Ah.

Heat rises in her cheeks; she really did follow him back last night. She wills it away. It was lovely and enjoyable, and she has nothing to be ashamed of.

Now she’s in Emmanellain’s bed though, in this big house full of tall windows and thick carpets and perhaps she doesn’t quite know what everyone will think of her.

It’s not like she bedded a noble before, and she only had thoughts for Emmnellain’s eager sweetness and not his station last night. Truthfully, it’s hard to wrap her head around what that means – maybe it means nothing at all – but she doesn’t really understand how Ishgard functions. Haurchefant only spoke of a refuge from the situation in Ul’dah, and very little of the politics of Ishgard; save its isolationism. He probably did not have in mind that she would bed his brother.

“Excuse me!”

Someone is interrupting her thoughts, the same voice that woke her. Meryta sticks her head out of the blankets; Honoroit is at the foot of the bed, his face a perfectly polite mask.

Perhaps it’s not the first time he’s found someone in his Lords bed, but that doesn’t help with the embarrassment. Perhaps it’s normal for servants and retainers to barge into their liege’s rooms, but at home such a thing would be unthinkable, no-one would dare to disturb a khan, even if there were only a tent wall between them and the world. She curbs the need to hide under the blankets.

“Can you pass me my shirt, please,” she says instead. It is tossed aside in the middle of the room, on top of the scattered flowers. Her pants, at least, should be next to the bed.

Honoroit finds her shirt without directions, and wordlessly hands it to her.

“My lord Emmanellain. The Count except you for breakfast. Anon.” Honoroit speaks a little louder, steadfast averting his eyes from her.

Emmanellain finally stirs, reaching for her, mumbling into the pillow. He tightens the grip around her, and she shakes his shoulder, pulling the blanket down from his face.

“My Lord –,” Honoroit begins again.

“Pray wait outside, Honoroit.”

“Please do hurry, Emmanellain. Or I shall return with a bucket of water.”

The youngster gives a short bow, and leaves, closing the door firmly with a pleading look to Meryta. She moves out from the blankets, free to find the rest of her clothes, but Emmanellain’s hand reaches for her.

“Meryta. Must you leave. It is still so very early.”

His hand wanders over her arm and across her belly, the caress pleasant and enticing. She forces herself to move.

“Your father and Honoroit are waiting. I should go, Emmanellain.”

She leans over and kisses him just once more. As she leaves, her tail flicks across his chest and pulls the blankets off him. He’s quick, quicker than she thought, and manages to catch it, giving a slight tug. She lets out a small yelp as it elicits a sheer bolt of want from her.

As tempting as it is to stay, she does not want to keep him from his duties, and she does not want to be the cause of further ire from his father. Meryta appreciates the Count’s kindness more than she can ever hope to repay, but it is evident his kindness does not always extend to his youngest son.

Emmanellain lets go with a huff, and sits up, rubbing his eyes. She shimmies on her pants, before she can change her mind.

“I’ll see you later,” she says, and slips out the door. She’s certainly not going to join him for breakfast with his father and most likely Atoriel too. She does not want the eldest brother’s stern gaze on her, nor witness his disdain for Emmanellain right now.

Meryta takes a moment to orient herself in the hallway, jacket over her arm and work boots in her hand. She does not want the risk of running into anyone else from the household – or pray forbid, Alphinaud – but she realizes that she does not know quite how to get back to her own room. Why does the manor have to be so large, with the same plush carpet in every direction?

A hand reaches for her arm and stops her before she can hurry down the hall to look for a familiar portrait or decoration. Honoroit has an anxious look on his face.

“Mistress Khatin. Please do let my Lord down gently.”

She frowns and doesn’t know how to reply. She had not thought of engaging with him again, or needing to let him down in any way. She will see him here, of course, but she had expected no more than a night of shared enjoyment.

She wouldn’t say no though. Not after last night. Meryta doesn’t know how lordlings work but he seems to romance where he can, throwing his affections towards people who cross his path without second thoughts. Mayhap Honoroit’s concern is not unwarranted, she wonders how often those affections are returned. They must be though, as he certainly seemed to know what he was doing.

She flushes and turns her thoughts back to the present, nodding silently at Honoriot. Satisfied, the boy disappears before she can ask him for directions. Meryta sighs, and goes left.

She’ll be gentle with Emmanellain – and hopefully he will be with her.

#ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv fanfic #final fantasy 14 fanfic #emmanellain de fortemps #meryta khatin #wol x emmanellain #writing about meryta #the last bit! #I wanted to get to this scene #I had fun! #viking writes #published 11/27/2023

[l8dyvenus]

PAC READING

what generational curse are you breaking according to the Major Arcana?

NOTE: this is a general read, please take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. if you have booked a personal reading/free exchange anytime on June 16th or later, please go to my pinned post on my page!! any other people looking to book personal readings/free exchanges, I am currently closed until August 26th!!!

-

PILE ONE

the devil.

trauma bonds, toxic situations, and addictions run through your family’s lineage. some of you could have dealt with something very traumatic while others just took a front row seat to terror land. addictions run through your family’s ancestral history, whether it be physical, material, emotional, or mental. you have seen first had how people indulge in drugs, sex, money, and luxurious things. attached to people and toxic situations that they know does harm but still stay because they are comfortable with that high it gives them. you have seen what it is like to be mentally out of it by depression, anxiety, or any other disorders. watching others as they make excuses to be rude or disregard other human beings because of how they victimize themselves emotionally and mentally. you could have Scorpio in the 4th/8th house placements/Chiron in 4th. you are very different from others, always have been. in your younger years you just knew certain things….felt certain things. it came as a feeling which felt uncomfortable. as a child, seeing these dark things scared you but as you got older you became more self aware and understand it. became more accepting and open minded of darker taboo things. you no longer feared what you didn’t know and felt uncomfortable with, you accepted it with whole heartiness. this is a very specific message but someone could have took this view on life and started going to school for psychology or criminology. you understand exactly how people feel and what they are going through. you know where it stems from and how to heal it. you shine some much light on others even though the darkness lives inside of you. not in a bad way, but a good way. you are one with things in the shadow side which is why others are drawn to you. you don’t succumb or run from your hidden side, you accept it, master it, and use it to your advantage in a healthy way. you turned your weakness into a strength and that is the curse you are breaking. as you heal the most inner darkest broken part of yourself, you heal your family and others. she isn’t your enemy, she’s your friend.

PILE TWO

strength.

I’m hearing heavily, “confidence and the strong will to succeed is a must.” values may have a prominent theme pertaining to your family history. but when I say “values,” I don’t mean common values…I mean the importance of your own thoughts of what type of lifestyle you want, what type of career do you strive for, what area of the world do you feel most comfortable in to call your home, etc. some of you could come from a family that inherit/enter into the family business as they become an adult, others of you may have come from a family where they settled for a lifestyle that they were born into instead of chasing their dreams and following their hearts. this is a generational curse that you will be the first person to break. to you, it seems everyone around you are just existing instead of actually living. you don’t want that, if anything you can feel your soul craving to explore and have that dream life. your first ever job, you knew you weren’t meant to live the typical mundane lifestyle every one else does. you want so badly to get out of that predictable cycle but at the same time you don’t even know where to start—especially when you’re lacking the courage to go after it or the support. maybe perhaps thinking, “well it didn’t work out for my family, who am I to think it’s going to work out for me?” there’s a lot of negative self talk, being hard on yourself and being your own worst enemy. I get it, it feels like a battle between your mind and heart. you plan, prepare, build up the courage to chase what you want, but when the time comes there’s a blockage and you just don’t know why. some people might call you lazy or slow but your not, you’re just stuck. and instead of helping you, others just belittle you as they watch you drown. it may feel like things won’t work out, that things are endless and pointless but for you, my love, everything is going to work out faaaar more than what you had hoped for. it will take time, and strength, and guidance, but you are carrying the dreams and power of all of your ancestors to free them from that same cycle you so deeply wish to be released from too. it’s going to be hard, I will be completely real. but you got this, your family is counting on you. blood, sweat, and tears of your ancestors run through you and protect you. last message? but somebody’s grandma is their guide? might’ve been closed or she died before or when you were young. heard a lot about her as you got older but yes, she’s with you.

