#it's so much fun to write for these three!
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mr. sandman, bring me a dream
✧ pairing 7 dream x reader
✧ genre/tw fluff fluffy fluff fluff, what i think dating them would be like <3 an embarrassing amount of run-on sentences i'm sure.... the dreamies being the most perfect boyfriends to exist, mostly unedited
✧ w/c 2293 (about 300 words each!!)
✧ a/n back to my roots writing for nct... also,,, not the dreamies being my ult group but my last group to do these headcanons for :/ i have so much fun writing these little ideas and dreams about them let me know if you want more!
MARK truly the definition of wrapped around your finger… tells everyone about you every day of his life. Smiles at everything you say and calls you the cutest names. Makes sure everyone knows that you’re taken for life–no ifs about it. Tells you about his whole day, down to the most unimportant details. Kisses you all around your face and gets red seeing you so flustered. Constantly saying the worst pickup lines. Always always makes time for you even with his busy schedule. Talks to your family on the phone and becomes best friends with your siblings. Lets you win during video games and pretends that you’re just so much better than him. Never comes empty-handed–if you invite him over he’s bringing some sort of present he can’t help it. Wraps you up in at least three layers when it looks a little cold outside. Starts bringing up ideas for a Halloween couple’s costume in January. Celebrates your birthdays and accomplishments like his own. Holds you close to him in any moment of rest, the members are around? He’s only bringing you in closer. I’m sorry to say this, but he is definitely one of those people who refer to you as a “we”... “we watched that movie last week!” or “sorry, we can’t come, we have plans.” Would never even think about fighting with you and when it can’t be avoided, he is always the first to apologize. Walks around draped over you, his neck falling onto your shoulder and clumsily shuffling you along. Steals your phone to take silly pictures of himself, and you end up having 500 selfies of Mark making the same five kissy faces. Fixes your clothes/jewelry/hair as the day takes its toll. Kisses your wrist whenever you hold hands. Lovely and forever committed to giving you the sweetest existence possible.
RENJUN My angel boy<3 would be the most loving boyfriend if you’re able to get past him giving you sm attitude. Lovingly scolds you 24/7 365. Pouts if you don’t say you love him back or forget to kiss him before you leave. Steals your sweaters and jewelry. Makes you laugh so hard you cry, then kisses the tears away. Has the worst case of cute aggression when he see’s you like he can’t help but take a bite out of you. Whenever you ask him to do something he’ll roll his eyes and scoff but still gets up to do it anyway. Says your name so sweetly and with so much love it could be a term of endearment. Sings to you when you’re sad. Holds you so tight when you sleep, like he could absorb you into his own skin. Carries a picture of you in his wallet everywhere he goes. Gets genuinely annoyed when other people know something about you that he didn’t–wants to know everything, especially the embarrassing stuff. Acts of service king, does things for you and expects nothing but a kiss in return. Gives you the first bite of his food. Forehead kisses 100% of the time. Extremely tenderhearted, wants to be loved and love in return with nothing holding him back. Knows your schedule down to a T. Shakes his head at every joke you tell, but still grants you a laugh. Kisses you slowly and earnestly even if theres people around. Drops the most earth-shattering confessions of love at random moments and just expects you to move on. Matching accessories are a must!! And he will be ready to break up if your forget it one day (we have seen how he is with the dreamies friendship rings). Wraps himself completely around you when no one is around, and stays that way until one of you has to get up. Loves completely and wholeheartedly and is a perfect perfect boy.
JENO Shy and perpetually flustered, cannot believe he got you fr. Alternates between the cockiest boy you’ve ever met and the most oblivious creature around. Is so in awe of you, cannot get over you choosing him. A big baby of a boyfriend. Body slouched over yours at all times. Tells everyone it isn’t obvious how unbelievably whipped he is for you than giggles when you call him a pet name. Loves when you fawn over him lol, would feel so good about himself when you laugh at his jokes or wear an outfit because he said you looked pretty in it. Definitely the kind of boy who gets you a necklace with his initials on it. Is somehow even more smiley when you’re around. His love language is 100% acts of service–helping you with chores and making dinner, he desperately wants to wash your hair and help take your makeup off. Always takes you home himself and makes you call him before you go to bed. Kisses you all over when you’re sad and squeezes you so tight you can’t breathe. Puts his lips right over your ear and whispers so you can hear him in loud places, sometimes telling terrible jokes to see you laugh. Constantly on the phone with you–will get yelled at by his members and staff to focus on his schedule. Takes you on long drives and lets you have the aux the whole time, smiles even when he hates the song. Snuggles up to you and has you in an iron grip all night; wakes up periodically to tell you to stop wiggling. Literally a broken record of “oh my s/o would like this!” and “you would never believe what my s/o told me…” Tucks you into his sweater when you’re cold and always carries extra clothes because he knows you’ll forget. Could never hide his feelings for you, it’s written all over–hairbands and your favorite snacks in his cabinets. Is so so so in love with you, and would never even think about being embarrassed of it. <3
HAECHAN Sweet as cherry pie. Silly and charming and the kindest boy you know. Lives his life attached to you, hands on your hips and kisses pressed everywhere he can reach. Never goes a day without telling you he loves you in the most sickeningly sweet ways possible. Listens to every word you say, goes as far as telling other people to be quiet so he can hear you better. Serenades you with the most obnoxious renditions of love songs and coos when you make faces at him. Teases you endlessly–tickles and jokes and ridiculous nicknames, but would never let anyone else make a joke at your expense. Sleeps fully on top of you, head pressed under your chin and hands slipped under your sleep shirt. Celebrates you and your relationship with all of him, always the loudest voice singing happy birthday and the prettiest flowers congratulating you for an achievement at work or school. Speaks to you so softly and with so much compassion you almost get whiplash when you see him around the dreamies. Brings home sweet treats and little keepsakes from his day out. Will watch a movie or listen to a new song and note all the parts you’d like so he can play it for you later and speak to you about it. Unbelievably protective, not in a toxic way, but he wants so much to be able to take care of you and keep you safe–hand pressed on your back while you walk through crowds, and his hand protecting you from hitting your head as you get in the car. Has lists of important days in his notes app, cataloging gifts he could get you and your order at all your favorite restaurants. The perfect silly boyfriend, caring and lovely and everything you need
JAEMIN Marry this man. Has been committed and steadfast in his dedication to you since you met. Extremely serious when it comes to your heart and your feelings. The first to say I love you or to apologize after a fight–would never raise his voice at you or say things he didn’t mean. Is always feeding you, either a complete meal that took him an hour to make or the most perfect bowl of ramyeon you’ve ever had. Constantly sending you pictures of the cats. LOVES pda–kisses you in front of everyone and laughs when they groan, cuddles with you on the practice room couch, and rolls his eyes when the dreamies gag. Always kisses you with soft hands on your cheeks and the prettiest smile. Buys you a keepsake from everywhere they go on tour and gives it to you in a huge suitcase and will not feel ashamed in the slightest. Somehow finds out how to bring you up in every conversation, “oh they really like this song” or “thats actually their favorite movie you know…” you would truly never have to worry about anything with this man, he’s gonna take care of everything, a future airport dad if i’ve ever seen one. Sends tiktoks of cute animals and pouts if you don’t like them right away. Buys you silly sweatshirts and phonecases and demands you wear them proudly as a symbol of his everlasting love. Out of all of the boys, I feel like he is the most likely to give you a promise ring, and in my heart, I know he would have his name engraved on the inside–a quiet confession only the two of you know about. Sleeps directly on top of you, I just know it… holds onto you in every crowd. So many conversations between little kisses and I love yous. Always carries your things, whether it be a bag or shoes that got too uncomfortable his hands are open and ready whenever you need them. The most perfect boy in the world, and whose surprised?
CHENLE truly your best friend in the entire world, f2l in its entirety… would roast you every minute of every day but if anyone else even dared he is shutting that shit down right away. His arm has a permanent residence on your waist. Giggles at you when you’re annoyed at him but apologizes anyway. Makes you watch him play basketball at 11 pm and laughs when you say you're cold and sleepy, but takes you home right away. Will kiss you in front of anyone–loves it when you get all shy and flustered. Always trying to give you expensive presents and rolling his eyes when you tell him to reign it in. dog dates with Daegal!!! Talks about you so causally that the dreamies didn’t realize you were his girlfriend until he kissed you goodbye, and they were all so dumbfounded. Will watch anything if you like it and will tell you it sucked with a smile on his face before kissing you as an apology. Huge bouquets for any anniversary or birthday. Wraps his arms around you and rocks you around, whispering sweet words that he’d deny if you told anyone about. Stares at you 24/7 and gives you his 100-watt smile. Goes out of his way to help you–buys your groceries, helps wash your hair, picks you up, and takes you wherever you need to go–but always denies it. Begs you to wear his clothes, bonus points if it’s something that has his name on it, or some nct merch. Has an iron grip on your hand at any given point and giggles when you try to get free. Will listen to literally anything you tell him. Smiles into kisses and sighs when you pull away. Is so domestic and lovely in everything he does, even if sometimes he is the biggest menace.
JISUNG so so so shy, truly does not know how to have a s/o in public lmao. When you’re alone he’s the cutest most confident boy in the world but as soon as there is another person around he does not know you. He makes it obvious that it's just because he’s awkward, but sometimes you definitely do have to tell him to stop being a weirdo and to hold your hand. Constantly makes fun of people with you and is always ready to hear some hot goss. Is always listening to you–even if everyone in the room is talking over you, he will be looking at you with his full attention and urging you to go on. Laughs at everything you say even if it's not funny. Kisses your cheek every morning first thing, and thinks you look so cute cuddled up into the covers. Piggy-backs you everywhere: you drank a little too much or it's too early… up you go! You being comfortable and happy is his priority in any situation, and if anyone including himself is disrupting that he is dealing with it immediately. Whether that means complaining to one of hyungs to help him or going straight to the source of the issue, he’s going to try and help you, even if it’s not like him to speak up for himself–you’re the most important thing to him. Tries to teach you nct dances and gets unbearable secondhand embarrassment when he sees you mess up. Almost exposes your relationship once a month. Is wrapped around you every single moment you’re alone, even if it’s just for a second–someone leaves the room? Jisung is suddenly fully enveloping you. Thinks pda is so embarrassing but would try so hard to be more openly affectionate with you. Blushes to his roots when you sweet talk him no matter how long you’ve been together. Kisses your hands when it’s cold outside and wouldn’t even think about giving you anything of his if you needed it. The sweetest, shyest boy, and so wonderful–loving him and being loved in return would be the loveliest gift.
© LUVTAK
#k-labels#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct dream imagines#jeno x reader#mark x reader#jaemin x reader#haechan x reader#chenle x reader#park jisung x reader#nct dream#nct
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could I maybe request some more coworker james, maybe reader telling james about something she’s upset about? love you and your writing, hope you’re okay my love!! :)
thank you for requesting <3 fem, 1k
Today, James has moved your mug to the fridge. He laughs as he does it, while Sirius tuts and drinks a quick cup of tea by the sink. “You’re gonna bully her out of the job,” Sirius says.
“This isn’t bullying. This is hazing. Light hazing. If she asks me where it is I’ll tell her, but she’ll find it.” He puts it on top of his lunch, practically begging for retaliation.
You arrive in a fluster that morning, a few minutes late but no less pretty than usual. It’s irksome but nothing he feels the need to comment on, smiling to himself as you sit. Your desk knocks against his and sends his little Smiski figurine tumbling.
“Sorry,” you say, reaching over to pick him up. You’re gentle putting him back on James' outgoings, your perfume floating his way. “Poor Smiski.”
“I’m sure he’ll recover. What’s with the late start, princess?”
You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t be a chauvinist.”
“That’s ridiculous.” He can’t help grinning at you. James doesn’t believe that you genuinely think he’s a chauvinist, and so he doesn’t mind continuing to poke at you. “I hardly think calling you princess demonstrates any belief that I’m better than you. I am better than you.” He bites. “What’s with the hair?”
You’ve had your hair done. It looks gorgeous and like it took half a day, but he doesn’t mention that.
