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thenightwolf51 · 8 months

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"Danny was born a Wayne" AU except he's Bruce's grand uncle. The result of a one time drunken affair, shortly before Kenneth Wayne's death, to a young unmarried woman who gave the baby up for adoption.

(Whether the Fenton's, and therefore Amity, were just ahead of their times or the DC timeline is shifted a bit so that DP happens in its cannon era is up to you. Dealers choice, though now that i know about her i just love badass widowed prohibition leader Laura Elizabeth Wayne)

Danny grows up knowing hes adopted and loved by the Fentons but something (dealer's choice) happens and he loses his family and friends (maybe the whole town goes too?). In an attempt to avoid a Dan situation he flees into the Infinite Realm and doesn't stop.

He just wanders, time passes in its weird Realms way, not that Danny truly notices. A protector spirit thats lossed everything it protected. Its a wonder he doesn't fade and he actually might've if it wasn't for his human side.

But its a tug at his core that brings him from his near catatonic wandering. Gone before he can even understand it but enough to shake him back to himself. Enough to know that hes nowhere near ready to go anywhere familiar so he continues on, his wandering no less pointless but at least he's aware again.

What feels like a relatively short time later he gets another tug, and this time he manages to follow it.

He follows it invisibly through a natural portal that drops him somewhere in New Jersey and all the way to a fancy hospital room in the gloomiest city he's ever seen.

In there he sees his half brother Patrick Wayne, though he wont figure out their connection for a few more years, holding little Agatha. She's adorable in her little dress and pigtails and her sweet face causes that familiar tug he recognizes from what must have been six years ago given the girls age.

Then a nurse comes in and hands a little bundle to what must be the mother (whos name i cant find) and Danny takes one look at the little core tugger who brought him here and just melts. Even without knowing yet that this is his last remaining family, his instincts latch on and he vows to protect and care for the Waynes.

And he does.

He finds his forgetful brother's documents and keeps Aggy company when everyone else is busy and soothes baby Thomas so his poor sister-in-law can get some more sleep. He ices fevers and bruised knees and helps on later games of hide and seek.

He very rarely becomes visible and only to the children. His grief over the Fenton's convinces him its better to protect his new family from the shadows.

Danny explores every inch of the manor, including secret passages and an underground cave system. He claims a forgotten room in the back of the attic as his own, which over the years fill up with knickknacks, heirlooms, and pictures of the family. Even a gift or two from Agatha, who hadn't stopped believing in their shadowy guardian like her brother did when Danny felt they were too old to see him without drawing suspicion.

The manor becomes his haunt and he always knows where each family member is within it. And when any guests have some no good intentions.

And when baby Bruce is born tugging at his core and with the bluest little eyes, he welcomes the fussy little thing. And makes sure dear Martha never knows just how fussy baby Bruce really is, otherwise she might've never had a full nights sleep.

Danny blames himself for not being there when Thomas and Martha die, and promises to never leave Bruces side, practically becoming the boy's living shadow. Watching over him as he gets older, secretly aiding him in his training. Danny feels a bit of pride when Bruce takes some inspiration from the old stories Thomas told him of the shadowy Wayne family protector when creating his Batman identity, glad his nephew still remembers him even if he hasn't shown himself since the now young man was six.

Danny continues to protect and care for the family in a variety of ways over the years even as the family grows.

Lightening Alfred's workload, softening Dick's falls, calming Jason's temper both pre and post pit, hiding Tim's coffee when the boy hasn't slept in far too long, providing plenty of shadows and hiding nooks for Cass, helping Damian hide the litter of kittens he found.

And no one seems to know he's there, except maybe Cass and he's pretty sure Alfred has been know since he first started working for the family. No one knows, that is, until Duke Thomas moves in and lookes right at him watching invisibly from the sidelines.

(@omnicrafts @dcxdpdabbles @hdgnj @ailithnight @nelkcats @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 i dont know, the main point of all this is that Danny's been protecting the Wayne family for decades and no one, except maybe Alfred, knew until Duke moved in)

#dpxdc #danny is a Wayne #danny is the wayne family protector spirit #duke can see ghosts #an alternative of this could be the same background but Danny decides to come in as the preCrisis “Uncle Philip” that initially raised Bruc #if so Agatha would definitely vouch for Danny #there's not much on Agatha Wayne but she seems fun

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rosemaze-reveries · 26 days

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During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you.

this is def an experimental format!! i got this idea while reading the character letters. in the POV of an unknown interviewer (not reader). reader uses they/them.

🔗⚰️📰🔮❤️‍🩹💉🌪️✂️🍀🩰🔫🪡🤹🧲🦋🐍

Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?

🔗 Ada - "Yes, that's my lover. I would say our relationship falls within the typical scope of that sort of thing. Of course, I believe we share something special, but everyone does when they're in love, don't they?" She covers all her bases in one decisive breath, leaving little room for me to comment.

⚰️ Aesop sits perfectly upright, fingers threaded at his knees. His eyes drift to the side and he seems to begin speaking mid-thought. "I had... cautioned myself not to upset their perception of me," he explains. "But they pried, and stayed, regardless of what they found... For that, I'm grateful."

📰 Alice has kept a sharp eye on me the entire time, but it's at this question that she drops the formalities. "I wasn't aware you would be prying into my personal affairs. Where did you learn that name?" Her frankness pins me in place. For some reason, I end up apologizing.

🔮 Eli can't help a sheepish smile from blooming across his face. "Well, truthfully... I don't use this term lightly, but they might be the love of my life." He has been consistently grounded with his responses, so I'm surprised to catch him flustered, however subtle it is. Personally, I'm touched.

❤️‍🩹 Emil considers for a moment. He doesn't meet me in the eye, instead pinning his gaze on nowhere in particular. A faint smile ghosts his lips. After a while, he answers, simply, "Safe."

💉 Emily's hands are folded neatly on her lap. At the mention of that name, her shoulders tense, but she otherwise maintains her composure. "Someone I trust." Her answer is vague and cautious, but acceptable. I'll try to uncover a deeper meaning behind that 'trust'.

🌪️ Ithaqua - "Mine." He is curt and to the point. Yours? I echo, hoping he'll elaborate. His head tilts to the side, and while I can't see the face behind his mask, a sense of dread suddenly overcomes me. I decide not to press further.

✂️ Jack stretches out his hand of blades, flexing each finger in front of him. I can't deny the cold sweat that drips down my spine just by being in his presence. "May I respond with a question of my own?" he says to me. "Suppose a butterfly loses its way, and winds up caught in a spider's web. Wouldn't you agree that the more it writhes and struggles, the more exhilarated the spider becomes?" I don't have the courage to hear out the rest of this analogy.

🍀 Lucky - "I've always been known as a pretty lucky guy, but the luckiest day of my life was when I met them! I remember it was the—" He drags me down a long-winded story about their life together. I get the idea. Eventually I'm forced to cut him off.

🩰 Margaretha twirls a curl of hair, a meek blush dusting her cheeks. "Have you ever been in love before? You're never prepared for the magic of it all. I feel a new rush with them everyday. I know, realistically, all good things come to an end, so I tried to remind myself to expect the worst, but they've proven over and over that... I'll never feel safer than in their arms." After rambling for some time, a look of surprise flashes across her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off like that. Oh, but I've just never met someone who feels so much like true love before."

🔫 Martha doesn't miss a beat. "Sorry, I don't know anyone by that name." I look down to double-check the name written in her file. Her watchful gaze follows my line of sight. Are you sure? I try. "Must've been some confusion somewhere," she insists. The next day, I realize all my files on her and (Y/N) have gone missing.

🪡 Matthias - "Wh-What?" he starts, but keeps going before I can repeat the question. "Oh, uh, an ally, I guess." Well, I gathered that much. When I press for more details, his head sinks low, fingers grasping at the armrest. "I don't know what they saw in me. Was it out of pity?"

🤹 Mike's eyes light up and he blinds me with a contagious smile. "(Y/N)'s a sneaky one, and I mean it—they've got me under the trickiest spell of all. Guess what happens every time I think about them?" Egged on by his grin, I take the bait. You get lovesick? I guess. Suddenly, he tosses a handful of butterfly glitter in my face. "I get butterflies!" Very funny, I sigh, exasperated with these carnies. Why did he have that on hand in the first place?

🧲 Norton leans back in his chair, scowling. "What's that got to do with anything?" He snaps a couple times in my face, urging me to "stay on topic." It's hard to say if this question struck a nerve, as he's been uncooperative for most of this interview, but my suspicions point me to prod further. After all, it'd have been much easier if he just said he didn't know them.

🦋 Vera's face contorts into a leery, hostile glower. "Why do you ask that?" Before I can say anything to mitigate the rising tension, she catches herself, and her expression softens slightly. "I'm sorry. That's... someone quite dear to me, so your question took me by surprise."

🐍 Yidhra's follower goes pale, clearly unnerved. "She won't answer that," she tells me through shallow breaths. "Th-This isn't my place to say, but I'd advise you not to involve yourself with that person." As if on cue, I get a sensation I can only describe as a hand slowly wrapping around my neck. It disappears when I move to scratch it. Must've been my imagination.

Part 2

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 4 months

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You can call me babe...not just for the weekend | Conrad Fisher x Reader

Advent calendar day seven: Tis the damn season

Summary: You and Conrad explore a road you never did before when come back to your hometown for the holidays

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

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Bundled in your warm coat and scarf, you walked down the streets of Boston with a cup of hot coffee in your right hand, looking for last minute presents while drinking in the feeling of home. Around you, the shops were adorned with twinkling holiday lights, painting a very different picture than in Los Angeles’s December. Especially with the light layers of snow all over the city.

Although you loved living in Los Angeles, there was nothing better than a snow-y Christmas.

You missed it the past two years.

The faint scent of fresh fir and pine coming from the Christmas tree market at the end of the street brought a nostalgic smile to your lips. When you were little, your dad would let you pick a tree — which was always way too big for the living room.

You entered the bookshop, browsing around for a possible novel to read during your vacation when your eyes caught a familiar face between the aisles.

‘’Conrad?’’

Hearing his name, the brunet lifted his gaze. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. You. In Boston.

‘’Hi,’’ he said, completely struck.

You walked over to him, pausing your shopping, and Conrad put down the book he was holding.

‘’I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s good to see you.’’

He had changed — grown — since you last saw him. His hair was a bit longer at the back and his jawline was sharper, but he still had that navy sweater he wore to every Christmas party at school. It has reindeers and snowflakes on it.

