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dreamwritersworld · 5 months

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His daughter (sully family x reader) part 2

Y/n’s anxiety was the worse growing up, if she hadn’t done it right or if her father didn’t approve she’d panic. Anything she did was effortless and beautiful but neither of them saw that. If you challenged Y/n, she’d prove you wrong immediately.

For as long as Y/n could remember everybody loved her. She never knew exactly what it was. She just knew that she had something special, something intangible, something immeasurable, and it gave her “confidence”.

However no one knew much she put into getting all her skills in check. There was so much stress in such a young girl to please the people. She saw her father as gold at the top of the mountain and her mother’s proud smile as the sweetest item amongst Eywa creations. She wanted their approval so badly..

Y/n had scrapes and mud along side her knees and body, it only got worse as she crawled further up the small trunk of a tree. Here she was moving her fastest as she goes against Neteyam who had been given a simpler task of obstacles. She struggled to breathe through the tight space…panicking at the realization that she wouldn’t succeed

I want it, I wanted it bad

The bloodshed and exhaustion was getting to her

but there were so many red flags

When she crawled right through, Neteyam had already been rewarded, the dirtest part of him being sweat and very little mud. Y/n’s sorrow was written all over her face, that afternoon she walked home covered in mud, drops of blood and sweat..she weeped to the empty forest that night begging Eywa to give her the sweetest reward on her…to save her and have her succeed further than she could imagine..

She loved her father and his approval, she wanted it more than anyone else. He knew this, he made her dependent and knew she’d crave it. If Y/n couldn’t stay with him forever, he’d find a way so that she would. Sure, Tuk was younger but Y/n was his real baby, she had almost died on him and he wasn’t going to let her go after that.

When Y/n wasn’t with Jake, she was with Neytiri. She wasn’t only her mother but Y/n’s best friend. Their relationship was so strong. On the days Y/n was exhausted she rested her head right on Neytiri’s lap as she played with her hair, she looked like a cat, calmly sleeping in her mother’s lap. It’d be hard to decide weather she was a daddy’s girl or mamas girl…but you’d have to take into consideration that when she was with Neytiri she at least provided a sense of that peace..mamas girl. It was true, Y/n spoke very highly of her mother constantly even if she had betrayed her…

Y/n had been speaking to one of the little girls who was asking to learn about human culture that Jake had taught her growing up..

“…mmh and Mother’s Day is the day people celebrate mommies?..”

“yes sweetheart!”

“What do you think about your mother?”

“My mom is a very important person in my life. And I think she taught me a lot of lessons in life, how to respect the public and the rest of my family. And I think it’s very important to have a mother and I want to be like her.”

Y/n’s voice was clear and you can tell she meant every word. The moment was cut short when an adult asked Y/n to aid them in healing..so she left the child alone with her mother. Neytiri’s eyes watered to her daughter’s sweet answer..

“And you? What about you?”

The young child looked dearly and innocently at Neytiri, filled with excitement to get a deeper connection between the two.

“Growing up I always told y/n to not change her way of being. You know, to all the time be humble and caring how she is with everyone..She’s a very special girl. Same as my other kids, all kids are special of course but..without her, I can’t imagine a life without her…she’s very important, she keeps my family together..”

Everything Neytiri had stated was true, Y/n made sure to develop a close relationship with her siblings. Her parents had been so connected to her and all was well with their family, as long as Y/n was there. As soon as Jake was gone she’d comfort her siblings and give them all her love. That was just the type of person she was.

Jake and Neytiri ripped Y/n apart. Their love was toxic to the child..

Jake would practically tell Y/n not to listen to her mother when she instructed her to stay behind during training and Neytiri would have Y/n sit on her lap while she cried, it may have seemed sweet until you realized that she was crying from the stress of canceling on her father and him yelling at her while her mother sat and watched..there’s no denying that she’d loved them until her final breathe.

They isolated her..

“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n! What you waiting for?”

“Please come out and play with us!”

“Y/n likes to stay in the house children..she can’t play right now.” (Neytiri)

“Oh..please let her come out and play with us now..”

“She can’t, she has important Navi’s to meet today..” (Jake)

Jake passed a smile at the young children, he heard himself say pure bliss. Y/n was being set up to meet perfect leaders that will help guide her and Neteyam as clan leaders. The child sat in silence with a saddened face, making eye contact with the children right before her father closed the curtain..

M-A-M-A-G-I-R-L

mama’s girl

D-A-D-D-Y-G-I-R-L

daddy’s girl

When it was time for dinner in the morning, Y/n ate in silence. Her eyes were red from the crying. Jake didn’t even dare to stare longer, knowing that he too was upset..

Tsireya and Ao’nung had interrupted their breakfast to let them know that they’d be ready to teach as soon as they’re ready and to meet them at their Maui. The entire family walked in silence ready to greet the Tonowari, Ronal and their kids.

Ronal was instructing Tsireya on what’d it be best to start with today..however a certain someone in the small crowd of demon bloods caught her attention. All teens were quietly discussing amongst themselves except Y/n…she was dazed and looking right past Ronal, sheeply smiling at the home.

“Y/n!..are you tired today?”

The exhaustion was practically noticeable to the healer who can feel it. Y/n immediately glanced at her father, seeing his smile had dropped and she was now frightened that he’d be upset and start an argument right then and there.

“..no.”

She passed a gentle smile, attempting for it to wash over.

“No..okay you look a little tired.”

“Perhaps, it’s all the traveling..im sorry. I can assure you , your home and island has done me good the last couple of hours..sorry.”

Ronal was satisfied in Y/n’s answer. Soon it was time to begin training and the adults and children went their separate ways.

Ao’nung didn’t know where he’d even begin to start a conversation with her…but he found a way.

“..so not tired?”

Y/n turned and laughed at his awkward attempt, smiling at his efforts, being silently grateful.

“I am, but that’s between us! Your island is very beautiful..”

“Once you get used to it, it’ll be ordinary..normal!”

“Yea..when it’s not an everyday thing, you’ll learn to appreciate it I guess. Sorry, what’s your name? Just asking so I get it right!”

“Ao’nung, and your Y/n correct?”

“Yes Ao’nung. How about we run in the water together!”

The young boy liked the way his name rolled off her tongue, she said it as though she knew him forever. Y/n made their conversation comfortable, and she even offered a good race. The rest of the practice went well and the group got awfully comfortable. Ao’nung and Y/n connected immediately. When Y/n got home that bond seemed to be the hottest topic at the table..

“How was practice today? Everyone did good?”

“Yes sir! Everyone did great, their ways are different but good to learn.”

Neteyam spoke proudly, despite his sadness about leaving his position back at home he felt good to learn new ways of life.

“..mmh im sure of that. Anything else?”

Everyone knew Jake was trying to get Y/n to talk, but her stubbornness wouldn’t allow it. She was furious with him, he had yet to feel bad about anything he said. Lo’ak however thought it’d be best to make his twin sister smile; he just didn’t realize what he was about to say would be the wrong place to bring it up.

“Ao’nung is crushing on Y/n!”

All four siblings turned to the brother, shocked that he’d bring up the topic they thought they had silently agreed not to.

“Hehe..no he’s not.”

Y/n replied with an awkward frustrated laugh and stern voice, telling her brother to be quiet.

“…Ao’nung mmh…you know you can’t y/n-“

“I never said I would.”

Jake’s face was surprised at how quick she was to talk back and he immediately got defensive.

“Well I’m ordering you not to.”

“Im not a soldier, Ao’nung and I are just friends.”

Y/n had left a distaste in Jake’s mouth that made him no longer want to speak. The family tried moving past it while Y/n stayed silent. In the back of Jake’s mind he was panicking, afraid Y/n wouldn’t focus on training and that she’d fall behind and never learn their way. All the issues would fall like dominos…if she fell behind, she wouldn’t learn, if she didn’t learn she would become dependent on Ao’nung, if he wasn’t there she wouldn’t know what to do, if she didn’t know what to do…she wouldn’t survive at all. He didn’t even take into consideration that Ao’nung was the one teaching her the way of water, he just thought of him as some boy..oh how was he so wrong..

!🎀!

REMEMBER MY INBOX IS OPEN!!!! 💕

@ruyaas-world @neteyamyanw3 @elegantkidfansoul @adaydreamaway08 @luxiniary @venomsvl

#angst #jake sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #avatar loak #avatar the way of water #sully family x daughter reader #spotify #soundcloud #aonung x reader

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hearts401 · 2 months

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Tessa fucks me up dude can I just talk about her for a sec? Yeah? Yeah.

She loved those drones. She loved them because they were what she had. She felt sympathy for them when nobody else did. And I like to think there was a little bit of loneliness motivating her as well.

Her mother hated her. She was nothing to her. When her mother scolded her by saying "seems you still can't follow simple orders" her respone was "No, no no! Please!" BEGGING. Begging her mother to believe in her and be kind to her. She got chained up in her room (multiple times btw. At leas tthats implied. the hand she winced at and rubbed is the same hand the chain was on, which means shed be chained up long enough for it to rub her skin painfully. long enough to leave lasting pain.)

She is very connected to these drones, to the point where she kept all the error drones aroud because she LOVED them. She spent time digging them up. HELL SHE TOOK A FAMILY PHOTO WITH THEM DUDE...

Even when Cyn was creepy and scary, she kept her around. She'd rather lock Cyn up than get rid of her. and when n points it out, shes apologetic and hesitant. But we know WHY she did that. Even if it was kind of a sucky move, it was because she didnt wanna have to throw cyn out. and in the end that killed her.

Also she knows J well enough to know what sets her off (enough to. bite the shit out of a chain). She knows them. and she loves them.

I wish we'd gotten to know more about her an N. why is he so clearly her favorite? but thats not relevant ig

also her saying "I've only ever yakked to robots, J!" She has NO human friends. she has nobody to support her other than these robots. these robots who get treated like garbage by her family.

and then she has to watch these robots turn on her. Not just THESE ROBOTS but the three that she loved most. (also im going off what wouldve happened in ep 5 WITHOUT uzi, where n doesnt get out of the swamp, and nobody goes down to the basement)

V first, then Cyn, then J. And we KNOW she loved these three+N especially bc she took a family photo w them, interacted with them more often, and generally just seemed much closer with them.

and what does she get for it? killed. And also its implied by this screenshot that she wasnt ACTUALLY killed by cyn right then

(the scientists, the sword beside her, the footprints, the way shes sitting against the wall, the expression she has. she totally just saw all that shit)

and she cant have been skyn bc the scientists wouldve known. the skinsuit wasnt exactly. hm. pretty.

which means she DID see her whole family+more slaughtered in front of her while she was powerless to stop it. She DID see J violently kill everyone around her. She DID see Cyn kill everyone. And she just has to. Deal with that. And despite all her efforts, the solver took over and cyn killed her. (im assuming tessa died somewhere around when n's mineshaft flashback was like i mentioned b4)

and all the while she was convinced shed lose N, id assume. based on the state of the other drone out there.

And honestly, i think what she got was worse.

also i am team "N knew Tessa wasn't the same Tessa he knew back on Earth"

The way he looked at her, and the way he was suspicious of her. He knew HIS Tessa would never treat a drone like this. Cyn has been known to have relatively shitty recreations of people at times (like Thad in episode two) But even so there was no way he could believe it was someone else (like. who would it be? he saw her blood he heard her voice like...) which is why he was so stressed after killing her (when he leaned on his sword and was breathing heavy, yk?)

he loved her and she loved him and now shes dead. just like everyone else he loved.

this isnt about n but like. idk if tessa could see him now i think shed cry. she loved him and all of them

#tzu rambles #i just. she was a kid dude #she was a stupid hurting abused kid #she was treated like shit by her mother and probably her father too #and all she had were those drones #the ones that killed her and her family #the ones that ruined her life and destroyed earth #the ones that MIMICKED HER TO THE PEOPLE SHE LOVED MOST #THE “N!!!” SQUEAL. THE PETTING HIS HAIR. THE DISMISSAL OF J #FUCKING SICK AND TWISTED #Bc i genuinely believe that if Tessa HAD come to copper 9 alive she wouldve been like that #maybe a little more sympathetic to uzi. like if she knew abt the patch she wouldve used it. i know that #but otherwise i think shed be like that. silly. silly like that.#(esp kicking that computer monitor. we all saw her chuck a glass at the floor for no reason)#child abuse #abuse tw #tessa james elliot #murder drones #tessa elliot #tessa md #md tessa #tessa murder drones #murder drones tessa

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reythenerdypisces · 3 months

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things that I overlooked in PJO the first time / small, funny things I noticed during my reread

Part 3: The Titan's Curse

The truth was I was kind of disappointed to hear that she liked her new school so much. It was the first time she'd gone to school in New York. I'd been hoping to see her more often.

I tried to concentrate on little things, like the crepe-paper streamers and the punch bowl - anything but that fact that Annabeth was taller than me, and my hands were sweaty and probably gross, and I kept stepping on her toes.

"The General?" I asked. Then I realised I'd said it in a French accent. "I mean... who's the General?" I want this part to be in the show

"Sweet! Let's go! [to CHB]" said Nico. this breaks my heart. he was so excited in this book

Tyson thought Annabeth was just about the coolest thing since peanut butter (and he seriously loved peanut butter).

"How would you kidnap an immortal goddess? Is that even possible?" "Well, yeah. I mean, it happened to Persephone." "But she was like, the goddess of flowers." Grover looked offended. "Springtime." you tell him grover

"That's some serious danger you're facing." Connor Stoll said. (I liked how he said you and not we.) I'm just imagining the rest of the campers not bothering to go on quests cause it's always the same few demigods and they don't care, they're just chilling safe at CHB while Percy and Annabeth do their things

The creature looked at me sadly. "Moooo!" But I couldn't understand his thoughts. I only speak horse. Percy Jackson speaks two languages: English and Horse

With a shiver, I realised that five hundred or a thousand years from now, Bianca di Angelo would look exactly the same as she did today. She might be having a conversation like this with some other half blood long after I was dead but Bianca would still look twelve years old. ouch

"It wants to kill us!" Thalia said. "Of course." Grover said. "It's wild!" "So how is that a blessing?" Bianca asked.

"That's us," he said. "Those five nuts right there." "Which one is me?" I asked. "The little deformed one," Zoe suggested.

When she smiled at me, just for a moment she looked a little like Annabeth. I know everyone talks about this part but I can't help but bring it up again, they are so cute

"Woah, first of all, I never said anything about love. And second, what's up with tragic!" little does he know. also, Percy is so incredibly insightful in this book but he's also so jealous of Annabeth and Luke and so upset about the idea of her joining the hunters yet still can't figure out that he likes her

"Seven hundred feet tall," I said. "Built in the 1930s." "Five million cubic acres of water," Thalia said. Grover sighed. "Largest construction project in the United States." Zoe stared at us. "How do you know all that?" "Annabeth," I said. "She liked architecture." I cannot explain how much this little bit means to me.

The girl I'd just tried to slice in half yelped and dropped her Kleenex. "Oh my god." she shouted. "Do you always kill people when they blow their nose?" Rachel's here!!! I love her

Five minutes later, Zoe had me outfitted in a ragged flannel shirt and jeans three sizes too big, bright red sneakers, and a floppy rainbow hat. someone draw this and tag me. what an outfit

Suddenly it occurred to me: this had happened to her before. She had been cornered on Half-Blood Hill. She'd willingly given her life for her friends. But this time, she couldn't save us. How could I let that happen to her? he is the most empathetic, wholesome guy, I love Percy

"Can't this go any faster?" Thalia demanded. Zoe glared at her. "I cannot control traffic." You both sound like my mother." I said. "Shut up!" they said in unison. I kind of wish we got more Thalia and Zoe interactions... they would've made such a great enemies to lovers dynamic, if Zoe didn't die

"Get away from my daughter!" Dr Chase called down, and his machine gun burst to life, peppering the ground with bullet holes and startling the whole group of monsters into scattering. "Dad?" yelled Annabeth in disbelief.

Grover went off with his satyr friends to spread the word about our strange encounter with the magic of Pan. Within an hour, the satyrs were all running around agitated, asking where the nearest espresso bar was.

"No," I said. "I choose the prophecy. It will be about me." "Why are you saying that?" she cried. "You want to be responsible for the whole world?" It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger." I said. might I remind you this boy is 13/14 and has the whole world on his shoulders (both literally at some point and figuratively)

I feel like these are just getting longer and longer but again, I will be back for part 4!