“I have to go with Sirius today to talk to Enlighten limited.”
“Why would you have to do that?”
“Sirius says I’m the administrator’s type.”
“And he’s using you as bait?” James asks incredulously.
You turn the Smiski so he’s facing James’ monitor. “He said I shall be greatly rewarded.” You’ve had your nails done, their beds shiny with lacquer, your cuticles finely manicured.
You put your bag under your desk. Your hands shift in your lap.
James watches in bridled horror when you leave. To the outward observer he doesn’t care because he shouldn’t, but he can’t believe it when you go —you’re a beautiful girl and he’s awful inside, he hates that you’re pretty, he hates that you’ve had your hair done to go see somebody, he sort of hates that Sirius is using you like a poster girl to facilitate business. You’re a water safety company. What is wrong with him? What’s wrong with James?
“She looked nice, didn’t she?” Remus asks.
James ignores him diligently. He tries to ignore the entire world for a few hours, completing three times as much work as he usually would and dedicatedly avoiding the thought of your hands while he does it.
You didn’t even notice that he moved your mug. How embarrassing is that? James thinks he might dig a hole and throw himself in it before you get back.
Later, you return. You’re both with weak smiles as you sit down and Sirius stands behind Remus.
“Did it go okay?” Remus asks, tipping his head back.
Sirius frowns but gives his boyfriend a nice kiss on the cheek anyways. “I don’t think they’re gonna choose us this time. It’s fine. Now come with me so I can make you some tea, handsome.”
You tuck your chair in as they go.
“Didn’t go well?” James asks you.
You shake your head. For a moment you stare at your keyboard, and then you turn to him with a wobbly smile. “I think I really messed it up for him, James.”
“How would you do that?”
“I tried to be conversational, you know. Sirius is so chatty. But I kept saying the wrong things. I asked him about his daughter. He had all these photos on the wall, but she died last June. Just decimated the mood.” Your brow wrinkles. You cover your frown with two fingers. “Sirius wasn’t mad.”
“He wouldn’t be mad at you for a shit business meeting, he’s not like that. I don’t think anyone can blame you for that.”
You pause again. “You’re sure?”
You’d been expecting a joke, it seems. James had meant to make fun of you, but your honesty threw him off. He struggles to say anything else, the two of you looking at one another in mutual surprise, until insecurity flashes in your eyes and you peel back.
James turns his head to his spreadsheet, though his eyes remain on you.
“I know he’s not mad at me, but he should be. He took me with him to help and I…” You rub your lips together, what little that’s left of your lipgloss spreading thin. “I really thought I could do it.”
“You can. If poaching clients were hard, Sirius wouldn’t have a job.” He feels bad for diminishing Sirius’ efforts, joke or not, and he softens his tone. “What makes you think you can’t do it? Because you made a mistake? You couldn’t have known it was a sore subject.”
“I feel silly. I felt so stupid sitting in his office, I looked like an idiot.”
“No, you didn’t.” James bites the inside of his lip to stop from saying anything ridiculous, but his eyes stray. He looks at your eyes, your soft cheek, the curve of your neck and your hair and your lips, rubbed and bitten enough that your lipgloss is almost completely gone. You didn’t look stupid. You never…
James is in deep shit, it seems. You’re so pretty.
For a moment, he can’t remember why he doesn’t like you.
You falter under his gaze. “I guess I’m being childish, worrying,” you say tightly.
“You’re not being childish.” James clears his throat, sits a bit straighter. “It’s okay to worry about stuff when it’s gone wrong, but I can go and ask Sirius right now if he thinks any of that was your fault and I know he’d say no. You tried your best,” —his hand slides across the desk, nowhere near touching you but an unconscious response— “okay?”
“I tried my best,” you say softly.
“And you looked scrumptious.” You snort. “But it’s back to business now, cool? You can’t mooch an entire day doing nothing, I need you to check off some of these spreadsheets for me, I’m missing a ton of laboratory numbers.”
You rush to do as he’s said, and that’s that, the charged air between you simmers and dies.
“James,” you say, with dawning horror, “how many of these did you do?”
“I’m oh so productive when you’re not here to irritate me, apparently.”
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
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Jealousy
Summary: Your forced to spend the weekend with Azriel the bane of your existence but little do you realise he doesn't completely hate you
did i think of the title before writing the actual fic? Yes i did. ENJOY LOVELIES <3 (ignore mistakes it's midnight😭)
I crossed my arms, wishing and hoping for my sake Rhys was playing some sort of prank and he didn't really mean I had to spend the next three days with the bane of my existence.
"It's last minute I know but you two are the ones I trust to be able to carry this out without gathering much suspicion" Rhys explained looking between the two of us. His expression was slightly apologetic when he looked toward me and it rightfully should have been. He was forcing me to spend 3 days with Azriel. The most arrogant fucking man in the whole of Prythian.
Azriel stood next to me his brows furrowed and his eyes sending daggers at Rhys "I wouldn't want y/n to tire herself out too much. I'll do the mission myself" I grit my teeth together at his words and the annoying belittling tone he used.
"I'm right fucking here. It's better if I go myself, they'll be able to spot a brooding bat from miles away" I replied not even bothering to look at the moody asshole. His wings twitched slightly but he gave no other indication that he had been affected by my words.
Rhys let out a sigh and stood up, walking around his desk and reaching for a folded parchment. "Your both going. End of story" He extended his hand and before Azriel could reach for it I all but snatched it out of Rhys's hand. Rhys looks slightly amused but Azriel didn't. He turned to me, his glare rooting me to the spot. I gave him a pleasant smile back trying to get him even more annoyed. I could hear his teeth grinding together even from the distance between us.
"Go fuck yourself" He muttered to me before storming out the room, his shadows trailing behind as if scared of their master too.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed" I commented, opening the parchment and noting the details Rhys had written, the population of the village, the number of cabins, weapons stores etc. I looked up to see Rhys looking at me, his eyebrows raised slightly as if he found this all amusing "At least try to get along. It'll make things easier"
I let out a sigh. Rhys was right. But annoying Azriel was always so fun. "I'll think about it" I finally let out, leaving his study and going to prepare my weapons.
***
I walked around the cabin, running a finger along the book case. Not a speck of dust in sight, the magic keeping the cabin clean for any guests. There was a double bed on one side of the room, matching side tables on both sides, opposite them were two armchairs and a fireplace which was currently filled with logs as the fire danced away the cold.
Gods I hated this place. Well not the cabin. It was cosy. What I hated was the village itself. It was always so dreary and grey. Not to mention the smell of misogynistic males who thought themselves too high up to talk to a female. Fucking pricks.
I sat down on the bed and unlaced my boots, finally being able to feel my feet properly. The day had been a long and annoying one. Meeting with village heads to discuss why there was disruptions amongst the Illyrians. Making sure females were still allowed to train and their wings were kept safe. The whole lot of them were stubborn, not a word going through their thick skulls. And to add to the growing list of annoyances Azriel had been an asshole the entire day. More than usual.
Before I could think more about how draining my day had been I heard a sharp knock at my door. I readied myself. If it was that fucking Illyrian who had called me a whore I was going to give him a piece of my mind. I walked over to the front door my socks gliding across the wooden floorboards, reminding me of when me and Rhys used to ice skate on the Sidra. I opened the door my frown already in place. Good thing it was because it was Azriel darkening up my door with his gloom.
"What is it Shadowsinger? Miss me?" I crossed my arms and waited for him to say something. Common courtesy would be to invite him into the guest house but I wasn't in the mood of playing nice. He didn't look like he wanted to play nice either. His shadows were moving slowly over his wings and around his body, their colour darker than the night itself.
"I'm staying here for the night" He finally said before moving past me and into the cabin. My mouth fell open as I slammed the front door so the cold wouldn't come in. "What do you mean your staying here? Go to your own cabin..... I was here first!" I admit I sounded like a child but what was he doing here? We had made sure two guest cabins were empty before coming here.
"You were here first? Well that's fucking unfortunate" He replied sending me a glare before sitting on the edge of my bed and removing his belt containing his daggers, bending down to take off his boots too. Why was he looking at me like it was my fault?
I stomped over to him and stopped in front of him "Go to your own cabin! What are you even doing here?" I asked. Gods he was being irritating. Why wasn't he answering me with the truth instead of wasting my time?
He finally turned to look at me, having taken his boots off. His amber eyes looked deadly in this light and with his eyebrows furrowed like that I wouldn't be surprised if he was thinking of killing me on the spot "I can't go to my cabin because it doesn't fucking exist. Understand? Or do you want me to show you a visual representation?" Gods I hated it when he was sarcastic. His head was tilted slightly waiting for my reaction.
I took a deep breath and narrowed my eyes, anger would get me no where "What do you mean it doesn't exist? It was there in the morning so how has it just disappeared?"
He took a deep breath as well as if he were tired of talking to me, he ran a hand through his hair. Gods he was hot......I shook my head. Was my head screwed on straight?
"There was a fight. The cabin was....demolished during it" He explained. I raised an eyebrow "Who fought? Was it you?....Don't tell me it was you"
Azriel shrugged "It wasn't". I rolled my eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping a big enough distance between us so I wouldn't start thinking about his looks or the way his hair was so pullable or the way his lips...
"Who did you fight with? Didn't Rhys send us with orders of keeping on the down. fucking. low?"
I could see his jaw clench as he refused to look at me "It doesn't matter who I fought with. Your just going to have suck it up and share the bed"
It took me great will power to not roll my eyes again. I took another deep breath "Go back to Velaris for the night"
He turned to me his eyebrows raised as if I had mentioned something stupid "What and leave you here with all those males who would love to fuck you and then slit your throat?"
I narrowed my eyes "First of all, who do you think you are telling me I can't handle a bunch of pricks. Second of all don't you dare underestimate me. Third of all-" I moved closer to him, a grin spreading as I looked at his slightly surprised expression "-are you jealous?"
It was his turn to roll his eyes "In your dreams, sweetheart" He replied, his eyes flicking down to where our legs touched and then back up to my face. I swallowed. This wasn't where I thought this conversation would go.
Luckily, the sound of the door banging gave me the opportunity to escape his hazel eyes. I opened the door to find that same Illyrian who had called me a whore. His expression however was different this time, as if he was forced to stand here and it was taking all his energy to not walk away. His face was also different. A black eye and what seemed to be a broken nose. He was also clutching his side rather strangely...as if he had broken a rib of some sort.
"What? Here to call me a whore again? Say it again. I fucking dare you" I could feel my blood rushing around my body, my fists clenched ready to punch the shit out of this asshole but unfortunately it looked like he had learnt moral decency.
He shifted from one foot to another, his wings folding and opening again before he cleared his throat "I uh...wanted to apologise for what I said earlier"
I raised an eyebrow "You do?"
He nodded his head but I could tell he meant the complete opposite "I shouldn't have called you a whore...I'm-" He cleared his throat again before wincing in pain, his hand clutching his side again. "I'm sorry" He rushed out quickly. I crossed my arms. I was tired. If I wasn't I would have asked him to repeat it.
"Okay well I don't accept your apology, you can go fuck yourself now" I closed the door in his face, locked the door and turned to Azriel eyeing him suspiciously.
"Did you know that guy?" I asked moving over to the bathroom and stopping outside the door to wait for his answer.
Azriel shook his head from where he was sitting on the bed "Nope. Never seen him. Looked pretty messed up didn't he?"
"Hmm" I replied not knowing what to say. I had a feeling Azriel had something to do with it. I went into the bathroom, changed out of my leathers and into my night clothes before stepping out. I wished and wished and wished I hadn't packed shorts for the night. It was already so cold the fire only doing so much if I sat in front of it. While I had been in the bathroom Azriel had changed too, having already laid down on his back, his arm over his eyes. I let out a sigh "So your not going back to Velaris?"
I sat down on the bed, crossing my legs while I tied my hair back. Azriel didn't look at me "No"
I let out another sigh "And your sure there's no other cabins free?". Azriel finally looked at me his lips pressed tightly together "I don't bite"
I rolled my eyes and layed down, the lights dimmed to it being almost pitch black except the silvery moonlight coming in from the window. I pulled the blanket over me and curled up so I had as much heat as possible. Gods it was cold.