‘’I just got here last night,’’ he explained, giving you a small smile that fell soon after, as if regretting it. ‘’I didn't know you were coming this Christmas.’’

‘’I was beginning to miss the snow,’’ you said, then took a sip of your coffee. ‘’How’s your mom?’’

Conrad was relieved for a conversation shifter. ‘’She’s great.’’ He smiled again. ‘’We’re hosting a massive Christmas dinner this year and, you know her, she went all out. She turned our house into a place that looks like it came straight from a cheesy Hallmark holiday movie.’’

A chuckle spilled from your lips. Susannah always loved holidays — 4th of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas. She tended to go a bit overboard with the decorations, but she always prepared the most delicious feasts for her guests. Although she was no Martha Stewart, her dinner table was one for the magazines.

‘’Did your dad put the big star at the top of the house? I couldn’t see it from my window last night.’’

‘’Eh, no.. He didn’t…’’ You could sense that Conrad was holding something back, something he didn’t know how to tell you. ‘’Dad moved out last summer. He…’’ There was a short pause before he spilled the truth, having never said it out loud before. ‘’He cheated on my mom.’’

Your stomach sank and your heart ached for Susannah. You never would have taken Mr. Fisher for a cheater, but you can never really know someone.

‘’I’m sorry.’’

‘’Why for? You’re not the one who had an affair with his secretary,’’ Conrad said, clearly still pissed about the situation and resenting his dad. Getting a silence from you, Conrad took back his words. ‘’I should not have said that…’’

You shook your head. ‘’It’s okay,’’ you assured him. ‘’Is Jeremiah coming for the holidays? He’s in college now, right?’’

‘’Yeah. Him and Belly both go to Finch, so they are driving together tonight. Steven should get here tomorrow.’’

Steven. You hadn’t heard of him in a while. The last time you spoke to him was to congratulate him for getting into Princeton. The big news was the reason why you had changed his name for Princeton boy on your phone. It was a nod to one of your favorite movies — A Cinderella story.

A smile drew on your lips. ‘’Seems like everyone is back in town this year.’’

‘’Like the old days,’’ Conrad confirmed, his smile tighter than yours.

⁂

The second time you ran into one of the Fisher brothers, you were getting lunch by yourself at your old favorite café and typing a few lines for your next novel. Christmas chaos had started at home and writing was impossible with your mother’s holiday music blasting while she was working on tomorrow’s dinner.

You heard him before you saw him.

‘’Oh my god, am I seeing right?’’

You raised your head, recognizing the dark blond curls spilling from under his hat that just entered the café. He skipped the counter and went straight for your table, pulling you in for a hug.

‘’I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been so long,’’ Jeremiah said, his smile so big you would think he had won a trip to Cabo.

You talked for a few minutes, catching up on small things, but he unfortunately couldn’t stay long as he was meeting with Belly to go Christmas shopping. You wished them good luck, the shopping malls likely chaotic forty-eight hours before Christmas.

‘’Before I go, there’s a huge New Year party at Este’ house next week,’’ Jeremiah informed, fixing his jacket and grabbing his coffee from the table. ‘’Everyone is gonna be there. You should come.’’

It was kind of him to invite you, but you were hesitant.

‘’I haven’t spoken to anyone since moving across the country, I doubt they’ll want me there…’’

Jeremiah tilted his head, giving you a look. ‘’Don’t say that. I’m sure someone will be interested in hearing about all of your celebrity friends. If you tell anyone you’ve met Ariana Grande in a restaurant, they’ll want to be best friends.’’

You shook your head. Of course he would mention Ariana Grande. The two of you used to sing her music in the car and have midnight release parties every time a new album came out.

‘’I don’t have any celebrity friends to gossip about. And if I did, I would be a bad friend for gossiping about them at a party in my hometown.’’

⁂

A Hallmark holiday rom-com was playing on TV when you received a text from Conrad. His contact picture was a selfie of you and him at the beach in Cousins. You visited him for the 4th of July the summer before you parted ways to different colleges.

From Conrad: Do you want to drive around and look at Christmas lights together?

A smile drew across your face. It was an old tradition from when you were kids. The two of you would walk around the neighborhood on the first night of Christmas break and look at all the decorated houses. You always looked forward to that special night. Then, when Conrad got his license, you broadened your itinerary to other neighborhoods and added hot chocolates and stolen holiday desserts from your respective houses to the tradition.

You didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas, adding a sweater over your shirt and slipping on your boots before heading out.

‘’Where’s your coat?’’ Conrad asked when you opened the passenger door and got in.

‘’We’re staying in the car, I don’t need it,’’ you replied, closing the door and pulling your seatbelt.

Conrad sighed and turned the heater higher.

‘’I’m gonna be honest, I was surprised to get a text from you. I got the impression that you weren't as pleased to see me as I was yesterday.’’

‘’No. It wasn’t that,’’ he assured, taking his eyes off the road to look at you briefly. ‘’To me, it was unlikely that you would come to Boston again since your life is in Los Angeles now. I was just shocked to see you in town.’’

A teasing smile curled on your face. ‘’Aw, you were starstruck by me?’’

‘’I didn't say starstruck…’’ Conrad protested, shaking his head as you twisted his words around.

The conversation was quickly dropped, something massive and green catching your attention on your side of the street. ‘’Oh, look on my left, they dressed up their 50 feet skeleton in a Grinch costume!’’

⁂

‘’What are you doing here?’’ your mother asked, her arms crossed as swatched you in the kitchen making yourself a cup of tea on New Year’s eve, eyeing you with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.

You gave her a confused look, a teaspoon in one hand and a teabag dangling from the other. ‘’I’m on vacation… Mom, did you have too much eggnog or something?’’

‘’I mean, what are you doing at home on New Year’s eve? Don’t you have a party to go to? I’m sure your old friends missed you.’’

Letting out a sigh, you resumed preparing your tea, pouring hot water into the cup. ‘’Jeremiah invited me, but I don’t think I’m gonna be going. We can watch Ryan Seacrest’s Rockin New Year together—’’

Your mother leaned against the kitchen counter, a faint frown on her face. ‘’You should go. No twenty-year-old should stay at home on New Year’s eve,’’ she insisted, glancing at the clock on the wall. ‘’Is Conrad gonna be there?’’

You shrugged, stirring the tea. ‘’I don’t know.’’

She pointed at your cup. ‘’Give me that tea and get ready for that party.’’

⁂

Leave it to you to be overdressed at a small town New Year party. Since moving to Los Angeles, you had to level up to their standards of fashion, but now you were sticking out like a sore thumb in this suburban crowd.

You walked further into the house, trying to find familiar faces, but you didn’t recognize half of them. They must have recognized you by the sour look they gave you. You couldn’t tell if it was because of your dress or because they didn’t like that you were at the party. You tried to ignore them. There was a reason you left town and it wasn’t only for bigger career opportunities.

‘’Happy new year!’’ Belly greeted over the loud music, grinning excitedly with a red cup in her hand and a pair of ‘2024’ gold glasses on her face. She pulled you in a hug, giving you a better welcome than your old classmates. She held you at arm’s length, looking you up and down. ‘’Wow, that dress looks so good. It’s like a mirrorball.’’

You smiled and thanked her for the compliment. ‘’You don’t think it’s too much?’’

She shook her head. ‘’It’s better to be overdressed than underdressed,’’ she assured you, quoting Susannah. ‘’Come. Steven has been talking about you non-stop since Jeremiah told him you were in town and coming to the party.’’ Belly gave the boys a glance on the other side of the room, both talking by the windows, then pulled you through the sea of people.

‘’There she is,’’ Steven exclaimed when seeing you approach, being the last of the group to see you.

You pulled him in a short hug. ‘’Hey, Steven.’’

Seeing your empty hands, Jeremiah offered to get you a drink. He enumerated the small selection available in Este’s kitchen, but your attention was drawn away when you caught Conrad sitting with a couple of friends on the couches with a beer in hand. Your eyes lingered on him more than necessary. You couldn’t help it, he looked so handsome in a button up and sweater.

‘’So, which one is going to be?’’ Jeremiah said, still waiting for your choice of drink.

As the night went on, you lost sight of him. You and Belly laughed while the boys did karaoke, duetting musicals and acing every song. Parties in Los Angeles were not as laid back. Everyone would have booed if someone had pulled out the karaoke machine.

Steven was in the middle of an impressive solo when you caught Conrad heading outside to the balcony. You glanced at your friends, then back at the sliding door, and excused yourself to the bathroom. You came to the party in hopes to see him, you couldn’t not talk to him.

As you stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air enveloped you, causing goosebumps to rise on your barely covered skin. Even with tights, that dress was not approved for the winter chill. Trying to ignore the high chances of catching a cold, you walked up to Conrad, who was leaning against the railing, gazing at the illuminated neighborhood by himself.

‘’I’ve been looking for you,’’ you said, your voice breaking the silence.

‘’Me?’’

You hummed, joining him in his gazing. ‘’Aren't you cold out here?’’

‘’No, not really.’’ He shifted his eyes to you, noticing the absence of a coat over your shoulders. ‘’You sure are cold.’’

You chuckled, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt to generate warmth. ‘’Maybe a little.’’

Without asking, Conrad pulled you closer, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. ‘’Better?’’

You leaned into his side, a smile gracing your lips as the woodsy undertones of his cologne enveloped your senses with every breath. ‘’Better.’’

‘’How was your Christmas?’’ he asked.

‘’Great.’’ Your answer came across as cold, but it wasn’t intentional. ‘’Did Susannah make you wear matching Christmas sweaters again?’’

Conrad groaned, confirming that she did. ‘’She got us matching pajama bottoms too, this year. It’s horrendous.’’

‘’I’m sure you looked cute— that it was cute,’’ you quickly corrected.

‘’I assure you, it was not,’’ Conrad denied, shaking his head at the memories. ‘’Mom put reindeer ears on Jeremiah’s head for the family portrait and I had a Santa hat.’’

You could totally imagine Conrad in a Santa hat and Christmas pajamas.

‘’Conrad?’’ He hummed, waiting for you to continue. ‘’Do you ever think of us? The ‘us’ before I moved to California?’’

The two of you were very close since third grade, but once you moved to California, you got radio silence from Conrad. No texts. No phone calls. Nothing.

‘’What do you mean?’’

You distanced yourself from him, preferring to be cold rather than close to someone who was playing fool. ‘’You know what I mean.’’