PILE THREE

the lovers.

lillith in the seventh house is what immediately crossed my mind. ever since birth, you could have had examples of relationships that surrounded you that may have not been all that great. your parents probably were always fighting, very distance with each other or got divorced/broke up early on. they most likely didn’t like each other or agreed on a lot of things, but if it wasn’t the case, it doesnt have to be. although, your perception of what love is, is a little different than most. when you were a kid, you more than likely had a fairy tale love, one where someone would rescue you. you had dreams of being a princess or meeting your lover like how people do in corny rom-coms. but as you got older, started to actually court and date, love wasn’t as kind to you. you had your fair share of heart breaks and heart aches. you’ve allowed people to have a hold on you, take from you, and then toss you away as if you didn’t mean anything. you’ve had issues dealing with love before where your loving energy was never reciprocated. you probably been hurt three times before you realized shit had to change. you were playing a repetitive cycle. found yourself relearning love lessons over and over again. different lover but same experience on how things played out. emotionally unavailable, distance, over giving while they only took, believing the lies they told and ignoring the red flags, etc. your inner child has been craving love, but you were looking for it and accepting it from people who did not deserve it from you. you realized that the relationships you were holding onto, had nothing to do with love but a trauma bond. you never really liked the people you dealt with, you just felt lonely and was easily attached because of it. you wanted the attention, affection, and love that you lacked, regardless if it was with someone healthy or not. but these relationships showed you what you really want and don’t want and what you need to work on to heal. it showed you the ugly truth that you constantly unconsciously run from. the result of your past relationships showed a highlight of how relationships in your family was shown to you, and that was something that didn’t quite sit right with you. it was like an epiphany. you saw through your own eyes that you were reliving the same relationship experience family around you had too. I just heard for someone specifically, your parents or an aunt or close sister could’ve talked about each other/people they dated to you. could’ve told you that guys/girls aren’t shit. that love is nothing but a joke. just entirely degrading what it’s like to be in love, to feel love, to want love. and for a moment, you might have believed it. although, something in your heart was telling you other wise. that love is real, that true unconditional love will happen for you, that those trauma bonds that are connecting you with other hurt people is not real. you’re finding your true soul tribe. connecting with others whether platonic or romantic that make you feel compatible, comfortable, and free. you’re no longer forcing situations and learning how to healthy detach and handle people who don’t give as much as you do. you are putting the self in self care, and knowing what you no longer what to settle for. your ancestors are guiding you, supporting you, and protecting you from energy vampires and people who do not have good intentions. you heal yourself and your heart by indulging in self love/care and proper healthy relationships, you heal the cycle of hardships your family has faced. you will be in the first in the family to get married if anyone who’s biologically related to you has not. as I typed this last sentence and finished it off, I ended at 1:11am, so that is just as much clarification for new beginnings and manifestations coming to life.

PILE FOUR

temperance.

anger, aggression, and lack of tolerance may have amplified strong emotions in yourself. conflicts may arise when ever there is a slightest mistake. you may come from a highly dysfunctional family, one where they would loose patience over the littlest things. the type to yell at you for not getting an answer correct on your homework the first time, the type to be very defensive or too blunt. it may have felt like you had to walk on egg shells your entire childhood or war was going on inside your house. things may have been super chaotic but as you got older, you realized none of this shaped you into a person with a peace of mind. you may have realized yourself you are very quick tempered or just traumatized in a lot of ways. that you craved stability but found you feel comfortable in chaos. you found that physically you’ve grown up, but emotionally and mentally you’re still stuck at your seven year old self. you’re breaking the generational curse to heal your inner child and let them guide the way for you. you’re no longer wanting to be stuck in survival mode and feeling like you always have to be guarded. you want peace in your life, a sense of happiness and tranquility. you probably were the first to move out of your family’s home or will be and whenever you go back to visit, you will no longer find the sense of being comfortable in chaos from being there. just realizations and thoughts on how can you do more for yourself to be better than the family you come from. you are on the journey to self exploration and assisting others with healing them from their childhood wounds as well. you’re getting yourself mentally and emotionally prepared just incase you may have kids yourself. some of you may even be afraid to reproduce on your own, but regardless there is a deep desire to not repeat the same parenting patterns that were taught to you. whether it be another human being, an animal, plant, or insect, you treat everything and everybody with that same compassion you wish your family had gave to you.



#free tarot #tarotoftheday #tarotscope #free tarot readings #tarotdaily #daily tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #tarotblr #tarot witch #tarottribe #bts tarot #free pac #free tarot reading love #free love reading #free readings #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #pick a picture #pick a card #pickyourfavorite #pick a card tarot reading #pac #pac reading #tarot love reading #love reading

[battlfofendorr]

Reaping What You Sow

A Brio fic

Chapter One

Autumn settled into Detroit and the greater outlying suburbs with the usual flair - vibrant fall foliage, hay bales on every other corner, and pumpkin festivals all around the fringe of the city, declining further into the city proper until concrete and chain link eclipsed the celebration of the season.  The air took on that lovely chill - a crisp bite that nibbled at every inch of exposed skin. 

Sun dresses gave way to long-sleeved sweaters, leggings, and scarves. Jackets, and hats - even mittens, in the early morning, before the sun had risen high enough to fight back some of the building frost in the air.  Once, it had been Elizabeth “Call me Beth!” Boland’s favorite time of the year.  It was a season of abundance - of prosperity - or at least had always been, before. Car sales, spurred on by the return to school - the departure for college, the impending holidays - burgeoned, and the coffers of House Boland overflowed. 

On some level, Beth thought it might be a genetic love – after all, her strawberry blonde hair blended in with the fall leaves.  The dark charcoals and warm scarves made her pristine white skin pop, that cool flush from windchill gave her that incomparable glow. She was built - as some people were built for sandy beaches, or clear white ski slopes - for the seasonal tip into autumn, no matter what her wardrobe of unending sun dresses might suggest.   

No, Beth had reveled in the holidays, a distraction from the monotony of the school year, a break from the merry-go-round of pick-up, drop-off, parent night, and PTA. An excuse to break out a baking sheet, a glue gun. To prove that she might not have come from a perfect household, but, despite having no solid example to follow, she was an exceptional parent – an exceptional mother. 

The best, or damn close to it. 

Perhaps she’d gone overboard in the past, with the pumpkin-trimmed porches, and homemade apple pies, and cookies decorated to look like the season itself - leaves and acorns, happy pumpkins, and little pitchers of fresh apple cider.  Maybe she’d worn one themed cardigan too many, or put out one too many hand-picked throw pillows.  Maybe she’d let slip a little too clearly that she loved the holidays as much - no, more - than she loved the trappings for her daily life.  

But hadn’t she just been doing her best? Wasn’t she just trying to stay in the neat little box she’d been packed into? Mother. Wife. Homemaker. How could anyone fault her for that? 

…and yet, somehow, that was exactly what was happening – her checked-out and moved-on husband – adulterer, nay, whore – was finding more than just fault in her enthusiastic decor.

He’d once been an athlete and his body was still as fit and trim as ever. Of course it was - he’d always had her there, to watch the kids while he went on his daily runs, his bike rides, his trips to the gym.  Or, ahem, the “gym.” He was lightly tanned from time spent enjoying his summer sun - and especially the pool at his apartment complex.  A good looking man, for his age. He even still had all his hair, as thick and lush as when they’d been awkward teenagers.

Charming, when he wanted to be, but at some point he’d given up not just on charming her, but on loving her. On seeing her.

At some point, he’d started giving her that look - like instead of a part of Team Boland, she was the enemy.  

That same look he was giving her as he walked in the front door and started dropping their four kids’ overnight bags on the floor.  

“Do you have to do this every time?” He gestured at the house - the overabundance of orange, red, and yellow that had replaced the neutral summer look of the house.  “It’s too much, Bethie. You always–”  Dean paused, like he was hesitant to tell her what he was thinking: that she’d decorated just to show him up. Like it had been part of an elaborate plot to make him look like a bad father. 

Somehow, it was worse that he didn’t finish his sentence, just left it hanging, accusatory.  You always… 

And she was supposed to scramble to fill in the blank. 

Always what? Show off? Do too much? Care, even if nobody else does? 

Maybe, once, she’d have felt ashamed. Admonished. Maybe she would have fussed after him, contrite, and made his favorite soups. Would have apologized for being so - as he liked to say - extra.  Maybe she would have dimmed over and blotted out all the things she was proud of, to try and make him happy. Papered over her wants, her likes, to compromise and build that mythical “theirs.” 

Once. 

But not anymore. 

“I’m sorry, but you moved out. I’m not responsible for your decoration choices. And I have no intentions of–”

“Oh, that’s what this is about, is it?” He stood up tall, taking up more space now that she’d given him something to argue back on. “Me, moving out? Is this how you punish me? Show me what I’m missing out on, so I’ll regret leaving?” 

As if the carefully-arranged gourds had anything to do with Dean-the-disappointment Boland. Had ever had anything to do with him.  No, it had been for her sister, Annie. Then, her first son, Kenny. For the next of Beth’s children, too - Danny, Julie. Emma.  

For the neighborhood kids - because it was expected. Because it was lovely. 

And for Beth herself - for the child she’d been, once, that would have loved the beautiful front porch, the perfectly-iced cookies, the autumnal garlands, the wreaths. For the kid she should have gotten to be, but hadn’t. 

“You should go,” Beth said, carefully, more neutral the deeper into anger she waded. There was no reason to shout - no reason to argue. No reason to entertain Dean’s tantrum in her own house.  Dean - his opinions - no longer mattered. Thus the separate houses. The split holidays. The whole ex-ness of it all.   He’d thrown away their life, first, and no rewriting history or forgiving him could erase that, no matter how hard she’d tried just to forget, to move on. 

He - of all people - had no high ground to cast stones from. 

“Come on, Bethie, you can’t just–”

Bethie. The thing he always called her when he wanted to manipulate her, or to invalidate her. Bethie, like she was still a child, and not a grown woman. 

“I can just,” Beth said, though which of them she was reassuring, she couldn’t have said at the time.  “This is my house. It’s my time with my kids. You can go.”

She turned away from him - dismissed him like she’d send off an overly-enthusiastic waiter.  Mercifully, he left, slamming the front door just loud and hard enough to upset the pumpkin she’d spent twenty minutes perfectly placing on the wreath hanging over the door. 

“I’ll get it,” her oldest son - Kenny - said, and for a second, Beth saw in her boy all the things she’d once seen in Dean.  Because once - a very long once ago - Dean would have tripped over himself to help her. To prove that he was a white knight, and she was his damsel in distress. 

Maybe it was spite, or just the need to reclaim a season that she’d always loved, but an idea sparked in Beth’s mind, and started to grow.  He was disdainful of her harvest decore? He didn’t appreciate it? 