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo series #pjo disney+#the titans curse #rick riordan #perseus jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #rachel dare #thalia grace #bianca di angelo #nico di angelo

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

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Shelter me From the Storm

Actress!Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Stripped Bare (Part 1) / Two people asked for this and I already had the ideas so boom. 😂

Warnings: Loss of Parent / Grief. Post-Partum Depression (Not mentioned, but heavily implied—hygiene/eating struggles, struggle to bond/help). Media (Implied lack of respect for Sex Work).

18+ | Minors DNI | Please Don’t Report, it’s labeled properly.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Natasha's raspy voice startled you, but it also soothed your aching soul. It'd been exactly two months since the two of you moved to Oregon to officially start your life together. "My mom, us, them."

The redhead nodded solemnly, worried eyes casted down onto your fidgeting hands. She settled down beside you on the porch swing, and took your freezing hands between hers. Gently as ever she kissed, and breathed onto them until she deemed them warm enough.

"You couldn't have worn mittens?" She teased, then her strong arms wrapped around your body so she could pull you into her lap. Her forehead leaned against yours as she tried her best to comfort you. It was you who broke the distance and pressed your lips to hers for a kiss that reminded you that you were really there.

——

You were still alive, even if your mom wasn't. The thought broke you, this idea that Apollo and Luna would grow up without her love.

"I miss her," you sniffled, and the redhead sighed empathetically, "Me too moya lyubov'."

A smile graced your face at the memories of Nat with your mom. They'd only known one another for a little over a year, but your wife stole your mother's heart instantly. The sick woman never missed a chance to talk to her, even if it involved interrupting your convos.

They had a pure love of you in common, so it was easy for them to spend hours talking. It warmed your heart, but also infuriated you to no end when your mom shared your secrets.

Natasha never needed to know about your failed prom, or about how you believed in Santa and his friends until sophomore year.

The redhead loved to tease you about it, even now, "Who else will tell me all your secrets?"

"Thank fuck that's over," you sadly joked, because embarrassing as it was, you'd let your mother release all of your most embarrassing moments in life if it meant she was still here.

"Ooh, What about Cole?"

You snorted, "Not if he wants to stay alive."

"You're no fun."

Silence soon fell over the both of you as you watched the rain harshly pelting down. The pavement, and dirt saturated in no time as mother nature wept, you weren't sure of her reason, but you liked to think it was for your mom. She loved the rain, it never presented as an inconvenience to her like it did for others, you remember chasing the rainbows with her.

Losing her was polarizing really. It was always coming, but you were never prepared for it.

All that really brought you comfort since she passed, was that she met your daughter first.

Luna Romanoff, the little girl with your wife's cheeky smile, and your mothers love for music.

At only ten months old she was a little rockstar. The xylophone was her go to instrument, it made you feel like your mom's name as her middle prophesied their clear connection. They had met, then five hours later your mom died.

Natasha took care of everything after, she still does some days when you can't manage. You usually feel bad, but every time she senses it, and reminds you that there's nothing else she'd rather be doing than caring for her family.

"I'm going to miss you too," you finally broke it, voice cracking as your emotions got the best of you. "I wish you didn't have to leave at all."

"Me neither," Nat replied in the same tone, a tear slipped down her face as she stewed over her departure this evening. Leaving you in such a vulnerable state wasn't easy, but she hadn't a choice as she had to do a slurry of interviews for her upcoming film, as well as clear the air on her sudden disappearance from Hollywood.

It was the only way the execs would let her off the hook for the premiere. The buzz from her interviews will give them enough scandalous PR. Especially when she announces this will be her last film for a long while. The seats will fill.

She'd pleaded for zoom interviews, but even being as big as she was, they wouldn't budge.

"I wouldn't go if I had a choice," she reminded you for the umpteenth time. "I know Natty."

"It just sucks," she voiced your thoughts.

You chuckled humorlessly, "Majorly."

The sudden sound of a cry through the baby monitor brought you and your wife out of your bubble of intermixed grievances, and right into the house where you found a shocked Apollo hovering over Luna's traveling bassinet.

Five minutes ago they were peacefully napping, one in a heap of blankets and toys, while the other was cozy in her bed. It was safest not to move your son, he'd have woken up lively.

Where he lays, he stays—a household motto.

The scene was clear as day, he'd climbed up onto the couch with a devious curiosity, and now it appears the young boy had slapped her.

Natasha swiftly moved to the side of the couch, stopping your son from repeating the offense with a gentle catch of his hand. With ease she scooped the boy onto her hip, then she lovingly reached down to smooth a hand over your daughters face. Her cries stopped instantly.

After your daughter was soothed you watched quietly as Natasha handled your son. Her look was stern, but her eyes were still adoringly soft. There was no true harm done, it was clear Luna was mostly just shocked, not genuinely hurt.

Plus, he's only two, this was like a canon event.

"Apo," she called his attention to her with the nickname derived from his inability to say his. "You have to be gentle," she softly reminded him, using her hand to mimic proper touch as she continued to brush her hand over your daughters face until she was sleeping again.

Apollo butchered the word as he repeated it, but he mimicked her perfectly. Tiny hands covered in god knows what reached out to cup her face, something he'd seen done before. Both of your hearts beamed at the boy for his slow, but steady understanding. This would probably happen again, from both ends, but you knew that it would be an easy resolution.

Natasha's gentle approach to the kids was a surprising discovery you'd made. Not that you expected her to be downright cruel, but you just expected more sternness from your former experiences. But then you remember the Natty that you'd loved was always there back then too, and then it all makes sense. The first time you witnessed it was when your infant son was playing with an extension cord. You wanted to run over and rip it from his hands, but she'd stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

Instead she walked over to him, created some static electricity with her hands then tapped his. It seemed almost cruel, but then she picked him up as he wailed, then that soon faded into hiccups and it all became clearer to you.

He'd wanted her attention all along, and she taught him a valuable lesson in the process.

The gentleness came right after, when she held him close while she hummed a Russian lullaby to soothe him. All the while pointing to the enticing cord and saying a simple, firm no-no.

You remember watching them fondly, with a smile on your face, a hand on your bump, and a subtle sense of relief that'd washed over you.

No matter what came, you knew you'd all be safe with Natasha. Parenting was a learning curve, without your mom to guide you you've lost it, but you felt like she'd had it mastered.

That's why after the night slowly crept in you anticipated the arrival of your little brother. He's flying in from New York, and should be to your house by 8:30pm, and Nat has to be gone by 9pm, or she knows she'll never make it.

Apollo had already gone down for the night, but Luna Bear was still a live wire. Bouncing on her mama's hip while haphazardly shaking her head side to side in a tiring game of 'no-no'

"Wow, you've gotten so big Lunar Eclipse," your brother greeted the giggling baby, who turned to him with a wide, curious smile. Natasha sent him one as well at the relief she felt since she no longer had to shake her head.

"Luna," you corrected with a fixed glare. "I've been meaning to ask you about that sis."

"Cole," you warned through gritted teeth, and for the first time Natasha had realized the help she planned might actually be the bother.

"Why would you name your kids like animals?"

Natasha glared at your brother just the same, coddling the baby into her chest with a hand over her ear to shield her from hearing him

"You're the most annoying person on Earth," you deadpanned, he gasped in offense. "Give me the cat, and say your sappy goodbyes."

Natasha's arms around your waist stopped you from chasing your cackling brother down as he took your giggling daughter into the house.

"Don't leave me with him," you pleaded. "I won't look good in an orange jumpsuit Nat."

Natasha snorted softly, "You're so dramatic." Then she leaned in to kiss you slowly, a bunch of unspoken words being exchanged: 'I'm only a call away,' 'Don't kill your brother, please,' and 'Seriously, call me if you need me,' but the most important of messages came tumbling from your very own parted lips, "I love you."

Natasha smiled against you, she instantly repeated the sentiment, "I love you too Y/N. With all of me. You'll be okay detka. Promise."

The driver honked impatiently, and you fought off the urge to flip them off. Natasha rolled her eyes as she saw the petty conflict behind yours. "I'll be back in three sleeps sweetheart, you take care of yourself while I'm gone please."

Natasha sighed as she saw you bite your lip, a nervous habit of yours she'd become familiar with. You never wanted to disappoint Natasha, but you felt like you always were when you couldn't even manage the mundane tasks.

"It's hard, I know it is," she sympathized with your newfound wave of inability. "But eat, drink water, and sleep whenever possible."

"I'll try," you whisper against her chest as she hugs you close for a final moment. "That's all I ask moya lyubov, you deserve to be nourished."

"Three days," you whispered, your eyes shut tight as you reeled in your emotions. You could break down when she made it onto the road.

"Then there'll be no more leaving, we got this."

"Safe travels Natty." You kissed her cheek, then made the move to slip from her grasp, knowing all too well that she wouldn't willingly let go.

As you entered the house she watched, making her driver more irritated but she didn't care. His paycheck was signed by her, therefore his patience was paid for. She watched closely and nearly broke down when she saw a little Luna crying as her hands slammed into the window.

It was strange, how the ten month old could understand the implications of her mother in the car, and it hurt the woman's aching soul.

Once you locked the door, and scooped your daughter up she told released a breath and told the driver he could take off as she sent off a worried text to Cole, begging him to keep an eye on you like he promised her he would.

Then she sat back and began to count down the milliseconds until she could return to you.

—

The following morning came with a wake up Facetime call, your wife waited until it was 9am your time, then spent hours virtually cuddling. Around 12pm she bid you farewell, as it was 3pm in New York, her interview was for 6pm, but with makeup and wardrobe it was time.

It was live, so at 3pm you'd ensured the babies were already down for a nap, and settled onto the couch in some clean pajamas with your emotional support water bottle, and chips.

Natasha looked beautiful as she crossed the stage, with practiced elegance she flashed her award winning smile, and you swooned. It felt like it was directed at you, and with it being your Natasha you realized it probably was.

They discussed the movie, it was a smooth interview, until the hot topic, you, came up.

"So, tell me Natasha, who's the mystery girl?"

Natasha instantly grimaced, but quickly shook the expression for one of happiness. "My wife."

"Wife, huh?" He chuckled nervously, you both saw a question on his mind designed to send you spiraling. "Fans across the globe really thought you'd end up with Wanda Maximoff."

Natasha breathed harshly through her nose, it took all of her patience to remain composed.

"Wanda is nothing more than a lifelong friend." Natasha cooly replied. "Who's happily engaged, need I remind you, to The Vision Stark."

"Hindsight is 20/20," he jested awkwardly.

"Mhm," Natasha hummed, not even humoring the man with a response as she watched him fumble through his note cards for more. She smiled, it was perceivably smug, and made you feel something you'd yet to in almost a year.

He took a steadying breath before his face relaxed, then he continued his futile attack.

"I have it on good authority that your wife, Y/N Y/L/N." Natasha cut him off, "Romanoff."

"Sorry," he replied annoyedly, "We've been informed that Y/N Romanoff was a stripper."

Natasha nods thoughtfully. "Is there a question there, or are we just stating useless facts. If so, I'd like to inform you your tie is on wrong."

Your eyes widened, in all your years of knowing of Natasha, you'd never seen her so snarky. It was really hot, and you truly couldn't deny it.

"I guess, if it wasn't obvious," he starts shakily, as if he feared the 5'3 redheaded woman. "The world is wondering if that's how you met."

"Well, the honest answer is yes." The audience gasped, she rolled her eyes behind her lids knowing they were likely prompted to do that for shock value alone. "I know right? How shocking that rich people still go to strip clubs."

Her eyes then narrowed onto the nervous host. "As if you yourself aren't a regular Johnny."

"Jimmy," he timidly corrected and she laughed. Boy did she laugh, it was mocking, and had the man sweating through his shirt. "My apologies, so tell me Jimbo, does your wife know what happens during the actual late nights? We both know this show is mislabeled. It ends by 7pm, but your life is only just beginning then right?"

The raven haired man gulped, it was clear Nat was prepared for his intrusive questioning. You caught sight of Natasha's sideways smirk just as the show cut to a commercial, and when it returned your wife was no longer there. Cole snickered from beside you, "Mom would have loved to see this, God, I adore your wife Y/N."

You hummed your agreement, then left him to tend to the crying babies while you answered your wife's phone call. She was panicking, but you reassured her that it'll be okay. That her die hard fans wouldn't leave, and that with the progressive nature of Hollywood that she'd likely receive accolades for her honesty, and her overall support of the sex work industry.

Even if you both knew it wasn't a guarantee, Natasha couldn't help but to believe you. In the end, if this is where her career ended she didn't mind. She had more than enough money to retire, and she still would have her business.

Natasha ended the call after you'd calmed her as she had more interviews to prepare for.

It felt fulfilling being there for her, helping her through a freak out for once instead of it being the other way around. You knew it wasn't a competition, but it's hard to think otherwise when it's always you on the visibly weaker end.

There was a renewed confidence in your step now, and it showed when you fixed lunch for the whole house instead of letting Cole. You'd ushered him off to play with the kids, and got comfy with the concepts of cooking again.

—

When the next day came you got to hear from Nat sporadically. She told you all about her day, the highlight apparently came when she got to answer fan's questions while playing with cats. You rolled your eyes, knowing now that she'd be insufferable until you finally said yes to her taking in the stray kittens that lived amongst Wanda's garden. The brunette wanted to take them to a shelter a week ago, but Nat told her she'd win you over soon enough.

She begged again before she got off the call, and she was right, because that evening you sent her a picture before she went to sleep of a relieved Wanda on your doorstep with a box.

Natasha called you on the verge of tears, she'd only hung up the phone an hour ago so she could take a shower and get ready for bed. It was only 4pm for you, and 7pm for her, but she had an early morning interview before she was then meant to catch an afternoon flight home.

So, after she thanked you profusely, she settled down in her bed, and you on the couch as you pulled up her most recent interview done with Clint Barton. An actor turned talk show host.

He was also her very best friend, so of course she gave him the tell all story others wanted.

"So Natasha," Clint started with a teasing smirk. "Mhm?" She hummed playfully, her eyes softly rolled as a smirk overtook her face.

"When do I get to meet my niece and nephew?"

"Whenever you catch a flight out to Oregon."

"That's right," he bounces off her seamlessly, "You made the bold move to the Beaver state, what is in Oregon that's not in LA or NYC?"

"Peace," she answered simply. "It's gorgeous, and it's where my love wanted to end up."

Clint smiled, it was incredibly genuine as he admired the lovesick one your wife wore. The man has yet to meet you, but he plans to hug you tightly in silent thanks for changing her life for the better and making her this happy. He's watched her through every phase, the partying, all the meaningless hooking up, to the present.

Where she is outwardly softer, but as expected she is still guarded where she needed to be.

"Your love," he acknowledges, a slight tease to his tone as he met her eyes again. "Why don't you tell me all about who's taking you from us."

Natasha glared at him, but it was a playful way, that she agreed to, to ease her into her purpose for this interview. "You know Clint, I've been acting ever since I was a kid," she thoughtfully began, "It's all I've ever known honestly. It's been my greatest passion for three decades."

She took in a steadying breath, then sighed while wearing a shy smile, "It wasn't until I met her that I envisioned more for myself," her cheeks reddened at the thought of exposing herself in such a vulnerable way to the world.

Acting, telling others stories, was what she did best, but it felt foreign to tell her own like this.

With her eyes closed she imagined your smile, then she heard the memory of your kids giggles and suddenly it was the easiest decision. "Y/N is my light at the end of the tunnel, truthfully."

Clint nodded proudly, leaning back in his seat to metaphorically open the floor up to her.

"I know the world is already freaking out, some angry that I'm off the market, others mad that she's a former stripper, but I don't know why any of that matters to them." Natasha frowned as she tried not to cry. "People are saying my career will end with this, and to those people I say good fucking riddance. I've given almost every last piece of me to this industry, and if me finally choosing my happiness is a problem then I'll let it be for only them. I'm happier than I've ever been, and that is my truth."

"So, you're leaving Hollywood behind?" He asked for clarity, and she shook her head in a partial negation. "I have decided to take a step back, this upcoming film is going to be my final for an indefinite amount of time. I want to focus on my family, and I deserve a break."

"That you do Natasha," Clint acknowledged, behind him on a screen a slideshow of all of her hit movies began to appear. Emphasizing the focus of conversation. "If you retired today I'd say that you've left your mark on the world, even more so with those beautiful babies."

"They are my entire world." Natasha clarified, they were her legacy, sure, but they were so much more than that too. They were a perfect mixture of you both. Apollo with her distinctive eyes, and your sweet smile. Then Luna with her smile, and dimples and your huffy temper.