After a few minutes of me trying to sleep but failing Azriel turned to his side and faced me. He didn't even have a blanket on "Your shaking the bed" He pointed out.
"It's cold" I turned onto my other side so I didn't have to look at his piercing gaze, just his one look making butterflies erupt in my stomach.
"Your so dramatic" He muttered before I felt his arm wrap around my waist and pull me closer to him, until my back met his chest and I was engulfed in his warmth. I froze for a second not knowing what to do "Is this alright?" He whispered in my ear, his voice softer than I was used to. I bit back a smile and nodded my head, settling into his hold. This was so nice. So damn nice. I shouldn't have been enjoying it but I was. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep and I couldn't help but realise that maybe being in Azriel's arms wasn't so bad.
part 2?? yes? no?? idk😭
tagging: @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @artists-ally @minnieoo
@fieldofdaisiies @thehighladywrites @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @kennedy-brooke
@claireswritingcorner @milswrites @throneofsmut @sweetorangeblossom
#berrywrites#acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x you#acotar series#azriel fanfic#acotar azriel#azriel x y/n#azriel x reader fluff#azriel fanfiction#azriel spymaster x you#azriel shadowsinger x reader#acotar x reader#acotar x y/n#acotar x you
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The Arrangement // Mafia!Lando x Reader
WC: 1.7k
Warnings: none that I can think of
Author's note: This was so fun to write, I hope you guys enjoy it 🧡
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” you sighed looking incredulously up at the ceiling.
“Well believe it because he’ll be here any minute,” your father said sitting behind his desk.
There was a quick knock on the office door before it parted to reveal your mother standing there, an exaggerated grin on her face. She beckoned you closer and you went to her begrudgingly. She grabbed your chin looking you over and started smoothing out your outfit.
“You know how much this means for both our families. Don't embarrass us now, sweetie.”
You rolled your eyes and refused to respond as he three of you trekked the halls leading to wherever your soon-to-be husband was.
He was standing there looking rather curiously at the art work that adorned the ornate dining room.
You hated the sound of your name on his lips and the cheeky grin that accompanied it as he turned around. Your arms were folded in irritation as you gave a simple greeting, letting the awkwardness grow.
“Sweetheart, why don’t you show Lando the rose garden?” Your mother chided hopefully, knowing that without being prompted you would never move things along for Lando’s visit. You were going to make a joke about the future kingpin’s disinterest in flowers before Lando spoke up with a playful tone.
“I would love that.” Oh he was eating this up.
“It’ll be good for you two to have some alone time before the wedding.” Your father remained silent as your overzealous mother aligned the pieces to connect your family to the most notorious mob in the country.
Lando was all too excited to appease your mother’s wishes. A rough palm reached out and collected your hand dragging you towards the back entrance of your home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I don’t know anything about you.”
Your finance rolled his eyes before responding to your claim. “We’ve known each other for years, and this” he motioned between the two of you. “Was something we always knew would happen. No point in complaining,” he shrugged seeming as carefree as he always appeared for someone in his position.
But Lando was right. You’d both grown up in relative proximity to one another, your families’ mafia ties linking the two of you in ways that ran deeper than you’d ever comprehend.
“Alright fine,” you threw up your hands while standing up in front of him. “If we’re gonna do this we’re doing it my way.”
Lando nodded, the appearance of his dimples telling you how comical he found your sudden interest in your present circumstances. “Ask away, love. Whatever you want and it’s yours.”
You hummed before rattling off the shortlist of needs you’d like to be met before you walked down the aisle to marry the mafia prince.
“Well for starters I want a ring. I big one. Like really big. Do not get me anything princess cut. Too predictable and cheap looking.” Lando was going to interject but you continued. “I don’t care if it’s gold or silver as long as it looks classy. Maybe a nice cushion cut or a Marquise. Dutch marquise,” you quickly added. “Oh and I wear a size 7.”
Lando took your brief pause as an opportunity to speak. “Should I be taking notes on all this,” he laughed and licked his lips clearly having fun with your pre-wedding demands. “Alright, now that I know what you want I promise I’ll deliver.” You knew he wasn’t lying. The Norris’ family was one of the wealthiest around, their fortune managed to dwarf the elaborate lifestyle your family’s own mob ties afforded you.
“Okay, good. Glad we got that out of the way. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you pointed your thumb in the direction of your home, “I’d like to get back to enjoying the rest of my night.”
Lando was quick to his feet, his hand catching your wrist as you started towards the large mansion. “We’ve spent all night going over what you want, don’t you even care about what I’d like?” He questioned with a playful glimmer in his watercolored eyes.
“I couldn’t care less,” you turned and began walking again before Lando stopped you, grabbing your shoulders and spinning you to face him.
“That really hurts you know.” You rolled your eyes and glared at him. Leave it to Lando to make this situation into a joke.
“Fine, what do you want? Separate houses? A girlfriend on the side? Whatever it is I really don’t care.”
“Honestly…” he trailed off, his hand rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. “I want us to give this a shot.” The words had barely left his mouth before you’d started laughing. “Okay, sure laugh at me but I’m being serious. Think about it this way; in a few weeks time we’ll be legally bound to each other and all the other bullshit that entails for the rest of our lives. You’ll probably, no definitely, be the mother of my kids.”
His words were making you feel things you wish you didn’t. As irritated as you were with this entire scheme your two families created you knew there was nothing you could ever do to escape it. Would leaning into it really be so bad? What’s the worst that could happen? Before you could interject with one of the million and one reasons you could think of to not forge a real relationship Lando spoke again.
“You don’t have to decide now, whatever decision you make I’ll respect it.” You swallowed the lump that had grown heavy in your throat. “Oh and what you said earlier? I don’t want some girl on the side or whatever you want to call it. I’m actually willing to give us a try and I hope you’ll do the same.”
You gaped at him, eyes wide. No dick on the side, no way. The words refused to leave your mouth but you nodded, hoping to bring the conversation to a close.
“I have eyes everywhere, but I’m sure you already know that. If I were you I’d tie up any loose ends before the wedding.” It took a moment for you to realize what he was indicating. But how could you ever forget who Lando Norris truly was. If you were to ever go behind his back he would know, and from the looks of it things wouldn’t end to well for you or your paramour.
“Okay fine, you win.”
A shit-eating grin spread across his perfectly structured face. “I win,” he said more to himself, clearly enjoying the taste of the words in his mouth. “I do have one more condition before we really do this.”
Your eyes didn’t deviate from his as you waited for him to get on with it. “I want a kiss.”
“Alright great talk but no. Have a great night!” You were practically sprinting to get inside but Lando was quick on his feet catching you almost instantly. “You know you really need to stop running away all the time. That’s something we’ll need to work on.” The proximity between the two of you was closer than ever. If it weren’t for his tight grip you would have squirmed under Lando’s heavy gaze.
He reached out to grab you chin making sure your eyes were trained on him. “Better now than the first one be in front of everyone we know. Let’s consider this practice for D-day.”
Practice. Sure.
“Okay,” you whispered before your better judgement could stop you. Lando was confident taking the lead as his lips came close to yours. Nothing could have prepared you for the feel of his plush lips against your. As the kiss dragged on you slowly felt the tension you’d harbored before leaving your body. Why did he have to be such a good kisser.
It felt like forever before the two of you separated, an awkward pause hanging in the air as you tried to separate your hate for your pre-planned life from the growing lust you were feeling for your future husband. Lando removed his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. He pulled you close to him as he guided you the short trek from the rose garden to your home.
If you looked even half as disoriented as you felt it was probably best to stave off the embarrassment and head straight upstairs. You reluctantly turned around at the sound of your fiancé calling your name. You cast your gaze down to the end of the spiral stairwell where he stood. “I’ll see you next Saturday.”
There were question marks swarming your head as you tried to figure out what he was talking about. Tonight was intense enough, what else would he need to see you for?
Lando swiped his hand against his facial hair barely trying to hide the pleasure he felt by catching you off guard. He tilted his head to the side, dimples more prominent than ever.
“Saturday night. Our engagement party.”
Oh. Ohhhh.
“Right. Okay, yeah.” You mentally kicked yourself for forgetting the second most important date on your calendar for the foreseeable future.
“I think a week should give you enough time to think about our little chat.” You were more likely to be ruminating over that kiss.
At this point you were drained. Words were too much so you just flashed him a thumbs up and trusted one of the maids to show him out. “Goodbye Lando,” you called over your shoulder ready to hide away in your room for the rest of eternity.
“Goodnight wifey.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you finally reached your room you found yourself drawn to the window. You opened it up, not so subtly peaking at your fiancé’s black McLaren as it exited the gates. The sound of your phone vibrating on your bed pulled your attention from the sleek car growing distant from your home. You plopped down on your bed, body still wrapped in the warm jacket Lando covered you with. Looking at the device you noted several missed messages and calls. Some from your girl friends, and even more from your friends friends. You pulled a throw pillow close to you as you got comfortable scanning through your messages.
Charles
Still on for tomorrow?
Lewis
Missed FaceTime
Max
2 Missed calls. 1 Voicemail.
Time to tie up those loose ends…
#lando norris#lando x reader#lando norris x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#formula 1#f1 x you#woc!reader#f1 x black!reader#lando norris x black!reader
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TL;DR: multiple people can arrive at the same fanfic idea/premise in different ways, but also, getting inspired by a different fanfic is not stealing, please don't gatekeep!
I joined a new fandom (it's Resident Evil (RE), which I'm mostly mentioning for that one 'nosy' anon because hell yeah I am super nosy as well, so here you go, dropping some names!), and I quickly stumbled upon one fandom-specific plot trope that I thought was both pretty neat but also super obvious (Infected!Character fic, which, in a world with zombies and viruses that cause zombies is a very logical trope).
Anyway, there was not quite as much body horror as I thought there would be, although I'm still looking, but that's not why I'm writing to you, that's just the (un)necessary background.
There was this one fic that I opened, which in its Author's Note clearly stated that the author set this fanfiction in another author's AU, because they loved the world created by this first author. The first fanfiction author basically came up with their own Infected!Character design and backstory (including fanart), and the second fanfiction author liked it so much they were now writing this fic based on/in that AU. Obviously not quoting the AN directly, but this second author was very complimentary and explicitly mentioned where they got the idea from, gushing about the first author.
In the AN for chapter two, the second author stated that they weren't aware that that first fanfiction author didn't allow others to write about the Infected!Character AU they'd made, that that first author in fact only allowed a very limited number of people they publicly approved of to write about their AU, and nobody else was allowed to touch the Infected!Character AU. This second author was now apologising in the AN for not knowing this, plus mentioning that they changed chapter one to switch up the backstory & design to not be too close to that of the first fanficton author's AU.
That made me sad, honestly. I've seen this attitude a couple of times, where fanfiction authors are super protective of their ideas that they won't allow any other fanfiction author to write about them, and it's always struck me as a little bit hypocritical, given the whole deal of fanfiction. Especially when the original/first fanfiction author is credited and the inspired work is clearly done because the second author loved the first fanfiction so much. If it's a highly developed/specific and original AU (so not just any common trope), and you don't even mention the fanfic you were inspired by, then I find that rude, but just flat out not allowing people to even touch 'your' thing? C'mon!
This partially ties into my other gripe about a specific type of comments I occasionally get, which are along the lines of 'huh interesting idea where did you get it? bc/btw there is this other fic with the same idea (posted before you)'; idk if I got the tone right, but they never seem to be actually genuinely asking how I got the idea (and I always delight in telling them, not sarcastically, I genuinely love talking about this stuff, bc I get inspired by the most random things and I love love writing 'original'/new things!! I love tropes as much as anybody, I read a shitton of them, but i when I write I love coming up with new shit/plot! it's so fun!!). They just vanish after my explanation, even when I try to invite further conversation. It always feels to me like they're 'checking' that I didn't steal the idea, and it feels a bit lousy.