She’d show him - and the kids both.  She would pack up the kids and take them out to the country, where the red-orange-yellow leaves were a flare of vibrant colors. Where the hay bales piled high, and apples could be plucked straight from the trees. Where cider flowed like, well, cider. It would be all the kids could talk about for days. Weeks, maybe. 

They’d love it - after all, her blood ran in their veins, and that autumn affection, it was as innate to her as breathing. 

It was a good idea - the best she’d had in such a long time. 

Communion with their nonexistent pumpkin-kin.  

Beth carefully took the little orange foam pumpkin from where her son had tried to stuff it, paused long enough to re-fix it in a nest of plastic fallen leaves, adjusted Kenny’s haphazard placement, and then she reached for her phone.  If she was going on a life-changing, mood-boosting trip to the countryside, she had to invite her sister, Annie, and Annie’s son, Ben, of course, and the last third of their little friend triangle, Ruby Hill, with her husband Stan - if he wasn’t too busy working - and their two children, Sara and Henry.

The family - her family. The one she’d built for herself, regardless of Dean.  

Maybe she’d make a picnic. Pile all their warm throw blankets into the car, and thermoses of hot chocolate, and they’d stop somewhere on the way to one of the many harvest festivals, just friends, just family, and none of the drama and frustration that was so determined to build up around her, to suffocate as surely as the role of Dean’s wife and mother had once felt so isolating, so suffocating. 

They’d have caramel, pet a sheep, or a pony. They’d wander in a corn maze.  

It was brilliant. And the one person who could have ruined it - could have torpedo’d the idea faster than even Dean might have - hadn’t answered a text in three days. 

Why not? 

It’s not like she should be hanging around the house, waiting. 

Beth Boland might be many things. Quick to cry during sappy movies.  Too fixated on appearances.  Slightly - ever so slightly - uncertain about her own future.  

But after a lifetime of it, she’d never again be the girl that sat around in the big, perfectly maintained house and simply waited. #

#rio x beth #good girls nbc #good girls fanfic #beth boland #I swear Rio will get more play time in future chapters #Beth was so darn excited over her Thanksgiving cookie display - like she loved it but had had her mellow harshed too many times #Just feeling that autumn vibe #beth x rio

[observeowl]

Unrequited pt2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: R tries to hide from Natasha to control her feelings but it didn't work

Your POV I thought I would be able to bear Nat and Wanda hanging around together. Before they were in a relationship, it didn't bother me. They were close, often hanging in each other's room. Nothing has changed since then.

Perhaps I did, because I knew I lost the game.

Natasha's presence around me was slowly taken over by Clint, knowing my crush on the older redhead. Even though he was not Natasha, Clint was able to take my mind off her. As if I haven't already been avoiding her, I put off training with Nat for Clint as well.

"Sorry, Clint asked me to train with him yesterday."

"Again? I feel like I haven't been seeing you lately."

"If I want to be able to defeat you, I can't be showing you all my tricks." I took the last bite of my apple and threw away the seeds before heading to the training room.

Clint could tell I was having something on my mind as he kept looking at me. "Just say it." It was getting uncomfortable that he was analysing me weirdly while we were sparring.

"I still think it's the wrong choice."

I sighed and placed my arms by my side. "You would have said the same thing to Wanda if things went differently. So stop it." Clint was a nice friend, but he can get a bit too excessive at times.

"I'm just saying. I'm not going to be here always." He stepped out of the ring.

"You're heading back?" I was shocked, I didn't think he was going to be heading back to his barn house so quickly.

"My family needs me." With Clint gone, I wouldn't have any excuse to give when I need to escape. Training with Steve is probably not a good idea, I'm going to break my bone before I get to train.

---

Without Clint, I shifted my time over to SHIELD instead, often finding Maria and bothering her at her job. It was entertaining to see agents coming into her office and getting reprimanded. My chuckles slipped one time and she ended up scolding me as well. Like what did I do wrong?

But I wasn't able to hide there for long, Maria had missions to go on and Nat was getting suspicious of my actions. Facing her head on was the only logical next move.

"Are you ready?" I was hanging by the boxing ring.

"I can't wait to see your tricks." She threw a glove at me.

"Very funny." I threw it back at her.

In the beginning, I asked her how it was going with Wanda, but she gave me a very vague answer.

"Why do you have to keep talking about Wanda when you're with me?" It was Nat's turn to attack in the boxing ring.

"I thought people are happy when they talk about their girlfriend." I was busy defending her attacks which were getting heavier.

"I came to spend time with you after not seeing you for so long, not to talk about her!" Nat changed her attack and swiped at my feet, knocking me to the ground. I was lost for words, I couldn't understand why she was so angry.

"I- I don't understand."

"You don't understand because you haven't been here... We broke up."

"What?" I stood up so quickly that I'm pretty sure I over extended my legs. "When?"

"Last week..."

"Did Clint know?" Was that the reason why he kept pushing me with Nat, because he knew Wanda had others.

"I told him."

What an idiot I have been, pushing both of them away. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know."

Training was agreed to have ended without even consulting the other party, as both us headed to the locker room. As I was getting out my stuff, I realised this was my chance. I already lost my first chance and I'm not going to see it fly away again.

"Uhmmm... d- do you want to go out with me? I understand you're going through a break up and if you don't want to, that's fine-" Nat cut me off my slamming her locker and I jumped in shock. Maybe this was not the best time to ask.

"It's alright. I can leave." I quickly packed my items and left the locker room.

My things dropped to the floor as Nat pulled me back and gave me a kiss. I stopped breathing as Nat pulled away and smirked. "So flustered, my dear." She pushed my forehead and brought me back. Before I said anything, she picked up the things I dropped. "So where and when?"

"7pm. I'll pick you up." She gave me another kiss on the cheeks before leaving me alone in the locker room. I was squealing and jumping in joy as if I won a million dollar lottery, though no amount of money can compare to her.

I finally have the love of my life.

#natasha x y/n #natasharomanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x you #blackwidow #avengers #wanda maximoff #clint barton #hawkeye #unrequited part 2 #unrequited #my writing

[universe-of-heart]

Two Proposals of a Different Kind

A Rewritten History of Fire and Blood Ocs in fic Author's note: This chapter doesn't follow any specific episode, it is the aftermath of the tourney AND what happens after Rhaenyra is named as heir. We have a new face, returning from the tourney :) another one of @dreaming-of-illusory-flowers's wonderful ocs they allow me to have in my head rent-free. Truly appreciate it, love <3 Moon phase border by @samspenandsword, MDNI banner by @cafekitsune

Word count: 7 words off from 4.3k

Warnings: Arranged marriage? Forced betrothal?? But don't worry it's cool. Hopefully not an ooc Harwin

Within the walls of Casterly Rock, thrown back into the day-to-day of a lady of a great house, Fallon was miserable. Her mother had set to work reminding her at any chance how disappointed she’d been in her actions during the Heir’s Tournament; she’d unseated the prince! It was unbefitting of her station to behave that way, especially at her age where she should be more concerned about finding a husband than disgracing her house in such a way.

Despite the fact that she had won the tournament and, if she had been a man, it would have been a high honor.

The moment she could slip away from her mother, she was in the training yard, sword in hand, hacking away at some poor straw dummy as any guards around her watched with apprehension. Fallon with a sword was dangerous; Fallon furious with a sword was deadly.

Her eldest brother watched her from a fair distance, worrying the edge of the parchment in his hands between his fingers. Whenever she was in a mood like that, it was usually best to let her burn it away with hours of violence against things that didn’t bleed, however with news like their mother had given him, it was best to get it over with quickly. He’d half hoped she would notice him before he was forced to interrupt, just to give him an entrance to even begin to explain the entire letter. Hopefully with her sword on the ground instead of in her hand.

“I believe it’s dead, sister.”

Her sword stuck in the neck of the dummy, her leathers creaking against each ragged breath she took. Fallon simply shot her brother a glare from the corner of her eye, drawing the blade of the weapon to her side to sheath it.

“What do you want?” She snapped, trying to unstick her hair from her skin.

Jason warily extended his hand with the rolled parchment out to her, the wax seal broken but the colors visible all the same; three rivers of color on white. “Mother sent out a letter on your behalf to House Strong. They replied.”

Her face twisted in confusion as she unrolled the letter, eyes flickering over each word until they became stuck on a specific one. Her brother watched as her eyes nearly burst from her skull, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Betrothed?!” She squawked, rapidly scanning the entire letter over again. 

“I suppose you didn’t know about her original letter.”

Fallon felt like tearing up the letter in her hands. If it were in shreds, there would be no actual evidence that the betrothal had ever been confirmed, she would have an excuse if any lords of House Strong paid her a visit to see why she hadn’t made a journey to Harrenhal to wed one of the sons. She didn’t even know which son she was betrothed to, not that she would be able to tell by name who it was. Though, perhaps tearing up the letter wasn’t the best course of action.

Maybe shoving it in her brother’s mouth would make her feel better.

The parchment crinkled in her hand as she balled it into a fist, giving her eldest brother the most forced, fake smile she was sure she’d ever made. “It appears that I must speak to Mother.”

“I would put the sword away, you know how much of a fright it gives her seeing you armed.”

She rolled her eyes, quickly undoing the belt that held the sword to her waist before nearly throwing it at him. 

“Is it too soon to say congratulations, Fal?”

His sister merely responded with an obscene hand gesture as she stormed away, leaving her brother amused in the training yard.