‘’You’re going back to L.A. in a couple of days. It doesn’t matter…’’

‘’It does!’’ you finally said, a mix of emotions coating your voice. ‘’I miss us. I miss us everyday, and after these past days, I don’t think I can go back to not speaking to you. I’m asking you one last time, Conrad, if you miss us too, please say it so we can stop acting like stupid teenagers and face what this is like adults.’’

Inside the house, you could hear people loudly counting down to midnight, meaning there wasn’t much time left.

Talking about feelings was always difficult with Conrad. He preferred to bottle them and be miserable instead of facing them.

‘’Of course I do,’’ he admitted with a rare vulnerability. ‘’No one matters more to me than you.’’

You didn’t hear the countdown reaching its end when you leaned up and pressed your lips against his, finally exploring the road untraveled by. You thought it would feel strange to cross the friendship line, but it wasn’t. It was easy and comfortable.

Conrad pulled you back to him with a hand on the small of your back, the sequins of your dress scratching his skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as if you were scared he would break the kiss too soon or just…run.

When the kiss did break, Conrad didn’t run. He was smiling down at you as cheers roared from inside the house, the clock having struck midnight.

‘’It almost doesn’t feel real,’’ you said, looking into his beautiful eyes.

Conrad leaned down to kiss you again. ‘’How about now?’’ He had an ever present smile on his lips, the kind of smile that couldn’t be broken by anything. The kind of smile that was from pure happiness.

Starting to feel too cold, the two of you headed back inside to grab your coat and leave. As you were maneuvering through the people, Jeremiah didn’t fail to notice Conrad’s hand holding yours. He elbowed Belly, who squealed excitedly.

—

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TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti @lomlolivia @5sosbands @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @gilbertscurls @brandirouse86 @leilani-nichole @bloody-mf-bsc @papayaboyluvr @bchindureyes @bellysbeach @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @foockingasshole @straberryshortcake143 @luiise @sickntiredtoo @adrluvh @mymultiveres @Rosekar16 @hopeurokays @amysangrl @hopelessromantic727 @beth-gallagher22 @lonelywitchv2 @arinexeisnotworking @cloudrainy342 @theflcwer @alllriseabove @angelxxrose @angelxxrose-blog @r1vrsefx @sierraluvzz @rodriqos @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @aesthetixhoe

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp

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zepskies · 3 months

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Show Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader || Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy (background)

Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

AN: Another story for the Espresso-verse! This is set after “Devour Me,” and plays on plot threads in “Midnight Espresso” and the flashbacks in “In Bad Weather.”

Word Count: 3,100

Tags/Warnings: Angst, body shaming, body insecurity, protective Dean.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “Objects Are Closer Than They Appear”

Hunter funerals aren’t supposed to be lively affairs.

Alicia Jackson is special, however. She’s known so well throughout the hunter community that news of her death creates a kind of reunion at her mother’s house after the funeral, not unlike Asa Fox’s wake last year.

Even you had known Alicia, though not particularly well. You met her through Eileen. They’d called for your help on a ciguapa case a few months ago, and ever since, Alicia had insisted on buying you a beer anytime she was in town.

So today, Sam and Dean are really supporting you and Eileen by coming along.

Alicia’s mother, Martha, is a lovely Haitian woman in her late sixties. Her house is modest, but welcoming. She’s a gracious host to have so many rough and tumble hunters in her home.

The wake is mainly gathered in the backyard, where plastic tables and chair have been set up. Most of the hunters have collected into groups of the ones they know, sharing stories, laughing, eating, and drinking.

You’re in the kitchen with Martha, as you’ve offered to help her put out some more beers on the table outside. The smaller woman falters for a moment when she glances at a framed picture of her daughter on the wall. Alicia was beautiful, with coal-dark skin and soulful brown eyes she’d inherited from her mother.

You end up holding Martha’s hands in comfort when she nearly crumbles again. Your heart breaks for her. Even if you hadn’t been that close with Alicia, you’d hope that someone would take care of your own mother in a situation like this.

“She just has so many friends,” Martha says, with a tearful chuckle. “I never realized…”

“We try to look after each other,” you reply, smiling. “Everyone here knew your daughter, if not personally, then by reputation. And guaranteed, all of them have at least one good story to share.”

Martha nods. Somehow, she’s able to smile through her tears as she pats your hand.

After spending a few more minutes with her, you predictably find Dean by a long table of hors d’oeuvres and desserts.

“Babe, you gotta try these mini quiche. They’re delicious,” he says, after popping another pastry into his mouth. You can see that he’s eaten nearly a whole tray while he’s been waiting for you.

“You realize we’re at a wake, not the Golden Corral,” you lightly tease. He shrugs.

“Still gotta eat, right?” he says.

His capacity for food knows no bounds, but you love him for it.

You glance over at Sam and Eileen chatting with a small group of hunters under the shade of a tree. They’re sitting close together at a picnic table. Your lips form a subtle smile, and you lean in close to Dean.

“Look at your brother, being a supportive non-boyfriend,” you say. They’ve been loosely “dating” for weeks, though you aren’t sure they’ve put an official label on what they are together.

Dean’s expression turns both fond and amused. “Think they’ve sealed the deal yet?”

You glance over at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” Dean waggles his brows suggestively. You do know what he means, and you playfully smack his chest. Mostly to stop him before he starts making lewd hand motions.

“Come on, that’s none of our business,” you reply. Inside though, you’re wondering the same thing.

Dean spies the look on your face and smirks.

“See. You’re curious too,” he says. He gestures at your face with the same hand that holds a bacon-wrapped cocktail weenie. You have to raise a hand to fend him off when he tries to veer it into your mouth.

“Don’t point at me with your sausage,” you quip.

“Funny. I’ve never heard that particular complaint outta your mouth before,” he smirks.

He eventually gives up on feeding you and eats it himself. His warm gaze is still on you though. You start to blush.

“Again, we’re literally at a funeral reception,” you say, despite your growing smile.

His gait becomes more flirtatious as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Like I said. We still gotta eat, don’t we?”

You splutter laughing, though you attempt to contain it behind your hand. Dean’s chuckle resonates through you when he pulls you in by your waist. His thumb brushes your hip. He’s not so much into PDA, and certainly not as “touchy” as you, but this much will do for now. You lean into him in turn.

He finishes off his umpteenth hours d’oeuvre and sets his nearly empty beer on the table. After letting loose a barely stifled belch, he mentions something about finding a bathroom.

“Dogs are already barkin’, huh?” you tease.

“Yep,” he freely admits, patting his stomach. “Give me five minutes…or ten.”

He squeezes your arm in parting before he takes off down the hall at a purposeful pace. It leaves you to contemplate the mini quiche.

Damn, they do look good. You bend over the table slightly to peruse your options, when a familiar voice drawls behind you.

“Still got a fat ass,” he teases.

You freeze. Slowly, you straighten up, and you turn to blink in surprise at the man who stands there, holding a beer and wearing a playful smile.

Yours is polite at best as you try to get through your shock.

“Carter,” you blurt out. What the hell are you doing here?

He greets you with an incline of his head. The way he says your name is both familiar, and a little unsettling.

You cross your arms and lean back on your heels. “You knew Alicia?”

“We tangled a few times,” Carter replies with a nod. His smile laces with a bit of innuendo, but his eyes have just enough heaviness to convince you that he really did have some kind of relationship with Alicia.

Oh, Ali. You could’ve done better, you think. You wish you’d known that tidbit of information when she was alive. You would’ve warned her.

“I’m sorry for your loss then,” you say. Carter nods again. A silence falls awkwardly between you two.

“Is that all we’re gonna say to each other?” he asks. “It’s been…what, a couple years?”

“Almost four,” you supply. You and Carter had ended just a few months before you met Sam and Dean, a little over three years ago now. You and Dean hadn’t started dating until last year.

“All right,” Carter says, rubbing at his chin. His gaze roams over you with a slight smile. They take you in from your high-heeled boots and jean-clad curvy thighs, to your green blouse, laced loosely in the front. You’d decided to dress a little nicer for the occasion.

“You know, you look the same,” Carter says. His head tilts. “But different somehow.”

You raise a brow. “Different?”

“Yeah, like…” He draws closer and leans on the table beside you. He sips at his beer. “Confident. Like you’re not hiding yourself anymore.”

He mimics the hunch of a turtle in its shell.

“You used to be like a little mouse sometimes,” he adds with a light chuckle.

You know he means to be teasing, but you’re not laughing. If you’re not hiding anymore, it means you’re not trying to bury yourself under shapeless clothes, along with much of your inner self.

“Don’t you think that’s a little tight?” he’d asked you once, before you two went out together. It wasn’t the first time. (And it wouldn’t be the last.)

“I’m just saying,” he would often say. “You might feel more comfortable in something a bit looser. Cover these up a little.”

You remember how he’d squeezed the softness around your sides or your stomach. You also remember a well of anxiety in your chest that had made you feel almost grotesque when you’d studied yourself in the mirror afterwards.

Objects are closer than they appear…

You remember agreeing with him. Changing clothes. Drowning yourself in crewneck shirts and breezy buttoned-downs. Always wearing pants and baggy shirts to bed. Thinking all of this was to make you comfortable, and not the man who didn’t really love you.

So now, you give him a passive look as you take Dean’s forgotten beer and finish the last sip. Carter wears a hunter’s red plaid over jeans and his old leather boots. His blonde hair is shaggy around his ears, his face a little rough with stubble, his eyes still a deep blue.

He looks exactly the same. He probably is the same.

He’s right about one thing though. You’re not the same.

“We’re not in the profession of hiding,” you finally reply. “Guess I just got tired of it.”

Carter seems to sense your shift, and maybe, what you’re really saying. His smile falls into contemplation. He crosses his arms.

“Did I spot you with one of the Winchesters earlier?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah, that was Dean.”

Before you can add the boyfriend part, Carter whistles lowly and shakes his head.

“I’d steer clear of them if I were you,” he says.

You quirk a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Those two are walking hurricanes of bad luck, blood, and mayhem,” Carter says.

“You don’t even know Sam and Dean,” you counter. Your voice is sharp and your brows knit together in thinly veiled irritation. “So I suggest you shut your mouth and steer clear of me.”

You set the beer bottle a bit hard on the table and mean to brush past him. You spot Sam and Eileen again, still sitting in their same table under the tree. You aim to head over there to wait for Dean, but a hand wraps around your arm.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be like that,” Carter frowns.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you tell him. You’re discreet in the way you try to twist your arm out of his grip. You glance around to make sure no one’s watching you two. The last thing you want to do is make a scene here, but Carter is being a stubborn ass.