I mean in (larger) fandoms, it is not surprising at all that two or three or even more people arrive at the same idea, maybe even inspired by the same thing, same reading of canon, or not, varied experiences--and just because the works are similar doesn't mean that they were inspired by one another, but if they are, that's not a sin! I just want people to not take everything in bad faith, and also, to not 'disallow' others from getting inspired, especially when they do it in a very polite manner!
It's because of comments like these that I sometimes, very privately, worry that before I'll manage to post the long fic I spent months writing--because I'm one of those who wants the thing finished before I start posting--somebody else will have a similar idea, post their thing first, and then I'll look like I'm lying about not reading/stealing their idea, or just jumping on the bandwagon, which again, it's not a bad thing, actually.
And it shouldn't be like that! I shouldn't worry, and people should also be more willing to accept that authors can arrive at the same idea at (roughly) the same time & accept that explanation without side-eyeing the author, and that if an author is inspired by a different fanfic, that's not a sin either (in fact, for me it would be an honour).
None of this is new either, but that RE stuff reminded me of it again.
Oh man, this is way longer than I thought it would be. Apologies. I'm going to add a TLDR at the start.
Anyway, I'm going to finish writing an Infected!Catboy!Leon fic now and be very unsurprised if I find out that somebody else has had the same idea long before me (aside from one or two reader fic inserts with that topic that I stumbled upon on tumblr, bc that's just not my thing at all (reader insert, I mean)).
--
In college, friends of mine had a falling out over one of them "stealing" the other's fic idea.
Space pirates.
Not specific space pirates. Not a way of integrating the concept that was fandom-specific. No, just the general idea of space pirates in the same fandom.
Never have I facepalmed so hard.
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Routledge reader x jj 👀
Interpret it however you want but I eat that trope up every time.
also I love ur writing sm 😍
Worth it- jj may bank x rout-ledge reader
babe i love you.
HMMM I WAS ACC THINKING ABT THIS ONE SO U READ MY MIND CUTIE but like i was thinking wb John B having a sister thats a year or two older and jj has this huge crush on her.
low-key wanna make her a lil masc. like car mechanic and a smoker type shit ( shares interests with jj)
sorry this took so long to post , took me a while to think of the right story. AND SORRY ITS SO LONG I JUST REALLT LIKE SETTING THE SCENE.
mentions of blood , fighting , smoking , yelling, abusive home
————————————★ —————————————
Wednesday, June 17th
6:40 pm
THE POGUES DECIDED TO GO FOR A BOAT RIDE hoping to cure their boredom on this hot summer day. 4 of the teenagers decided to test the cool waters , swimming , surfing and fishing.
As the daylight eventually ended and the sun was beginning to set, they all made their way to Twinkie , John b’s van and as fate would have it , it appeared to be broken down in some way.
“man why is it making that weird ass sound?” questions Jj as he keeps trying to turn on the ignition but fails each time.
“you think i know? probably busted somewhere” john b replies looking around for any signs of why the Twinkie wont start.
the van finally starts but it continues making a weird noise , scaring the group into thinking it wont last much longer.
Pope cant take waiting any longer “call AAA or something, if we die in that deathtrap im suing you” Kiara nods in agreement with him.
John B rolls his eyes at his friends antics and pulls out his cellphone “yeah yeah i got something better than AAA”
the three other Pogues share glances in confusion wondering who he’s calling other than car service.
After a few moments talking on the phone with much annoyance from Jj getting close in an attempt to hear , he finally ends the call.
“alright lets head down” he says getting in the drivers seat. “to?” Kiara questions
“Y/n , shes in town and working today. Said she’ll take a look” , Pope and Kiara eyes nearly pop out of their skulls , no idea of John Bs older sister being in town since you travelled for studies and job opportunities a lot.
Jj on the other hand is stunned a little , he remembers you very clearly yet its been years since seeing you.
You were a year older than John B and Jj always had a huge crush on you as a kid.
He even remembers that stupid promise you made him when he was 9 and you were 10. If you weren’t married by 25 , you would marry Jj.
To you it might have seemed like an fun empty promise made to a kid to keep him happy but to Jj? He still held onto that all these years.
every girl he was with , he refused to let it go farther than a hookup because he wanted nothing more than to be with his longtime crush.
Jj finally snapped out of his trance as John B calls his name for the 5th time , making him realize they all already got into the van while he was reminiscing.
He was anxious the whole ride to the mechanic shop , wondering if you’d even remember him let alone his massive crush on you.
The group finally makes their way towards the shop with no one working to be seen. John B calls out your name repeatedly while looking around.
Finally Kiara nudges him to catch his attention on the pair of legs that’s underneath a car. “N/n? that you?” the younger Routledge calls out.
You slide from underneath the car the you were working on , standing up and wiping the oil off of your hands with a rag.
You looked different, you had obviously matured physically and likely mentally.
Obviously you would look different from when you guys were kids , you looked beyond beautiful now.
Jjs eyes were stuck on your figure as you pull john b into a tight hug , giving him a ear pull to tease him while your at it.
oil smeared on your face , your mechanic overalls opened from the top half to drape down the bottom half showing a black halter bikini top that also revealed a belly button piercing , paired with black combat boots.
Your eyes averted to your younger brothers friends recognizing them from whenever you came to visit.
Pope and Kiara basically threw themselves towards you as its been years since they’ve seen you.
You then lastly notice the tall muscular blonde boy with his hat flipped backwards to be quite familiar, staring at you.
You knew exactly who this was.
“is that who i think it is?” you say in a teasing tone , pointing at Jj with a smirk on your face.
“yes its your future husband.” is what Jj swore was gonna come out of his mouth but instead he continued to stare at you , eyes wide.
“oh cmon J, dont tell me you don’t remember me” you asked with a dramatic tone underlying your words. Jj and his friends knew for a FACT he was making an absolute fool of himself right now.
You were always attractive to him but seeing you so… badass made you 10x hotter
He needed to say something in response to you right now or else he’d continue embarrassing himself.
“Y/n?” he questions half heartily as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing ever.
“well i was hoping you’d say the better sibling but that works too” you say causing John B to push your shoulder slightly and earned chuckles from Pope and Kiara.
The silence that follows was deafening , making you all stand there awkwardly as Jj continued to stare at you. His friends were beyond surprised to see Jj of all people be so stunned of a girl.
“so uh you said Twinkie broke down?” you say filling the silence
“yeah keeps making this weird noise , no clue whats going on” your younger brother replies
you grab your tools and slide under John b’s van , tinkering the car while the Pogues wait around.
The four start whisper arguing in hopes of you not hearing:
“what the hell was that??”
“yeah Jj man why are you acting so weird around her?”
“i don- i dont know! i just couldn’t speak alright! i think i have like hemorrhoids!”
“Jj i dont think you know what hemorrhoids are”
“alright spill. whats going on with you and Mrs Routledge over there?”
“its Miss* Routledge actually. Jeez you guys make it sound like im supposed to be having my third child by now when im only a year older” you say from under the van , butting into their not so secret conversation leaving the whole group to stare at Jj who’s gone red in the face.
They decide to stay silent for the rest of the time so Jj doesn’t pop a blood vessel out of embarrassment anytime soon.
around half an hour later , you come out from under the van and wipe your hands again , telling john b to turn on the ignition. It turns on with no apparent problem and hums like a brand new vehicle.
The pogues cheer loudly in victory , you start cleaning up as your shift was coming to an end anyways. The pogues eye each other as you turn your back , all wanting to spend more time with you.
“uh n/n?” calls out Jj as the rest nudge him to talk making you look up at the rest of them , all with puppy like eyes that made you guess they were gonna beg you for something.
“we were uh- gonna go crash a party , yo- you wanna come along?” he says stumbling on his words a little
he was so cute when he was nervous.
you had a feeling none of them were gonna let this go. You sigh in defeat and agree , making them cheer that John b’s “cool ass sister” as they described was coming along.
At the beach party
It had been around an hour since you all arrived, drinking , dancing , smoking weed and hanging out was the main thing you all did.
Jj still hadn’t really held a proper conversation with you , every-time he tried you were catching up with someone else or he’d just get cold feet and chicken out.
He sighed as he sat down to take a smoke on his own by a tree , unaware of your presence above him.
“didn’t know you smoked, y’know its bad for you right” you uttered catching his attention while pulling out a cigarette of your own.
at first he’s stunned that you spoke to him first but figured this was his chance. “whats that then?” he says eyeing the cigarette in your mouth as you lit it
“dont question your elders” blowing out a puff of smoke from your mouth
he laughs “okay granny did you forget that its only by a year” , “still older than ya hon”.
A sound of tranquility fills the air as you two continue smoking , the cold breeze hitting your faces as the party behind you continues.
“im sorry” Jj says sombrely breaking the silence while avoiding eye contact
“for?”
“making things so awkward back there, i was just surprised to see you”
“dont sweat it J , its been a while so i get it. im just glad you remembered me”
“you are?” the blonde boy says facing you now curiously
“i mean yeah , you always were my favourite out of my brothers friends J” you say taking a hit on your cigarette
Jj’s heart sinks a little , right thats all you saw him as , your younger brothers friend.
you take his silence as an odd response, pressing him for more. “what? whats wrong?” you ask
in a bitter quiet tone he mutters “nothin.”
“dont give me that , what did i say?”
“Why cant you see me more than that! why cant you see me!” he outbursts in a much louder tone attracting some glances from people while he stands up
“what are you talking about??” you ask mimicking his stance while putting out your cigarette.
he closes his eyes out of frustration for a second and takes his cap off , running his hands through his blonde shaggy hair.
“im talking about how you don’t remember me liking you , no y’know what loving you!” he spits out in an angry manner
“what? Jj we were kids! why would your crush from years ago matter now!”
“Damn it cause its not from years ago! i still have one. i haven’t forgotten about you at all and you dont even notice me.” he gets in close to you
you stay silent as he attempts to walk away but you grab his shoulder , pulling him back.
“sit.” he obeys defeatedly after hearing the sterness in your tone.
“admit it. its been a while since we’ve been kids and you ARE my brothers best-friend. You really still have feelings for me?”
Jj nods in response as if its the only thing he’s sure of , staring into your eyes.
“then… okay.” He tilts his head slightly confused , you put your hand for him to shake.
“im Y/n Routledge, you’re Jj right?” you grin
He smiles and shakes your hand. This meant a new beginning , a way to start over.
“does this make you a cougar?” he says making you laugh out loud , “dunno how many times i have to say it , im only a year older”
“yes ma’am” he responds making you shove his shoulder causing him to laugh now
The sound of commotion from the beach makes you revert your attention there , everyone was gathering around a fight.
you both stand up and make your way to watch it , you became worried as Kiara , Pope and Sarah Cameron were all screaming.
John B was getting his ass beat by Topper. You wanted to get involved but Jj beat you to it.
He yanked topper by the shirt and punched him, causing him to let go of John B. Kiara and pope running to help him up.
As he was going to throw another punch at the Kook , you grabbed his arm with the intention of not wanting anything bigger to start. “Jj he’s not worth it. lets get out of here”
seeing the look on your face and the rest of the Pogues , he lowered his guard and turned away from Topper as you all walked away.
“Thats right Maybank! should listen to her , dont wanna follow in your Old mans footsteps!”
Crack!
the sound of your fist hits toppers big ass mouth causing blood to gush out.
Everyone stares at you wide eyed. Everyone.
You walk away pissed off and hand bloodied. Jj clearly fighting back a smile “thought he wasn’t worth it?”
“yeah but you are.”
————————————★ —————————————
this was lowkey fun to write especially hitting topper. is it bad i wrote this with fully just the intention of hitting topper😭😭
leave anything in my inbox !!
i love gaining mutuals guys.