The door to Ceira’s study swung open, connecting with the wall behind it as her daughter stormed through it. A guard dared to enter after only to close the door before she could slam it closed, her mother never looking up from her parchment as she dipped her quill in ink again. 

“I expected you sooner, my love.”

“You betrothed me?!”

“‘Tis what is expected of a lady of your standing at your age.” Her mother sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I put it off as long as I was able, truly.”

Fallon was fuming, face a bright enough red to nearly rival the tapestries of golden lions on the walls. “You sold me off like a broodmare!”

“I would hardly compare you to a broodmare, darling. Any house would be lucky to marry into ours.”

She stomped up to the desk, slamming the letter onto the wood with enough force to shake the entire thing, the jar of ink spilling over the side at the movement. “I refuse to marry.”

Ceira sighed again, rubbing at her temple. “You cannot refuse, you are lucky they even agreed to the betrothal after your spectacle against Prince Daemon at the tournament.”

“A spectacle he started! If it had been Jason or Tyland, you would’ve been proud-”

“If it had been Jason or Tyland, none of it would have happened!” 

Her mother finally stood, holding her stare across the desk. It was such a simple action, one that held so much weight Fallon found herself stepping back with wide eyes.

“You are too young to understand just what position you have seated me in, Fallon,” her mother continued, grabbing hold of the letter and shaking it. “The amount of letters I have received that claim I have three sons instead of a daughter, that have rebuked a marriage agreement because of your incessant need to fight like a man…I am old and tired. I wish to see you wed before I follow after your father.”

Fallon swallowed, hard. The words died on her tongue when her mother’s eyes pricked with tears, a quiet sniffling echoing in the room around them. Her father had given her her weapons, a sword and dagger that he had begun to teach her to use. After his passing, a few of the guards in Casterly Rock had given her a few lessons and had willingly allowed her to practice against them. When she had grown enough to beat them all, however, that was when she grew restless. That was when the idea to become a knight herself had grown into a dream she prayed to the Seven nearly nightly to make her reality. All to have it squashed in front of her eyes in the form of a weeping old woman who cared only for outward appearances.

If her mother had wanted a response, she didn’t receive one. All Fallon could do was turn on her heel and leave the room. It was, perhaps, better that she stayed silent instead of turning it into a fight far worse than it was.

It would have made the entire trip to King’s Landing even more miserable than it was. 

There was a sort of sick irony to it all, she supposed. Days after being told she needed to behave like a lady of her standing, they received word that Princess Rhaenyra had been named the king’s heir and that the lords of Westeros were summoned to swear fealty to her. She had so desperately wanted to gloat, to point at the words on the parchment and shout “tis a woman as our future”, but she refrained. It would do little good; especially when both her eldest brother and mother did nothing but gossip and complain about the succession. Neither of them had wanted Daemon as their king despite the protests against the young princess; Fallon had simply decided they would never be pleased.

What was worse was she could barely focus on the ceremony she’d been forced to attend. Her dress was itchy, the embroidery irritating her skin, and it was far tighter than she liked. She missed her lion-embossed leathers, the scratchy wool of her tunics, the weight of her weapons on her belt. Everything she had been forced to leave behind in Casterly Rock while her maids had packed a seemingly endless amount of red and gold dresses she’d barely touched since she’d received them. The only enjoyable part had been watching her eldest brother bend the knee in front of the princess and swear their house to her.

Much like within their own castle, the moment she could slip away, she did. The Red Keep’s training yard was larger, more kept, but practically the same in every other aspect. Her hands bunched her skirts above her ankles as she marched across the field, finding the first weapon she could get her hands on before stalking towards the practice dummies. A few of the guards, both the gold cloaks and ones bearing the white cloaks of the kingsguard, turned to watch her. Despite it being a wooden sword in her grip, they had no doubt she could be equally as deadly with it in the right mood.

Which happened to be the current mood she was in.

Above the training yard, gathered together on an overlooking balcony, her mother was talking animatedly with Lyonel Strong with her sons flanking her, his sons mirroring them. Harwin appeared mostly disinterested as Jason discussed the tournament as if he’d competed in it himself, eyes drifting past the lord’s shoulder to the training yard below. His father and younger brother didn’t seem to have the same problem he did, both engaged fully with the Lady Lannister and her younger twin son.

“I was certain you had your daughter with you today, Lady Ceira, unless I was mistaken?” Larys’ smile was nearly wolfish. It was hard to miss the youngest of the three lions when she matched them in height. 

Fallon’s mother sighed, glancing at Jason for a moment before her court mask fell back into place. “She is not in the best moods, sers, so you will have to excuse her absence.”

Jason nodded in agreement, turning from his own conversation. “We find it better to allow her to burn it out herself.”

“Is that what we’re calling that?” Harwin huffed a soft laugh, pointing past the group and down into the training yard.

Ceira’s face flushed, eyes wide as she realized how unsightly it must look for her daughter, in one of her most expensive dresses, to be hacking away at training equipment in the king’s training yard.

Jason laughed along with Harwin, though his tone was laced with a hint of mockery. “Certainly a first impression on your betrothed, isn’t it, Ser Strong?”

Tyland leaned over to whisper, “It is not too late to back out.”

The eldest Strong son ignored the both of them, turning to their mother with a slight bow before excusing himself. Ceira looked to Jason with slight panic and it wasn’t a moment before he was following after Harwin. Lyonel smiled to himself, a pit of worry forming in his gut as he turned back to watch Fallon over her mother’s shoulder.

“Now, I would be careful how you approach her,” Jason called after Harwin, who didn’t seem to take his warning to heart, “she isn’t the most pleased with the news of a betrothal.”

“I only wish to introduce myself. Perhaps she will change her mind once she meets me.”

Her brother didn’t think so, but made no further argument about it. 

“Sister!” He yelled across the field, watching Fallon’s shoulders drop as she likely groaned at the sound of his voice. 

Fallon turned, then, glaring at her brother before taking in the sight of a man she’d never seen before. He towered over her brother with broad shoulders and a mop of curly dark hair and the widest smile she’d seen on a man watching her swing a sword. It struck her as odd for a moment, her glare dropping into confusion as he crossed about half the yard before stopping.

“Lady Fallon, it’s wonderful to finally meet you.” Harwin wasn’t sure if bowing was appropriate when you met your betrothed for the first time, so he settled with standing with his hands clasped behind his back. 

“I would say the same, ser, if I had a clue who you were,” she replied with an almost cold tone, eyes glancing to her brother where he stood with a horrid grin on his face. He was enjoying watching the exchange and the thought gnawed at the back of her mind.

Harwin’s head dropped slightly, his smile turning sheepish for only a moment. “My apologies, lady. I am Harwin Strong, heir to Harrenhal.”

Strong. The name burned in her ears and her eyes narrowed. The way he looked at her, spoke to her, she had no doubt now knowing he was from House Strong that he was the man her mother had all but sold her hand to. She had expected someone older, shorter, ugly even.

Honestly, it was almost a pity he didn’t outrightly look awful.

When she didn’t say a word nor make a move, Harwin cleared his throat, risking a glance over his shoulder to her brother. Jason made a motion to spur him forward.

“I, um,” Lord Strong continued, blinking a few times to fight the awkward tension bubbling around him. “I look forward to our wedding, my lady. You have been at least told that much, I hope?”

Her shoulders set themselves in a hard line, grip tightening on the wooden hilt of her sword. “At least one of us does, Lord Strong.”

Before he can say another word, her brother yells across the field in a voice that grated her nerves bare.

“Do the lovebirds require a bit of privacy, dear sister?” Followed by a laugh that had her teeth grinding together. 

“Don’t you have serving girls to go bother, brother? Or perhaps you’d like to fill in for the training dummy for a bit!”

“I quite like my angle, Maiden Knight,” he laughed again, crossing her arms as he saw her fuming. “It’s not every day you get to witness the taming of a stray cat!”

The shout she let out was loud enough to draw the attention of both families up on the balcony and then some; many lords and ladies were suddenly curious about the commotion out in the yard. It even drew the attention of the princess who, up until then, had stood dutifully by her father’s side greeting a few of the Great Houses and speaking to them for a moment before the filtered out of the throne room. 

Harwin barely blinked before he realized Fallon had begun rushing across the training yard towards her brother, who didn’t seem the least bit surprised by her outburst and just grinned like he had won some sort of game. Perhaps the ribbing between them had been a game of sorts, but it certainly hadn’t been one she enjoyed. He decided it was definitely a blind rage, so to speak, as she seemed to completely forget he was stood between them as her sword raised, just barely swinging past his head.

Fallon nearly jerked to a stop when his hand grabbed the wooden blade of the sword, turning her glare toward him. “Let go!”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, my lady-”

“And I don’t care what you think! I am going to kill him-”

“With a wood sword?”

She huffed, her curls falling into her face from where they fell loose from the pins stuck in a million places in her hair. The small moment of reprieve had him relaxing for just a moment before Jason decided to fuck it all up again.

“Come on, Fal, your princess is watching!”

Rhaenyra had pushed her way through the crowd to peer into the yard, watching the small exchange with wide eyes. She’d only had one good look at Fallon before and the following events had thrown a large shadow over that memory. Seeing her then, angry and vengeful, it was entirely different.

“Maybe she’ll throw her favor at you again if you ask nicely!”

Fallon shouted again, though that time Harwin was aware of what followed and took matters into his own hands.

Rather literally, as he dropped his grasp on her weapon to throw her over his shoulder.