Even though you manage to wrench out of his hold, he grasps your hand next to stop you from pulling away. He looks down at your hand, brushes his thumb over your skin. His gaze looks heavy, almost melancholy.

You know that funerals tend to bring out the sentimental shoulda, coulda, woulda in hunters, but you think he might be looking back on your time together with rosier glasses than he ought to be.

“Look, I'm sorry. Can’t I at least get you a drink? We can catch up,” he says.

“Consider me caught up,” you toss back. Frustration begins to set you on edge. “I don’t know why you’re pushing this. I mean, God, we weren’t even good together.”

At that, his grip tightens on your hand. Confusion and denial cross his face.

“That’s not true,” he protests.

Unbidden, you’re forced to remember the weeks you and Carter spent in Miami, where you’d met him. You remember how he’d convinced you to leave with him after his hunt was done, and to leave your family behind. A decision you regretted to this day…

You lean in closer just to whisper hotly. “You know it is. We didn’t have a relationship. We had a transaction, in which you liked what I could do for you. But you never loved me. You never even really knew me.”

At that, his hold finally loosens in his shock. You take the opportunity to slip your hand out of his. Another familiar hand rests along your lower back, and a firm wall radiates warmth behind you.

“Hey, party people,” Dean says. He gives Carter a “pleasant” smile, and you a more genuine look. You okay? it says.

You let out a subtly relieved breath and nod. “Hey, was just gonna go check on you.”

“I’m good,” Dean says. He looks over at Carter, whose expression has cooled considerably. Still, Dean inclines his head. “Hey, man.”

“Yeah,” Carter says. His tone is bland, until his gaze slides back to you.

“Don’t tell me you’re shacking up with this one now,” he says, leveling a finger at Dean. Then he gestures across the lawn, over at Sam. “Or is it the former anti-Christ over there?”

Both you and Dean bristle. Your temper has a thin fuse right now, and while you still don’t want to make a scene, you might have to make an exception.

“Why don’t you remember where the hell you are and have some decency,” you hiss. “Do us all a favor and fuck off.”

Once again, you try to walk past him. This time when Carter grabs you, it’s because he smarts at you getting the last word. A sharp breath escapes you, and Dean intervenes with a firm, warning grip on the other man’s wrist.

“Hey, you wanna act right, before you make yourself a problem?” Dean says. His face is relaxed, but behind his eyes are a very real threat. “I got no issue laying you out right here, in front of all your buddies.”

Carter has a moment of indecision. He notices a few pairs of eyes drawing their way, and so he lets go of you, even as he sneers at Dean.

“Shove the Prince Charming bit, asshole. She ain’t a damn princess,” Carter snaps. “She don’t act like one, and she definitely don’t look like one.”

You roll your eyes at his spite, but Dean can’t quite let that one slide off his back.

His grip tightens on Carter’s wrist as he pulls him in. He pats Carter hard on the back and smiles as if they’re old friends. But really, it just gives him the vantage point to speak lowly near the man’s ear.

“All right, douchebag. Keep talking shit. I’ll bet that’s how you’ve gotten this far in life,” Dean says. “But touch her again, and I’ll break every damn bone in your hand. And maybe, I won’t stop there.”

He tilts his head, so he can see the glimmer of intimidation hidden well behind the other man’s eyes. Then Dean lets him go. He turns and lays a hand at the small of your back. The two of you fall into step together while walking across the lawn in the backyard.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly.

Dean frowns and notices the way your gaze has lowered. His hand moves around your waist and squeezes to get your attention. Without him realizing, it just reminds you of the way Carter used to point out the thicker curves on your body.

Cover these up a little.

“Hey, you okay—”

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, easing out of his hold.

It leaves him feeling unbalanced, and a bit put out. Dean remains quiet as he follows you over to his brother’s table.

“Are you all right?” Sam asks you, discreetly, but with concern. The wake is coming to an end, and by now Dean has filled him in on your run in with your ex, Carter Hall.

You give Sam a nod and a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I'm good,” you reply.

Dean is quiet. He stands beside you with his hands in his pockets. Eileen has invited you and Dean to join her and Sam at a nearby bar to keep the evening going with a few other hunters, but this has already been one hell of a day. You’re ready to make the long drive home and call it a night.

Eileen’s also agreed to take Sam home (eventually). You notice how they share smiles, how Eileen ducks her head with the beginnings of a blush. You’re happy for them, even as you and Dean part ways with a more stifled silence on the way back to the car.

It’s late, and it’s cold. You walk beside him with your arms crossed, just to brace yourself against the windchill eating through your jacket. You glance over at your boyfriend and feel a measure of remorse for the way you brushed him off earlier. You have a feeling that’s part of the reason why he’s quiet, giving you your space.

You decide to close the distance. You sidle up closer and curl your arm around his. Your hand slips into his as well, threading your fingers together with Dean’s.

He looks over at you with a slight raise of his brows. His lips quirk at a smile, and his hand tightens on yours. You’re able to give him a more sincere smile in return.

“Can I tell you something?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Dean says.

You look up at him and bite your lower lip. “I’m starving. I never did get to try those quiche.”

It only takes a moment for you to devolve into a quiet giggle. It’s infectious, and Dean laughs with you.

“Okay, we’ll stop somewhere,” he nods. Though his eyes widen in realization. “Damn, that means you haven’t eaten since, what, this morning? Before the funeral?”

You mentally count back the hours, and you have to agree with a sheepish nod. Dean shakes his head in disapproval.

“Come on, sweetheart. You should’ve said something.”

You shrug, even though you know he’s right. Your free hand curls around his bicep, and you lay your head against his arm. He looks down at the top of your head and heaves a sigh, despite his lingering smile.

Though the peace you’ve brokered is soon interrupted.

Dean had to park down the road of Martha Jackson’s house. Two cars down is Carter, who’s about to climb into his old Honda Civic.

Damn. He’s still driving the same piece of shit too, you note. His head raises, and as if he knows he’s being watched, his attention turns toward you and Dean. You don’t allow yourself to react, other than staring across the way, directly at Carter. You wait until he looks away first, opening his door and getting into his car.

You expel a breath and brush your thumb over the back of Dean’s hand.

“Let’s go,” you say.

Dean nods. He guides you toward the passenger side of the Impala, but his gaze lands beyond his car, to the Honda still parked and warming up. He finds Carter’s gaze through the front window for a moment.

It’s Carter who once again breaks first; he revs the ignition and peels onto the street, and down the road past them without looking back.

Dean's lips curve. Bitch.

Shaking his head, he rolls his shoulders and rounds the car towards the driver’s side.

He’s more than ready to go home.

AN: *sighs* Okay, originally this story was going to be a one-shot, but it just got too damn long. Let me know what you think of Dean finally meeting her ex-douchebag, Carter.

Part 2 (coming next week) will include all the angsty hurt/comfort and smut to come...

Next Time:

“I’ll just speak for myself then,” he says. His hand trails lower... “If you need me to remind you how beautiful you are, how goddamn sexy…then I got no problem showing you.”

His hand moves down the soft slopes of your body and comes to rest at the curve of your waist. Hearing your faltering breath, Dean pulls back so he can see your face.

“Let me take care of you for a change,” he says. His lips pull at a grin, and it makes you smile in turn.

You take his face in your hands and bring him down to you for a kiss, languid and a bit devouring. It makes heat lick up Dean’s spine.

“Okay,” you whisper, close to his lips. “Show me.”

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

Text

Propaganda

Louise Brooks (Pandora's Box, Diary of a Lost Girl)—Louise Brooks started off as a dancer and went to work in the Follies before going to Hollywood. Disappointed with her roles there, she went to Germany and proceeded to make Pandora's Box, the first film to show a lesbian on-screen (not her but one of her many doomed admirers in the film), and Diary of a Lost Girl, both of which are considered two of the greatest films of the 20th century. She helped popularize the bob and natural acting, acting far more subtly than her contemporaries who treated the camera as a stage audience. After the collapse of her film career and a remarkably rough patch as a high-end sex worker, she was rediscovered and did film criticism, notably "Lulu in Hollywood," which Rodger Ebert called "indispensable." Also, christ. Look at her.

Ruth Weyher (Secrets of a Soul, Warning Shadows)—my vintage crush

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Louise Brooks propaganda:

"Defined the style of the modern flapper. A gaze that could make a stone fall in love."

"Louise Brooks left a legend far greater than her real achievement as an actress, but even today few people have seen her films. In our own time, the fascination with Brooks seems to have begun in 1979 with a profile by Kenneth Tynan in the New Yorker, which revealed that the actress who made her last movie in 1938 was alive and living in Rochester, N.Y. Such was the power of Tynan's prose that people began to seek out her existing films, primarily this one, to discover what the fuss was about. What we see here is a healthy young woman -- she was 23 when the film was released -- with whom the camera, under G.W. Pabst's influence, is fascinated. There is a deep paradox in Brooks and her career: the American girl who found success in the troubled Europe between two wars; the vivid personality who briefly dazzled two continents but faded into obscurity; the liberated woman who had affairs with such prominent men as CBS founder William S. Paley as well as with women including (by her account) Greta Garbo but wound up a solitary recluse. And all of this seems perfectly in keeping with her most celebrated role in Pandora's Box. For despite her bright vitality, her flashing dark eyes and brilliant smile, Brooks's Lulu becomes the ultimate femme fatale, careering her way toward destruction, not only of her lovers but eventually of herself."

"She invented having bangs to indicate that you have borderline personality disorder"

"chances are if youve ever seen a "flapper girl" character or even just art of a generic flapper type made after the 20s it was based on her appearance - particularly the bob hairstyle! she had some pretty rough experiences through her life before during and after her tumultuous acting career which ended in 1938 but she made it to the 80s, wrote an autobiography and did a lot of interviews that she was never afraid of being honest in about her own life or peers of the age, and apparently was unabashed about some affairs she had with well known women (including greta garbo!!)"

"She read Proust and Schopenhauer on set between sets. She was one of the original flappers/new women of the 1920s. She had a one night stand with Garbo and was the inspiration for Sally Bowles in Cabaret. Truly a stone cold fox."

"on her wikipedia page it says her biographer said she "loved women as a homosexual man, rather than as a lesbian, would love them" and while i have no idea if this is true or not i thought that was very gender of her"

"despite being american she was big in german expressionist films and thus her aesthetic was unmatched!!"