Both with their own blooming personalities.

The redhead smiled brightly when a photo then flickered on the screen of your little family. The four of you were sat on a park bench, Apollo stood on her lap with his hand pointing to something behind her, she had smiled at the camera, but her eyes focus was torn between him and the phone. Then sat beside her was you, with a blanket over your chest, shielding the hungry baby from the harsh Fall winds.

It was meant to be a cute family photo, and it still was, but far more dysfunctional than intended. Natasha had tried to get Apollo to turn around, but he wouldn't take his eyes off of the firetruck in the back. Then Luna cried, and it was clearly hunger so you let her latch on, and even then it could've been cute, but then she grunted angrily so you covered her.

"You guys look happy," Clint acknowledged, and the woman smiled fondly. "We are."

"Well, I hope that in a few years time we'll be able to see you back on the screen," Clint moves to wrap up the segment. "But if we don't, then I'd like to dedicate a moment of silence to the greatest loss in the industry."

"Oh stop it," she joked tearily, leaning forward to playfully shove his shoulder. Clint winked at the emotional redhead, then he yanked her up and into a bear hug. "Tell Y/N I look forward to meeting her," he whispered, then he planted a kiss on her cheek, and she left the stage with a chorus of loud applause following her.

You turned the TV off, then wiped at the few tears that she'd elicited from you. Seeing her so vulnerable on TV, all in an attempt to make the media go easier on you, was overwhelming. It made your heart swell with more love than before and you couldn't quiet grasp how you could even love her more than you already did.

It also made you want her more than you did yesterday. No longer was it a feeling you could ignore, but instead a deep seeded need you'd had every intention of satiating upon your wife's return. Which is why you rebooked your brothers flight home, and reminded him about that one time you covered for him when he rear ended your evil neighbor Mildred's parked car.

—

The last thing Natasha expected to find as she entered your house late at night was you. But on the couch you sat, with a glass of red wine, and in a matter of seconds you were on her.

"Moya lyubov' I said drink water," she groaned, but it was a humored one. You looked up at her with wide eyes, then you smiled innocently. "Would you believe me if I said that Jesus showed up and magicked it himself?"

"Oh, is that so?" She cackled in a hushed way, you nodded vehemently. "Scouts honor Natty!"

"Mhm?" She teasingly hummed, the vibrato felt as she pressed her lips to yours, and you gasped affectedly. Natasha tried to pull back, feeling guilty for looking like she was trying to initiate anything, but then she felt guilty for feeling guilty because of course she wants you.

"No," you whimpered and clung to her biceps. "Daddy please, I-I'm ready." You were wet, desperation was controlling your mind now.

"You're drunk detka," she pointed out, but you showed her the bottle, proving that you'd only poured the one glass and hadn't had more than two sips. Which was only for liquid courage.

"What's changed for you?" Natasha pulled you down into her lap, you whined in frustration, but then you saw the glossy viridescent orbs full of concern waiting for your reply.

"Seeing you lose your cool on TV over me was hot," you admitted shamelessly, stroking her big ego in the hopes that it'd soon be her cock.

The redhead blushed, but quickly regained her cool as she leaned back into the cushion of the couch and firmly gripped your thighs apart.

"Can I see how hot it made you detka?" Her raspy voice made you dizzy, you nodded and moaned a soft please so she eagerly padded at the wetness seeping through your panties. "Oh look at you detka, you're just so needy, huh?"

She cursed in Russian when you answered with a buck of your hips. With a swift hand she laid you down and said, "You have to be quiet."

You shook your head. "I reminded Cole of a secret I kept, so he collected the kids and all they'd need and went to the guest suite."

"I knew I married a genius," she teased, her heart nearly exploded as you laughed. It'd been so rare to hear nowadays, so it was cherished.

"What do you want moya lyubov'?" Natasha looked deep in your eyes, wearing a smile that said only your pleasure was enough for her.

Instead of answering you pulled her down with a hand wrapped behind the nape of her neck. The kiss was soft, almost exploratory as it'd been so long since you'd had a spike in libido. But when Natasha still remained timid you took the initiative, your hand cupped her bulge, and you slid your tongue over her bottom lip.

She gasped and your tongue pushed beyond her lips, but hers expertly swirled around yours then darted down your throat. As you gagged she couldn't fight off the aching need so she pushed down into your hand and moaned.

The redhead pulled away, panting heavily as she tried to reel her neediness in. You drove her body wild, but she didn't want to get too lost in the lust if you weren't ready yet.

"You've been so patient with me," you purred, "Let me take care of you daddy, please?"

Natasha suddenly stilled, her sorrowful eyes set on yours. "Hey no, detka, you deserve endless patience without expectations."

"Yeah, I know," you breathed. "But we went from having sex every few days to not at all."

Natasha smiled tenderly, her hand cupped your cheek. "That's fine, I don't need sex to be happy with you Y/N. You alone are enough."

"Well, that sentiment is returned, but I'm absolutely serious, so let me give you head."

Natasha was shocked by your bold words, it was a quick recovery though as she snorted, "If I ever say no, please do have me committed."

Natasha smiled triumphantly as you giggled, it always made her heart warm to hear your joy.

The mood swiftly returned to one of lust when after she leaned back you slid out and onto the ground on your knees. The woman was tired, jet lagged to be more precise, but that didn't stop her from helping you take her sweats off.

Natasha was undeniably aroused, her cock stood tall as soon as you slid her boxers off.

"You gonna stare all night detka?" Natasha teased, then her eyes softened. "If you're not ready, just say the word lyubov', it'll be okay."

You shook your head free of worry, and smiled at her for being so sweet. It was comically endearing. Here she sat with an erection that had to be hurting her at this point and she only cared about your comfort. Which actually only made you even more excited to suck her off.

Natasha groaned, the sound raspier than ever before as you traced your tongue over the veins of her cock. Her hands gripped the cushions of the couch as your lips wrapped around her tip, and she nearly came on the spot as your hands steadily pumped up from the base of her cock as your other hand lazily played with her balls.

Her breathing became increasingly labored as you bobbed your head up and down her length, you could feel yourself dripping down your thighs as you'd gone commando beneath her sleep shirt. Hearing just how much she was enjoying this had immeasurably turned you on.

Natasha's hips involuntarily jerked. "Oh fuck." You giggled around her shaft, the vibrations making her do it again, and this time you'd choked. Universal instant karma you suppose.

Natasha stilled, fearful eyes looking down into yours. "I'm okay," you immediately said after gasping for air upon releasing her cock, you didn't move far though, you instead hovered her tip with a goofy smile for hopeful clarity.

"Are you close?" You asked, but with how her shaft continued to twitch beneath your fingertips you'd figured you had your answer. Natasha nodded, it was uncharacteristically shy and you found yourself wanting more soft sensual moments just like this one with her.

"Good." You mused. "Now how about you take over and cum down my throat as a reward."

The way you winked made the pit within her begin to unravel, Natasha's tip instantly coated in pebbles of white as you took over half of her length into your mouth, and proceeded to let her fuck your throat until it was raw. Your nails dug into the skin of her thighs that you were gripping for stability as she thrusted wildly, and glorious tears ran down your warm cheeks.

When she released down your throat the pleasure was blinding, her eyes slammed shut and she moaned for a prolonged moment as the hot spurts didn't stop. Strands of her cum slid down your chin along with your drool as she continuously thrusted until that wave of pleasure she was riding came to an end.

While you both caught your breath you began to get handsy, impatiently pulling at the hem of her shirt until she removed it with a huff of amusement. You then kissed up her body until her cock was trapped against her abdomen by your slippery cunt, and your lips met hers.

Natasha's hands fell to your hips instinctually, and she guided you as you slowly ground into her, letting her tongue explore your mouth. When you whimpered with need she pulled back and you were met with dark, lusty eyes.

"I know you want me inside detka," she teased as she ran a thumb over your swollen lip that was still somewhat coated in her essence. "But daddy's missed your pussy in more ways than one, and I can't help but to need to taste you."

"Please," you whispered affectedly, and she pulled you back in for a deep, heartfelt kiss. "Thank you detka, lay down for daddy now."

Natasha removed your shirt seamlessly as you laid down, the fabric had barely left your skin before you felt her hands all over your body. One second they were gripping you by the hips to keep you from bucking into her face, then they no longer cared as they sought out your breasts. Natasha's tongue flicked over your bundle of nerves just as her thumbs pinched your nubs, and your body writhed as you came.

The orgasm you experienced was intense as the aftershocks continued rolling through you, and in retrospect it was also embarrassingly quick. But it'd been so long and Natasha was just that good, she never struggled to get you to let go.

Every muscle in your body relaxed for all of two seconds, but then the redhead continued to lavish away at your cunt. Cleaning up your arousal, but then delving even deeper to pull another, somehow more intense orgasm from the depths of your soul. Stars bloomed behind the lids of your eyes as you screamed her title.

Over and over again too. Natasha was like a woman starved as she refused to leave her place between your thighs. When you tried to shimmy away she growled, it was terrifying, but in the best way as you involuntarily gushed.

You knew that if you really needed her to stop you could say your safe word, but as much as you felt overstimulated you felt just as good.

"Fuck I missed this," Natasha moaned as she continued to lick at your glistening, puffy cunt. "If I could, I'd never leave this sacred spot."

You were cognitively incapable of a verbalized response besides the occasional, pitiful whine.

Natasha admired your fucked out face briefly before turning your whimpers into loud moans as she wrapped her lips around your clit, and sucked harshly as she suddenly filled you with three of her skilled fingers, that now curled delicately into your g-spot with every thrust.

Tears streamed down your temples, matting your hair to your face, and seeping into the cushions of your couch. You came with a yelp this time, cum absolutely drenching the couch and leaving Natasha in awe. You however were hardly able to breathe, or see as the tears made your sight bleary. This was when your hands flew into her hair, tangling up in the locks as you used all your remaining strength to pull her up to your lips in a redirecting manner.

Natasha kissed you sloppily, her fingers now coming to a stop as she understood your silent pleas. Slowly, after distracting you with a swirl of her tongue around yours, she pulled out. You whined lowly at the loss, but your body appreciatively deflated into the cushions, and while you worked to calm down she began to kiss all over your skin in a calm, soothing way.

"We should go get you cleaned up lyubov'," she murmured against the skin of your neck that she'd been nibbling, your breathing had finally returned to an evened rhythm. "No, please."

Natasha pulled back to look you over, she was shocked to see your eyes desperate for more.

"Are you sure detka?" You frantically nodded, "Yes, fuck, I want you to fill me so bad daddy."

Natasha pressed her lips to yours, and slid her throbbing member into your slick cunt without a hitch. Neither of you were going to last long, and truthfully neither of you needed to. There was already stars where the ceiling once was as your lover pounded into your sloshing cunt.

"Gonna fill you to the brim detka," she moaned against the shell of your ear. "Can't wait to see your beautiful belly grow with my baby again."

Her breaths were hot as they fanned across your twice as hot skin. Every grunt she released brought with it a reactive clench of your walls, and it drove the woman atop of you insane.

Natasha came with a silent scream, her load unleashing havoc on your abused walls, you were a moaning mess as she slammed into your g-spot repeatedly as she chased this glorious high, milking it for all it's worth and herself as well in the process. When she came to a stop, and pulled out of you she gasped.

The amount of cum that oozed out of you was jarring at first inspection. Natasha had never released this much in her life, she's almost certain it's impossible for that much to exist inside a person at once but she just rationalized it as a delayed release for the year without sex.

There was no way you wouldn't get pregnant.

Especially not after Natasha thrusted back inside of you, mumbling something about preserving the chance that made you chuckle.

"Are you prepared for a third baby?" You teased your wife, with a hand mindlessly running through her hair as she laid with her face pressed against your chest. "I once told you detka, I'd make you my breeding bitch."

You cackled, chest shaking beneath her head to the point that she had to lift up and narrow her eyes at you. "I'm not sure why that's funny, but yes, I'm prepared for whatever life brings. With you by my side I'd willingly raise a dozen kids."

Natasha smirked when your humor died away, eyes wide with fear until she finally took over laughing for you. "God, you looked so scared."

You scoffed, "I was. That's a lot of c-sections." Natasha pursed her lips in thought, then she shrugged her shoulders. "Not if we have twins."

"We'll leave the twins to Maximoff," you soon decided over a yawn. "I think two more is fine."

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips. "Two more sounds perfect. A simple family of six."

"There's nothing simple about you Natasha."

"Yet you love me anyways." You could hear the insecurity in her tease, and it hurt your heart to think someone ever made her feel unlovable. "That I do." You gently guided her lips to yours, kissing her slowly before you guided her face back to the crook of your neck. "Very much."

Neither of you spoke another word, you just laid there soaking in the warmth of your love before slipping off into a restful nights sleep.

The first in a long time actually, and the last genuine one before Raven and Leo arrived.

——

6,389 Words

Nat's former job: Acting / Y/N's: Stripping

Nat's current job: Breeder / Y/N's: To be Bred

❤️ Kaitlyn. 🤭

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg

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charlottecutepie · 5 months

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☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

author note: Ive been thinking for a very long time whether I should publish this fic here. this is my fav fic I wrote for fnaf, I especially like the way I portrayed William here. so please, if any of you would like to see this story here, can you leave a comment? It’ll help me to understand. I’m just unsure if I should post this fic here :’’)

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 2.

Chapter 1. Thoughts

Chilly spring night. Light wind and rain. It's so fresh outside that the opposite effect appears: you feel as if you are suffocating from excess air. Outside is your favourite smell of wet grass after the rain. Light smile appears on your lips, and you carelessly go out on the porch of your house, looking at the beautiful view in front of you.

At such moments, everything around seems to be a part of you, you feel some kind of connection with nature and this world. Peace, tranquility, two things what you lack in life.

Today was a bad day. Maybe tomorrow will be better? Tomorrow will be the same. And when will it be better? Does this hell have an end?

Your head is filled with bad thoughts. It feels like every day is getting a little worse than the previous one. You never understood why you deserved such treatment from your father. It was as if he was doing everything so that you wouldn't feel like his daughter. He never even called you that. Something bad happened in your family every day, mom and dad always argued, and you always ran into your room in a state of panic, anxiety. What if father does something to her? That's what happened a few years ago. When you called your aunt in tears, begging her to come, because your father broke your mom's leg and beat her to a concussion. You could have been next if your aunt hadn't arrived on time. That evening, the picture of father changed dramatically in your little child's head.

“Father” means something cold, something cruel. The one who can punch, beat, shout, scream. Abuse.

You live with this thought to this day, but the only thing that has changed is that now there is no father anymore. He died a month ago, which was a shock to your whole little family. You hardly remember what happened exactly on the day of his death, but you clearly memorised your mother who cried all night because she knew well that the only one who could work to feed the family was her husband.

And now, because of this husband she cannot find a well-paid job, because he took care to provide her with a serious disability. And you're too young to work, first you must finish school and university.

Your skin was covered with goosebumps, you went back into the house. Passing by mom's room, you made sure that she was asleep and went to your own one.

Tomorrow is another day.

…

June 22.

“Y/n, breakfast is ready.” you heard mom's voice from the kitchen. Telling her you'd be coming soon, you headed to the bathroom to comb your hair and wash your face.

On the dining table you saw a plate with your favorite breakfast. Pancakes with honey, it couldn't not make you happy. You smiled and sat down opposite your mom. Woman was in a joyful mood.

“Good morning, dear, how did you sleep?” she asked gently, examining your face expression. That's how your conversation started, about everything and nothing at once. She told something about her plans for today, for a week, about her friends, about how one of them gave birth again. You just enjoyed her monologue, sometimes nodding and shaking your head. It was nice for you to see a sparkle in mom's eyes, it was something strange and unique for you, but warming soul. “I absolutely forgot that soon is your birthday!”

“Oh, really? If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have remembered…” you answered in confusion, fidgeting in your chair and twitching your leg. For some reason, the mention of your birthday made you uncomfortable. Probably because it will be your first birthday without your father. After all, when he was alive, you never really celebrated it. The maximum that was — sweets that your mother gave you in secret from him. You wonder what will happen this time?

“How are we going to celebrate?” Mom asked, smile on her face.

You looked at the floor, nervously fiddling with your shorts. You scratched your head, trying to think of something, but no idea came to mind. Your thoughts are empty again.

“It's your 18th birthday… We need to celebrate it well somehow.” for a second she paused, before looking at you with cheerful face. “Oh… Mr. Afton!”