Her shriek echoed across the courtyard, her fists connecting with the hard planes of his back covered in leather. It was loud enough to draw the full attention of both Lord Lyonel Strong and her mother, the latter of which looked absolutely horrified at the scene playing out before what she saw as the entirety of Westeros. Lyonel stifled a chuckle with a cough behind his hand, his younger son staring at the display in matching shock. 

Harwin barely seemed fazed by the matter, asking amongst the shrieks and flailing limbs if Jason wished to leave to a safer spot before he set his sister back down and turned her loose. The older Lannister was gone in a heartbeat, making the broader man laugh before letting the poor lady’s feet touch the ground again. She all but launched herself away from him, red-faced and nearly growling as she tried to put herself to rights again. 

“I have never been so humiliated-”

“I meant no offense, Lady Fallon, I assure you-”

“You swung me around like a bratty child!”

Harwin had to keep himself from laughing again as he held his hands up in an empty defense as she rounded on him. “I merely assumed it would be better for you to not murder your brother in the king’s courtyard-”

“You have no right to touch-”

“Lady Lannister?” The princess’ soft yet strong voice cut between them, causing both to turn towards her with staggeringly different expressions. Fallon had yet to fully drop her rage and Harwin nearly looked afraid for his safety. It was certainly a sight.

Rhaenyra barely blinked, keeping her expression ever diplomatic as she clasped her hands in front of her skirts. The weight of the scene finally settled over Fallon, her face flushing red again before she dropped into a stumbling curtsey before the newly crowned heir.

“Princess, forgive me, I seem to have left my manners of court back home.”

The princess chuckled softly to herself, violet eyes catching the sparse sunlight with a twinkle. “As well as your sword, it seems.”

Fallon’s hand grasped at the empty air at her side before she realized, barely noticing how Harwin bowed to the princess before walking to meet both of their parents who had come rushing down from the balcony. However, for her, the princess had her full attention. It was the same look she’d given her before the fight against Daemon, a look full of conspiratorial mischief and curiosity.

“As heir, I am to seek out someone to be my sworn protector,” she started, taking a single step towards the Lannister woman. “However, given the few knights I saw at the tourney, I am left with very few good choices.”

Fallon merely managed a nod, mind trying to keep up with the princess’ train of thought.

“I would not be mad if you refused, I could see how sore a subject it might be with your family,” Rhaenyra risked a glance to the side, watching Lady Lannister’s expression twist in confusion. “But, if you’d be willing-”

“Yes,” her answer was all but spat from her mouth, a bit too eager to be proper but earnest all the same. “I am more than willing, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra seemed to preen at the agreement, chin held higher with a smile. “Perfect, I will have your things sent for and new armor made. Would you still favor elements of the Maiden in your equipment? Or was that simply for show at the tourney?”

She wondered if she looked like a fish at that moment, eyes wide and mouth half open at the thought of it all. The supposedly “disgrace” of the family house, now chosen as the crown princess’ sworn sword. It wasn’t Tyland, it wasn’t Jason, it wasn’t another knight that had proven themself on horseback and had sent swords ringing through the stadium for hours that day. It was her. 

Fallon blinked quickly to settle her racing thoughts. “That wouldn’t be necessary, princess,” she muttered quickly. “The symbol of my house or yours would be sufficient if it needs marked.”

Rhaenyra teasingly arched her brow. “Of my house, Lady?”

Her cheeks burned again and she nearly wished Harwin would scoop her up again and take her away. “I-I didn’t mean-”

The princess laughed, light and airy, as her friend approached behind her tentatively, finally able to pull away from her father’s side. “You will learn that a pastime of mine is poking fun at those closest to me. Right, Lady Alicent?”

Alicent nearly winced, thinking of the torn page tucked away safely in her room. “I do wish you’d find another pastime. One less damaging to history.”

A man cleared his throat behind Fallon and the two younger girls began to whisper to each other, hiding small giggles behind cupped hands. The young Lady Lannister turned to see Harwin Strong smiling at the trio, one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other held dutifully behind his back. It took all of her willpower to not roll her eyes, settling back into the role of her mother’s only daughter when she noticed both of their parents watching her over his shoulder.

“Ser Strong,” her tone was clipped, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Your mother is quite nosey, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

The girls behind her giggled again and she blinked at him owlishly. He sounded almost secretive, leaning towards them slightly as his voice dipped into a low whisper that nearly rumbled in his chest like a cat’s purr. 

Her green eyes regarded him cautiously, sizing him up as if she could fight him. More than likely, she could, but she was in a dress, completely unarmed, and her mother was watching. The last part wasn’t terribly important to her, but it certainly did top off the entire situation with a nasty red bow.

Her (begrudgingly)betrothed ducked his head almost sheepishly. “She asked me to see what you and the princess were discussing.” It was only then did he look past her to the two girls, nodding a small greeting to them. “Princess, Lady Hightower.”

Alicent dropped into her best curtsey, Rhaenyra just grinned as she glanced between her new knight and him. “Ser Strong.”

Fallon’s chin tilted up, trying to make up the few inches of height between them. “If you require news to report back to her, the princess has requested I be her sworn sword; I have just accepted.”

She had expected his expression to twist in confusion, to possibly curl in disgust. A woman as a princess’ knight? It was absolutely absurd, wasn’t it? Surely he would react just as her family would and she bristled as she watched his eyes go wide in surprise-

Why was he smiling?

“I saw you fight at the tourney, there’s no doubt you’re well suited for the job.” Fallon wondered if she was dreaming.

“Exactly my thoughts, Ser Strong,” Rhaenyra chirped from behind her. “I assume she will travel home to Casterly Rock to gather a few personal items and the rest will be sent for in time. In the meantime, I will inform my father and when you return,” she felt the princess gingerly touch her elbow, drawing her attention to her, “you will begin training with Lord Briarwood and assume your station.”

“And I will have the unfortunate task of informing your mother,” Harwin said with a soft chuckle, stepping away from the small group.

Her head spun as the princess drew her back into the conversation with Alicent, talking animatedly about something she hadn’t even begun to pay attention to. She was too distracted by the sour look her mother quickly wore before her mask came back into place as Harwin spoke about the role she’d been offered. He was still beaming, looking to his father with a look that she could’ve called pride had she known him longer than a handful of minutes. Part of her was still fuming, sulking in the back of her mind from how he had basically scruffed her like a kitten to keep her from her brother, that part still hated the fact they were sworn to one another. But, the more logical part of her, the one deeply instilled by her father, argued with the anger. He wasn’t the worst choice her mother could’ve promised her to. 

“Harwin, she nearly took your head off,” his father sighed, heavily, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“It was a wooden sword, Father, it wouldn’t have done much.”

“I apologize for my daughter’s behavior, truly, I will be having words with her the entire ride home,” her mother swore, fingers clutching at her necklace like a holy symbol.

Harwin just grinned, glancing behind him to catch a small smile on Fallon’s lips from something Rhaenyra had muttered to make Alicent cover her mouth with a laugh. He nearly missed his father mentioning something about calling the betrothal off since she would become the princess’ knight, his head snapping back around to protest.

“What? No!”

“She will be too preoccupied with her duties to court-”

“Make it a long engagement, then.”

Ceira Lannister’s jaw nearly dropped.

The entire ride home, she never said a word to her daughter, not about her new position in King’s Landing, not about her proposal, not even about her behavior towards her eldest brother.

The entire ride home, Fallon felt as if she’d conquered the entirety of Westeros. 

Tag list: @dreaming-of-illusory-flowers, @yippeecore, @soup-entity

#my writing #harwin strong x oc #a rewritten history of fire and blood #house of the dragon fic #fallon lannister

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

President Joe Biden held a White House event on Friday to sign an executive order on abortion access, but before getting to the topic at hand, the Democrat wanted to focus some attention on an unrelated matter: the latest good news on job creation. From Biden’s remarks:

“Today, the Labor Department reported that we added 372,000 jobs last month — 372,000. Here’s why it’s important: Our private sector has now have recovered all the jobs lost during the pandemic and added jobs on top of that. We have more Americans working today in the private sector than any day under my predecessor, more today than any time in American history — today. In the second quarter of this year, we created more jobs than any quarter under any of my predecessors in nearly 40 years before the pandemic.”

It was tough to blame the president for wanting to highlight the good news. For one thing, as his approval rating sinks, it stands to reason that the White House would want to tout good news about such an important issue. For another, much of the public probably doesn’t realize that the job market has soared with unexpected and unpredicted strength under Biden, and the unemployment rate is lower now than at any point throughout the 1970s, 1980s, or 1990s.

What’s more, as we discussed last week, the economy has created 2.63 million jobs so far in 2022, and the year is only half-over. By any fair measure, that’s an extraordinary total, more in line with what we’d expect to see in a full year. In fact, more jobs have been created in the last six months than in any full year of Donald Trump’s term.

It was against this backdrop that House and Senate Republican leaders said ... nothing. The GOP has largely decided to pretend not to notice job growth at all.

Circling back to our recent coverage, it seemed at least possible leading Republican officials would argue that Democrats don’t deserve credit for the economic recovery. Or perhaps they’d argue that robust job growth was inevitable after the 2020 recession. Maybe they’d even try to say that Trump was somehow responsible for creating economic conditions he had nothing to do with.

But Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell and House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy instead ignored the economic news altogether: No press releases, no tweets, and no public comments. They literally found themselves speechless — just like last month and the month before that and the month before that.

As regular readers may recall, it was more than a year ago when we saw the worst month for job growth since Biden’s inauguration: In April 2021, the economy created 269,000 jobs. Under normal circumstances, that would’ve constituted a great total, but with the country still climbing out of its pandemic-driven hole, the April 2021 report was a disappointment.