So far ahead of her time in regard to portraying complicated women. Timeless elegance. "I learned to act by watching Martha Graham dance, and I learned to dance by watching Charlie Chaplin act.” - Louise Brooks

Ruth Weyher propaganda:

#ruth weyher #louise brooks #hotvintagepoll #ladies 1 #fuck that old woman

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kaidatheghostdragon · 2 months

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Has anyone put Ida Manson and Alfred together? Do they even have a ship name?

I just want a fic where Ida affectionately blackmails the Waynes to help Team Phantom.

She and Alfred have been in a long-term and long-distance relationship

Ida definitely knows the Waynes are the Bats but has maintained plausible deniability up to this point

I think it would be out of character if Alfred didn't know that she knows, therefore he does

The Bats don't know that Ida knows and might not even know she's anything more than a distant friend of Alfred's

I'm torn on whether Sam's parents know that Ida has a relationship with Alfred

Ot1h, it would be hilarious that she kept it hidden from them. Maybe Sam knows and relishes in the rebellious nature of her grandma

Otoh, there is potential for Alfred being Sam's bio grandpa, either legitimate or scandalous, as well as potential family drama of hiding an affair with a butler

It could also color the Mansons' perception of the Waynes, too. Instead of the cliche of constantly throwing Sam at one of the Wayne kids to "marry up," they despise the Waynes because their butler defiled poor innocent Ida, or potentially dont want media attention digging into family history and finding that one of Sam's parents is the child of a butler, an affair, or a butler-affair.

If the Martha/Yhomas/Alfred threesome is invoked, things could get messy if Ida was actually part of a foursome, and one of the Manson parents is potentially an illigitimate wayne. Bruce's kids would potentially be Sam's cousins.

The cliche that Sam hates the wWaynes because her parents keep throwing her at them? Hilariously reversed. They're constantly telling Sam not to associate with the Waynes but never explain why. Rebellious Sam is gonna do the opposite, do her research, and demand to know why her parents hate the Waynes who run a meticulously clean company and dozens of legitimate charities that do some actual real good. Why can't you be more like Bruce?!

Enter Danny's accident and the sudden influx of ghosts. Ida sees the signs and requests that Alfred sends the Waynes over to appraise the situation. Could be extremely early on, or the team has had several months to establish themselves.

Suddenly, Sam is informed that Uncle (literal, socially adopted, or affectionate, use of the title is still up to interpretation at this point, but Ida is the only one that gives him that title to Sam) Bruce and his family will be visiting. She's delighted to meet *the* Bruce Wayne, may or may not be confused about him having a familial title. ("What do you mean we're possibly related? I've had a crush on Jason Todd since before he faked his death!" "You confessed your undying love for him when you were nine, Sammykins. We figured it was a phase." "I almost ran away to attend his funeral!" "You WHAT?")

Anyways, canonically, Sam is the one most interested in Danny becoming a hero, so she's going to be ecstatic to learn that her uncle/"uncle" is Batman and he's offering to personally train her. It'll be another massive point against her parents for not liking Bruce, regardless of the fact that they don't actually know that he's secretly a superhero.

I got a ton more points to add about how introducing the batfam like this, and so early in the timeline, could deviate the story, but this was initially about Ida and Alfred. So I'll just finish off by mentioning that any such fic is contractually required to have both the Waynes and Team Phantom utterly grossed out by the "old people romance" going on between Ida and Alfred.

#dpxdc #dp x dc

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m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Nine

Here’s the thing. Like, on one hand, Paul loves teaching. But on the other hand, I honestly think he’d be a terrible teacher. He’s genuinely trying to explain songwriting to this kid, and all I’m getting is that I should be able to just look at a piano and it’ll give me whatever I want. “So it’s really just . . .” *plays Martha My Dear* “. . . and from there, you know, like, um, there’s no – unless you stop yourself – there’s no stopping yourself.” Yes, thank you, Professor McCartney. Very informative. Good thing you’re a gorgeous genius because not a word of that lecture made any sense.

Seriously I am BEGging someone to write Paul and Ringo in the 20s as a cabaret duo! With Paul’s talents being songwriting, slutting it up, piano, and vocals and Ringo’s talents being tap-dancing, ventriloquist dummy impersonation, with the occasional piano, vocals, and sly winks. Maybe they meet George and John through organized crime, idk.

“They don’t just sort of come in your head, kind of thing?” “Yeah, sure. Fact, I had one this morning.” You know. As one does.

See, even Ringo’s on board with my plan. “Let’s make a silent movie.” And Paul. “In a club. That’s it. We’re in a band. We’re in a band, but we sell drugs.” And now they're stringing Paul up just for kicks. Maybe they could join the circus!

Literally the minute John starts being silly, Paul gets this fond look on his face and you can see the wheels turning like “quick, think of a way to get close to him.” And John’s into it. But they keep doing this seesaw thing and I can’t help but think how reminiscent it is of their dynamic as a whole.

“I see you’ve given up smoking, Richie.” “Yes, I have.” Reminds me of that classic, “I don’t even smoke,” thing. Seems like five-hundred years ago.

PLEASE tell me Peter Sellers and Ringo had a torrid love affair during the filming of The Magic Christian. The way Peter touches Ringo’s hair and his face! Ringo being a gentleman and getting Peter a chair! And I mean there’s plenty of queer coding between them in the film.

But also laughing my ass off at Peter’s reaction to their song-titles/lyrics/gibberish/other references code.

Yoko, you’re stone-cold and hilarious. “Or what we haven’t.” I honestly have mad respect for her complete disregard/disdain for the Beatles and their art only because that’s how they treat hers for the most part. But girl. You’re married to one of them. He genuinely does love them and what he does with them and you’ve got to respect that or go find someone else, you know?

Also, Paul does Not appreciate the attitude. “Or we’ll just sort of sit here and allow ourselves to be embarrassed. ‘Number nine . . .”

Aaand, just like that, Peter Sellers “must be off.” He lasted all of 1 minute 26 seconds. Weak. George and Ringo lasted fifteen years.

MLH is literally that annoying person that asks you a serious question about yourself just so he can use you as a segue to talk about his problems.

John: just recovering from the day, you know. Yoko: from the night. John: embarrassed (you have no right, dude, you literally played your sex tape for everyone like two weeks ago) Paul: Did not want that image, thanks very much.

It actually KILLS me though that we’ll never understand their code. Paul and Ringo will take it to their graves and no one else knows it and any footage like this we’ve got, and any code songs, will just be mostly uninterpretable for all time.

Okay these few minutes here are soooo special to me. It’s John at his peak lovely, sweet, gentle, kind self. He makes a joke at which Paul can only nod darkly which makes John realize just how bad of a place Paul’s in.

Paul wants them to get to work “achieve something every day.” But John knows he’s not in a good headspace to work and it’ll be shit and then Paul will spiral even more. So, he turns up the humor until Paul is sufficiently cheered.

And then, he says. “Guitars? I thought that’s what they do.” And Paul’s stammering. “Oh, that is what they do, but–” John stands up, does a little head-tilt toward the instruments. “Come on, I’ll even show you about half a song I was writing. Come on.” That last in the tenderest, most coaxing voice. It’s just soooo. Like. We talk a lot about Paul ‘handling’ John, and he did. But John sure knows how to handle Paul.

I SO wish they’d have done something with “Madman”. It’s so fun!! Every single song in this era I will go to bat for, no question.

Ringo’s little hug for Paul!!!! I can’t.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #get back

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joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

jealousy l a safe haven drabble

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: When Esther invites Joel to her place for dinner, he reassures you that you have nothing to be worried about.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. jealous reader, soft Joel, infidelity, at this point these two are having a full on affair, fluff.

word count: 3k

“Helloooo? Yoohoo, is anybody home in there?”

“Ouch,” you gasp out as a foot connects with your shin underneath the table. You look up and shoot an annoyed glare at the curly haired woman sitting across from you at one of the smaller tables in the commune’s mess hall. You reach down, your hand rubbing over the spot where she’d kicked you with the hard toe of her boot. “What the hell was that for, Martha?”

Martha giggles. “Oh, hi. So glad you could join us again.”

Glancing from her to Maria, you frown. “What are you talking about?”

Maria playfully scoffs into her glass of lemonade. “Oh wow, she was so zoned out that she didn’t even realize she was zoned out.”

“I was not zoned out,” you counter, shaking your head.

“Okay, if you weren’t zoned out then tell me, what were we talking about right now?” Martha challenges, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. It widens when she sees the uncertainty in your gaze. “Just now, what were we saying? Hm?”

Shit.

“You said that—um,” you rack your brain, desperately trying to remember what the two women had been chatting about. “Something about—it was something about the market, right?”

“Aha! I knew it,” Martha laughs again, pointing an accusing finger at you. “That proves it. You weren’t listening.”

“Alright, alright. You caught me, Sherlock. I wasn’t listening,” you admit, sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s just that my mind’s been a little preoccupied.”

“Yeah, we can tell,” Maria teases, shaking her head. “And judging by that big ol’ smile you’ve had plastered onto your face all afternoon, I’m guess that whatever’s on your mind is a good thing and not a bad one.”

You glance down at the plate of fresh garden salad on your lunch tray, avoiding your friend’s curious gaze.

It’s been a couple of weeks since you’d started meeting with Joel. Early on, you both decided it was safest to meet after midnight and spent a couple of hours together, going your separate ways in the earlier hours of the morning just before sunrise to avoid being seen by anyone who woke at dawn for first shift work duties. Once you were certain that Luke was fast asleep, you’d carefully climb out of bed and silently slip out of the house, then walk over to Joel’s where he would already be waiting for you on his front porch. You would sit together on his porch swing—you wrapped up in the warm embrace of his strong arms, your head on his chest as you talked, stole kisses, and held each other for as long as possible until it was time to return to reality.

The reality where you’re not his and he’s not yours.

You’d tell him stories about where you grew up, described to him the foothills of your town and talked about your family’s ranch with fondness, with such passion that at one point, Joel had started to feel like he’d been there before. You told him about your family, your childhood, the dreams you had before the outbreak had pulled the rug from beneath your feet—and he listened earnestly, wanting to know everything there was to know about you. In exchange, Joel would tell you about his own life before the world ended. He’d talk about his life growing up with Tommy in Texas, how the two of them became contractors and started their own business together. He wasn’t quite as open as you had been, and oftentimes, you could sense Joel wasn’t ready to fully open up to you about his past—not only his past before the outbreak, but everything in between then and when he’d arrived in Jackson with Ellie. He wasn’t ready to talk about any of it, and you didn’t mind it.

Just like with Ellie, you’re willing to be as patient with Joel as you need to be.