I HATE HOW LONG I MAKE DRABBLES BUT I CANT STOP.
also does the colour coding of what characters say bother anyone bc ive been like getting annoyed with the diff colours but it makes seeing which character says what so much easier.
i also just realized all my jj works are always involving a party😭😭 but like its such a him thing , to be partying
#girlblogging#fanfic#obx jj maybank#jj mayback imagine#jj maybank fluff#jj mayback x reader#jj maybank#just girly things#obx fanfiction#obx x reader#john b routledge#jj maybank x routledge!reader#fypシ゚viral#mutuals#foryou#jj maybank x you
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Chapter One
jackson!joel miller x witch!oc
series masterlist
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He thinks he might fall in love with her. She can't let him fall in love with her. Or: a reimagined take on an infamous Practical Magic au by yours truly.
wordcount | 6.1K
series content info | 18+ slowburn-ish, strangers to friends to lovers to estranged acquaintances to ???, discussions of death and grief, a little magic, just a little, jackson era joel and all that entails, eventual smut, angst obviously, and love that requires a little elbow grease.
a/n | yeeeehaw, here we go. I have to just say, it was so damn fun writing this, and while I haven't gotten started on chapter two quite yet (hello, finishing undergrad, you thankless wench) I'm real excited to get started soon. As always, I'd love to hear what you think, thank you for reading.
............................................
He doesn’t understand this world of a town. Two months, maybe three, actually, and still not used to any of it. Not used to warm water and light switches that work. Not used to three whole meals, not used to whole anything. Tomatoes and peaches, sweet snap peas, the taste of summer. Not used to people living so closely and not trying to kill each other. He feels like a livewire strung taut, waiting for the shoe to drop, for the catch of it all. He’s starting to think there is no catch. And if there is no catch, he’s worried he’ll get too comfortable, too soft.
The people of Jackson live a different life. May as well be on a different planet. And as such, they treat him and the kid with a pitiful patience and a cautious distance. Careful, feral animals, still being housebroken, still learning not to eat with their hands and swear in the dining hall. Still learning not to flinch, or do much worse, when a friendly hand is placed on their shoulders. This strange world, strange life he’s walked into, and he’s pretty sure it’s not for him. But he wants it to be for Ellie, so he tries.
In this world, help is expected, and given freely. White-knuckling isn’t requisite, there are things that can be done for a fever besides waiting it out, ways to relieve a little suffering. Time and space, a luxury, he thinks. And so when the kid came home with a bloom of welts on her palms and up her bare shins, unaware of how easily poison ivy can spread, there was, for once, something he could actually do about it.
Tommy was the one who clued him in. The little shop that sits a few storefronts down from the Tipsy Bison which, in all honesty, he had never paid any mind to. He doesn’t get out much to begin with though, so that says very little. Unassuming, peeling blue paint and tall windows obscured by bursts and blooms of plants. A piece of smooth wood has been turned into a sign hanging above the door, letters seared into the grain. Apothecary.
He calls out, hesitant when he steps inside, unsure now if he came at the right time. No one in sight, the shop sits perfectly quiet, still, just the hum of a fan tucked into one of the windows, sending a faint shiver through the plants around it. He’s admittedly surprised by the sight, not that he had been expecting the clinical white of a pharmacy. Still, the shock of green all around him, warm clay pots on wooden benches, vines and leaves spilling over the edges like languid limbs in repose. Lush and strange, he steps further into the shop, foliage brushing against his shoulders, the cool, damp smell of earth. He calls out again, still silence.
There’s something that looks like an old checkout counter further back, a rusted-out cash register that now has thin vines growing along and in between the keyboard. The remnant stub of a receipt sits in its mouth, he thinks he can make out 2003, ink all but faded away. But the strangest of all things, as he’s studying the slumped machine. Someone else joins him. Or something else.
“Well, look at you.” It doesn’t exactly startle him, more like a small kick in his chest at the intrusion. Like black ink, sleek and shine and slipping up onto the counter, all ease, perched and staring at him. He thinks a bit idly to himself that he hasn’t seen too many cats in the last two decades. And this cat looks well taken care of, maybe even a little prim, if a cat can look such a way, sitting on its haunches and looking at him, unblinking, unwavering, and a little unsettling. Little impulse, before he can think too hard about it, he holds his hand out, a scratch between the ears that’s rebuffed as soon as it’s accepted, little snit and swipe, the sharp pin prick sting of blood over his knuckles. He presses his other palm over the small throb, the cat long gone by the time he has half a mind to look for it.
“Did she get you?” Now that does get a jolt out of him. Animals are easier. But people, well. He looks to his left, then to his right, deeper into the shop. He sees her hair before he really sees her. Piles of curls, gray starting to bleed through all that darkness. She’s standing in a doorway he hadn’t seen before, the cat rubbing its cheek against her shin. Somehow, he feels like he’s been told on, thick flood of something warming up the back of his neck.
“Just a scratch, think I deserved it though.” Somewhere around his age, he thinks, maybe a little younger. Her eyes do a lift and crinkle when she smiles, stepping closer to him. He sees the same years he recognizes in his own face, though she certainly wears it better, tempered smile, glasses getting pushed up into her hair, more mane now than anything else. What was he here for again?
“You’re Joel Miller.”
“I am, how did–”
“Tommy told me he was sending you my way. I didn’t know a person could come with a warning label.” Something southern in her voice, little twang, little twinge. Her words rasp just a bit, and it sounds like kindness, like a sharpness that could turn sour, though she keeps it sweet, tilt of her head, sweet.
“I guess my reputation precedes me then.”
“It’s a small town.”
“I’m starting to catch onto that.” The cat has taken an insistent twine between his legs, chewing at his shoelaces, until she, still nameless to him, hooks her arm around its belly, easy as anything, and Stevie’s a little curious is all, sending the creature slinking off and away from them, disappearing between all the green.
“I’m sorry, older I get the less I remember my manners. I’m Maggie.” Palm extended, and when he takes it, it’s like that thing he and Tommy used to do as kids, bored out of their minds and making a game of shuffling in their socks, fingertip shocks to the backs of each other’s necks, just a quick gasp of static, there and gone.
“Tommy said you could help me out with something for poison ivy?” Oh, she says, mostly pantomime when she takes her hand back and wipes it on the thigh of her jeans, is it for you? He’s surprised how easily that makes him laugh.
“No, it’s, well, it’s my kid, got it pretty bad.”
“Your daughter is in luck then. I’m almost sure every kid in Jackson under the age of sixteen gets it at least once, and I treat every single one of them.” A slip, a stutter, because did she? Did he? He must have, right? Must have used that word, daughter, for her to say it. Even though he’s pretty sure he didn’t, pretty sure of his pause, but he can’t give it any more thought because she, Maggie, has already turned heel, a cursory look over her shoulder at him that tells him, yes, he should be following her further back into the shop.
“So, witch hazel is going to be your daughter’s new best friend. Soak a little of this into a cloth or towel and dab it onto the rash a few times a day, you really can’t overdo it though.” He’s trying to keep up, really, nodding and mmhmming as she hands him a small bottle, already onto the next thing, her glasses now sliding down to the end of her nose as she looks through drawers and cabinets, plucking out things that look like old shoe polish tins, jars covered with cloth toppers. A mix of method and madness, a grace to her movements, though something skittish is threaded through. Bird of prey, he thinks, something of fierce and feather in all that motion.
A combination of workshop and kitchen makes up what he thinks is the backroom of the shop, large butcher block taking up most of the middle of the room, back door propped open with something that, frankly, looks like an urn. An impressive-looking range spans the back wall, and he thinks that, maybe, in the before, some kind of restaurant. But now, very different means to very different ends.
“Alright, this’ll help most with the itching. It’s a bit potent, so just tell her to take a little bit, warm it up between her palms, and rub it over the worst spots.” Ultimately, he’s left with a bottle, a small tin, and a few sachets of oatmeal bath soak, only half sure he got all her directions, trying to balance listening to her, and letting his eyes wander over all the cabinets, dried plants and variously odd containers spilling out from everywhere. Head spinning, already spun out actually, and he can’t help but wonder how he’s just now meeting this woman, a strange sense that she’s important, though why, or to whom, he isn’t sure.
“That should have Sarah all cleared up in about a week, but if it’s still persisting–”
“I’m sorry–” Whatever he’s sorry about, it cracks and fails in his chest. Like he’s been winded, or maybe wounded, a sort of deep suckerpunch shock hearing that name come from a stranger’s mouth. He has to clear his throat before he speaks again, posing it like a question, you said Sarah? And there’s a peculiar thing that happens in the silence, the quick pass of her eyes over his face, pull of her brow like she’s the one that’s confused. But whatever it is, it’s gone just as quick, lines smoothing, a smile so small it can only be apologetic. That queasy twist in his gut has loosened, but there’s still something unsettled, that lingering static all over his skin.
“I thought I heard that was your kid’s name, but judging by your reaction I must be getting people mixed up again.” She says something else, something about taking care, a lot of folks around here pass through my hands, sometimes they blur together. He believes that well enough, still uncertain about the rest, though too skittish to do anything other than drop it. That name isn’t for anyone else, not even a bird of prey, so he keeps it folded up close and tight between his ribs and lets out a sigh to blow out all of his held breath, slumping civility.
“No, it’s alright, I’m not too good with names myself.”
“Well, there hasn’t been much need for that in this world, don’t you think?”
“I guess not, though I’m getting the sense it’s a little different around here.” It seems like a nervous thing, a pulse point reassurance in the way she brushes a hand back through her hair, lets her palm curl at the nape of her neck for a moment, then hand to wrist. Never still, she’s done it a few times now just standing here talking to him, though her words come easy, if not a little sharp, a single, high note of a laugh.
“Oh yeah, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to work on that, unless you wanna hurt some poor bird’s feelings, you know.” Wave of her hand, you know, and the thought occurs to him, errant, that this is the most normal conversation he’s had with someone since deciding not to leave. And quickly after that, the thought that he doesn’t hate it, this, doesn’t hate normal, doesn’t want normal to stop. For once, he feels like he can do normal. For once, it feels easy.
“Any advice?”
“What, on assimilating?” That word rolls languid and loose off her tongue, making a joke out of it as she pronounces each syllable, that sour twang pitching up another key. He nods, try me.
“Give it time, the names that matter will shake out eventually. In the meantime, just avoid direct eye contact and the rumor mill will leave you alone, relatively speaking.”
“That right?” Shrug, sigh, she tilts her head to the side, smile going slanted and shoulder hiked, it’s been working for me, kinda, sorta. His eyes trail the slope of her collar bone, bare now with how the sleeve of her shirt has slid a little askew. Sunspots, a silver knick of a scar, paper thin and fine.
“Ellie, that’s, um, well, my kid’s name.”
“Got it, and you’re Joel.”
“And you’re Maggie.”
“Look at you, already getting better at it.”
“Is that short for something?”
“Unfortunately, my mother saddled me with Magdalene.”
“Don't hear that one often.”
“Nope, she was a little, well–”
“Eccentric?”
“I was going to say righteous, but that works too.”
“Religious then?”
“In a way, yes, you could say that. You too? Joel sounds very bible-y.”
“My folks were, I never really acquired a taste for it though.”
“Hmm, amen.” Easy, easy, easy, until time does that thing it always does, starts to fissure beneath that delicate freeze. She glances at her watch, a polite sigh, and he notices the thin band on her finger, a foolish drop of disappointment souring his stomach, trying, and failing, to double check if it was her left, if it was her ring finger. Not that it matters though, not that it would, or could matter. Already on the move, something about a colicky baby I have to go check in on, leading him back out to the front of the shop, and he finally remembers the bottle and tins he’s holding, what he came here for in the first place.
“I appreciate all this, really, just name your price and–”
“Oh, no, consider it a welcome gift. I hope Ellie starts feeling a little better.” And he wants to accept that, her kindness, and how easily she offers it. But there’s no muscle left in him for that, weak and wilted and wary of shoes dropping, catches, and being caught. Whatever remains in its place, she notices it, that nervous hesitation, that one step back, that shifted glance toward the exit, softening some of her sharpness. And it’s not pity, because he knows pity, seen a lot of pity in these few months he’s been here. No, not that, something simpler and saner. Seeing and being seen, the cool slip of relief from it.
“I might have an idea for a trade if you’re up for it.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“Tommy said you’re handsy–” She stops herself with a gasp that sounds like a hiccup, seemingly just as stunned as he is by the word, hair falling in her face with the shake of her head, little laugh, little brightness. Handy, oh my god, I meant handy.