Republicans wasted no time in pouncing on the data, blaming Democrats for the shortfall. McCarthy released this press statement soon after the data was released:

“Today’s disappointing jobs report confirms once again that President Biden’s tax-and-spend policies are bad for American workers, families, and small businesses.... Experts are calling this jobs report the ‘worst miss in 23 years’, and it was a direct result of President Biden’s counterproductive policies. So President Biden is not fixing a crisis, but creating new ones.”

In the days that followed, the House GOP leader continued to make a direct connection between the White House’s economic agenda and the U.S. job market. A week after April numbers were released, McCarthy again argued, “President Biden and Democrats will make excuses for this abysmal reality, but the truth is their own massive spending agenda created this problem.”

It wasn’t just McCarthy. The Republican National Committee connected Biden’s policies and job growth over and over and over again. McConnell’s Senate website blamed “persistent unemployment” on Democrats.

There was one important problem with this strategy: It was apparently based on the idea that the U.S. job market would continue to fall short for the indefinite future.

It did the opposite: The economy created over 6.7 million jobs in 2021, which was a record high that surpassed the total number of jobs created across each of Trump’s first three years in office combined. All told, we’re now up to over 9.37 million jobs since January 2021 — a total that seemed impossible as last year got underway.

The political problem for Republicans is obvious: If a discouraging monthly jobs report is proof that the Democratic economic agenda is a failure, then several months’ worth of encouraging monthly jobs reports is necessarily evidence that the Democratic economic agenda is a success.

The more GOP leaders say Biden is directly responsible for the nation’s economic conditions, the easier it is for the Democratic White House to take credit when those conditions look great.

It’s okay for Republicans to applaud good news for their own country. When the unemployment rate reached 3.6 percent in the last administration, for example, McCarthy was eager to celebrate. Does he care to explain why he has so little to say now?

Postscript: It’s important to note for context that the Republican National Committee did issue a press statement on Friday morning acknowledging the existence of the latest monthly jobs report. It credited “Republican-led states” for the good employment data.

#us politics #news #msnbc #op eds #steve benen #president joe biden #biden administration #gop #conservatives #Republicans #economics #economy #2022 #economic growth #unemployment rate #job creation #gdp #gross domestic product #wages #wages and salaries #national deficit #memes #rep. kevin mccarthy #sen. mitch mcconnell #department of labor

[whatwouldvalerydo]

Rebel year - ch 5/6 - The transfer student

Gareth follows up and finally gets to meet Ruby Taurus, however the night still has several surprises set out for him.

The time of the meeting appeared to never arrive. Gareth was pacing the hall in front of the Slytherin common room, being certain he had been stood up or someone was making fun of him. Surely the latter, he thought, as he stopped pacing, instead listening in.

The corridors carried the steps of students returning from dinner, however the elusive Ruby Taurus was nowhere in sight. Not like he really knew how the girl looked like, but he figured it should have been someone perhaps not as interesting in order to pull off everything, not standing out or quite the opposite. Maybe she did have an outlandish hair color, or big teeth, a crocket nose. Shaking his head, he sighed. If she was that different, he would probably have remembered at least seeing someone like that, especially since they were in the same year and the same house.

“Gareth Farr?” a voice called out to him, shy and timid, Gareth turning to stare at a girl much smaller than him in height. One might not even think she was in her fifth year, but then again, girls were usually smaller in size. Hair of pale pink stuck from under a quite odd hat she sported, curious azure eye watching him.

He nodded “Ruby Taurus I presume.” Her smiling, a pair of puffy red cheeks sporting several small scars, a tooth slightly chipped looking quite evident when she held her teeth together like that. She approached, a small hop to her walk “I have some questions for you.”

The girl listened as they leaned against a wall, Gareth going through all the rumors about her, Ruby laughing copious amounts as he related them. But the more he spoke and he actually took time to properly look at her, it felt as if her face did actually fall in place with the students in the class. He could have sworn he had seen her in Herbology, or in Charms that year, but could not place her before.

“Oh no, I heard them as well, but I can assure you I’m not a new student, but I have been studying in an exchange program for the last couple of years.”

Cocking a brow, he tried to make sense of everything “Then why have I not actually seen you in the majority of classes?”

Offering him another smile, Ruby simply stated “I have learned some things in advance, took exams so I just spend the majority of my time with the animals, taking care of them, in the music room or in Hogsmeade listening to the traveling musician, mister Lark. I always attend when he sings, he is quite brilliant. Once I am seventeen, I promise to run away and marry him.”

Gareth blinked a few times as his mind travelled somewhere else “So no ancient magic?” he asked interrupting her.

“Excuse me?”

Sighing, he shook his head “Do not pay attention to my words. Well it has been interesting, I hope it works out for you.” Ruby nodded thanking him before she hopped once more leaving him “Are you not going to your room? It is almost curfew.”

“Nonsense, I have more fun outside the normal rules as it is.” She tipped her funny looking hat before disappearing around a corner.

She was certainly peculiar, no wonder there were so many rumors surrounding the young Slytherin. Pushing himself from the wall he was leaning against, Gareth’s gaze caught the eyes of a young man, around the same age as him, his ice blue eyes glaring daggers “Can I help you?”

“Curiosity killed the cat Farr. I believe you think you’re far more important than you actually are. But you ask too many questions and you need to be taught a lesson.” Reaching inside his sleeve, Gareth felt the hairs at the back of his head stand on end.

“Now, now brother, this will only cause more problems and we haven’t much time until the prefects come.”

Turning around, Gareth saw a girl, her stare just as dangerous as the teens’. She smiled however it never reached her eyes, features as if set in stone “What my hotheaded brother is trying to say is that you have been quite a nuisance lately. Being everywhere, especially where you were not wanted. Now to make things clear for you” she said walking over to him, Gareth taking a step back as the siblings approached him slowly “since you are after all so curious. You are getting close to things you cannot understand. Ancient magic has existed for long and you will stay away. However it is not reserved for you.”

“What are you doing, giving him a history lesson? Let’s dispose of him and be done with this nuisance.”

The girl turned slightly to stare at her brother, smacking him across the face “You will do well to shut up and think.” Looking back at Gareth, he barely saw her draw her wand before his movements were restricted “Now, please excuse his behavior.”

“Who in Merlin’s name are you?” her face he knew, however he never needed a reason or had one in order to talk to the Gryffindor witch. Her brother on the other hand, while he did sport Slytherin clothing, he knew close to nothing about apart from him being a student from Durmstrang who was transferred for the fifth year, however apart from a bit of interest at the beginning of the year, he knew close to nothing about him.

“Where are my manners? I am Elisabeth and this is Arthur Crane. Now” she tucked a wild strand of jet black hair behind her ear “we will not kill you. However you will forget everything about ancient magic. You will tell your friends you have lost interest, moved on to the next best thing. Let us handle it from here, it was hard enough trying to make ourselves invisible while surrounded by so many people. Thankfully with so many rumors around this school it was fairly easy to direct attention elsewhere.”

“Why would you need ancient magic?”

Arthur laughed “For eternity of course. So tell me why aren’t we killing him again?”

Letting out a heavy sigh, she extended her wand “Because women need prospects for the future. You are a Crane, but I shall marry and be a nobody. He is rich and handsome so I would very much prefer to keep him that way. It has been a pleasure Gareth.”

Opening his eyes upon hearing his name being called out, Gareth blinked in surprise when he saw two prefects staring down at him “Are you alright?” helping him up from the floor, he kept looking around trying to understand what happened. Last he knew he was speaking to Ruby, the girl as uninteresting as the next person, however everything after that was a blur.

“I must have fainted.” He stated running a shaky hand across his forehead. Perhaps he should cut down on the potions meant to keep him awake and actually have a proper night’s sleep.

“Do you want to go to the hospital wing?”

“No, I just want to sleep.”

#rebel year #gareth farr #hphl #harry potter legacy

[justkending]

Everest. Chapter 17.

Series Summary: She was done and retired. After Thanos and after the battle of a lifetime, she had called it quits and had distanced herself from the Avenger lifestyle. But word finds her that someone from her past is in danger. What the journey entails was never one she wanted to face nor one she saw becoming her reality again. The rollercoaster that comes with fighting evil odds arrives on her doorstep not leaving much room for a no…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2700+

A/N: Ok friends... This is the LAST chapter. I know it’s semi-without warning, but even I wasn’t sure if this would be the last one until I wrote it. There is much more to this story in my DR, but I felt it was best left here. Who knows? Maybe a second series of it may come up. Could not tell you at the moment haha! But I will be writing an Epilogue when I have the time and mental capacity for it. School is about to start back up for me, so excuse the fact I may be quiet this next month or so. First real year of teaching is coming and I’m slightly terrified😂. Either way! I love you all and thank you for the support on this series. xoxox

Chapter 17:

Having to take transportation outside of Stark technology proved that Bucky had become spoiled with convenience and shorter travel times.

There were two flight changes, three bus rides, a cab ride, and a 10-mile walk to Y/N's cottage outside the city parameters.

Luckily, he packed light and had better endurance than most who would attempt the journey.

As he arrived at the same field where he had first met Y/N, he had to stop and admire the beauty of it once again. He forgot just how stunning and dreamlike the place was. Perhaps it felt like a dream to him because he had never imagined a life like this for himself beyond his daydreams.

He stared at the small cottage off in the distance and the stained-glass greenhouse south of the house. He could hear the clucks and quacks of farm birds as they wandered freely.