Maria’s voice breaks into your train of thought. “What’s got you grinning from ear to ear, anyhow? Is there something we should know about?” She pauses, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth before asking, “Is there some kind of special news that you maybe want to share?” Placing a hand over her small, but now prominent baby bump, she gives you a hint as to what she’s insinuating.

She’d never lost faith that, one day, it’s going to happen for you and Luke. But little does she know that your desire to carry your husband’s child died a long, long time ago.

“I’m not pregnant,” you tell her, causing her to frown in disappointment. You finally look up at her and shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. To add another casual touch, you reach for your glass of iced tea and take a sip before saying calmly, “I’ve just been in a good mood lately, that’s all. I don’t think that’s anything too out of the ordinary, is it?”

Before either of them can chime in and say another word, a familiar voice rings over the loud, lively chatter in the mess hall. “Ladies!” Esther hurries over to your table and drops down into the vacant chair beside yours. “I’m so glad you’re all here!”

“Where the hell else would we be?” Martha remarks with a snort. “It’s lunchtime, Estie.”

“Where’s your lunch tray?” Maria questions her. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

Esther waves her hand dismissively. “You will never guess what I just did,” she says, excitedly, looking around the table. She waits and when nobody responds, she rolls her eyes and urges, “Come on, take a guess!”

“We’re not teenagers,” Martha chuckles, tossing her an eye roll right back. “Just fucking spit it out. What did you do?”

“I asked Joel to come over for dinner tonight!”

As you’re about to take a bite of your lunch, you drop your fork and it clinks loudly against your plate. All three women glance at you.

“Sorry,” you mutter quickly, your cheeks burning. “Clumsy me.”

Martha turns her attention back to Esther. She shoots her a skeptical look. “You asked Joel Miller over for dinner—and the man said yes? Are you serious?”

Beaming, Esther nods. “Yes! He’s coming over to my place. Tonight.”

Your stomach gives a violent, nauseating churn and for a split second, you’re afraid you’ll be sick all over the table.

“Wow,” Maria says, incredulously. “I can hardly even believe it. My brother in law likes to keep to himself most of the time. I can’t picture him agreeing to a dinner date.”

Esther doesn’t seem offended—in fact, there’s a glimmer of pride in her eyes. “Well, you had best believe it,” she says with a smug smile. “Because tonight, I do in fact have a dinner date with Joel Miller.”

You still haven’t said a word.

You can’t speak.

You feel like you can’t even breathe.

All you want to do is get up and leave the table before you can hear another word come out of Esther’s mouth, but you know you can’t do that without raising suspicion—or making your jealousy painfully obvious.

Esther turns to you and waits expectantly for your reaction. “Well?”

“That’s great,” you manage to reply, giving her the best supportive smile you can muster under the circumstances. “I’m really happy for you, Esther.”

“Wait, so if you’re going to cook the man dinner, then does that mean you’re going to be his dessert?” Maria jokes, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

��Of course,” Esther smirks. “Oh, with the things I plan on doing to him tonight, I’ll have to go down to the church house tomorrow morning and confess all my sins.”

The women burst into a fit of schoolgirl giggles.

Suddenly, you feel even sicker than you did a minute ago, but you have no choice but to force yourself to laugh along with them.

“Alright, come on, my love. Let’s pick up the pace. That’s a good girl,” you murmur softly in encouragement to Luna. You’re outside in the paddock hand walking the mare and observing her legs, searching for abnormalities in her trot. Ellie had mentioned she thought she’d seen the horse in some discomfort while she’d been out on an afternoon ride. Wanting to see it for yourself, you decided to take Luna on a stroll out in the paddock while Ellie and Dina are inside the stables taking care of the grooming. “Come on, pretty girl. Little bit faster now—”

The sound of Joel’s deep voice saying your name causes you to stop in your tracks. Stiffening, you glance over your shoulder.

He approaches the paddock, his rifle hanging over his shoulder by a worn, black leather strap—you immediately know he’s just gotten in from afternoon patrol. He’d mentioned to you that he had been taking on extra shifts, even working doubles after there had been sightings of potential raiders fifteen miles south of the gates. Afraid they’d draw closer to the commune, Tommy decided to heighten security, placing more men and women on the wall as well as on every patrol route.

“Hi,” you greet him. There’s a cool edge to your tone as you turn back towards Luna. You don’t even realize how hard you’re gripping the lead rope in your hand until you look down and notice how tightly your skin is stretched over your knuckles. “Ellie’s in Shimmer’s stall brushing her.”

Joel chuckles. “S’good to know, but I came to see you, darlin’,” he states, lowering his voice. There’s no one else out in the paddock, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. Being seen together can easily be played off by the fact that his kid’s working in the stables—but being overheard would be detrimental to yours and his blooming relationship. “Listen, I had an idea I wanted to run by you. Was thinkin’ we could meet out behind the barn tonight. Might be a bit safer than hangin’ out on my front porch—no risk of the neighbors seein’ us. What do you think?”

You don’t reply.

“We’re still on for tonight, ain’t we?” he asks, his hopefulness subtle, but present. “S’the first time all goddamn week I ain’t gotta work a double or do overnight patrol.”

You lift your unoccupied hand, resting it on Luna’s neck, focusing your eyes on her. “I don’t know, Joel. You tell me—are we still on for tonight?”

Frowning, Joel reaches out and places his hand on your arm—you immediately jump away, as if he’d burned you. “Hey, hey.” Though he’s confused, he remains composed. “What’s the matter?”

You try to meet his gaze, but you can’t even look at him. “Nothing, Joel.”

Stepping forward, he hooks a finger underneath your chin, lifting it as his eyes try finding yours. “Baby, look at me—”

“Joel, stop,” you hiss, swatting his hand away, your head furiously whipping around. “Don’t do that! Someone could see us.”

“Relax, darlin’. No one’s around. What the hell’s got you so worked up?” Perplexed by your strange behavior, Joel’s eyebrows pinch together. “There somethin’ I should know ‘bout? Did somethin’ happen with Luke?”

Your jaw clenches.

Either he’s a gifted actor or he’s genuinely clueless.

But Esther is your friend.

Surely Joel knows you would find out about their dinner date.

“Talk to me,” he encourages softly.

You release a small, but heavy sigh.

“I was having lunch in the mess hall with Martha and Maria today. Esther joined us and she told us all about how she invited you over to her place for dinner tonight.” You cringe at the way your own voice trembles. “She said you accepted.”

“Jesus, I knew that woman had a big fuckin’ mouth,” Joel mutters, irritably. He shakes his head. “Yeah, s’true. I accepted the invitation,” Noticing the disappointment—the hurt—that flashes in your eyes, he holds up his hands in defense as he begins to explain himself. “Look, it just happened. Me and Tommy were walkin’ to the mess hall after mornin’ patrol to grab a quick bite to eat before headin’ back out for afternoon watch when she came up to us and said hello. She asked me right then and there if I wanted to come over to her place for dinner—right in front of Tommy. She put me on the spot and I blurted out a yes ‘cause I knew Tommy would give me shit if I said no to her. Trust me baby, I wanted to tell her no. Almost did, but Tommy’s been insistent on help’ me meet someone. Figured acceptin’ one dinner would get his ass off my back.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, your eyes flit down and you stare at your boots in silence.

“Wait just a minute.” There’s a hint of amusement on Joel’s tone. “You ain’t jealous, are you darlin’?”

“I’m so glad you think this is funny,” you mumble, your face growing warm under his curious stare. You finally bring yourself to lift your gaze and it meets his. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s being honest, but that does nothing to make you feel any better—or any less envious. Foolishly, you add, “She’s planning to seduce you, Joel. She said something about being your dessert.”

He smirks. “She really said that?”

You glare at him. “Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?”

Joel laughs. “Oh, c’mon now, peach. Y’know I’m just messin’ with you. Esther could serve me dinner naked and I still wouldn’t be tempted,” he reassures you, confidently. “Look, I’m just goin’ over to her place to have dinner with her. That’s all. After that, I’m gonna head back home and wait ‘til it’s time to see you. Alright?”

Anxiously, you nibble the inside of your cheek.

You believe him. Of course you believe him. But there’s another part of you, the jealous part of you, that isn’t thinking rationally. Esther’s one of the most beautiful women in the entire fucking town—maybe he feels certain he’s not interested now, but all it could take is one look into her crystal skies to make him realize he could find happiness with someone he doesn’t have to sneak around with.

“I’ll meet you tonight,” he promises. “I will.”

“Joel, what if something happens and you decide not to show?”

“M’gonna show, peach.”

“But Joel—”

You stop abruptly as Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and begins to walk away from you.

“Midnight,” he says over his shoulder. “Behind the barn.”

Squinting, you hold your watch up to the moonlight to check the time.

It’s five minutes after twelve and Joel’s nowhere in sight.

He’s coming, you silently offer yourself the reassurance as the panic begins to settle in. Relax. He’s coming. He said he would be here, so he’ll be here.

…but what if he isn’t?

For all you know, Joel and Esther could be in her bed right now, tangled up in each other’s arms as they—

A pair of large, rough hands grab at your sides, startling you out of your thoughts.

Squealing in fear, you whirl around.

Joel doubles over slightly, muffling a laugh in the palm of his hand.

“Joel,” you hiss, narrowing your eyes at him. Slowly, your heartbeat slows, returning to its normal rhythm. “That wasn’t funny! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

“Y’must have your head up in the clouds if you didn’t hear me comin’, darlin’.” Grinning, he reaches out and pulls you into his arms. He goes in for a kiss and chuckles again when you turn your face, his mouth meeting your temple instead of your lips. He gives your body a gentle squeeze. “C’mon, sweet girl. Don’t I get a kiss hello tonight?”

You lightly push him away. “That depends,” you state, taking a step backwards. “On whether or not you got a kiss from a certain blonde earlier this evening.”

Joel’s eyes twinkle. “Wow. You really are jealous, huh?”

You say nothing as you wait expectantly for his answer.

His smile fades slightly as he admits, “She, uh—she did try to kiss me tonight.”

Crestfallen, your heart sinks deeply.

“I dodged it,” he adds, quickly. “Look, Esther’s a nice woman and she’s real pretty—”

“Keep talking, Joel,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re doing great.”

Joel exhales something caught between a scoff and a laugh. His fingers curl around your wrists as he tugs you forward into his chest once more. “But she ain’t you, peach.”

Surprised, you glance up at him, your lips parting slightly.

“Y’know what I was thinkin’ ‘bout the whole time I was with her?”

“What?”