Your eyes widened in surprise, because after the funeral, your family stopped communicating with Afton family.

“Mom, what are you up to?” you frowned. To be honest, you always got shivers running down your spine from his name, because your last meeting was at that cemetery, on the day of your father's funeral. Memories have entered your mind, forcing you to remember your last dialogue with Mr. Afton.

After the burial itself happened, you ran away from the crowd away. Your heart was racing like crazy, trying to jump out of your chest. You sat down on a wet bench, covering your face in hysterics. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping onto a puddle under the bench.

“Young lady,” a low-pitched male voice called you out of hysteria. “Everything is okay? You've been sitting here for hour.”

You opened your eyes and raised your head. Next to you was standing was a tall, middle-aged man with dark brown hair, dressed in black trousers and a jacket. He leaned towards you, holding an umbrella over your head. His face seemed painfully familiar, but because of the hysteria, you couldn't remember who it was.

“Oh god, Y/n? I didn't recognize you, little one. Why are you sitting here all alone?” he smiled broadly as he sat down next to you on the bench, still holding the umbrella for you. “Your mom is looking for you, she's so worried. Her beloved girl is lost.”

You recognised this man. It was none other than William Afton. One of your father's friends, he often came to visit you, and your family also visited him. You were embarrassed by ignoring his questions because you didn't know what to respond. He's been staring at your face the whole time.

“Come on, princess, I see how cold you are.” with these words, he took off his jacket, putting it on your shoulders. “I understand how hard it is for you, honey.”

You haven't received so many nicknames from any men for all your 17 years of life. Never, not once. His voice at some point began to seem more comfortable and soothing. Because of all the surging emotions, you burst into tears again in front of him, no longer hiding your face. William, not wasting a minute, threw umbrella and took you in his arms, so that your face was hidden in his chest. His cold hands stroked your hair, soothing you, calming you. It may have looked strange from out of context, but you really needed support in such hard moment.

“Don't cry, Y/n. You'll be fine, little one.” he talked and talked endlessly, but because of your own tears and sobs, you ignored everything, only burying your nose in his chest more.

“He's the owner of a pizzeria! Do you want to celebrate there? I'm sure he'll give us a discount in honor of such an event.” her smile never disappeared for a second. You were already beginning to doubt at how real her emotions were.

“Are you sure? We don't have much money anyway…”

“Never mind, I want you to finally have the best birthday, dear.” she winked and got up from the table, putting the plates and mugs in the sink.

Your lips curled at the thought of having to see William again.

#william afton smut #fnaf x reader #william afton x reader #steve raglan x reader #fnaf william afton #michael afton x reader #william afton imagines #fnaf x y/n

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eleancrvances · 8 months

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andrei bolkonsky is truly the most "dead since the beginning" character. in his last few days he reaches a very explicit state of undeathness ("they were not attending on him (he was no longer there, he had left them) but on what reminded them most closely of him—his body"), but really, is it the first time he has been like this? in his first chapter, when he walks into anna pavlovna's soiree, "it was evident that he not only knew everyone in the drawing room, but had found them to be so tiresome that it wearied him to look at or listen to them". he goes through the social motions but doesn't really feel them (except with pierre, who understands instinctively many things about him, like that their meeting before borodino is their last), and he's just like that before the end. the night before austerlitz he declares "death, wounds, the loss of family—i fear nothing", and it's close to the absence of terror and general feeling he feels after his last nightmare. he's assumed to have died at austerlitz by everyone and reappears at home with zero explanation. the same thing happens after borodino. during both the near-death experiences, he feels some sort of "awakening" ("death is an awakening"). he identifies himself in an old oak tree that appears to be dead until spring (love) draws some last signs of life from him. and literally the only thing that seems to keep him alive is his last-minute unwillingness to separate himself from love, which to tolstoy is life - "i cannot, i do not wish to die. i love life—i love this grass, this earth, this air". this man is a zombie. he returned from the metaphorical and literal (the battlefield) land of the dead not once but twice with terrible wounds, despite all his efforts he can never find a complete and lasting connection to liveliness but falls back again and again in his mechanical, detached way of moving through situations. even his connection to natasha, life and joy, is perceived to be doomed from the beginning by many. "ah, my friend, it has of late become hard for me to live. i see that i have begun to understand too much" he says to perhaps the only person he has always been honest with, pierre, before receiving his final wound. and when he does die it's impossible to tell. marya can't pinpoint the moment when he's gone physically, and as for his spirit, even little nikolai knows it was torn from him earlier. but it doesn't feel like a sudden and new thing. we've seen him in this state before, though perhaps not on this level. but really, it looks like his struggle to keep death out of the room has been going on throughout the entire novel, and he could never hold the door completely closed. we've never seen him completely alive. on a meta level too, because he is maybe the only main character tolstoy didn't base on anyone but created from scratch, with the specific intention to kill him. when did he die exactly? at borodino? at austerlitz, where tolstoy originally intended him to? when he had his nightmare? when he left natasha? when lise died? when his mother died? before we ever met him, it seems. he died in a dream.

#listen. we had pride and prejudice and zombies #WHERE is my war and peace and zombies?#war and peace #books #war and peace (& emails)#by me #andrei bolkonsky #andrey bolkonsky #w&p

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outlanderskin · 6 months

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The Thing About Rationality and Logic

Someone who was stopping shipping once told me that she was doing it because she was a very realistic and rational person and her life was based on logic. So I asked her if by that she meant that people like me live in fantasy or are irrational. So, I patiently explained that what made me a shipper was exactly logic, more than imagination or fantasy. Because the logical explanation for many events in S&C's trajectory would be that they are together, but they don't want the outside world to know that they are.

I'll cite some examples: when you have a best friend and someone in that person's family dies, what logically do you do? You see, we're talking about best friends, very close people who publicly say how much they value each other and are close. The logical thing would be for you to show solidarity, post condolences and behave publicly in a discreet manner, in solidarity with the loss of that person you love so much, especially because you (by logic) probably have known the deceased relative. The logic would be stay by your best friend's side, support the family. But what we saw in that sad august days, (showed ostensibly for us to believe) was something that no logical answer about "best friends/siblings" could explain. The only way to explain the narrative created in those days would be that they are two people with a cordial, but superficial, relationship and I believe that from what has been stated by the two all these years, not even the Antis deep down believe that they are not close. . Again I ask: what is the need to hide that you were supporting your best friend in an extremely painful moment in anyone's life? Many people (famous or not) do this publicly, because after all it is not a crime, it is the expected logical behavior. So... Why hide it? We know what really happened because this a logical thing, but the others believe firmly he was not there for her.

Let's move on to another point: the man of the year award (or something like that); How can you logically explain that you chose your mother, your best friend and your co-worker to thank, as the most important women in your life? You who apparently had many "girlfriends", who still gets along well with your discreet ex-girlfriend who lives on another continent, who has others close female friends, but didn't mention any of them along with your co-worker. I've seen several men receiving tributes and the Acknowledgments always include the mother, another older woman of reference and the wives, girlfriends, fiancées. The only time I saw a co-worker mentioned (and that was after his mother, grandmother and wife), was when the achievement was due to his work at the company, so it was logical to mention the department secretary. What would then be the logical explanation for that speech?

Something that also defies logic: if I have a best friend and that person is in a relationship, I will obviously include that person's boyfriend/girlfriend on my list of people with whom I am always cordial. I'm not going to publicly act like the person doesn't exist in my best friend's life. We have a wonderful example of how CD & LL treat each other's boyfriends/girlfriends and they don't hide it. This is how it is when we think logically.

Another little point where logic calls us: your male best friend might talk about a female artist with admiration...you don't need to tell him "behave", after all he's not your husband. The most you can do in the case of friendship is admire her or say you don't like her, never act like you're jealous.

Maybe it's just me, but I never went on my best friend's social media to complain because everyone in the photo was wearing a suit and he wasn't. I also never apologized or justified why he didn't wear a tie. I do this normally with my husband. Because it's logical for wives to do this.

These are just small points, where thinking logically justifies what we believe. So anyone who thinks that we are not rational, live outside of reality or do not have logical reasoning is mistaken, or has not yet stopped to think logically.🙃🙃

#outlander #shipping #samcait

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munariplans · 1 year

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hey! idk if you’re taking requests but this is kind of a suggestion bc i don’t have a plot or anything but you’re a good writer and i think you’d kill it with a single mom!reader x mean ceo/lawyer!nat i think the whole class difference and maternity would be nice to see nat learning how to navigate them.

-🎈

hi 🎈 anon!

thank you for the request / suggestion, wrote a shorter fic with this one but hopefully it lives up to expectations! sorry for the longer wait, i was away on holiday for a while and didn't have access to tumblr on my laptop.

hope you're doing well!

lena | n. romanoff

ceo! natasha romanoff x single mother! reader word count: 3.2k

‘Where are you? Everyone else is here already.’

‘Did you get stuck in traffic? Even Bill’s wife, the third one, who’s coming from a flight from Washington’s arrived. Reply me.’

‘Are you ignoring me?’

By the third undelivered text, Natasha had had enough. She quietly excused herself from the group of investors she had been speaking to, set her drink down, and headed to the balcony to call you. There was anger, a sense of betrayal even, and if she dared herself feel it, a twinge of worry for you standing her up, as well.

But she swallowed all those thoughts down, as the phone began to ring. It was connected, and rang once, twice, before the dial tone went dead and her call abruptly ended. She stared back at the dark screen of her phone, confusion written on her features, and sighed frustratedly. This was an important fundraising gala. This was where the company was finally going to accomplish the funds needed to build the new headquarters outside of the United States, and this was where she had wanted to show you off to the world.

You were her arm candy, her prize, but tonight…tonight you were missing from her arms.

Natasha struggled to force herself to endure the rest of the night without you by her side. All she had wanted to do was to come find you, to make sure that you were okay to berate you for standing her up, but instead she had to sit through another round of ribbon cuttings, expensive, tasteless champagnes, and meaningless small talk with the ultra wealthy just to rub shoulders even more. It was torture, and nothing could quell the worry anger in the back of her mind.

So when the clock finally struck eleven and the festivities had relatively died down, she was the first to leave the venue; ordering her chauffeur to drive straight to your apartment. The trip was silent, and even the elderly man could sense the tension radiating from his boss’ shoulders at that moment.

Bursting through your doors exactly half an hour later, Natasha saw the abandoned party gown she had picked out for you laid across your stained couch, along with the new heels she had bought still in the designer box she had bought them from, and she knew you never even bothered to actually come for the gala.

She screamed for your name, knocking down the doors to each room in the tiny apartment, making a mess with each step, but she didn’t care at that point. She was livid, and you had betrayed her.

But right before she could knock down the door to the final room, the one painted baby pink and with an engraved sign reading Lena’s Room, it had clicked open and you walked out, staring at her face-to-face while shutting the door behind you.

Natasha was breathing heavily, her fists curled. She was confident she looked almost insane by then; a complete switch from the composed, sophisticated CEO she was just nearly an hour before. But you looked her up and down, and showed no signs of fear, however. You simply sighed, and nodded back towards the room.

“She’s got an unrelenting fever. Been at it since midday, the sitter told me. When I got home, her forehead’s sizzling to the touch. I just got her to bed, Natasha.”

“You didn’t come for the gala.”

“How could I?” It was your turn to fold your arms, walking past her to the living room. She followed. “Lena was so sick, Nat. I couldn’t just leave her alone for the night.”

It was then that things took a turn for the worse. What you said ticked something in Natasha, something she simply could not let go for the remainder of the night as the two of you began arguing.

“You humiliated me! In front of everyone!” Natasha had yelled, hands outstretched and veins appearing on her neck, “I was the only one without a date there, the only one!”

“What was I supposed to do?” You retorted, “My phone was dead, and forgive me if I managed to miss out on it once, because I was busy taking care of my sick child!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you could’ve texted me!”

“It still wouldn’t have changed things!”

Natasha had moved two steps from the kitchen counter to the sofa, where you were seated, still in your nurse scrubs and hair tied in a bun. You looked absolutely exhausted, and the tone in your voice was well over the point of wanting to go on with the argument. Natasha knew the bags under your eyes had not only come from the numerous shifts at the hospital, but also the responsibility of taking care of a toddler all alone as well.

But she had gone too far now. She couldn’t back down. “You stood me up! You stood me up when you could’ve sent her to a friend, or called the sitter back to take care of her for just a few hours more, couldn’t you? Or did you never want to come to the gala to support me anyway?”

She saw you pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head. “Natasha…”

“Fuck, I bet the kid’s not even sick. She probably just wanted attention, and you so kindly spoil her with everything, of course she can manipulate you for this too!”

But at that point, small sniffles could be heard from the corner of the room, and the both of you looked up at the same time. Your daughter had apparently climbed out of bed, still hugging her stuffed animal, and at the sight of her staring up at the two of you, tears flowing down her face, Natasha felt a surge of guilt wash over what she had just said. Though she knew Lena probably could not grasp all of the words she had been saying, to see you immediately stand and scoop her up in your arms to get her away from Natasha was hurtful enough.

“Mama fight? With Aunty Nat?” Had been her exact words, to which you pressed your hand against her forehead and shushed her quietly to coax her back to sleep.

“No, sweetheart. We’re fine, Mama and Aunty Nat are fine. Let’s go back to bed, okay? Your fever’s still high.”

But Lena peeked through your arms to see Natasha, then up to your face, and Natasha caught her rubbing something from your face too. “Why Mama cry?”

Oh. That had done it. Natasha knew she was fucked, and she had hurt both you and your daughter with the way she had stormed in tonight and began accusing the both of you things that were never true. All because she was too headstrong to listen to anyone’s reasons but her own, all because she was too insecure and possessive over you.

“Darling,” Natasha began, but you stopped her, hand begging her not to follow the both of you to Lena’s room.

“Please, Natasha, just leave,” you said through broken sobs, readjusting Lena to hide your face from Natasha. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning, but please…leave.”

The slam of the front door just seconds later was enough indication to show off the redhead’s frustration and anger, but you were not sure if it was directed at you, or herself.

–

Two weeks later Natasha still received an invite to a play your daughter was in, handed to her by her secretary in the middle of a lunch meeting. She secretly opened it in front of her partners, and the sense of relief and joy that spread through her had her instantly itching to call you on the phone.

“Thanks, baby, for the invitation,” she said later on, while you were on a break of your own. She could hear the roaring ambulance sirens in the background, and knew you were on a time limit. “And I’m really sorry, still, for that night.”

“It’s fine, Nat,” you reassured her, voice tired as usual. It broke Natasha’s heart to always see you working harder than anyone and receiving so little in return, but as you had always reminded her, even at the beginning of your relationship, that you were never looking for help or money from her, and that you refused to accept such as well. “Lena said she misses you as well. She wants you to be there.”

It was hard for Natasha to imagine a child could have such feelings for her. She had never grown up with the love and affection of someone so much younger, someone who looked up to her almost like an idol, and whenever Lena leaned in for kisses or ran up to her for hugs, Natasha knew you always caught her stiffening; an involuntary reflex she hoped you would forgive her for.

But it had been almost two years since you and Natasha had been going out, and even the billionaire knew that you were not going to wait forever for someone who was not going to love Lena as much as you did.

So she swallowed her fears, and replied, “That’s nice. Tell her…I miss her too.”

She could feel you smiling from the other end. “Will do. I love you, Nat.”

“I love you too.”

–

The night of the play, with the both of you sat huddled in the dimly lit school theatre and watching Lena dance around as a sunflower with a group of other little flowers and animals, Natasha watched as your eyes lit up each time the spotlight came on your daughter, and how you would excitedly hold her hand and point Lena out to her throughout the duration of the show. She also watched as Lena continuously looked out at the crowd for the both of you, and how her eyes, reflected in yours, lit up the same way yours did when she found the two of you too. The woman couldn’t help but give a small wave as well whenever Lena grinned at her.

“Mama! Aunty Nat!” Lena screamed at the end of the play, running over to the both of you as you picked her up and peppered kisses all over her face. The little girl basked in the love and laughter from her mother.

“You were amazing, sweetheart. The best there is,” you said to her, still holding her tight, as Natasha allowed herself to sneak a kiss to Lena’s cheek. “Mama is so proud of you.”

Then Lena turned to Natasha, and grinned at her. “And Aunty Nat too?”

Natasha caught your eyes, and smiled reassuringly. “Of course. Aunty Nat is more proud than your Mama, even!”