The sky was a bright blue, lightly dusted with clouds as the sun was setting in about an hour. He squinted some at the sun coming out from behind a cloud and looked toward the front door of her home as he approached in the distance.

It was closed. There wasn't any sign of Ryker or her so far. Yet again, he remembered her saying she liked to forage and venture the land in her spare time if she wasn't gardening, reading, or taking on a new project.

Slowly making his way to the cottage, he continued to analyze his surroundings. It was quiet. But not have-your-guard-up kind of quiet. No, it was the exact opposite.

It was peaceful. He knew that in her time there, she had never had anyone infiltrate the peace besides their surprise visit. So a piece of him knew that they were safe here. At least as safe as it can get in this world. He continued to scan the area, hoping to see the homeowner, but there was no sign of human life anywhere. Only farm animals.

Speaking of...

In the distance, he heard a horse neigh followed by a low moo. Had she upped her number of pets?

Deciding his best chance to find his answer was to venture closer to the house and hopefully find someone to ask his question to.

"Y/N?" he questioned, approaching the door, seeing that most of the windows in her house were open. Some panes shared a peek at the curtains inside as they blew out when a light breeze filled the home.

He knocked, but no response. Instead, the door opened, showing it was unlocked and unlatched. He knew he shouldn't be worried, but the habit of the job kicked in, and he started considering the troubles that could arise.

He remembered what she was capable of and how she had kept this part of her life safe from the outside world. She knew magic in ways Bucky's mind couldn't fathom, and the likelihood of someone finding her out here, if she didn't want them to, was close to none unless you happened to be a neurosurgeon/ wizard.

She had to be out and about. It was a lot of land from what Bucky had gathered.

Now, the next question was, should he go in or wait on the porch step? He was going to go for the latter decision, but he heard a high-pitched whistle. One that was piercing and angry as it screamed.

He crossed the threshold into the kitchen to see the noise maker. A tea kettle was left on low heat but whistled to show its contents were boiling.

That shouldn't worry him, right?

He turned it off before deciding to investigate further and quietly went to the living room. In the corner, the sounds of a song he recognized danced with the warm breeze coming from one window and flowing to the opposite. A vinyl was spinning on an old vintage record player in the corner. The piece of equipment was in mint condition for its age. All the detailing and added antique features made it a perfect set.

He never got to take a look at the place the first time he came. I mean, to an extent, he analyzed the hell of it, as a spy does when entering a new place, but he didn't know the person living in it to match every detail to then.

Now, the hanging plants and herbs from the ceiling made sense. The mixed-match furniture and warm, soft colors added up. The environment that she had created overall was something similar to the feeling of being in the arms of someone you trust to keep you safe and protected. The feeling of entering a warm, fire-lit coffee shop where you could sit and read for hours, knowing somehow that nothing bad could happen while you were there. The entire house emanated a sense of calm, security, positive energy, and serenity for every visitor who entered.

He walked around the open space and looked at the antiques and pictures that lined the bookshelf that took up the entirety of the wall.

Pictures of her and Marley were on the mantel. Pictures of her and the team outside of the compound, enjoying normal life, were scattered here and there. One with her and Wanda jumping into a lake with Nat and Steve already in the water below. Another with Steve asleep on a plane and Nat pointing at him with a silly face gracing her features. There was even one that looked to be taken in the mid-1900s, where she was accepting an honor from someone at a university. The eras and casualties of the pictures fluctuated.

He was so zoned in on the details that fed more information about the woman he had gotten to know that his guard fell. The space made it easy to do so.

"Do you normally just wander into little farms in the countryside of Europe?"

The voice shocked him out of his hyper-focus, and he jumped slightly, turning fast.

"I'm getting good at this, scaring the Super Soldier thing," she grinned, leaning against the banister between her living room and kitchen.

"Probably the only person I'll allow to get decent at said thing," he had to chuckle, turning to look at her on the other side of the room.

"Don't worry. Sam will always try," she winked, standing straight and walking down the two steps into her main room, and coming around the couch that sat between them. She wore a ruffled skirt with what looked like layers of lace and a brown tank top covered in a knitted cropped sweater. Her feet were bare, but he noticed a simple golden anklet around her ankle that matched the gold accent jewelry littering her hands and neck.

(Ignore the shoes and most of the jewelry)

"Seemed to find the place easy enough," she nodded to his shoulder where his backpack stayed secure on one side.

"Photographic memory," he tapped his temple, shrugging the bag on as a nervous tick.

"Ah," she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest now in front of him. "Blessings and a curse."

He nodded with a tight grin, showing he knew what she meant. Before Bucky could ask any of the multitude of questions he had lined up for her, he heard a faint bark in the distance.

"Oh, God. The poor guy is still adapting to the new friends," she rolled her eyes and twisted her gaze to the back mudroom he had entered past the kitchen. "Wanna meet 'em?"

"Friends?" Bucky asked, confused, following her stare.

She laughed and motioned for him to follow her, telling him to leave his backpack on one of the chairs.

When turning out the mud room door, there was a beautiful white horse colored with variations of shades in brown spots in a way he had never seen before. It was tied to a post hidden behind some floral bushes.

"Meet Zazu," she announced, walking over to pet the snout of the large animal.

Bucky smiled up at the tall animal and chuckled some. Ryker gave an excited bark at the old friend and jumped on Bucky before Y/N could reprimand him. He followed her command quickly after but stayed close to Bucky's side as they looked over the new pet.

"Zazu?" Bucky looked at her with a smirk as the horse snorted in response to his name.

"Someone I know may or may not have been my reasoning for the name," she shrugged.

Bucky nodded with a smile, knowing exactly who she was talking about. He never had horses in Wakanda. His livestock mainly stayed with goats and sheep, but the horse seemed friendly and well-mannered. But it showed its attitude when it shook his head, whipping his mane to slightly hit Y/N.

"Ok, ok," she responded with a laugh. "You're free for the rest of the night. Don't get into any trouble without me." She took the reins off the horse, and he walked freely out into the pasture to graze where Bucky noticed a cow and a calf grazing already. 

She turned back to him and brushed her hands off the dirt. "Well, I know you're not here just to watch me talk to my pets and sneak around my house," she sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "We can go back inside and get the fun stuff sorted."

Bucky nodded and followed behind her as she made her way back to the cottage. Coming into the kitchen, she noticed the tea kettle was hot but not burning.

"You left it on, so I turned it off," he pointed to the pale green floral-painted kettle.

"I'll be honest with you, I forgot I left it on. I was out getting the new cow and calf in the field over. They had wondered further than I'd like," she mentioned. "Luckily, I have a spell on the place that keeps it from natural disasters. Self-made ones included," she hummed before moving through the kitchen, much like last time.

She went to get mugs, grabbed a few tea bags, stopped at the fridge to get creamer, and poured both of them a cup. At the same time, Ryker found his spot on his bed by the island in the center of the room and laid down, quickly dozing off.

Once they both had a mug in hand, it went silent beside the record, still softly playing in the background. Y/N broke the silence as she stirred the contents of her tea for the fifth time.

"I'm sorry." He looked at her, confused. "The fight we had that day I left the compound," she explained, looking up from her steaming tea. "I-I wasn't leaving to hurt anyone..."

"I know that wasn't the case," Bucky affirmed.

"Yes, but I still feel awful about it," she sighed, placing the mug on top of the terracotta tiled island.

Bucky moved from the opposite end he was standing by and came to where only the corner of the counter separated them.

"I get it now. I mean, it stung, but I get it," he bent his head like he had that night to see her eyes better. "I don't hold any anger about it anymore. Hell, I don't think I ever really did."

"Disappointment hurts more than anger sometimes," she mumbled, scrunching her nose at the feelings she knew he had actually felt at the time. She read them as easily as he showed them.

"Maybe, but after it all, I don't hold any of those emotions still. You were doing what you felt was best, and who am I to determine if they're right or wrong choices?" he shrugged, leaning against the counter in a relaxed manner.

"Everyone is entitled to their opinion on something. That's the thing about opinions; they aren't right or wrong," she tilted her head back and forth as if weighing her words. "Either way, you were a kind and loyal friend to me when I was there, and it wasn't right to keep you in the dark when I knew I could trust you."

Those last four words hit him harder than she likely meant. But the look in her eyes showed she had said it for a reason.

"Although it's not necessary, apology accepted," Bucky replied with a soft smile, and she returned it. "I do have one question, though." She hummed for him to continue as she sipped her tea, feeling better about it all now due to his genuine response. "If you left so much earlier than we did, how come we showed up first?" he asked.

She looked at him and bit the inside of her cheek.

"I came home to get ready to go, and on the flight here, when I was reading the research, I realized some inconsistencies with Stark's plans. It didn't take me long to figure out his true intent of finding the serum. I had to rewire everything in my strategy on how to attack the facility. And I hadn't planned on Anthony being stupid enough to jump on the case as fast as he did," she answered, leaning on the counter with her hip and crossing her arms over her chest as she looked at the ground. "He was anxious to get in and do what he thought needed to be done, but he was missing key details he didn't realize that I had. Like what the facility actually was before busting in, guns blazin' with a plan that was as beneficial as using Raid on Loki."

Bucky took in the information and didn't have to second guess it all. It made sense. Tony hadn't been prepared for anything they had actually gone up against, and Y/N seemed to get through the facility like it was a maze she had maneuvered through a hundred times before.