“How fuckin’ bad I couldn’t wait for it to be over,” he tells you. “All I was doin’ was countin’ down the minutes ‘til I could go back home—and when I did go home, I started countin’ down the minutes ‘til it was time to come see you.”

The tense, taut muscles in your body finally relax.

“Really?”

“Swear it on my life,” Joel murmurs. “I’m hooked on you, baby. Been hooked since the first time you ever smiled at me. You remember that mornin’?”

“Of course I do. During winter, in the stables. You were in Buck’s stall, saddling him up when I walked by and saw you.” You laugh softly as you recall, “You didn’t smile back at me.”

Exhaling an amused huff through his nose, Joel presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah, I know I didn’t,” he acknowledges quietly against your skin, his guilt evident. “But I couldn’t forget it. Even after all that time passed when I wasn’t here, I couldn’t fuckin’ forget it and I didn’t know why. And then when I came back, I saw you again and you gave me that same goddamn smile. You even know what it did to me, peach? Hell, do you even know what you do to me, baby?”

You lean forward, resting your head on his chest. Closing your eyes, you relish in the feeling of his heartbeat thumping softly against your cheekbone.

Joel nuzzles his face into your hair. “Don’t want anyone else but you,” he declares. “Swear it. You’ve got me, sweetheart. Alright?”

Eyes still closed, you make him the same promise. “And you’ve got me.”

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller series #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller one shot #joel x reader #joel x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #fic: a safe haven #fic: ash

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outpastthemoat · 2 years

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the thing about mr. hatter is that he is a black hole of a character. we know NOTHING about him except that he was proud of his daughters and sent them to a prestigious school, and went heavily into debt for it. we don’t know how he treated his daughters, or if he paid them any attention for anything other than scholastic achievement, or if he had an obvious favorite child; all we know about mr. hatter is how his death affected his family. and I think the lack of personal information on mr. hatter is a choice that diana made on purpose.

because without telling us that mr. hatter was a bad father or a unrelentingly strict man, without including a single scene where he shouts at his daughters or acts coldly to his young - very young - new wife, she leaves space for us to slowly realize what is not so obvious, what sophie herself does not recognize or understand about her family: that none of the hatters truly know each other, only the roles they have played for so long.

the death of a beloved and loving father would have been deeply grieved. fanny would have been inconsolable. sophie would be shedding green silme, so to speak, left and right. lettie would have taken to her bed. martha would be sobbing in her friends’ arms.

instead, what we see in the aftermath of mr. hatter’s death is this: fanny goes about her business, briskly gets each of her daughters settled in a trade, and then wipes her hands clean of the hat shop and marries agains, within three months of her husband’s death. lettie is full of anger and rebellion and runs away from her apprenticeship; martha blames fanny for all her problems - and lettie and sophie’s too - and runs away from her apprenticeship.

and sophie.

never says a word about her father once he dies. does not miss him. does not think about him, not ever. only regrets leaving her prestigious school. and goes into a sharp depression that has nothing to do with losing a beloved family member and everything to do with seeing a promising future that she’d worked so hard for taken away.

this was not a happy family when mr. hatter was alive. diana never tells us so, but you can tell from clues she sprinkles in throughout the story that mr. hatter was not a kind or even particularly moral man.

the most glaringly obvious sign of dysfunction in the hatter family, of course, is that immediately after his wife died, mr. hatter married fanny, his youngest shop assistant, who very soon afterward gave birth to the youngest hatter daughter: the implication being that he had been having an affair before mrs hatter died, and that he carried on with fanny, who was probably no older than sophie herself when she entered that hat trade, who was no position to tell him no and had few choices she could make for herself.

there is sophie’s intense perfectionism and dedication to the hat trade despite hating it, a sign that mr. hatter probably demanded perfection and obediance from his daughters.; she probably worked equally hard to achieve good grades and accolates at school. notably, neither martha nor lettie regret leaving their school - but neither of them seem to have internalized perfectionism to sophie’s degree.

there are mentions of sophie frequently acting as a caregiver to martha and lettie; she has become a partent-figure towards her sisters and even fanny, who is not much older than she is. and it’s clear that sophie has deeply internalized that sense of parentification and duty - she stays late at the hat shop, well after the other employees leave - and can’t force herself to abandon the hat shop until she becomes an old woman, because she believes fanny needs her to keep working. sophie so deeply believes herself as worthless unless she is serving others that she becomes a housecleaner in the very first place she finds, and then spends the entire book scrubbing howl’s floors and sweeping his rafters, keeping herself so busy that she never has a chance to wonder why she thinks she is only valuable when she gives every part of herself to others.

this is a family that keeps secrets from each other - lettie and martha plot to subvert fanny’s and mrs fairfax’s plans, sophie runs away from home in disguise because she is afraid of her family seeing her as she truly is - they ALL hide from each other. fanny does not really know martha or lettie or sophie’s true natures, she makes assumptions about what trade each daughter would like to be settled in; sophie herself is shocked to learn a new side to her sisters when they subvert their destiny. and her perception of fanny is shaken through the book: sophie looks at her and is surprised to realize that fanny is still young and pretty and wanted more in life than a hat shop, just like sophie herself, but had done her best for her girls with the resources that she had at the time.

howl’s moving castle doesn’t tell the story of a grieving family who rises above the loss of a beloved patriach - it would be quite a different book if it was. instead, it’s the coming-of-age story of four women who finally have a chance to learn who they truly are, instead of who they thought they were supposed to be.

#howl's moving castle #diana wynne jones #sophie hatter #my meta

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thisiswhereikeepdcthings · 1 year

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*way back in the day*

Thomas, reading tabloids about himself for fun: Martha, guess what I just learned!

Martha: Let me guess, I'm having a torrid affair with Alfred behind your back?

Thomas: No, dear, it turns out I'm having a torrid affair with Alfred behind your back.

Martha, slamming her hand down on the arm of her chair, holding in her laughter: Dammit, Thomas! Let me have my torrid affairs without butting into them!

(They think this bit is hilarious. Alfred does not.)

Okay but does Bruce come across old tabloids at some point and come to the conclusion that his parents and Alfred were having a threesome but he’s not going to ask because that’d be weird and he doesn’t actually want to know but he also needs to know because he can’t just not know but also there’s no way he’s going to bring that up with Alfred and

#batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #thomas wayne #martha wayne

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celluloidrainbow · 1 year

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THE WATERMELON WOMAN (1996) dir. Cheryl Dunye Cheryl is young, black, and lesbian, working in Philadelphia with her best friend Tamara and consumed by a film project: to make a video about her search for a black actress from Philadelphia who appeared in films in the 30s and was known as the Watermelon Woman. Following various leads, Cheryl discovers the Watermelon Woman's stage name and real name and surmises that the actress had a long affair with Martha Page, a white woman and one of Hollywood's few female directors. As she's discovering these things, Cheryl becomes involved with Diana, who's also white, and the affair strains Cheryl's friendship with Tamara. More discoveries bring Cheryl to new realizations. (link in title)

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marthawrites · 8 months

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Congrats Martha!! 🎉🎉

Could I request Rhaenyra x reader with the prompt “Spread your legs for me, I want to see all of you” pretty please?

Thank you 😍

Absolutely, Fae my darling! I hope I brought your prompt to life and gave it justice! 💖

Honeyed Promises

Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 2.8k+

About: While visiting your great uncle, Lyman Beesbury, at King's Landing, you weren't expecting secondhand stress to affect your lord husband so. Princess Rhaenyra takes notice and is happy to steal moments away with you.

Includes: Unhappy political marriage, mentions of verbal fighting, and smut. Featuring reader's first sexual experience with a woman, oral sex, vaginal fingering, and scissoring

Note: Hello lovely reader ❤️ This is my very first time writing a wlw fic - ahh! It's a complete honor to do it as a request for Fae! Story takes place during Rhaenyra's marriage to Laenor. It is implied she hasn't had children yet. Reader is nondescript. As always, I hope you enjoy this story!

Little had changed since your last visit to King’s Landing when you were a young girl. The Red Keep, in all its sprawling glory, loomed just as large as you remembered. A rarity, you were beginning to understand – for things you thought grand as a child were all but normal to you, now. The Keep was a being of its own, however. Almost a living, breathing, sentient thing. For an outsider its walls seemed to morph into the dark; changing, shifting… holding onto its secrets like the dragons its Kings bonded with.

You weren’t a stranger to politics. But, you were a stranger to the volume of aristocrats which surrounded the Targaryen dynasty. Lyman Beesbury, your great uncle, served as master of coin on King Viserys’ small council, and before him, King Jaehaerys, and was as deep into politics as a man of a smaller House could be.

A great honor.

Uncle Beesbury extended an invasion to his nephew, your lord husband, to attend a royal affair at the capital. He gladly accepted. Using it for not only an excuse to get out of Honeyholt for a while, but also to catch up with family, the long journey felt worth it.

Your marriage had yet to bear fruit. Little love bloomed between you and your husband. It was a marriage of duty rather than love, and it showed it more ways than you two cared to admit. If only you could swell with his child to put an end to all the talk of furthering the bloodline.

Each passing day at King’s Landing showed you a different side to your husband. Whatever he and his uncle conversed about in private soured his mood, and his harsh tongue somehow grew harsher towards you. No matter how you tried to soften him with gentle touches, tender words, and initiating marital affections, he was unsatisfied and dour.

“Your lord husband seems quite the ray of sunshine, my lady,” princess Rhaenyra whispered to you one night during dinner. Her voice lilted with sarcasm and her violet eyes dazzled with amusement when she met your gaze. She held it with confidence. With a softness. Knowing.

“Is it that obvious, princess?” You asked with some of her same amusement. “He was so excited to come here. I thought he’d be happier than…,” you waved your hand in a sweeping gesture, adding, “this.”

She smiled softly. “Have you had the chance to explore? There are many wonderful things here to distract you from tetchy husbands,” she said and tipped her goblet towards you, sipping to hide her smirk.

“Perhaps on the morrow I will,” you said, heat and butterflies filling your blood at her tone and implication. Could the princess be… flirting? Your heart quickened a tick. Surely you’re mistaken. Your bedtime stories of suave knights must be getting to you.

“I’ll gladly show you around. I too could use a distraction from the small council.”

She didn’t touch you, but the way her gaze lingered from your neck, up to your lips, and down to the exposed swath of your chest, made gooseflesh pebble your skin as if she had.