–

When you finally tucked her in that night, Lena’s eyes full of the world and the stars in the sky, you pressed a final kiss to her forehead, and muttered a I love you before leaving her room. Natasha was in the living room, watching the news on your old, jacked up television, bottle of expensive wine in hand.

“Anything good?” You settled beside her, her arms instinctively reaching out to wrap around you.

She shrugged. “It’s the news. How’s Lena?”

“Still buzzing from the night earlier, but who can blame her? You really went all out with the pizza and ice cream after the play, she’s the happiest she’s been in weeks. Especially since…”

Especially since the apartment had its electricity cut off for a full day earlier in the week, because you couldn't pay the bills on time. Natasha stiffened. “...You know, you should always tell me, if these kind of things happen again.”

“I can get by on my own, Nat. I don’t want your charity, remember?” You sighed, signalling the end of the conversation before it spiralled into another argument.

In an attempt to smooth over the tension, Natasha offered, “We should go on a vacation soon.”

But all you responded with was a mirthless chuckle. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Why?”

“Natasha, I can’t just go on a vacation,” you chimed, “I’ve got shifts at the hospital, bills to pay, and Lena’s far too young to travel any time soon.”

The woman in front of you furrowed her brows. “Who said Lena’s coming?”

You had to do a double take to ensure you heard her right. “Why wouldn’t Lena be coming?”

“I just thought, since she’s with her father on some weekends, we could let her stay there for a little longer. A week, two weeks, perhaps? Just some alone time, you know, you and me. Could help us get away from the stress and troubles of work for a while.”

Natasha felt you stiffen, before your touch was abruptly pulled away from her. “Natasha, where is all this coming from?!”

“Come on, you can’t tell me that you’re not stressed.”

“I am, but Lena is not the source of it!” You retorted, standing up. Natasha had gone into a protective pose too by then. “I can’t just leave her at her dad’s whenever it’s convenient. You and I know what kind of person he is!”

“But baby–”

“–I’m not leaving Lena and that’s final!” You half-screamed, not caring if the neighbours could hear, or if you were hurting Natasha’s feelings by then. “Nat, she is and will always be my top priority, and if you can’t handle that, if you can’t handle sharing a top spot in my heart with her…I can’t be with you.”

There was silence, lasting for a minute or two, as you breathed in heavy gulps of air, while Natasha sat, fiddling with the clasp of her watch, thinking of what to say, or do.

So you continued, “You can’t use money to figure your way out of this one, Nat. To make your problems…just disappear. Not with this.”

“You’re giving me an ultimatum?” Natasha looked at you then, eyes tearing up too.

Your heart squeezed in part longing, part regret, but you had to stand strong. You had to put your family first. “Yes. So please, I need you to make a decision, because I can’t keep going on like this. And it’s not fair for you to stay in this relationship if it's just for me, and not Lena, too.”

You caught the woman before you shaking her head, letting her tears fall onto her lap, refusing to wipe them away. But as soon as the moment of vulnerability appeared, it went away just as fast, as Natasha abruptly stood, brushing past you, made her way to the door and slammed it on her way out.

Lena did not need to hear your cries of anguish and betrayal that night, sobbed into the pillows you and Natasha so often shared the past two years, all gone by then.

–

Sat by the park bench the two of you used to frequent, Natasha allowed her tears to flow once more; an indication of her grief of the past two years, an indication of the life she had just thrown away. Perhaps it would also have been an indication of the loss of the best thing that could ever happen to her after all.

A child was playing with his mother at the swings nearby, looking no older than Lena was. Their laughter the only thing audible through the ringing in Natasha’s ears. She watched her pick him up, carry him around to the other playground equipment, and her smile and eyes reminded Natasha of you.

You, who always assured Natasha that she was doing right by Lena, that she was good at being a mother too. You, who patiently taught her how to prepare food for Lena, how to put on her socks and tie her braids that she so very much loved, even how to deal with the temper tantrums that stressed her out, but never you. You, who made Natasha believe she deserved to be happy as a mother, too.

Natasha thought of all the times you would come home after your shifts to not only take care of Lena, but also make time for her, too. How you would sacrifice your own time and energy to try to balance the two of them and their needs; and Natasha cringed. It should never have to be between them, she shouldn’t have had to make you choose. And she shouldn’t have been so selfish, should have made compromises, as you have, when being the girlfriend of a billionaire CEO with a schedule as jam packed as hers.

She wonders if she’s fucked it all up. She wonders if she’s too late. There was only one way to find out.

–

“Can we get ice cream, Mama?” Lena’s big, curious eyes always made your heart soft, and gave you a hard time denying her.

You brushed back a strand of her hair, and nodded. “Of course darling, anything for you.”

Though, as the both of you arrived at the usual ice cream shop that you, her, and Natasha frequented, you found yourself cursing as you checked the contents of your wallet, clearly forgetting that payday was still in a week. Lena was already eagerly eyeing the flavours, and you knew her usual order was a premium.

“Hey, Lena, sweetheart,” you called out to her, “Mama’s a little short on cash today. We’ll just have your ice-cream, yeah? I’m not hungry.”

Your daughter pouted, but in return, you gave her your most upbeat smile, and readjusted the straps on her backpack. “Just this once. And I’ll ask them to give you an extra big scoop, so you can eat for the both of us!”

But her gaze was somewhere behind, and before you could follow it, Lena was already pointing to a person behind you, screaming, “Aunty Nat!”

You caught Natasha’s gaze through the shop windows, and there she was, big bouquet of flowers in hand, dressed in the blouse Lena had picked for her when you went shopping once, and sporting the most uncertain grin on her face.

You scooped Lena up protectively, preventing her from running straight to Natasha, but Natasha had only come forward, keeping a distance safe enough for you, but close enough for you to hear what she had to say.

“I’m sorry,” she started, moving one of her thumbs to reveal a smaller bouquet of flowers behind the large ones, in Lena’s favourite sunflowers, “I fucked everything up.”

You nodded, but did not say anything.

“I realise it now, even though I’ve always known, but…I’m here, baby. For the long run, for the long haul, for everything. With both you, and Lena. I cannot imagine a life without either of you, and I’m very sorry for having made you choose between us in the past. If you give me a chance, just one last chance, I will show you how sorry I am, and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Lena was reaching out for the sunflowers, and sighing, you allowed her to. Setting her down, she ran towards Natasha and the woman instinctively picked her up, peppering kisses on her face like you so often did. In response, you took the bigger bouquet, and gave her a soft smile.

“So you’re not leaving us, Nat?”

Natasha shook her head furiously, pressing a kiss to your cheek too. “Never. Sorry, again, for making you think otherwise.”

“I’ll try harder, I’ll make more time for the both of you,” she assured, “Tell me how I can make things up to you, my love.”

You pecked her on the lips, still feeling the passion and love even after weeks of separation. “You can start by buying Lena and I ice cream for today. Let’s go.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #angst with a happy ending #angst with fluff

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all-mirth-no-matter · 2 years

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Time After Time | Chapter Six

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Tommy takes you on an impromptu trip.

Warning: language, smoking, ethnic slur, fluff, tommy is a soft boi, next chapter will have lots of plot dev i promise

ao3 Link | Catch up on tumblr here

Chapter Six: Dismantle. Repair.

Hands, like secrets, are the hardest thing to keep from you. Lines and phrases, like knives, your words can cut me through. — Dismantle. Repair., Anberlin

“A wagon?” Your sleepy brain was still in a haze, and you weren’t even positive what you were looking at was real. “Where did you even— what the hell is this, the Oregon Trail?”

Tommy grabbed your bag and climbed into the seat, securing it in the back before offering his hand to help you up. “Come on now, get in.”

“Is this the part where I ‘go for a ride’ and you leave my body in a ditch somewhere?” You asked sarcastically, taking his hand and letting him pull you up.

If you’d had your wits about you, you would have taken note of how easily he’d lifted you, how tight his hold on you was, and how he’d pulled you right up against his side. But you could only grumble out of sleepiness and revel in the warmth of his body heat.

“Not this time,” he chuckled softly, obviously amused by your less-than-filtered state. “Secure?” He checked to make sure you were seated comfortably next to him before he flicked the reigns. He instructed the horse to walk on. “Not a morning person, eh?”

“Morning?” You scoffed. “This is rolling into bed after a good night out hours.”

It was still dark when you’d heard the knock at your door.

You used to be the deepest sleeper — you could have slept through a hurricane (you had once as a kid, your dad told you). But since you’d woken up here, you hadn’t had one decent nights sleep. Your anxiety levels were always on high and the noise outside was nonstop. The train, the boats, the constant fire balls bursting into the air down the lane.

Most of the time, sleep found you out of exhaustion, when your mind couldn’t run any longer and your body began to shut down from the physical and mental labor of it all.

Last night was no exception.

You spent the rest of the evening in the office. Despite the bookhouse being closed for the day, the house itself was bustling with activity. It was then that you realized something you hadn’t thought about in years.

Family hadn’t exactly been something that you’d had much experience with in your life.

Your father had very little of it — his parents had died before you’d been born, and his younger brother had moved to different parts of America some time after he’d enlisted. Your uncle had found himself on a different life path than your father, always finding himself in trouble one way or another. It wasn’t until your father died that you even heard from him — a weird and uncomfortable phone call from a family member you’d never met, crying over guilt. After that, you never heard from him again.

Your mother, on the other hand, had no family. At all. She refused to talk about it with you, even as you got older. The only reason you knew the fact you had about her blood line stretching across Europe but possibly starting in Greece was after you begged insistently so that you wouldn’t fail a genealogy assignment for class.

After your mother’s death, you fell into a bit of a spiral — isolating yourself from the friends you’d made over the years. Eventually, the only people you’d started interacting with were people you met through work.

But every night, even when you were seeing someone at the time, you felt a sense of isolation, of loneliness, of non-belonging.

The feeling only intensified when you woke up in 1918, obviously accompanied with newer feelings of confusion and anger and feeling completely out of control of your life.

After meeting Ada and Harry, you were surprised when you realized that those feelings had started to lesson. It was still prevalent, but gradually, as you started spending more time at the Shelby household and with the patrons at the Garrison, you began to feel a deeper sense of camaraderie and acceptance.

Even if you were still keeping the fact that you were a time traveler from the future a secret. That was just, ya’know, details.

As you wrapped up your (second) first day with the Shelby business, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like growing up in the Shelby family. All those siblings, their parents, their aunt, and what sounded like loads of friends of the family that you still hadn’t met. Their bond seemed iron clad, especially with the defensive way Arthur acted when he felt that stronghold was being invaded by an outsider.

You didn’t blame him, either brother really, even if they had been hugely rude and sexist. It was nothing you didn’t hear at the pub on the daily.

The sad part (or the only child, people pleaser, desperate for family love part) was that you really wanted John and Arthur to like you, in the same way you’d been hellbent on gaining Polly’s respect and affection.

Arthur spent the day completely avoiding you. When your paths did cross, like when you went to find Polly to ask a clerical question, he simply grunted at you. But you took that as an improvement from calling you a whore, so you took it.

John was running around with his kids, apparently his wife was feeling a little sick lately. He actually stopped and talked to you for a little bit when you asked how she was doing. He seemed concerned, but Polly reassured that the doctors were taking good care of her and she’d be back on her feet in no time.

In the evening, Ada brought you some stew Polly had made and sat with you at the table as you both ate. It felt like old times — well, old in the sense of like a month ago.

The first thing you made sure to ask was about Freddie. You were careful not to use names, even after she shut the door to give the two of you more privacy. She’d happily informed you that the two of them had reconnected successfully — that while he wasn’t the same Freddie that had left Birmingham, they were learning how to be each other again.

You asked how long they were planning to keep things a secret, to which she didn’t have a solid answer.

“He thinks it’s for the best for now,” she’d added, hinting that there was some disconnect between his friendship with Tommy.

He’d gotten into politics, Ada had told you, sort of shrugging it off and claiming that it was just fun listening to him talk so passionately about something. That it made her want to be passionate about something too.

“So, you and my brother,” she’d suggested after finally catching you up.

You rose your brow as a counter. “And what exactly are you implying?”

“You keep surprising me, is all. I thought for sure Harry was going to toss you on your ass, but you got that job. Good thing I didn’t bet on this as well, ‘wise I’d lose again!”

Your mouth dropped dramatically as you gave her a playful shove. “Hey! I thought you liked me?”

“I do!” She laughed as she shoved you back. “I got you this job, remember? It’s just—“ her face fell as she looked down at her spoon, “you remember how the boys our age were before the war.”

You didn’t.

“Tommy was just like the lot of ‘em. Protective and determined as hell, but still, he used to laugh — used to make us laugh.” Her eyes shined a little at the memories behind them, but then dropped. “Since he’s been back, he hasn’t— he just— it’s like he’s been a stone. Out of all of ‘em, he’s been the one Pol and I ‘ave been worried about the most.”

Ada closed her mouth quickly, obviously not completely comfortable sharing this more intimate family discussion. You remained silent, not pushing the subject but not dismissing her either. She cleared her throat before she went on, managing a smile in the process.

“All that to say, you’ve managed to charm him,” her brow rose as her smile turned into a smirk.

“Nothing is going on,” you insisted, rolling your eyes at her.

She feigned insult, “Did I say there was?”

“Your face did,” you countered, pointing at her in emphasis.

Ada waved you off, “Fine. I’m just saying, it’s nice to see this side of Tommy again.”

She dropped the topic and left you to finish your work. Apparently she’d been warned by Tommy as well not to take up too much of your time.

As you were making your way out at the end of the day, you were trying to ignore the pang in your chest of not seeing Tommy again since he’d left that afternoon. You know what he’d said, but part of you hoped he’d come back. Maybe walk you home again.

Maybe give you another chance to ask him the question you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about, but for the life of you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him that morning.

You had no idea why you’d been so nervous about it. He’d told you he’d dreamed about you, obviously he wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t expected you to have some follow up questions, right?

So why did the thought of actually asking him about it terrify you enough to act like it’d never happened?

Part of you knew you were scared of his answer. That him having this weird connection meant that this whole crazy, time travel, vision nonsense extended outside of just yourself — and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you were ready to live in that kind of reality just yet.

Apparently, your brain had a fantastic capacity for denial and compartmentalizing than you’d ever realized.

Again, that night you only got a couple hours of sleep before the knock at your door. You’d been suspicious and surprised to see Tommy on the other side, and then annoyed and cranky when he let himself in and began packing you a bag. Too tired to physically fight him on it, you let him do whatever it was he wanted, hoping he’d leave soon so you could go back to sleep.

But when he was done, he instructed you to follow and lock up behind you, throwing his coat to you.

And that’s how you ended up here, still half asleep, riding in a wagon next to a Peaky Blinder before sunrise.

“I’ve never been in a wagon before,” you mused, your brain still catching up with what was going on. “I’ve never been in a carriage before, actually. Not even one of those cute, kitschy ones that they have in some tourist cities.”

Tommy’s brow creased as he kept his gaze forward, letting you continue.

“I rode a horse once, but it was in the mountains and they were trained.” You chuckled, letting the memory come back, “They told us not to let the horses deviate from the trail and eat the plants on the edges. That if we gave the reigns a slight tug it would keep them from doing it. But my horse — Ginger Spice was her name, which was great because I loved the Spice Girls — I’m pretty sure she could sense that I was a pushover because she would not stop eating no matter how much I tried to direct her not to.”

Your eyes were still heavy as you chuckled to yourself, the scene playing like a movie behind your eyes.

“And then finally, when I could get her to fall in line with the others, she’d run me into tree branches or push me up against the other horses. She was such an ass.” You shook your head, still laughing at the memory. “But then at the end of the ride, she let me pet her and feed her carrots. My dad teased me that Ginger wanted me to take her home just so she could live a spoiled life with me.”

Your memory grew somber as you got to the end of the memory.

“That trip was the last time I remember my parents being happy with each other. Mum had laughed so hard at me trying to get the horse to turn around — it might have been the hardest I’d ever seen her laugh in my entire life.”

Tommy chanced a glance toward you, but you were still staring forward at the horse, your smile falling.

“Sorry,” you cleared your throat, the sleep fog starting to finally lift. “I ramble and mutter when I’m cranky. You should have seen me in school when I had to study for exams. My schoolmates made me isolate myself because I talked too much.”

“Don’t mind,” Tommy shrugged. “We’ve got a long trip.”

“Where are we going?” Your brow creased as you finally looked into the wagon behind you.

“It’s a surprise.”

You huffed, “I don’t like surprises.”

Tommy hummed in amusement. “No, I didn’t suppose you would.”