“I’m sorry, clearly I don’t get out much, lord.” All hands, talking with her hands, palm to her forehead, then back through her hair, quick flickers, he tries to track that ring through its orbit, a dizzying effort. Hummingbird hands, a woman who is all wings.
“It’s alright, reckon you’re still better at this than I am.”
“On the contrary, I think you’ve been the picture of civility.”
“Will you tell Tommy that?”
“I’m sure I can put in a good word.” He’s lingering, or maybe she is, or maybe they both are. Not used to this, taking time for time’s sake.
“I am though. Handy, I mean, if you need help fixing something?” She does, she tells him, stair railing that’s come so loose she’s worried she’s going to go right through it one of these days. And it’s been twenty years since he’s been in a world in which people worry about the upkeep of their stair railing, but it’s an easy fix, he tells her, he can do that, he tells her. Sunday? Sunday works fine. They shake on it, stepping out of the shop into the mid-day glare of sun, her with a deep canvas bag hanging off her shoulder. She squints at him, it was nice meeting you, and he says the same, and finds himself actually meaning it. But there’s still something strange slicking up and down his spine, he’s reminded of it watching her walk off in the other direction, though he’s not really watching her any more, but the people she passes by.
Small town, close town, everyone knowing everyone else, names pinned down under thumbs. Ellie had let out a loud what the fuck when a stranger greeted them, by name, the first time they went to the dining hall for dinner. He’s been feeling a similar way about all the greetings, all the good neighbors doing what good neighbors do. But Maggie gets none of that walking down the block. No smiles, no tipped chins, no knowing and being known. He swears he even sees a few swept away glances, a few steps back the closer she gets. If it bothers her, she doesn’t show it, a sort of easy sway to her gait, walking hips-first, there, and there, and then gone when she turns a corner. Strange, and stranger even, when he looks down and notices that the puddle of black ink is chewing on his shoelaces again.
Little trouble, yellow eyes that round and narrow on him, he takes one step, and little trouble follows him, close on his heels. He imagines that they’re putting on an absurd show walking down the main drag of town, him stopping every few steps to turn around and see that yes, little trouble is still following him, though at an admittedly respectable distance, settling back on its haunches and staring him down every time he glances back over his shoulder. Little trouble follows him all the way to the front steps of his house, seeming to finally lose interest in favor of a bee humming lazy around a patch of weeds. The last thing he sees of little trouble is pink-padded paws batting at dandelions, curled-lip grin and white fang chewing on stems, beheading thick yellow manes.
…
She lives on the other side of town. Older builds, he thinks, been here longer, windows with glass that warbles a little in its age like melted sugar, and deep-set porches washed with dark blue shadows in the early morning light. Cottonwood trees sway and dip, old limbs that arc and curl over the cracked-up sidewalk, slumbering giants making the sounds of all the small life it hosts. It’s a side of Jackson he hasn’t seen until now and it reminds him of a younger, simpler time.
The town follows an old rhythm, late starts on Sunday. There’s even a church somewhere, though he’s not particularly concerned with finding it anytime soon. It’s still early enough, however, that he’s one of the few people already up and out. She told him to come as early as he wanted, really, I’ll be up. And he sees for himself that she was being honest, because when he walks up to the house she told him to look for, he finds her waging a zealous war with a rose bush in her front yard, and it doesn’t seem like she’s winning.
When he told his brother he had taken his advice, he was met with a surprising amount of interest, talking quietly over a shared drink and well, what did you think?
I didn’t realize you were waiting for my report.
She’s a little different is all, does things her own way.
Well, she got the kid fixed up.
I had no doubt she would.
I’m helping her on Sunday with something, as a trade.
Oh?
Stair railing in her house is loose. Been a long time since I thought about stair railing.
Wait, you’re going to her house?
Yes.
Into her house?
I’d presume so. Is that a problem?
No, just surprising.
Why’s that?
She keeps to herself, not exactly one to make friends, though I don’t blame her with the way– well, people can be cruel, I guess.
What’s that supposed to mean?
There’s talk, stupid stuff really. For what it’s worth I like her just fine.
Talk, his brother said. People spinning stories out of fear, or maybe something weaker than that. He’s been gathering up some of that talk all week, enough of it to make his head spin. The only thing he’s sure is truth, Maggie was here before Jackson was even called Jackson, just a nameless group of people that somehow managed to survive, until it became something else entirely. The rest, however, weft and warp of fact and fiction. Plenty of good words, broken bones set back in place and flu seasons weathered, babies born and grown, though the praise seems to be given with a reluctant respect, skittishly, but, well. But, well, something strange about her, isn’t there? He’s heard plenty of strange too. Strange, the way she talks to the wind, and the way it seems to listen. Strange, that cat of hers, with lingering eyes that watch and watch and watch, a shadow showing up in all the close, quiet places. Strange, whatever it is she keeps on the stove in the back of her shop. He asked Ellie if she’s heard anything, and she, pleased with herself, offered up a fantastical report of flight and dancing naked under the full moon, a perfectly tall tale he could imagine the children of Jackson passing around a classroom.
One thing he hasn’t heard anything about, the ring and whichever finger she wears it on. His right, her left, she’s still wearing it this morning, simple silver glinting and a pair of garden shears aloft in her hand. She smiles sheepish when she sees him, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t be.
“Those are pretty.” She doesn’t seem to realize he’s talking about the roses, big white blooms that she absently looks at over her shoulder, scoffing, her mouth screwed to the side.
“They’re useless is what they are, taking up too much space and overcrowding the rest of my plants.” As he gets closer, stepping beyond the gate and into the front yard, he sees the errant chaos of her work, stray petals and entire threads of flowers lopped off around her feet. She’s a little breathless as she speaks, back of her hand to her forehead to wipe stray salt, and he wonders how long she’s been out here at this.
“Not a fan of roses then?”
“To be honest with you, I don’t know where these are coming from. It seems like I cut them back and by the next morning they’ve taken over even more.” She gives a weak stab to the flowers that remain intact, a shake of her head as she abandons her work, and he shouldn’t, just here to fix her stair railing, he shouldn’t, but he already is, already saying the words before he can think about keeping his mouth shut, you’re bleeding.
“What?” He gestures, at least having half a mind not to touch, his hand hovering somewhere in the vicinity of her forearms. Long, thin welts where he’s sure the thorns got her, and maybe he’s a little startled by her breathing out oh, those fuckers, and this again, on the move again, and expecting him to follow her up the porchsteps and in through the screen door and just let it slam or it won’t close all the way. She’s already tramped further into the house and he finds himself utterly unsure of what comes next, shuffling a little in the hallway she left him in, head tilting with the sound of a faucet turning on somewhere, pipes groaning.
Another truth he gets to see for himself, Maggie has lived here a long time, all the acquired detritus of life that only time can allow, that leaving washes away. Paintings dripping off the walls, a craned-neck glance into the rooms around him revealing worn-looking furniture, shelves of books and little nothing things, trinkets and half-melted candles. And more plants, more plants everywhere.
“So, the stairs.” The stairs, in question, are an easy enough fix. How nice, he thinks, to know what is needed, and to know exactly where to go to get it, a few tools and materials only a ten minute walk away. She tells him to make himself at home, let yourself in, I’ll be in the back, I’d warn you about my guard dog but she’s not very good at her job. The guard dog in question is rubbing its whiskered cheek against the leg of her jeans, thrumming a purr so loud he thinks it’s at least partial performance, yellow eyes skewing up at him every now and again.
The work itself makes up the morning. Methodical, monotonous work that allows his mind, and his eyes, to wander. Whatever that ring on her finger means, he’s nearly certain that nobody else lives here with her, except for the cat who spends the first few hours sitting on the bottom step, watching him. As for Maggie, he catches glimpses of her, in and out all morning between what looks like a sunroom and the backyard, never still, always something in her hands, always moving like she’s got an important destination to get to. She comes back inside just as he’s finishing his work, dressed down in a tank top now, all her hair pulled into a precarious knot at the nape of her neck. His eyes linger on bare collar bone, sun high in her cheeks, even though he tries not to.
“I completely forgot to ask if your kid is feeling better.” He tells her that she is, tries for a joke about teenagers and all their drama that just feels weird in his mouth, though she still smiles at it. And he feels it again, just the same as when he met her, that tug, that want to linger, even though the work is done, and she’s thanking him for it, and even he, and all his dormant manners, knows that’s his cue to leave.
“I was about to make some lunch if you wanted to stick around?” He shouldn’t.
“Yeah, okay, thank you.” And so he stays for lunch, and so there’s tomato sandwiches, thick and bursting, summer sweet and savor on her back porch, wiping dripping ripeness off on the thigh of his pants, a hum in his throat to be enjoying something like this.
“How’s another week of domesticity suiting you?” Words that crackle with a half-grin, her cheek cupped in her palm, a picture of afternoon haze, sleep and sate, and he finds himself being lulled by the sight, little slump back in his chair.
“Don’t think it’s something I’ll get used to anytime soon.”
“That’s to be expected, I don’t think anyone ever fully gets used to it though. Not unless this is all they’ve known.”
“Where were you before you came here?” It’s a question that borders on prying, he apologizes and you don't have to almost as soon as it’s out of his mouth, but she waves the apology off, it’s a little complicated. And she tells him that this is where she lived in the before, right up until the after, and that she, like so many others, got funneled into a quarantine zone in the earliest years.
“Were you ever in one?”
“Boston, for a while.”
“Then you know how maddening those places are.” Bird of prey, trapped in a cage. Bird of prey, who flew back home. Bird of prey, who found that a few other people had the same idea.
“It wasn’t called Jackson back then, wasn’t called anything, just people, you know.” Until it became something else, something bigger, and a little more serious, and if that bothers her, she doesn’t show it. And now he really is prying, asking after her accent that surely doesn’t come from the mountains. He’s not wrong, she tells him.
“I moved here when I was, oh, maybe nine? My parents, we lived in Mississippi before they passed, and when they did I was sent up north to live with my aunt.” It’s an old wound, whatever pain that remains from it has been transfigured into a sort of tired nostalgia around her eyes, the tempering of her smile. She’s quick to brush it away, a bright laugh and a shake of her head, I think I just told you all my secrets. He knows that isn’t true, though warmth still starts to unfurl in his chest. And when she asks him the same questions, he offers the same piecemeal parts of the whole truth. Offers Texas, and his brother, and a halfway truth about Ellie. Shards and fragments passed between each other’s hands, it surprises him how easily he has given his to her.
“I guess we’re not strangers anymore then.”
“No, I guess not.”
“I should– I feel the need to warn you.” Like she’s not sure how to put these words together right, brow pinched low and smile slanted nervous, you might not want to spend too much time around me.
“Why’s that?”
“People around here like to talk.”
“Right.”
“And they like talking about me.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“And I don’t want– you seem like the kind of guy who just wants to keep his head down and get by.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“I’d like to be friendly, but I don’t want to take that from you.” The word friendly does something unpleasant in his chest. He does his best to ignore it.
“Why’d you invite me to stay?”
“Because I like talking to you and because I’m selfish. Because I wanted to.” And there’s something else, he thinks, something else unspoken behind her grin. Because he hasn’t made up his mind about her in the same way everyone else has, at least not yet.
“I have heard things, about you, I mean.”
“I’m sure you have.”
“And I have questions.” She sits back in her chair, an edge of a challenge in her jutted chin, palms turned up and open, try me. But given the chance, he doesn’t know where to begin, which thread to pull first. What comes out, ultimately, isn’t even a question, but plain and blunt observation. This is a big house.
“It’s just me, and Stevie. I’ve offered up rooms to folks around here, haven’t gotten any bites so far.”
“But it wasn’t always, just you.” Absent-minded, she spins that silver band with her thumb, another wound revealed.
“I was married until I wasn’t.”
“Before or after?” He doesn’t know where this is coming from, this plainly brash openness, though she doesn’t wince, doesn’t recoil from it, just as steady as he is.
“After, about a decade after. You think you’re in the clear and then, yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for now. Ask me something else, why don’t you? Something more interesting.” Wave of her hand and a clipped laugh that’s more like a sniff, tender, don’t touch, don’t dig into that wound any deeper.