Nearly a week went by and unfortunately Rhaenyra had yet to keep true to her word. You couldn’t blame her, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. Each day passed with a sting. The only thing that made it better was the conversations you were able to steal at dinner. The lingering looks, the briefest of touches, Rhaenyra reaching to brush away dust from your gowns… you thought your heart might truly leap from your throat when she wetted the corner of her napkin with her mouth to clean a drop of sauce from your chest.

And, all the while, she sat by her husband, Laenor Velaryon, and you sat by your lord husband; the men either uncaring or none the wiser to the simmering attraction and tension between you and the princess.

The following day, after a particularly curt argument in hissed voices, you stomped away from your lord husband and left him in one of the numerous corridors. You didn’t stop your angry pace until you were standing in the gardens. Unchaperoned, unguarded, and completely alone. Just how you wanted to be. Heavy gray clouds began to gather over the castle. It didn’t deter you from wanting to make the most out of the remaining blue sky.

Your mood lightened by the minute. Flowers, shrubs, and trees bloomed everywhere. Heady scents filled your nose and it made you yearn for home. King’s Landing was lovely. But, to you, there truly was no place like home.

Akin to your married name, you quietly followed a trail of honeybees until you found their hive. Deep and hidden in the gardens, you wanted nothing more than to simply stay there for the remainder of the day. Perhaps even the rest of your stay. Honeybees were busy and gentle creatures. As long as you didn’t disturb them or their hive, the working girls were unbothered by your presence.

Finally, with one final whisper of goodbye to the bees, you left the secret spot and began to make your way back to the Keep. Raindrops started to fall and you knew a full on downpour wasn’t far behind.

Then, right there in your path, stood Rhaenyra. Her head was tipped back, her eyes were closed, and her palms were open up towards the sky as if in prayer. You felt like you were interrupting something sacred. Excitement jumped to your throat and before you could stop yourself, you asked, “princess…?”

She turned to look at you with partially lidded eyes. “What ever are you doing out here right now?” She asked with genuine confusion.

“I needed a breath of air. My husband, he…”

Before you could finish she held a hand up and offered a small shake of her head. “Needn’t worry to explain, then,” she said, appearing to come back to herself. “If the storm didn’t brew out of nowhere, and if I knew I’d run into you, I’d insist on taking you astride Syrax with me,” she said as she stepped into your space, eyes bright and dark alike. She freely reached for your hands and grabbed both of them. “There’s nothing quite as thrilling as dragon flying.”

This is more thrill than I’ve felt in a long time, you wanted to say. You wondered if the words flashed across your face. Briefly flustered, you smiled. “I, uhm… thank you, truly, princess. But I much prefer the ground.”

“That’s because you’ve never tried being in the sky,” she said, voice soft, so soft, as she leaned into you. “You cannot deny something so quickly if you haven’t tried it…”

Desire, excitement, and wonder filled her pretty eyes. Violet, and silver, and always donned in the loveliest gowns, you understood how the rumors of Targaryens being closer to Gods than men traveled all over the Seven Kingdoms. She was close enough that you felt her breath tickle your face. Smelled the oils of her skin. Something electric pulsed between your almost pressing bodies. “This is the closest I’ve been to a dragon and I am positively thrilled,” you whispered in reply, gently squeezing her hands.

“Sweet girl…,” she cooed as she tilted her head and pressed a delicate kiss to your waiting lips. Whatever pulsed between you before thrummed to life like a wardrum, now. You returned her kiss and that’s all she needed. Both her hands cupped your face as she deepened the affection, savoring the smoothness of your lips. Your tongue.

Just then the sky opened and emptied warm rain on the city. Within moments you were both soaked. Shock led to laughter as you both ran to find cover. Rain water dripped from your nose as you looked at Rhaenyra with renewed delight. “It came out of nowhere!” You said once in the dry safety of the Red Keep’s walls.

“Which part?” Asked the princess, mischievousness alighting all her features. She pulled you along, now, looking over her shoulder and daring you to keep pace with her.

Challenge accepted.

Arm in arm, you kept pace with Rhaenyra and paid little mind to any onlookers who might be giving you curious glances. She was light and quick on her feet and you were beginning to have a hard time keeping up with her. Still, the light air of playfulness danced around both of you.

An ornate door was guarded by a single man and the princess was quick to say, “you may be relieved from your post for now, ser.” He offered a bow before turning to leave. She opened the door and latched it once you were both inside. Locking it, she turned to face you with a smirk that had you giddy.

“What of your husband, princess? And mine?” Despite it only being the two of you in her private bedchamber, you whispered.

“Laenor and I have… we have found common ground with a pact, you see. He would be happy that I found joy and thrill in chasing you. No one will know of our kiss. That, I promise,” she said, mirroring your tone, as she traced the backs of her fingers along your jaw. Your neck. Whispering them over your collarbone. “As for your husband? Well… I haven’t even seen him kiss your cheek since you’ve been here. Such a shame.”

Your heart was doing flips in your belly. Your lord husband never made you feel like this. Not even on your wedding night. “Th-this–,” you started, uncharacteristically stammering, “–I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve only ever been with my husband.” Heat warmed your cheeks and you hoped she didn’t see it.

“That’s okay,” she purred. “Let me show you, my lady.” Her eyes searched yours. As soon as consent passed between you, she began to help you out of your wet gown. You helped her out of hers, too, and before too long you stood in front of each other in only your chemises; thin material doing little to hide your bodies.

Now on her bed, your curious fingers trembled over her skin as you explored her body. Your lips shuddered atop her flesh as you grazed tentative kisses along her. Your breath caught in your throat when she did all the same, and more, to you. She was so soft, and so warm, and so unlike anything you’d experienced before. Her hands on any and every part of your body had you melting further into her mattress. “Can you.. Can I…,” you said dreamily. “Can I feel your skin on mine?”

Grinning like a cat, Rhaenyra pulled your chemise over your head. She tugged hers off too. Leaning down, she balanced her weight atop you as she crashed her mouth to yours in the neediest hungriest kiss you’d ever experienced. Your breasts squished together, and your bellies, too, and it was the single most exciting thing you’d ever felt. “Can I finish taking all your clothes off?” She asked, half breathless, one hand snaking down to the ribbons of your smallclothes.

“Yes,” you panted. “Please,” you begged.

Having neither the will nor the want to keep you waiting, she obliged. She tugged the ribbons open before sliding the final garment down your legs. Kneeling on the edge of the bed she looked from the center of your body to your face, violet eyes dark with desire. “Spread your legs for me. I want to see all of you.”

A wave of shyness washed over you. Now, you were praying doubly that she didn’t see the blush of your face. Your legs parted with hesitation; butterflies roared from your scalp to your toes. It shouldn’t be embarrassing. It shouldn’t make you timid. But the intimacy, the lewdness, made your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

Rhaenyra watched all the while. Despite the clawing arousal in the pit of her own belly she let you go at your own pace and made no move to hasten or startle you. “Men often don’t appreciate the true beauty of a woman,” she said, low and gentle. “But I am no man and you are beautiful. Be a good girl and open them further. It will be worth it, I promise.”

Her words struck a chord in you. Before you fully realized what you were doing, your legs spilled open to expose the fullness of your eager cunt. It glistened with your arousal. The pink at your very center begged to be touched. To be spread. To welcome whatever Rhaenyra might bless you with. “Will you also take yours off?”

“Soon,” she answered all too quickly, already leaning forward between your parted thighs. “But first I want to kiss this pretty cunny.” And she did. She kissed the tender flesh at the inside of your thighs, your mound, your budded pearl. Her smooth mouth kissed again and again until you were squirming beneath her, and it was then, and only then, that she traced her warm tongue up your slit.

Your breathy gasps turned into a choking mewl at the sensation of her tongue. “Gods…!” You looked down at her and burned even hotter at the sight. “Please don’t stop, princess. Please don’t stop.”

Rhaenyra licked and lapped again and again, making no move to stop even as you shuddered beneath her. You were too warm, too lovely, and too responsive for her to even consider stopping. When she eventually ceased her licking, she instead sucked on your clit until she felt your entire cunt convulse and throb. Your sounds of pleasure were everything she imagined and more. As soon as you relaxed from your first peak she slid two fingers into your empty cunny. Working her tongue and digits in tandem, she gave you another climax. The natural tang of your body gave way to the sweetness of orgasm, and with that taste on her tongue she finally crashed her mouth to yours once again.

You whimpered into the affection, smiling and purring like a spoiled cat. “You’ve got a magical mouth, princess,” you said dreamily.

“How do you like your taste?” She asked, kissing you again, slower, deeper.

“Like I want more,” you said. “Let me taste you. You can guide me along. Show me how to make you feel good like you just did me.”

She giggled into your neck. “I know a way to make both of us feel good at the same time. Do you trust me?”

You nodded, the darkness of your eyes glittering with desire.

Rhaenyra discarded her smallclothes and positioned herself between your legs. “Relax and let me show you how to hold your legs, yes?” She spread yours a little wider while moving one of her own beneath your leg. She spread her other one wider and hooked it over your waist.

It was an odd position, one you’d never been in before, but one that immediately sent your blood soaring. She rolled her hips once. Once. And that’s all it took for you to feel the slickness of her cunt slide against your own. If you thought her mouth was magical it was only because you hadn’t yet felt her cunny against yours. You gasped sharply. “More,” you croaked, eyes black with lust.

“Move your pelvis with me,” she said thickly, lust darkening her features just as much as yours.

You happily obeyed. Your pleasure was her pleasure, and hers, yours, as you both rolled and ground your hips and pelvis in a delightfully obscene rhythm. Moans and whimpers were accented by the slick echoes of your centers. Your breasts started to bounce with the effort; both of your hands pressing and digging into any soft flesh it could find. You felt drunk. High. Buzzed on the saccharine scents of her skin and your combined arousal.

The shared pace grew firmer, quicker, sloppier. Sweat sheened your bodies. You both chased your high on the other’s cunt. You tumbled into orgasm first, white hot fire exploding out from your belly to every nerve of your body. Rhaenyra quickly followed.

You both rode it out slowly. Intensely. Savoring every second that passed between you.

When your limbs finally managed to untangle, she collapsed beside you and smiled. After a few moments of breath catching, she asked, “which was your favorite, my lady?” Her words breathless, her tone playful.

You hummed in thought. “I don’t quite know… I think I’ll need a reminder again, just to be sure.”

“I think we can arrange that,” she said with a laugh.

“Can we do this again?”

“As many times as we can sneak away together, I am happy to explore with you.”

You laid together for as long as you could, until the golden hour summoned you to the day’s final meal where you both said next to your husbands; relaxed and sated.

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