“Tommy—“

“I made you a promise, didn’t I?”

You swallowed, “We’re going to see the Delphi family?”

“Aye, if they want to see us, that is.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “I got in touch with an old friend yesterday who was going to work on tracking ‘em down.”

Your brow rose, “Wow, that was fast.”

“I’m highly motivated.”

“Hmm,” you mused as you leaned back against the rest, “and it would be naive of me to believe that you’re motivated out of the kindness of your heart, yeah?”

He turned to you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since you’d gotten in the wagon. The sun was still making it’s way above the horizon, but you could see the softness in his eyes consider you, then harden before turning forward.

“Yes, it would.” He cleared his throat. “If you recall, you also made a promise to me. You find the answers you seek, and then you tell me everything.”

You mimicked his motion and also faced the front, wrapping the coat around yourself as the cool air finally began to get to you. “I’m not sure if you want to know everything.”

“There’s that naivety again.”

You huffed again, “I’m serious. You don’t know what you’re asking. You’ll put me in the nut house.”

You both sat in silence for a beat, watching as the city began to slowly transition into countryside.

“Why do you want to know everything, anyhow?” you asked finally.

“I don’t like surprises.”

He repeated your words, his eyes giving you a quick scan as you took a deep breath.

“Touché,” you replied reluctantly. “Then why are we in a wagon? Wouldn’t a car get us wherever it is you’re taking me faster?”

“Aye, but I’m not certain exactly where we need to go and we’re too low on petrol for guessin’. We can sleep in the wagon if we need to, dependin’ on how cold it’ll get. Brought extra blankets just in case.”

“Sleeping?” Your brow creased again. “How long will this take?”

Tommy shrugged, “A day. A week. Not certain.”

“A we—“ you took a deep breath. “Harry is gonna kill me, Tommy. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m tellin’ ya now. And I already informed Harry—”

You rolled your eyes. “Dammit, Tommy. Harry is my boss, working at the pub is my job, a job that I like!”

“Y/N—“

“I get that Harry also works for you or pays you, or whatever the hell kind of set up it is — but you can’t keep taking my agency away from me like this,” you pushed on, ignoring his attempt to pause you. “Harry will lose respect for me, hell he might even fire me, replace me — and I wouldn’t blame him!”

“Would it matter?” Tommy’s voice rose back at you. “You work for me now, eh?! You go wherever the fuck I tell you to go. And I don’t pay you to fight me on things!”

Your mouth snapped shut. This was the first time Tommy had spoken to you like that. You’d seen it yesterday with his brothers, but it’d never been directed at you.

Tommy took a deep breath, lifting his hand to press his fingers against his forehead. “I thought this is what you wanted,” his voice softer than it’d been before.

You took a deep breath, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands before looking back toward him. Tommy was already looking at you, his face hardened as he waited for your reply.

“What I want… I want to stop feeling like I don’t have any control over my life,” you said, your voice quiet and vulnerable with the weight of just how much you meant your words.

His face began to soften slightly as his eyes searched your face for a lie, but found none.

“I appreciate your help with this, and the urgency. But you could have just told me what you had planned. I could have gone to Harry myself. I could have lied, I could have told him whatever it is you want me to tell him. Just— if you could please stop blindsiding me with things, that’d be great.” You gave a small smile, trying to lighten back the mood while still staying serious. “Communication, ya’know? They say it’s the foundation for any relationship. Even in business.”

His eyes never left yours as you spoke. His tongue ran across his lips before he looked away again. You waited a beat for his response.

“You’re like two different people,” he finally said, his position still forward. You swallowed as he went on. “The words you use, the oddities you say. It makes me feel like there’s this entire person who I haven’t met, who I don’t know if I can trust, no matter how much I watched or how much we talk.”

You stayed silent, unsure how to explain yourself. When you didn’t, he went on.

“When I first realized who you were, when I first began to watch you, I half expected to find some rich girl stumblin’ her way around pretending to be a barmaid. Maybe you’d been a runaway, maybe you’d gotten yourself in trouble — why else would a pretty, educated girl like you be in Birmingham.”

His gaze held yours as he continued.

“The first day, I watched you work your shift from the shadows of the pub and watched you pour a pint like you’ve been doin’ it for years, so obviously you weren’t lying there. But,” his gaze dropped then, shaking his head as he inhaled a breath, “you speak like someone whose afraid of what they’re goin’ to say, so you don’t say much. You’re friendly, and can match anyone in conversation when prompted, but the depth of your words were shallow with the strangers around you. Even with Harry. Which surprised me, considerin’ the woman I met by the Cut had been one of the most intriguing souls I’d ever encountered.”

You found yourself holding your breath as he spoke, surprised that he was being this open with you.

“I like the way you speak to me,” he continued, his eyes finding yours again. “You’re unafraid, of me and yourself, it seems. There’s no air of frivolous pleasantries or polite small talk. You’re blunt and unapologetic. Probably why Polly likes you so much — you remind me of her sometimes. It makes me feel real, like something I thought I lost.”

You still couldn’t find your voice, unsure what to say and partially nervous of scaring him away from continuing if you did.

“I want you to fight me on things,” he said, his voice growing softer than you’d ever heard it. “I need you to.”

“Good. Because I wouldn’t know how to turn that filter off even if I could,” a smile pulled at the corner of your mouth.

His cheek rose in amusement as he lifted his free hand up to your face. He lightly ran his knuckles against your cheek softly as he took a deep breath. “But I still don’t trust you, no matter how much my gut wants to. And my patience has limits.”

Your smile fell, but you nodded, understanding and empathizing with his point of you.

“I don’t want to keep secrets from you,” you found yourself saying out loud.

His jaw clenched as he took in your words, “I believe you. I look forward to the day you don’t.”

He resumed his driving position as the two of you road in silence for a while longer. Your mind contemplated whether you should just tell him the whole story — maybe he wouldn’t think you claiming to be from the future was crazy?

How would you even begin to explain it? Even the idea of time travel wasn’t a common thing in today’s world. Sure, it’d been like 20 years since The Time Machine by HG Wells had come out, but you highly doubted Tommy had read it, much less even heard of it.

And how could you prove it to him? Warn him about the prohibition? The Irish Revolution? The stock market crash? The Second World War?

No. He’d definitely think you were crazy.

Even if this trip was a long shot, maybe there was something with this gypsy family that could answer enough for you to explain yourself.

Maybe…

You were surprised when he announced that you had made it to your first stop, it being just mid-morning. Approaching another caravan, Tommy explained that this was his contact with the gypsy family, and if all went well, he’ll be able to lead you to their camp.

“Johnny Dogs!” Tommy greeted as he exited the car.

“Tommy! How the hell are ya?” A shorter man hustled to meet him, arms extended wide as he pulled Tommy in for a bear hug.

“All the better for views of green pastures and getting city smoke outta my lungs,” Tommy replied, taking a deep breath through his nose.

You took that opportunity to take in a similar appreciation. In the last few months you’d been in Birmingham, you hadn’t even left the city. You forgot how green the grass and blue the sky could be. You began to wonder if there’d ever be a time again when you weren’t living in the smoke of the city…

“This your first time out here since France?” Johnny asked.

“What do you know of France you war-shy gypsy bastard.”

He chuckled, obviously not offended by Tommy’s comment. “Bastard I am. And is this your girl?”

The two men finally turned their attention to you. Tommy made the introductions.

“Johnny Dogs, this is Y/N L/N. Y/N, this is Johnny.”

“Hi,” you greeted with a smile and a surprisingly shy voice. Whoever this was, Tommy obviously trusted. You hadn’t seen him this relaxed before, not even with his own family. The thought made you feel nervous for some reason.

“Lovely to meet ya,” Johnny welcomed enthusiastically, taking off his hat in a chivalrous attempt that made you chuckle.

“You riding alone nowadays, Johnny?” Tommy asked, pulling his friends attention back.

“Aye, for now.”

Tommy blew some smoke. “Tell me, you still close with the Lee family?”

“Oi, I’m friendly. Haven’t ridden with them in a long while.”

Tommy nodded, “Heard they were startin’ to cause real trouble for Billy Kimber and his boys.”

Billy Kimber — you’d heard that name before. Your brain scrambled to pinpoint the reference.

“Think so,” Johnny replied. His brow rose, “Why, you wantin’ to start nabbin’ at his winnings too?”

Winnings — was he a bookkeeper as well? Horse racing?

“No. I want to nab his entire bloody kingdom.”

“Tommy—“

“I have a plan, Johnny. I’m startin’ one, anyway. I won’t involve you until I absolutely have to.”

Johnny took a deep breath, “Life of a Peaky Blinder never grows old, eh?”

“They don’t get the chance to,” Tommy took a final drag before throwing the bud to the ground. “More on this ‘nother time. We’re here for ‘nother reason.”

“Aye, that’s right.” And then Johnny Dogs began speaking in another language, looking to you like he expected you to understand.

You knew quite a few languages — Spanish, French, a little bit of Italian, and you could even stumble your way around some Latin. But this — you had no idea. Your mouth opened, then closed as you looked to Tommy, who was watching you.

“You don’t understand Romani?” Johnny asked, back in English, before turning toward Tommy. “Thought you said she was gypsy?”

He pulled out another cigarette. “I said she was of gypsy blood. She was bred anything but.”

“I see, my apologies, Miss.”

“It’s okay,” you assured, offering Johnny a smile. “Just something new for me to learn, is all.”

Tommy’s cheek flinched.

Johnny went on, “I got confirmation from a cousin of the Delphi. They’re camped outside of Wales. We can make it by dusk if we get a move on.”

Tommy nodded, “Aye, you lead the way.”

You loaded back into the caravan, you and Tommy following Johnny Dogs.

——

“Want to give it a go?”

You both hadn’t said much since starting this next part of the journey. Traveling this way was starting to grow tiresome for you — you really missed modern day cars and their gas tank sizes. At least those seats were cushioned, your butt had fallen asleep hours ago.

Part of the reason you’d been so silent was that you were trying to figure something out.

Ever since you’d heard Tommy say the name Delphi the other night, you couldn’t help but feel as if you’d heard it from somewhere. You were trying to comb through for the millionth time everything your mother had ever said about your gift or her family background. But everything brought you back to the same place.

You really wish you could talk to your mother again. Get some answers — some real answers.

And if you didn’t know the Delphi name through your mother, why was it setting off some kind of bell in your head?

“Y/N?” Tommy nudged your arm to get your attention.

“What?” you asked, being pulled from your thoughts.

“I asked if you wanted to give it a go,” he repeated, holding up the horse’s reigns. “You said you’d never been in a carriage before, which is really hard to believe. Want to try driving for a bit?”

“Okay,” you answered excitedly, your previous thoughts on pause as you excitedly sat up straighter in your seat.

Tommy pulled you closer to the middle of the bench, right up against his side. This time, your brain wasn’t too tired to notice, but you tried to keep it focused on the task at hand.

He handed you the reigns, but kept his arms around yours, his hands wrapping around your own to show you how to hold them. He had you move the straps between your index and middle finger for a sturdier grip and explained how that’d be more ideal if there were more than one horse. He showed you to make the horse turn left and right, what noises and commands to make it go faster and slower.

You tried your damndest to pay attention to his instruction. Not only did you want to impress him, but you genuinely wanted to be good at this new skill. Especially if this trip were to take days to travel, it was only fair you take your turn at driving. Road trip rules still apply, even if the road was dirt and the vehicle was horse and wagon.

But everything about this little lesson was making you grow weaker for this damn asshole. Your arms underneath his, your chin against his shoulder, his hands around yours, and his leg pressed against your leg were all one thing…

But his voice.

It was slowly becoming one of your favorite sounds in the world. You could listen to Tommy Shelby speak absolute nonsense for hours and never grow tired. His deep voice remained soft as he gave his instructions, patient when you needed it and supportive when you accomplished the lesson.

“You’re a natural,” he complimented, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Next you’ll be riding Midnight bareback.”

“Next lesson, yeah?” you giggled, biting your lip out of genuine giddiness over the potential.

He peered down at you, his eyes hooded but still brilliantly bright in the late afternoon sun.

God, he was beautiful. He felt otherworldly when you looked at him this closely.

“So, what did you tell Harry, then?” you asked softly, your eyes moving down to his full lips.

His brow creased slightly then, obviously caught off guard by your change in subject. “Umm. That I was takin’ you on a trip out of the city, possibly visiting the fairgrounds.”

“There’s a fairgrounds?” your voice went up, eyes snapping back up to his, genuinely surprised and slightly hopeful of one day actually going to said fairgrounds.

He chuckled, “Aye.”

You considered him, bitting your lip as you dared to ask the follow-up, “So he thinks we’re together?”

Tommy’s grip tightened around your hands, still holding the reigns, “If that’s the conclusion he came to, I suppose.”

“That doesn’t bother you?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you felt yourself turn your body toward him more. “Local pub owner spreading dating gossip on the town gangster.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a businessman,” Tommy replied with a hint of mirth. He shrugged as he responded to your point, “The town of Birmingham has been tellin’ tales of the Shelby family my entire life.”

He rose his brow, giving you that familiar look again before asking his follow-up.

“Does it bother you?”

Your eyes met his again. “No.”

“Good,” he said, softer than ever as his eyes finally looked down at your own lips.

Your heart was racing as you realized how close you were to him. You’d chicken out the other night, missing your chance to lean in and connect your lips in the way you’d been fantasizing about since that first night by the Cut.

A wave of bravado overtook you, your hand lifting on its own accord toward his cheek before you could think your way out of this. Tommy’s face flashed in a moment of unsureness before he leaned down as you stretched up. You guessed whatever reservation he’d been fighting with himself had been sidelined as well for the moment, as he peered into your eyes one final time as his forehead met yours.

Smiling despite yourself, you closed the gap between you.

The world around you stopped for a moment. You didn’t feel Midnight pulling the wagon forward, the bumpy gravel beneath the wheels — all you felt was the gentle push and pull of Tommy’s lips against your own.

You’d honestly been a bit surprised with the gentleness of his kiss. He kissed you softly, then politely began to pull away before the hand that’d caressed his cheek found its way toward his neck, then through the back of his hair as you pulled his head back and your lips met his again.

Later you would over analyze this moment, think about how the women of today were proper, polite, and shy young ladies who didn’t kiss boys first. Who played hard to get and left the men wanting more.

But in that moment, you were 21st century you. A girl who kissed boys when she wanted and didn’t hold back. You kissed Tommy with all the passion that’d you’d been feeling the past few days, feeling him respond in kind when his mouth began to move in sync with yours. A mix between a groan and a growl left his throat as your mouth opened for him, a sound that made you whimper at the thought of getting him to repeat it. Your nails began to scratch lightly at his scalp as his hands finally began moving to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him —

Midnight neighed loudly, the sudden movement of his reigns and distraction of his riders causing him to ride too close to Johnny Dog’s caravan.

His second cry caused him to lift his front two hooves in the air and stumble around frantically.

Tommy jumped from the seat of the wagon and grabbed Midnight’s reigns, pulling his face down to his as he began to whisper to the horse, calming him down. He pet the side of his face, apologizing and comforting him enough for the horse to stop.

Johnny paused his own horse and wagon, jumping out as well and running back toward you two.

“Everythin’ alright? Horse get spooked, did he?”

“Aye,” Tommy replied, sending you a quick look and smirked. “He’s calmed now. Ready to continue on.”

“Good,” Johnny nodded. “‘Cause we’re almost there! Get ready, Miss! These gypsies are not to be trifled with and don’t take kind to strangers. Best to be on your guard. If rumors are to be believed, they’ll know why you’ve come before you tell ‘em.”

You chuckled, taking a deep breath to slow your heart beat. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

tag list: @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @swordofawriter @sweetmilkshakeluminary @ttae-yong @topstory21 @cole-silas @moral-terpitude @optimisticsandwichgladiator @reallysparklychaos @enrapturedbythemoon @bat-shark-repellant @kpopslur @ilovestrngrthgs @musicsweetie21 @invisiblexcth

promise the next chapter is going to develop the plot along! had to stop this one here, but the next is in the works! hopefully i didn’t miss anyone who wanted to be tagged, give me a shout if i did or if you want to be added. you guys have been AMAZING with your comments and response, im so glad you’re enjoying and am so not worthy, but appreciate you all anyhow!

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #time after time #mine #fanfiction

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 4 months

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Fire & Blood: Chapter 24: Time is a illusion (Dark Aemond x reader oc, x aegon ii ) 18+ minors do not interact and MAJOR BOOK SPOILERS/SHOW SPOILERS ATABF reader ocish she has a name its complicated

🔷Summary: After the events of Blood and Cheese and Rook's rest, you return to your husband and your king.