“People say you’re strange.”
“Strange.” Dragging out the word, letting it crackle with a grin that’s all teeth, little laugh on the end, picture perfect amusement in how she tilts her head at him.
“That you can do strange things.”
“That’s kind of a nothing word, isn’t it? Strange?”
“I thought you were gonna answer my questions.”
“Oh, I will. You’re gonna have to be a little more precise in your language though.” Back and forth, back and forth, why does he like this so much? Dragging his palm down his jaw to stop the spread of anticipation, heat-hazy in the mid-afternoon sun.
“That cat of yours, for starters.”
“Mmhmm?” Raise of her brows, voice high in her throat, and he has to huff, do I really have to say it?
“Are you referring to the rumor that my cat spies on people and reports back to me all their wicked, little secrets?”
“Sure, yes.”
“That cat right there?” His eyes follow her pointed finger out into the tall grass of the backyard, where the cat in question seems to have contented itself with tangling its paws in a loose length of twine, belly-up, writhing around in all that green. Maggie snorts.
“Oh yeah, she’s a real mastermind, you better watch out, she’ll be visiting your bedroom window next.”
“Then what about the rest of it?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than that.”
“I’m glad you’re finding this so amusing.”
“Mmhmm, I really am.”
“I feel foolish even saying it.”
“If there’s a word you’re skirting around, and I think there is, it’d be better if you just come out with it.”
“This really is a nothing word though.”
“Oh?”
“Made up, make-believe.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Frankly, I’m not sure of anything about you.” She hums, chin cupped in her hand and her elbow propped on the small table between them, her brow dipping in mock consideration of his words. He can see that she really is finding all of this entertaining, something in her eyes like a squinted challenge, ghost of a smile twitching in the corners of her mouth.
“How about I say the word I think you’re thinking of?” Spiraling words, circling each other, he nods, and she purses her lips, getting ready for some kind of lift off.
“People have told you my cat is strange.”
“People have told you I’m strange.”
“People have told you I do strange things.” Yes, yes, yes, he nods with each statement, and her smile only seems to brighten.
“Joel, have people been telling you I’m a witch?” And that’s it, isn’t it? Foolish, and he doesn’t know why that word has seemed to stick in his mind. Maybe just because he’s heard it from enough mouths in the last few days that it almost makes it seem plausible. Maybe he’s lived in a world turned inside out on itself long enough that there is very little imagination that hasn’t been eaten away by reality. Maybe he’s just like the rest of them, looking for any way to explain someone who doesn’t do things the capital-w Way they are supposed to be done. Maybe he’s still thinking about Sarah, and where Maggie could have possibly plucked that name from. And maybe that word is just holding the place of something else, an uneasiness he feels around her, though not unpleasant, just other, and so very unlike any other. He opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it, and this seems to amuse her most of all, sharp smile now softening, no longer playing at a game because they’ve both caught each other now, haven’t they?
“That’s what people say.”
“And you? What do you say?”
“Does it matter?”
“If we’re going to be friends, yes, I’d like to know what you think.” Friends, they’re going to be friends. When did that happen? He thinks that may be the strangest thing of all.
“I think I don’t know enough yet to tell you what I think.”
“How judicious of you.”
“I think you’re different though.”
“Well, I think you’re different too.”
“Why?”
“Most people wouldn’t have gone past the front porch, and here you are staying for lunch.”
“I don’t mean to impose or–”
“That’s not what I meant.” The words are kind, but they’re also a conclusion, enough, for now, enough. He watches her get up and collect both their plates before he can think to move, and then another kindness, touch, her palm on his shoulder as she passes behind him, there and gone. He’s a stranger to touch that isn’t economical, or clinical, or plainly violent, and he finds himself unsure what to do with that, though inexplicably wanting more of it.
She thanks him again for the fix to the railing, and he thanks her for lunch. He lingers, and she lets him, helps with the dishes, checks the railing one more time. I’ll see you, she says, walking him out onto the front porch, and she does it again, touch again, somewhere at his elbow, as simple as anything. The roses are still raging in her front yard, a whole wave of them.
Somewhere in the middle of his walk home, he realizes the cat is following him, second shadow slinking low to the ground, dipping her head when he turns around, pretending at predator. He keeps walking, pays little attention to her pursuit. He’ll get used to it eventually. He thinks he already is.
...........................
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Full Integration, Final Fusion, Functional Multiplicitly, and General "Spirituality"
(Disclaimer: this is a very long post)
Heyyo, this is a bit of a hodgepodge of connected topics that I was thinking on this morning. For those that don't know, after like three months of being a really solid fused whole, we really decided that we needed to redivide back into our core parts to recenter, rebalance, and reorganize ourselves since our fused whole was loosing sight / vision of the "plot". We don't consider this "splitting" because we are still in - what we like to call "full integration" - and we don't really engage in much dissociation when we do this as the means of how we do this largely stems from the way we perceive, engage with, and view the concept of "self" and "identity." Our system highly values the mastery and art of a very fluid and ever changing sense of identity and self. This morning - thank you Chunn brain for batting our collective brain from the usual urge to get out of bed and get started with our day to give us time to really sit with our inner selves - we spent about an hour and a half and a small half hour nap just laying there thinking among ourselves and I wanted to share a few.
I think at the moment I am still mostly a fused whole and I had considered trying to go to Ray or Lin for them to write this, but it didn't feel right to go to Ray brain and Lin brain directly told me "Dude, this thought line started with Riku-dominant fused brain, trying to have someone else write it would be a disservice to the reflection. Let Riku or Riku-dominant fused brain do it, it's their thought." and you know, fair point. I think I'll use this post as a temporary "bye few thoughts" and love letter to our parts as a fused whole before leaving it to the individual specialists to do their things.
So introduction to this post aside, hello and temporary soon to be farewell before I choose to temporarily redivide into my main parts. Today is May 15, 2024 and I'm gonna document this a bit for when I come back whenever that is and kind of see if my fused-whole perspective and nature changes - mostly for myself. Online I go by Feathers, irl I just go by our chosen name.
I'm a (mostly, technically non-denominational independent, but most of my views and perspectives come from and align closely with) Zen Buddhist. I'm nonbinary vaguely transmasc (not really though?) intersex individual with the pronouns of they/them. I am extremely pro-endo and if I honestly felt like sticking around longer, I was thinking about writing a much more nuanced essay on tulpa-terminology discourse with my current reflections as a fused whole and as a pretty avid Buddhist but, unforunately, unless one of my parts still shares the same insight AND interest, that essay will have to wait for me to potentially be back (hey, Riku or Chunn might still want to who knows). I dunno what else to say, I love bird, Bleach, walking, driving, listening to music, video games, writing, art? I dunno man, I'm just me.
Documentation aside anyways, I gotta figure out where I want to start. I think I will actually piss my high-school English teachers off and start with the LAST thing in the title card. I might loose a lot of close minded white anti-endos here, but hey, if you are that close minded, then its your loss cause I'm just talking about late-stage recovery as a person with diagnosed DID that is considered polyfragmented. It's a fun conversation to have with other people with DID aiming for recovery so, if you're hell bent on hating people talking about plurality form a non-DID lens enough to disregard cool information, that's your loss. (Thank you XIV brain, crediting that to you for part of our goal today)
Buddhism, Spirituality, Plurality and Our Perspective of Full Integration
According to Buddhism, and one of the largest concepts and principles of Buddhism that we believe the most in and actively work to practice and cultivate the mindset of - is that the concept of "I" and the concept of a singular, distinct, and separate self from the world and others simply does not exist - only the experience and illusion of experience exists. I was talking about it with @quoigenicfromhell in DMs since they were interested in talking shop about Buddhism.
To save myself a whole effort of rewriting a discussion on how one can hold together the clear sensation of existing and being an individual with the idea and Buddhist understanding that the "self" does not exist, I'm going to copy a little bit of what I wrote in response to them. If it doesn't make sense cause its in a bit of Buddhist jargon, then oh well, I'm lazy, it's written for an audience that has done some reading and looking into Buddhist thought so RIP yall srry not srry (Thank you Chunn brain lol)
Honestly the development and understanding of holding those two things together (the non-self and non-existence with the clear experience of self and existence) is largely a lot of exploration on the understanding and respect for the experience without applying too much value or regard to said experience. Its kind of a hard thing to understand just based off of words alone and like all things Buddhism, its one of those sorts of things you really gotta sit on and explore in your own mental space, but like
The experience of self and personhood and existence is a denied concept in Buddhist thought, but its not a bad or incorrect thing, the experience of self and existence is kind of considered an inherent expression of life and the world and while its important to be cognicent that it is an illusion that can cause suffering and muddy an individuals ability to see Things As They Are, the experience and illusion of self is additionally an entirely natural thing to experience and is an important part of being able to, well, be
I kinda of personally perceive it kind of similarly to say a part in a system. Innately the part is not (at least in my experiences of systemhood) a literal entire separate being and thats an important thing to acknowledge for a number of reasons (life organization and direction, system accountability, etc) but its would also be incredibly foolish to completely ignore that the part operates, experiences themselves, and lives in the world (both inner and outer) as if they were an individual of their own
In the same sense that a part in a system can be seen both as an individual and a part of a whole / collective depending on what perspective and demands the moment needs. An individual can be seen both as the individual expression of a self informed by the arguably incorrect illusion of isolation OR as a part of the whole worlds expression depending on what serves the moment the best. I largely kind of see myself as part of a system that is the world much like I see my parts as part of a system that is "me". While the self may be an illusion, its not an experience that can be denied and it is an innate expression that in its own right can prove to be a great teacher
So you deny the concept of a self but respect and revere the experience and innate natural expression of self
With that context in mind, while we do not believe in the concept of self and find that trying to seek out a concrete idea of a singular person and singular self in society is a source of extreme suffering, stress, and displeasure, we DEEPLY revere and honor the expression of self. As we see it, in a complete ideal and impossible the world would be in perfect harmony if we let the world express itself as it naturally does. We find that the experiences of self - in whatever form they take - are inherent and natural expressions of the world as a whole and to try to shape oneself to fit a specific image - may that be societally imposed or internally / personally imposed or a sense of envy or any sort of clinging or desire to a specific version / image of self - is a disrespect to the innate beauty found in the natural expression and a means of adding disharmony into the world.
As a result, our system and whole aims deeply, above almost all else to exist simply as we naturally would in any moment time to time. If we find that something we are doing with our sense of self is drawn and influenced too much on a "I should" or "I want" or "I wish" or "I hope" then we tend to pause, self reflect, and ask if we are actually existing in our natural state, or are we trying to fight against our natural state of self to fit into a self-imposed idea of what we "should be".
As a result of that, our system deeply values our flexibility, fluidity, and ability to change any aspect of ourselves, any opinion we hold, any identity label we consider, and our overall presentation in all ways and forms to a very high level. The desire to be consistent and predictable serves us little in simply practicing on "being" and finding the true and simply-run life that we want. That then results in why our system so casually flips around in system size, fusions, redivisions, how we refer to ourselves, etc. We find very little value in committing to labels and concepts and do whatever is natural for us.
Additionally, another large aspect of Buddhism our system deeply reveres and appreciates is the acknowledgement that there are "Buddhas" - or in less Jargon terms, potential for everything both internal and external to be teachers and guides into finding a sense of peace and simplicity in the world - and that it is deeply important to cultivating peace, happiness, and insight to actively always be seeking out the "Buddha" in everything and everyone. It's important to reflect, engage with, and talk with those "Buddhas" as they are the best and number one way to gain the insight that brings happiness and peace into life and removes excessive suffering and stress.
As many Buddhists agree (at least of the Mahayanan branches), everyone is inherently a Buddha because the world and everything is a Buddha. The only issue people have is that they can not connect, hear, and see clearly enough to be in that state due to a large number of human conditions - one large one being the aforementioned illusion of self.