"I almost told you," she mumbled. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, turning his gaze back to her. "That morning in the kitchen, you were trying to convince me to stay. I was seconds from telling you everything." She let out a bitter laugh. "Never in my life have I had someone-." There was a pause as she collected my thoughts. "There's a type of comfort and trust I have with you, Barnes, that I don't think I've experienced with many people in a long while. I mean, of course, I love the team, and they all have a piece of me like that, but I was surprised how easily and effortlessly I found it with you as well."

He wanted to ask what she meant, but she continued before he could.

"I know you struggle seeing it in yourself, but you are a good man, Bucky Barnes. It takes a kind soul for me to find that kind of trust in, and even with the hell you've endured, you've managed never to let that piece of you die."

Why? Why was she telling him all this?

"You deserve to know and hear these words, Buck. Every day for the rest of your life, you deserve to know that you never let anyone truly break you, even if it felt the opposite more times than not," she smiled, placing a hand on his arm and a spark of appreciation and admiration filled his body.

"Y/N," he started, and she shook her head.

"Someone needed to say it and make sure you believe it. I needed to make sure you believed it," she squeezed his arm before pulling her hand back, and he'd be lying to himself if he wished she'd keep it there forever. "Anyway, you came here with a message," she adjusted her stance and changed to business mode. "What did Banner find out?"

How she could go from making his insides melt and close to bringing honest tears to his eyes after such a kind compliment to back to the business, he wasn't sure, but he would make sure to revisit it when given the chance. Something in her eyes told him she needed to move on for a second anyway.

Bucky cleared his throat and opened the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out the index card Bruce had given him inside a hidden pocket before gently offering it to her.

She took it and saw the side that had a grocery list written down. She laughed lightly at it and turned it over before walking toward the living room. Bucky followed behind her a few steps as she looked over the paper.

"Makes sense," she nodded, going over the foreign language as Bucky had read it. He knew he'd need a doctorate and possibly a second brain to decode the content of numbers mixed with letters and symbols. "Ok. Done and done."

She walked up to the fireplace and waved a hand over it, making a decent-sized fire erupt within the bricked chamber. In the next second, she threw the paper into the fire and brushed her hands off. As she looked back at him, she saw his face struck with concern at the paper being gone without any form of return for it.

"You're not the only one here with a photographic memory, Sarge," she winked.

Made sense. "Blessing and a curse," he replied with a grin.

"Exactly," she laughed, looking at the flames and then back at him. "Sorry you came all this way to watch me burn a grocery list, but it was honestly the only way to keep that information safe."

"Can I ask another question?" he cleared his throat. "Why me? Why not Nat or Steve? Or Wanda even?"

"Um," she dragged out. "I reached out to everyone after coming home. We had some good long talks about my leaving and such. But I don't know... I felt like I owed you an apology in person. They've known me long enough to understand my reasoning, but you? Call it an itch I can't seem to scratch..."

He smiled. Something about it made him feel special in a way he hadn't in a long time. And he felt the same way about the itch. Something about the woman in front of her kept him coming back for more.

"And correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought you could use a break from the Hero Life. No matter how good you are at it," she smiled, looking at the fire instead of him. "Everyone needs to time away to make a venture of their own." He smiled at that and looked around. "Are you wanting to head back now that your mission is done?" she asked, looking back at him, moving to throw a log into the fire even if her magic could likely suffice for a while on its own.

"I mean, I suppose I should," he responded, semi-disappointed.

"Have another job after this one?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then I don't see why you can't take a short little tour of the place. I can show you the new farm animals and the lay of the land... Only if you're interested, of course," she was quick to follow up with.

He didn't really need to think about it. "A tour would be nice," he smiled after a second.

The two made eye contact once again. She grinned up at him, and he could see the joy on her face from his answer.

"Follow me then."

THERE WILL BE AN EPILOGUE:)

Everest Tags: (if I missed you in tags, comment on this chapter to let me know:)

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @annazierden

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes  @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool @starryeyeseunbyul

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​ @alyispunk​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes​

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x avenger reader #justkending #marvel fanfic #marvel series #mcu #mcu series #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader insert #reader insert

[imnotbitteranymore-imsyrupysweet]

What Pride feels like to me.

lonely, dark, and heavy. hopeless humanity is all i can see through tear-filled vision, with no hope of ever living for me fully.

claustrophobic, agoraphobic and getting worse with every joke or post i see that’s homo/transphobic.

i’m scared to go to pride for mass shootings or bombings, so i think i’ll push myself past it but as i tell my parent i love them to get ready to go i’m suddenly overcome with the fear of everything. i swallow down my tears for moments more - turning back from the door, give excuses as to why that don’t force forth the cry. so i don’t sound dramatic when i say i was just afraid id die.

but i see it in their eyes too, i feel it in the tension of the room and the forced positivity for the rainbow under such clouds of gloom. they were just as scared, they just want me to be safe. Like any parent should want, right? their baby not to be scared to walk, day or night, that they don’t have to hide and could go outside the house as themselves without landing them in a life-or-death fight.

but the world is a scary place. but what they don’t get, see, or feel for me is, one less chance turns into yet another year of fear. another year of me, alone, crying in the very bedroom of my childhood home that i learned it all in. every single piece of me that i turned over in my tiny hands. the very ones i clasped every night praying it away, along with any people showing kindness of saying that who i was was okay.

the very bed sheets i muffled those cries into. the ones i bunched up to feel like i knew what it felt like holding someone in the night, too.

i wish sometimes to wring them thin, i have but not like this - i want to drain them of every tear. i want each and every one of them back. every drop of heartache, silent shatters for others hearts sake, every ounce of blood sweet and tears that it has come to collect.

i’m not sure why, or what i’d do with it.

perhaps, i could bottle it, and then see - see all those years of pain in silence, wasted, behind me.

maybe that’s it, maybe then i could move on from what haunts me. if i could just see it, make all of that hurt something physical to show me, validate me in all of it so i could let go of any of this.

i keep thinking i have and then im right back.. here. i still dress certain ways and am afraid of my natural ways. don’t be too loud, don’t draw attention, deepen you voice, talk proper non of that girly shit, walk straight, talk straight.

to be hyperaware of every aspect of myself even for the only thing i really leave the house for, walking my dog, is tearing away any bit of mental health i build. i thought- god, i don't know what i thought.

i guess i thought i’d never be back here. that by now, i would be in a place, at least of mind, where i was free to be me. but still i look in the mirror and so rarely just see me. rather, accompanying, always it seems, is every glare, every passing remark, every lonely day at school choosing that over getting made fun of or letting someone close enough, every time i averted my eyes, instead, looking to the ground when passing anyone in this god forsaken town. --------------

(sort of separate/i wrote this portion below, first, then once i started crying at the end of this i went back up and wrote all that.. so.. yeah. i feel a bit better now though) 

every time this month comes along all i can see are the thumbs downs out weighing the likes of articles for us

 i feel like a whale strung through with a harpoon they cruelly tie weights to once i’ve enough blows to fashion rope around.

i try, i really try, every year, if i’m honest, almost every second of the day to embrace myself and let go of all their hate. i try to focus on the love and the ones out there that accept us... but at the end, i always end up feeling that crushing feeling of hates weight, pulling down on me.

i want to be proud of who i am and exactly as i was made. how i am when i let go of the hateful, close-minded people out there and focus on only the peace i come to make in here. but i end up hunched over even alone, it comes infectious, seeping into my home. and again, i find myself hating who i am because even if i love me and they hate me, and i’m fine with that, but what gets me every time is the hate that others receive greater than mine, because i hide away. i’m a quiet gay, you could say.

i can go around and be just fine for the most part, but on those off days that i come to feel so comfortable in myself exactly as i’m made and i want to dare to wear something fashionable in a more fun way, i instantly wonder if i will be okay. if i’ll make it home or if someone will hit me, kill me, abduct me and release all their hate unto me rather than just through the violently, hateful words.

i don’t get it, i never will. i’ve been on both sides, explored so many faiths and philosophies to see everything from every angle, but i still will never understand why some people choose to hate, to hate another human that is merely loving, loving another human or themselves.

to love this self that you say is created in gods image, and whom this god loves so dearly that he killed his only son for. just like you, he loves us in our sin. if you must call our love this.

but, let me just say this. as much as it hurts, i gladly will die and i cry in my sin of true love. i just hope you one day can see that you will die in your sin of hate if you don’t reflect and change your ways.

my heart, overcome with love for all humans exactly as they are in their good and bad, makes me weep, it always has. and i don’t pray, least not in that way, but i do pray that i keep hold of this, this heart, as soft as a baby birds despite all the hate it gets. and i pray that yours too may soften, and actually hear the truth that sings throughout all of time and space; that, above all we should love, and as challenging as it may be, everyone from you to me, that is the whole human race should love no matter what they face. it’s terribly hard but i am grateful for all that i’ve gone through thus far for it has made my heart grow, my mind too, in order to love all humans the way in which i do. i only pray, or wish whatever suits you, that you receive this grace too.

(It seems, pride is still fear. And that i don't know any other way to be)

#vent poem #vent poems #i was looking at the news which i never do and all the pride articles had hundreds of down votes and it out weighed the up #had a little break down spiral about it and needed to vent ill come back to edit and or add to this but yeah #im crying rn #and i gotta get to studying so RIP #pride poem #sad poem #imnotbitteranymore-imsyrupysweet #sad boi time #lgbtqia+ poetry #religion tw #religious trauma #ex christian #christian trauma #social issues #stuggling #if theres mistakes its cause my head was bumppin while i was breaking down so through tears and headache i jotted this down #lol so yeah #sorry not sorry #i needed to let it out