🔷Author's note: MAJOR book spoilers but not all that happens is canon.

🔷Wordcount:3187 (thats short sorry)

🔷Warnings: murder, mentions of toxic relationship, slight smut and BOOK SPOILERS also childloss and child murder targaryens commiting war crimes. war being war.

It seems that the days have become shorter or the nights have become longer. That, or you don’t have a healthy idea of time anymore.

Time, in a way, has become an illusion. Days may pass, hours may go, weeks end, months follow each other closer and closer up as if entangled in a dance. But you know the truth now: No matter how quick the time goes, it remains an illusion. A lie everyone tells themselves to feel better. ‘’It will pass.’’ Your servant girl said when she was braiding your hair.

You laughed at her words. What will pass, exactly? Pain? You have become used to pain, to grief, to feeling as if someone is suffocating you while in truth that is you, and you alone hiding your emotions. Pain does not scare you. It's familiar, in a way. You hold onto it. But the idea that it will pass, that one day you’ll be left with nothing but acceptance and an empty cradle? A half-burned husband that can’t give you anymore children and you, sitting on his iron throne because he can’t get up from the bed? That is what terrifies you. That one day this rage, this pain and hurt will be nothing.

That you will be nothing.

Months have passed since you last saw Aegon. The last time you saw him awake and well was long before the battle of Rook's rest and your pregnancy. You had his child warmly nestled inside of your womb where no one could hurt it. No soul dared to touch you as Aegon’s wife, safe be for the loyalists of Rhaenyra.

And that is exactly who killed your innocent baby, Helaena on her name day. You named her after the sister Aegon and Aemond shared, perhaps to mend the wound between the two of them, or perhaps to sway their mother to your cause, but whatever reason you may have had in the beginning didn’t matter so much in the end. Before Helaena would see her first morning sun, a dagger ended her life. An assassin’s blade.

You have been called forward now, to see your husband, your king and your longlife friend Aegon who has just awoken as a miracle from his comatic state. He got injured during a battle at Rook Rest, where he and his brother, Prince Aemond slew the traitor Princess Rhaenys and killed her dragon. You were at home, of course, heavily pregnant with his child that would end in a disaster as most things do.

Every instinct tells you to run far away from both Aegon and Aemond. One had captured you in a literal cage for weeks, months perhaps. The other crowned you without your consent, made you his wife for the world to see, and made you a target. Both were boys, once perhaps. You were a girl in love, perhaps. But boys become men, and love eventually dies. That is how life has been before you, why would it be any different now?

Your husband and your king stares back at you with living eyes full of admiration and joy. It is not joy, you notice. It’s something even more heartbreaking then that. He has that look most men have, when they think their wives have squeezed out a perfect heir that will save the husband from damnation. This is what they call ‘’Pride.’’

He is proud of you.

There used to be days you could never not look at the prince, his fierce beautiful eyes, short silver locks and out of this world beauty that was indescribable with any pencil this world and the next could offer. There were moments your daylight extended by seeing his face, as in a way, it protected you from the dark.

O, how you long for such simple times.

To be a girl again, with a book in your hands, smacking a hangover Aegon when Aemond comments that you should behave yourself.

‘’My love, my Brienne.’’ The King speaks, his voice a bit raspy but hearable. You faithfully accept his left hand reaching out to squeeze your fingers but your eyes are locked to the monstrous arm where metal and skin meet one another, and where the fire of a dragon made Aegon part man, part metal. You shudder to think of the nights you will spend sleeping and waking up, suddenly feeling that cold metal arm touch you.

There is joy and kindness, and hope and brightness in his eyes. Emotions you haven’t felt in months. Emotions you aren’t sure that are real now, or ever were real. Hope for fools, perhaps. Doom for nations, for certain.

Another matter, perhaps but it does prove your suspicion as to why every single soldier, every servant and Maester, Queen Alicent and even Prince Aemond left the room when you entered.

No one, not the coldhearted Green Queen, not the Terror of the Trident, not the fierce King’s guard or the all knowing Maesters had the guts and the balls to do what is now your task. No one informed him of the passing of your child. No one. That is now your task. The task of a mourning mother, a childless Queen and a shell of the person you once were.

Cravens, all of them be damned.

Aegon forces his hands on the wood of the bed, lifting himself up to sit so he may have some dignity while addressing you. You could not care if he was in a casket or lost all his limbs he could never lose his dignity. Your love is tested for him when you see him winch in pain as the poppy milk wears off, and you are for the very first time in your life unsure if your love is strong enough to face this.

It is not that he has lost his attractiveness. But it is that constant reminder, that constant bug flying in your face showing you how much pain Aegon is in, how much suffering he endures and who you should all blame for that. This war started the moment Aegon was born and it will end with the death of her.

Aegon pretends to not be altered by his new disabilities, by his new life. He takes a deep sharp breath revealing just how much this is killing him from inside out. A man like Aegon who prided himself with his beauty, with his grace and long legs…..

How much of that light will remain now that the flame has blown out, all that remains is shadow?

In his eyes realisation starts to form and you both come silently to the conclusion that life will be unlike anything it ever was before. It will heal this wound. A new scar will appear. But how much scars can a flesh handle before it starts infecting and begins to rot?

You rub your ring and watch Aegon for a while, your mind thinking of multiple ways to start the conversation, yet they all feel as cheap little lies as you try to hold off the inevitable. You rather watch your husband pass out and sleep than him sitting here awake and in a clear state of mind aware you must deliver the news now.

He knows you won’t speak. So he does. “You look well-”

Your snort interrupts him. Your hair has begun to grey and your skin is full of scratches and wounds where you keep peeling at, until it bleeds and spreads over your skin, just to feel something. Your eyes are darkened and hollow, as a starving girl. You don’t long for food. You long for justice. “I am not.” Is your cutthroat cruel response to his simple opener.

“You are not wearing your crown.” Aegon says, pointing with two fingers to your head. You don’t have the energy to wear the damned thing. It does not help that no one does what you want anyway. You are a Queen consort, not a King born from the womb of the former Queen. You needed Aegon’s approval for everything and while he would give you the world his council would rather see you die yesterday than tomorrow.

“Without you I am no Queen.” It is true. ‘’Your men treat me like an accessory. A fun little token playing dress up. I have been in power for months since you slept and not one time has my word been considered.’’

It is like a spell has been broken and a curse has lifted on Aegon as he slowly tilts his head.

“My son. I deserve to see him.” He says. ‘’I don’t know why you didn’t bring him. I don’t know why the servants told me he was asleep and I don’t know-’’

A cold idea creeps into your mind, as a dark seed has finally taken root and begins to spread its weed over your mind. ‘’What servants?’’ You ask, faking interest.

‘’The blonde new girl.’’ The king says. ‘’It is not important.’’

You sit down on his bed, breaking the distance between the two of you. You lock your hands into his own, feeling where metal and men meet, feeling where scars are appearing and wounds are healing. You owe him the truth. “It was a girl.” You begin.

Aegon’s brows nearly become one.

“It was?” You understand he must be disappointed.

You fiercely sit up.

“Yes. I named her Helaena. I know she's not what you wanted nor needed-” Aegon shuts you up with a kiss on your mouth, missing you by a inch as he stumbles over. He smiles, genuinely and happy when kissing you a dozen times.

And yet you deserve none of it.

“My Queen, my Brienne. Where is she? I must see her.” He rambles.

“Assassins came.’ You whisper in his ear. His smile vanishes within a blink of an eye and you see him figure it out on his own. Yet he plays pretend and dumb, a way he always protected his feelings.

“They were all killed. I'm unharmed.”

You wish it were guards instead.

“Helaena was not unharmed. They killed her. I watched them kill her, Aegon.” You break down, and you break down hard. You fall from your safe haven of mind and break, shatter and crumble to ashes as you let out the one after the other horrifying sob.

“I have been so alone these last few months. Aemond barely visited me. You were asleep. And my child, who I did not even deserve for the way I resented her early on for not being a son…” Your voice dies off as gasps and cries escape your throat; your vision becomes blurry with tears. “I can't do this anymore. I lost too much. I suffered too many losses. My mother, my father and my sister. And then you and my baby. I will never-” This is not going well. You struggle to breath and the pain on your chest increases.

“You still have me.” Aegon mutters, holding you as well as he can. Yet the moment you see his melted arm, you begin to panic again.

“Aegon, can't you see? Whatever we had, whatever was growing between us: We will never have it back the way it was. I can't find myself. I am lost in a darkness where I can't seem to find light, no matter what way I turn.”

“Then let me help you-” He whispers, no begs, commands and yet wishes in the same sentence. ‘’Please, Brienne. You know I have loved you. More than I have loved everything. I would set this world on fire to see you smile, and I would snuff out every bit of light if the dark brought you comfort, my love.’’

“I don't want to find the light, Aegon. Not anymore. I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Your Queen, your lady wife and your love. You took a vow without me knowing so, but you promised to protect and honour me.’’ You tell him.

“I did.” He mutters, staring at the ring that once belonged to his father. When he finally looks up there are tears rolling down his cheeks as well.

Your plan might be cruelty. Your heart will never be pure after this. But honestly: Who cares about purity, who cares about justice, for it has become clear that this world does not. The gods keep laughing at your attempts at goodness, and you have been far too kind with the struggles they have given you. “I want you to get on Sunfyre. I want you to mobilise your army. And I want you to burn everything that even dares to blink in the direction of that whore's Castle.” You vow. At first you see him tear up. Then he silently cups his own face with his hands, crying as he doubles over on the bed, clutching you so tightly you are sure his nails are digging in his skin.

“...Aegon?” You ask.

“Sunfyre…” He begins with a heartbreaking sob. “He'll never fly again. One of his wings got ripped off his body. He'll never fly. Neither will I.” You understand the truth of this horrendous discovery. Your husband lost his beloved pet, and you just lost another great way of destroying enemies. Your husband started this war with Vhagar, Dreamfyre, and Sunfyre under his command and now only Vhagar is in state to ride to battle.

Aegon needs you. But you can’t be what he needs. Not anymore.

“I can't stay with you.” You tell him before pushing him off your body. And as a coward, you run away from him, your royal duties and the looming dread of destiny.

“Brienne! Come back…” his shouts are ignored.

You don’t come back.

—-----------------

The next time the doors open in your face, you are standing in front of Aemond Targaryen’s bedchamber. You have been here various times yet this time might be considered treason. Aemond is surprised to see you, yet lets you in. You follow him closely, shutting the door shut behind you.

Prince Aemond has never made a secret of his love for you, and you know it is burning brightly still. ‘’How was my brother?’’ He asks.

‘’As a corpse brought back to life.’’ You respond, looking at the flames in the fireplace, licking at the wood, destroying it.

Aemond crosses his arms, offended. “You don't find him attractive anymore, is that it?” You laugh. You wish it was that simple.

You sit down in his chair, ignoring the looks he gives. You are the Queen now. “I sometimes wonder how I came to think you were a clever man, so blinded you often are.”

“I watched my husband go from a healthy man to a broken soul with a metal arm in months and saw my daughter die in front of me. I wish it was as simple as not finding him attractive.’’ He still looked so beautiful. Your Aegon. Yet so broken.

You notice that Aemond has taken a seat next to you. ‘’I am sorry, Brienne. I am sorry for ignoring you. I didn’t know what to say after you lost Helaena. It all felt like nothing was good enough.’’ Such funny creatures, humans be.

‘’Anything would have been enough.’’ you confess. Anyone would be enough. Anything is always better than silence. ‘’Yet, i appreciate your honesty.’’ You reach out for his hand but he pulls away as if he burned himself.

‘’What do you want from me, my Queen? The hour is of the owl. You should not be here given our history.’’ History is such a funny thing. Only survivors will determine what is true of it.

You must feed the dragon, awake the monster and pull its reins once more.

‘’Remember when those men in the woods, tried to rape me? Remember how you burned them all? How we burned that city together?’’ You also had sex with him afterwards, good sex, one of the best times in your life with him.

You smile. ‘’I want to relive old times. I heard that the woman who calls herself queen is from the Vale. I heard it has lovely woods and delightful servants that will scream once you blaze them.’’

As if on queu, a servant appears from behind both of you, clearly clutching Aemonds sheets around her body while she makes a curtsy at you. You feel many confusing emotions. You feel shock, rage and jealousy. Yet you are married. You are happy with your husband.

Am I happy or am I surviving?

It’s the same blonde bitch that lied about your daughter being a son and being alive. You trap her easily, the sheets falling from her body. ‘’I was hoping to see you.’’ You tell her, hissing as you become a bit unhinged. She eyes you with big eyes.

‘’The Queen told me to lie! She said it would break the King’s heart to know you delivered a failure!’’ She cries for mercy.

‘’Brienne,’’ Aemond mutters. You don’t listen. ‘’I will come with you. Just let her go. I was lonely and it was a mistake and it won’t happen again.’’ You know he is lying. It will happen countless times again, and every time is one too many.

You fall back into Aemonds arms as the girl tries sneaking past you both. When she puts her clothing back on, a single sapphire falls down from her pocket. You and Aemond both watch as she becomes as red as tomato, clearly caught red handed. ‘’Y-your grace. I am so sorry. The war has been starving my family. Prince Aemond has many sapphires, I never…’’ You feel compassion grow, finally.

You feel like yourself again.

Aemond huffs. ‘’You dare try to steal from our Queen?’’ He asks advancing. You know that tone. You don’t pick up on it until it is too late, and Prince Aemond has captured the thief by his window. You can only utter a word before he pushes her outside of it, and you hear her screams as she falls to her death, her remains shattering around like an artistic painting.

Your breath is racing as Aemond advances with a smirk, cupping your face lightly as you try to become the cold queen again. He grins, giving you a soft kiss on your mouth gently bending your face so he may have another taste, and another…and another. ‘’My little bee.’’ He declares. ‘’I see you are still in there, somewhere. I will burn our enemies together with you, and in exchange you let me feel what I wanted to feel for months now. Do we have a deal, or shall I tell the king-’’ You don’t let him finish his threat before your mouth finally finds his again, your hands already tugging at his eyepatch. Aemond groans in response and picks you up by your hips, carrying you to the bed.

You watch the ceiling as the one eyed prince fucks his troubles and your own away.

And soon?

Soon you’ll destroy Rhaenyra.

The same way she destroyed you.

A/N.

I really think Brienne is projecting too much on rhaenyra and not enough on her business with aemond/aegon and whatever the heck is going on at the red keep, who keeps letting these assasins in smh.

Anyway: thank you for reading!!:)

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strawberrylabs · 8 months

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Whumptober day 6 with Kaveh!

Prompt: Made to watch

they/them pronouns for reader

He/him version, she/her version

Whumptober masterlist

Summary: If only Kaveh didn't have such terrible luck

Warnings: Death, blood, injuries, burns

Kaveh always thought he had terrible luck.

His father died because of him.

His mother fled to Fontaine with another man.

He was stuck with Alhaitham for a roommate.

His clients never agreed with his designs.

And he was always broke.

He always thought he had terrible luck.

Then he met you.

You, who motivated him to compromise with his clients.

You who pointed out that Alhaitham wasn’t that unbearable.

You reminded him that what happened with his parents is in no way his fault.

You.

Who gave him hope that he wasn’t cursed.

You…

Who inevitably proved that he really did have terrible luck.

It was a simple job of his that you decided to accompany him on.

Just a trip to an area near caravan ribat to see how much space Kaveh had to work with in his next project.

Apparently information stating there was an Eremite camp there didn’t make it to the two of you before you got there.

Kaveh curses his terrible luck.

Kaveh sure exactly why he was being spared- for ransom, he thought.

Most would be gratefull they were being spared. But Kaveh felt anything but grateful.

Maybe he'd feel grateful if he wasn't tied up watching you fight an Eremite Loremaker.

As much as he usually praises your skill with your vision and weapon..

Anyone could see that you were fighting a losing battle.

"Stop! Please!" Kaveh yelled desperate pleas at the eremites.

The Loremaker chuckled, ignoring Kaveh despite having clearly heard him.

"How about this.. you beat me here, I let the architect go?"

Kaveh's heart dropped.

"No!" He screamed at you.

You made eye contact with him and he knew. You weren't leaving him.

No!

Please!

Kaveh's mind screamed at him

This is your fault.

If only you weren't so weak.

If only you weren't cursed with bad luck.

"Kaveh!"

Your voice pulled him out of his head

"This isn't your fault. Ok?"

You smiled at him.

It would have been beautiful if it weren't for the blood pouring from the multiple wouds on your body.

Hot tears spilled down Kaveh's face.

"Please.. stop it!"

You were thrown to the ground.

"I'm begging you! Don't hurt them!"

A burn on your back.

"STOP!!"

Time slowed down as you look up at him and mouth three words- or maybe you said them aloud? He couldn't hear much over the sounds of his own screams.

'I love you.'

The nearby mahamatra who was desperately searching for his friends heard a rasping, gutteral shriek of your name.

When he arrived, the eremites were gone.

And Kaveh was clutching your charred, bleeding body.

Kaveh repeated your name.

"Please wake up!!"

"Don't go!"

"Open your eyes dammit!"

Kaveh has always thought he has terrible luck.

"I love you too... so please...

Don't leave me.."

pain

#whumptober2023 #no. 6 #kaveh x reader #kaveh x reader angst #death tw #blood tw #burns tw #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader angst

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hotlikewasabi521 · 1 month

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imagine, if you will, a sbg fantasy au

I don't know if anyone's done this yet but here we go! I'm a huge fantasy nerd, so I might be biased here, but I think sbg in a fantasy setting would go hard. now you could really throw in any ships, but personally, I built this idea around Tyden and Taylyn

so consider this:

(fair warning, this got a lot longer than I thought it would, I kinda ran with it)

Tyler and Taylor are the prince and princess of the kingdom, but they've essentially been running the country since they became teenagers what with their father having passed away and their mother being unfit to rule due to her mental state after her husband's passing. After their father died, Tyler still takes on the role of caretaker of sorts. Sometimes he even has a habit of burning himself out, Taylor and Ashlyn have to remind him often that it's okay to take a break. Ashlyn actually pulled him to the side one night and practically forced him to let Taylor start taking on more responsibilities, just so that he wouldn't fall under the weight of the kingdom.

On the subject of Ashlyn, her parents served in the king and queen's royal guard, and she even followed in her parent's footsteps. Considering both her lineage and the fact that she basically grew up with Tyler and Taylor, she winds up becoming the personal guard of the prince and princess(the twins) and the acting captain of the royal guard once she's deemed ready (which considering it's Ashlyn, is relatively quick). When it comes to her hearing, she'd definitely have some sort of wool or something put in her helmet to help muffle any loud noises. But her hearing also makes her a perfect guard, even allowing her to keep surveillance a fair distance away.

Eventually, it comes a time when the advisers decide that Tyler is of an age that he needs to find a suitor. The twins manage to fight it for as long as they can but when they turn 19, there's no getting around it. This would be around the time that Aiden and Ben show up, though for an unrelated reason.

See, Aiden is a prince himself, and Ben is a nobleman(title unknown) with close blood relation to the throne as well. Aiden isn't exactly all that into being a prince though, he'd rather go out, have fun, and be an adventurer (which is exactly what he's doing in the twin's kingdom) Ben is there to make sure Aiden doesn't get himself killed or cause any trouble with any foreign powers (friendly or otherwise).

As for Logan, well, his knack for astrology isn't going to waste, that's for sure. See, he's the apprentice of the kingdom's Royal Astronomer. And he absolutely loves it. Not only does he get to study the stars and be able to help support his grandparents, who would still run a flower shop in the capital's town square

Now of course rumors floating around the castle staff that Taylor has a secret love. Granted they can never catch a glimpse of the mystery suitor, (thanks to Ashlyn's super hearing) but the kitchen staff has it on good authority that it's someone from the royal guard. (Ashlyn and Taylor likely would have kept their relationship on the down-low for a bit in the beginning, but would eventually take it public, I mean, who's gonna stop them? the twins run the country, and of course, their mom just wants them to be happy and maybe give her a grandkid or two if either of them wants to have any)

That being said, the idea of little secret late-night rendevous where they wander the castle grounds talking and maybe wind up stargazing in the gardens is too good to pass up (They may not know as much about astronomy as say Logan, but they would definitely make up their own constellations and stories to go with them)

As for our other pair: Naturally, Tyler has a very strong opinion of Aiden. He's not exactly princely, and he does NOT like the fact his attitude when it comes to the politics of being in a royal family. But at the same time, this not-so-princely prince isn't like any other noble or royal he's ever met. He's intrigued. Deep down, there's a part of Tyler that wants to know more about Aiden and the world that he's gotten to explore and adventure through.

In the end, Aiden may or may not be the one who manages to get Tyler to enjoy his youth while he can, convincing him that the weight of the world doesn't have to fall on his shoulders alone. And Tyler may or may not have found himself a suitor in the process.

#school bus graveyard #sbg #sbg (webtoon)#taylyn #tyden #tyler hernandez #taylor hernandez #ashlyn banner #aiden clark #ben clark #logan fields #taylor sbg #tyler sbg #ashlyn sbg #aiden sbg #ben sbg #logan sbg #I might actually write something for this later

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flashfuture · 3 months

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Since I've been on it I wanna talk about Hal's parents. Cause I've seen some dislike for Geoff Johns take on them. But they didn't really, Jessica especially, exist before then. I feel like some people read the comic where Hal in hysterical grief over Coast City made a construct of his parents and then went off to kill all the Lanterns and Guardians and said yep that is exactly how his parents were.

But let's get into it. Martin and Jessica Jordan. For further context, the sibling order is Jack, Hal, Jim Jordan. Three boys. And it was sort of implied for years that they were Jewish and got confirmed not too long ago that Jessica is Jewish and Martin is Catholic. Hal was a grown man in the 80s. His childhood took place in the 50/60s. And before that he was a grown man in the 60s meaning his childhood was the 40s/50s. That absolutely influenced the type of life he had. Vs the further in time we drag this out the less natural it becomes to have super strict parents.

So to begin the first physical appearance of Martin Jordan comes in 1989 in Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn #1. This is a post crisis pre zero hour story so any events in this particular time window are wildly subject to change

Martin is a test flight pilot. He's Hal's hero. His plane goes down. Hal watches. This sequence of events stays consistent across every time line including Flashpoint which is you know fascinating.

"Hal got fired today-- and he got his mom to call up and beg for him."

"Talk about my father again Biff and I'll rip your lungs out."

In this version of events, we get a mention of Jessica. She's not named and doesn't appear. So you can tell she was brought up purely for a 'Hal is so irresponsible he needs his mommy's help' bit. Hal and Jack get along though and are violently defensive of their father. Hal also catches a drunk driving charge after this.

Speaking of drunk I know there's a comic out there where Martin is described as a drunk which I could not for the life of me dig up again but that's mentioned all of once so I just ignore it. What's with making test pilots drunks???

Anyways Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn is definitely not my favorite Hal Jordan story and I'm glad it's been mostly retconned out minus the very beginning parts with Martin.

(Green Lantern vol 3 #36)

"So you're back to flying planes, huh?"

"Dad's blood still runs through my veins, I guess."

This Christmas special in 1993 took place before Coast City exploded. Hal took Carol out to Jack's house to spend the holiday with the Jordan family. Hal directly attributes flying to his dad's influence.

Now Green Lantern vol 3 #48. Hal is standing in the ruins of Coast City not a soul left and he conjures an image of his parents. Reminder they are entirely Hal's imagination and again he is just about hysterical right now.

"I looked up to you. I worshipped the ground you walked on, or flew over. I wanted to grow up and be you... which probably has a lot to do with who I am now. Growing up, though, I never felt like you... I don't know thought that much of me."

As we saw Hal's dad died when he was Maybe ten. His little brother and older brother didn't have real accomplishments in elementary school. Jack the DA and Jim helping the campaign and having a family that's all modern. Stuff Martin would have never known about. Martin the pilot getting on Hal's case for having his head in the clouds? Really seems like Hal is the one he could have related to the most. Martin getting on Hal about not saving the city just proves Hal is projecting his worries about disappointing his dad onto his dad and then because he's so hysterical with grief forces himself to rewatch his dad dying.

Absolutely completely irrational state of mind he's in right now. At the end of this issue, he's going to fly off into space to kill all the Lanterns and the Guardians.

And then he summons Jessica. Calling her mother instead of mom is just really funny to me like informal with his strict dad formal with his chill mom. Lmao? Jessica only speaks on Martin. Reminding Hal of the good times they had. She's Hal's memory which which means Hal heard the story of dressing up as Santa he remembers his dad's aftershave. Summoning your mom just to talk about your dad is crazy work btw

Again Hal was so young when his dad died. Not a teenager not even close. What was Martin disappointed about? Maybe Hal who can't keep a job a girl or half his friends (Barry died and all super friends ditched him basically) is projecting backwards into time. And assumes his Dad would be disappointed in him.

"Personal gain? This is about personal loss!"

Personal loss and Hal's spent most of his time summoning his long dead father. He really never got over Martin dying and that's so apparent. Anyways this is where Hal decides to go into space and kill everybody. Seeing his dad taken from him one more time made him snap.

Hal is enamored with his father. Whether their relationship was tough or easy it wasn't necessarily the point. The point is Hal Jordan loves his father to Oa and back more than the rest of his family probably understood. He didn't just want to impress his father he wants to be him.

And Zero Hour royally fucked up Hal's family but like idk let's just say Infinite Crisis fixed it. That's two reality shattering events. Why not give Hal a little treat of being his dad's favorite. No one seems to miss when Jack, Jim, and Hal all went to the same college and the same fraternity and were besties

#dc comics #hal jordan #green lantern #martin jordan #long post

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mirandapriestlyswife · 2 months

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Mirandy Fanfic- Apocalypse Au: Prologue

Hi! Before you read I would just like to say as a disclaimed this is my first fanfic and it has not been peer reviewed or anything of that sort so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical mistakes. This AU is heavily inspired by “Last Man on Earth” and I intend to write multiple chapters for it. Constructive criticism is welcome! Please enjoy :)

New York City, the city that never sleeps. Theres always some type of noise; sirens, traffic, yelling… Theres always some type of noise. Something to serve as a reminder that, “Hey! You aren’t the only person in the whole world!”. At least thats what it used to sound like..

Tonight, all that could be audible was the rustling of trash in the frigid November air. Andrea Sachs, Andy, former reporter for The Mirror marched her way down block after block. She couldn’t pin point exactly when the pandemic began. Early March of last year perhaps? Or maybe mid February? She couldn’t remember.. Hell, she was still trying to process the fact that everyone, everything she once knew was dead and gone.

New York City had been put under lockdown almost immediately after the United States government had declared a national pandemic. Andy hadn’t seen her parents since..

Sure, they’d talk over the phone, but there was little to talk about when the entire world was practically put on pause. She heard from her sister, Jill, every once in a while, but she had her own problems.

Andy had borderline lost complete touch with her entire family by August of that year, until she was notified that she had lost not one, but both parents to the infection. Both dead at home, not even in a hospital. Soon followed her nephew, then her sister, then her sister’s husband. In only a matter of 6 months she had lost the people most important to her.

After her and Nate, her ex boyfriend, had split, her childhood best friend had graciously allowed her to crash on her couch until she found her own place. Living with Lily was… Well.. Not the easiest.. Somehow this girl, even in the midst of a global pandemic, still managed to bring home a guy every weekend. At the time Andy had debated killing Lily on more than one occasion.. Oh how she envies those times. Two months later, Lily passed. The hospitals were already crammed to the brim with patients so, just like her parents, her best friend had died at home.. But this time, it was even worse, since she was the one to discover that body.

Andy had always been sensitive, possibly too much so. But she can’t recall a time she had cried harder than when looking at the lifeless corpse of the girl she’d known for more than half her life. Oh Lily..

She got laid off the next week. You would think the world of journalism would be booming during such trying times? But no. People simply stopped reading the paper. “Too depressing” is what she remembers her mother saying when Andy had asked if they had seen the latest death poll. She couldn’t blame people for not reading the news. God knows she would’ve too if it wasn’t the only thing keeping her from going insane. With every book in her apartment being read more than twice, along with having long ran out of DVDs, the only thing she could find comfort in now was the constant cycle of magazines and newspapers placed at her apartment door every morning. Eventually that stopped coming too.

Eventually.. Everything stopped. Electricity, running water, food. It just all.. Came to a halt. People seemed to have disappeared. It was like the entire human race just one day packed their bags and left Andy there. Alone. She was all alone. She cried over the fact a lot. No, not cried.. More like wailed. Wailed as loud as one could, hoping that someone, something would hear her, and come over and bring her into a warm comforting hug..

Of course the chances of that were 0 but.. She still had some hope. Tonight, Andy lazily roamed around the streets of New York, glancing into long abandoned shops and restaurants.. Often times she found herself sleeping in luxurious hotels and suites for free. I mean, why not? If theres no one there to charge you or say, “Ma’am this is an art museum, you cant stay here.” Why not sleep in The Met??

She walked with purpose down those cracking sidewalks, even though in reality she knew she had nothing left to live for. Had she contemplated suicide? On multiple occasions. The only reason she was even still alive at all was because she knew her parents would’ve wanted her to keep going, “keep fighting” her father would say. Andy sighed, what purpose was fighting if there was nothing to fight for? She walked aimlessly for hours, only stopping every so often to raid a bodega for a bag of expired chips. She rarely thinks of her time at Runway, or at least she tries not to, since it just opens up a can of unresolved feelings that she cares not to open. She wonders what those clackers would think of her now. It makes her chuckle. Thoughts of models with mouths gaping in shock at the sight of Andy Sachs, in her college hoodie and jeans she hadn’t washed since July making her way down Manhattan with a bag of expired Doritos and no makeup, flood her mind, causing the rarest of chuckles to fall from her lips.

The only reason that Runway even popped into her head was due to the sight of the massive, ever-ominous, Elias-Clarke building across the street. Oh how she despised that building. She’d walked past it a million times. One million more times than she had liked to. Every time she saw the damned thing it brought up feelings… Feelings she’d love to forget. Feelings towards fashion, towards Runway, towards her.

The dragon lady, the ice cold bitch of fashion, Miranda Priestly. The woman that had stolen Andreas heart and stomped on with her Prada heels.

Andy cringes at the shameful acts of her past self. Falling head over heels for a woman is one thing.. But falling for a woman 25 years her senior, and thats super rich and powerful?? Oh how could one be so stupid?!

Now here she stands, before her former prison of employment. She’d never actually bothered to intrude the building. She figured she’d find the usual. Abandoned computers, dust bunnies, medical masks, maybe the occasional cockroach. Shockingly, even after seemingly every other living organism had died out.. Or at least reduced in size, cockroaches rained ever strong. Six legged assholes.

Something inside her tells her, “Just go for it. Get some closure.” So, thats exactly what she does. She crosses the empty street, sliding over a taxi that had inconveniently been abandoned in the middle of the road, and walked right up to the front door.

“Its probably locked..” She muttered to nobody. Andy had developed this habit of talking to herself over the months of isolation. It was comforting, to hear a voice. She jiggled the rotating door and to her utter shock. The thing budged. And in one swift motion, she was in the lobby of the Elias-Clarke building once again. Things have hardly changed… Well.. besides the lack of anorexic models talking about how they “Almost called in fat today.” She rolled her eyes at the memory of hearing a 100 pound model saying those exact words to her.

Andy stops at the stairwell. Should she go up to the Runway floor? Why not? Whats the harm? Worst thing that could happen is she cries, and it isn’t like she wasn’t going to do that anyways. She made her way up the stairs. Climbing floor after floor until eventually she found her way to her former place of employment. More like imprisonment, but still. She abandons her empty Dorito bag on her old second assistants desk. She wonders what skinny 5’11 blonde supermodel Miranda had replaced her with. Had her name been Stacy? Or Sylvia? Or-

Andys shocked out of her thoughts when she hears a noise. Walking.. Yeah thats- that’s definitely walking. She stops frozen in place. The building is almost entirely dark besides the sunlight coming from the windows where Mirandas office used to be, so she couldn’t exactly see well. Her whole body starts shaking. What should she do?! She hadn’t seen an actual living person since.. Since.. Since she couldn’t even remember. The walking got louder, the click clack of what sounded like… High heels..? No it couldn’t-

Andys internal monologue is suddenly silenced when she hears a gasp from behind her. Shes too stunned to move, to speak, to do much of anything besides meekly turn her head around. And who is she greeted with?? No one other than the dragon lady herself of course…

“Andrea?” An impossibly regal Miranda Priestly asks.

And thats about it for the prologue! Thank you so much for reading :)

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