Having lived my life as someone with DID and having gone through a lot of trauma therapy, self reflection, communication and coordination with my parts, and all that to the point we have reached functional multiplicity over a year plus ago and been able to hold a fully fused state for over three months, I feel like its a given to say that of ALL things in the world, the "Buddha nature" of my parts have been the best and most insightful teachers I've ever had. We revere each other's strengths and specialties greatly as each of us have taught the other great strengths, great understandings, great insights, and great appreciations that have collectively brought us so much peace and happiness. It's not to say any part is "enlightened" because each part is also deeply flawed and struggling in their own realms, but it is largely by working and talking and supporting one another and ACTIVELY looking to one another for insight and lessons about the world and our existence that we are able to reach a uniquely peaceful space.
For us, its an incredibly important practice - both for self care and in the art / spirituality of Buddhism - to regularly talk and engage with these specialized and uniquely-wise (and uniquely stupid - thank you XIV) parts of ourselves to gain deeper insight and overall understanding of ourselves and our place in the world.
In the same sense, it is why - despite being completely capable of operating as a fully fused whole - we regularly choose to INTENTIONALLY redivide into our parts. And no, its not us "splitting again" or even really throwing up any real level of dissociation / dissociative barriers. If anything, we usually do this through meditation and mindfulness.
It's a Buddhist practice, its not a mental disorder and its not stemming from the same mechanism's DID stems from. It might operate *based* on the foundation our history with DID stems from, but at this point in our healing, the way our system operates at functional multiplicity that is intentionally chosen to be that way AFTER reaching "final fusion" has a number of differences from how it operated before we reached general full integration.
Again, for those more familiar with the tulpa-terminology discussion, you might be able to see where I would have a long post delving into a highly nuanced and more middle-ground perspective of that syscourse from the paragraph above this one, but I'm gonna leave that cause I already know this post is long and it would detract from the purpose.
At this point, my system is mostly an "intentionally created one" to Western label standards. We personally do not see any significance or binary in plural VS singular people beyond it being a label some people identify with and not. Plural VS Singular is a false binary perpetuated in white, western, and european society and while I respect that perspective and view in a space that is primarily filled with white, western, and/or european individuals, I am going to firmly state that and expect you to give me that same respect. (and if you refuse to give me that same respect, then you are close minded and being very white / western lmao <- thank you XIV, again)
And so the other related but slightly different topic away from the more philosophical, esoteric, mysticism sounding topic of Buddhism...
Full Integration, Final Fusion, and Functional Multiplicitly
At this point, what we used to call "Wishiwashi Recovery" we kind of have taken to just calling "full integration" generally as a means of really breaking apart the suggested categorical and boxed binary of "final fusion" and "functional multiplicity" as our own experience and discussion with other systems at and near full integration have made us realize that the difference between functional multiplicity and final fusion is FAR more a spectrum than it is two seperate categories. Some systems stick to one end, some to the others, but the largest difference is in external and internal expression of the parts and less any fundamental or biological / clinical difference; at least not in terms of integration. (Note: Integration =/= Fusion; Integration is the general connectivity and accessibility of parts with less / limited / no dissociation)
It's a false binary to say Final Fusion or Functional Multiplicity and its why a lot of the "ones bad and ones good" syscourse is dumb. They're two heads of the same Doduo and they should be kissing. (JOKING, thank you Riku-Aya brain)
With that said, our system, as we've made clear, regularly and freely practices sliding and flying all over that spectrum as just how we like to engage with ourselves. We change between the two as we see fit and having spent probably like 9~ months in functional multiplicity and 3~ months in final fusion I wanted to share some pros and cons of both sides.
I would also like to put a disclaimer that this isn't meant to be "positives and why this side sucks" as much as it is the differences in life style according to our opinion and our experience. Both final fusion and functional multiplicity are absolutely WONDERFUL things overall and we love both states. If we got "stuck" in either, we would still be immensely happy. The purpose of this part is just to share certain differences in how we experience the two different ends. The Cons in these case are only "cons" relative to the "alternative" and not "to not ever reaching either"
Functional Multiplicity Pros:
A lot more clear and direct communication between parts internally that allows for a SHIT ton of internal banter, productive conversation about complex topic and perspectives from unique and diverse perspectives; the communication is a lot more intentional and a lot more in focus so its easier to properly sit and attend to the complex differences and sometimes conflicting directions
It's honestly just a lot of fun, not gonna lie. A lot more dramatic and extravagant expression + brain friends in a more overt sense
Easier to let certain parts of the brain take "breaks" - it's not the same as it is with not-fully-integrated DID but compared to Full Fusion, certain parts of the brain can "tune out" easier than not
More palatable to DID / OSDD spaces online
Easier to focus and use a wide variety of skills, interests, hobbies, and thinking patterns by simply just having a specialist part take their look at it
Generally easier to target specific boxes to look into as you process all the newly accessible memories and information from being highly / fully integrated
Final Fusion Pros:
Quick and a lot more inherent understanding of all parts on a general gut level without necessarily needing to fully think about everything and listen to every opinion and perspective; there is a lot more of an inherent understanding, trust, and awareness of the collective whole which makes decision making and seeing whats good for the system as a whole a lot easier
It's honestly way more calming, relaxing, and solid feeling. There is a unique sense of confidence, understanding, and trust within yourself and you have a HUGE arsenal of skills and interests that come from the combined parts that you've lived as
You are a lot more present and aware of your life and you actually get to live YOUR life and have all parts of yourself be engaged in life; no part feels really left behind or is caught off guard from having their brain partially turned off. The awareness is really present and engagement is so much more complete.
More palatable in real life and non-DID/OSDD spaces
Easier to simultaneously use skills from multiple parts at once; very much a jack of all trades all at once situation
Generally easier to integrate multiple complex and otherwise seemingly detatched boxes of memory and the past as you process all the newly accessible memories and information from being highly / fully integrated
Functional Multiplicity Cons:
Takes more intention, focus, and often time to get the same level of full understanding of the whole system when making decisions. It can be slow and it requires a lot more internal engagement which can make it harder to be fully present in life
Sometimes you can get what I call "lite" amnesia where a part was not paying attention and doesn't fully process what was going on / what is going on and so sometimes you get poor attention-driven "amnesia". It's small and easily recovered by simply going "hold up wait" and thinking back or asking another part
Harder to use skills from different parts at the same time; albeit definitely still possible and only "harder" relative to final fusion
Generally harder / requires intentional discussion between parts to integrate multiple complex boxes as you process all the newly accessible memories and information from being highly / fully integrated
Final Fusion Cons:
Less direct and overt bantering and discussion between parts (still present by the way, just less frequent and less overt). It can be a little less fun (still is fun cause they are sill there) and it can be a bit harder to fully see the extent of a more extreme perspective
It can be tiring and overwhelming to be aware and present so much for so long if you were accustomed to the breaks DID / OSDD tends to give parts
Easier to forget to use a lot of the skills and hobbies that may have been more niche to less-dominant and less-prominent parts; you don't "loose" the skills, you just aren't accustomed to using them as much so you can just kinda forget to use them
Harder to focus on a targetted recovered memory / information that you want to process and can sometimes be a bit overwhelming trying to connect a number of things at once
And this is all just to say that both are absolutely astonishing and great places to mentally be. The main point is that - for us - sometimes one state works better for us in the moment and another state works better for us later and that's completely cool cause - as aforementioned - the difference between plural vs singular is not a binary one for us anyways.
Anyways, I don't know how to wrap this up so I'mma just post it
Ideally today we will focus on cultivating our independent parts and return to Functional Multiplicity end of the spectrum so I guess tata for now
-Feathers
EDIT and PS: Anyone is allowed to add their thoughts to this so long it is in good faith.
#feathers speaks#functional mulitplicity#final fusion#actuallydid#dissociative identity disorder#syscourse#syscourse tw#tulpacourse#tulpacourse tw#full integration#buddhism#long post
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here's a question that has probably been asked before: how did you come up with you rewrites for the characters? all of the backstories you gave them are really interesting and, while I haven't read the originals in a long time, I think I like what you did more. I found your work only in the past couple days, but I like it a lot; your versions of the creeps feel the most like real people that I've found since my interest in them reignited. but yeah, love your work.
(also, I may show back up in your ask box, so may I be "embroidery anon"?)
Firstly, thank you very much!! I tried really hard to make them much more realistic/three dimensional instead of just “oohhh I like to kill people!!” Ya know? I’m glad that people like you over time have liked that aspect of them :)) Prepare for some rambling though-
As for coming up for their specific backstories, that’s a little hard to answer I think just because of how long it’s been since I started doing that. I’ve been into the creeps since I was 11 and I’m turning 23 in a couple weeks so, it’s been a long ride. The creeps grew up alongside me and I think for some of them their stories just sort of evolved in my mind over the years. I mean I’ve literally been in the fandom for longer than several creeps like Toby, Pup, Helen, etc.
The basics are just I’d look at the original story for most of them, decide what I think I could keep, and what I’d like to change. For a creep like Toby, I wanted him to still have a good relationship with his mom and sister, and I still wanted his sister to die, but for Natalie I made her brother an ally to her and someone she loves and trusts instead of one of the bad guys. But I mostly wanted to make the writing darker and more in depth, I wanted them to be darker and more realistic as people.
I also wanted different backgrounds for them, like Toby/Helen/Natalie coming from very rich and influential families, EJ in my canon growing up in a cult, Jason and LJ both being toys instead of just LJ, things like that.
The thing about rewriting them I think is that most of the OG stories are not… The best written stories ever? Most of them were written by preteens/teens and not the most realistic pieces of media. Like in Jeff’s, being burned by fire made his hair turn black and his skin turn white, which is not really how fire and burns work?? And then he went on to burn off his eyelids which also not a great idea? I’ve actually had people get upset that my Jeff has eyelids but like if he didn’t he would be completely blind and in literal agony because his eyes would be completely dried out. That’s not a great design imo, but it was also written by a child so like, that’s why.
Most of my designs just sort of pop into my head randomly though. I get an idea like for BEN I wanted him to be close to his mom, but I didn’t want her to still be living so I went okay, how do I expand on that? And that’s how I came up with my version of his story, with his mom dying young from illness and his father being abusive and resentful.
I wish I had a better way of explaining it but that’s just sort of my general thought process. I started to look at them more as individual characters/OCs instead of just the original lore, which I mean most blogs for the creeps these days have their own lore too. I don’t think my creeps are the best ones ever (except in my heart), but I also had a lot of fun writing them and coming up with their backgrounds. I got influenced a lot by songs and media and they just gradually came into fruition :) I’m glad they were good enough to reignite your interest.
(And also yes, you may take that anon name ^^)
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People are asking about Zenith and stuff, but. hello??? What? You can't do this bgvftcdrxsrdctfvygbuhnj I was reading your one Dratchet fic, just one last time, I swear. I would like to say you make some of the best gay robot angst lol
I've cried a lot when reading stories, but I don't think I've cried the entirety of three chapters 😭
You're awesome, I love your art, silly animations, and stories. I sincerely hope you have fun hyper fixating on robots some more :'D
Have a nice day!!!!
I don't think I've gotten any asks on my fanfics haha, I don't share them as much! But I haven't updated that fic in a hot minute!! I got stuck on another one so that got put on the back burner! I do love writing gay robot angst so I'm glad others like it!
The robot fixation is going strong so I'll keep it up!
Thank you this message is so so sweet <3
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Prompt: “How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?”
@tetheredfeathers and I started a challenge to write a text between 500 - 1000 words with this prompt.
Click >here< to see her version of this.
Just something fun to pass the time... I ended up writing my new non-reaped AU project, where Katniss and Peeta never go to the games.
I'm tagging these three incredible and talented writers to continue our challenge.
@mollywog @nightlocked-in @rainymyx
title:
The streak of luck.
A tide of luck had swept over me the last few weeks. Spring is always the best time of year to find things in the woods, but this year I outdid myself. I found two bee hives full of honey. It was very painful and I spent days recovering from the bee stings, but I managed to bring two bags full of honeycombs to sell on the rob. Honey is a rare item in district twelve, so it made me a lot of money.
I think that since spring began, there hasn't been a day that goes by that I don't come home with something to sell with. From juicy wild berries to Turkeys, swallows and wild dogs. I've been finding things more valuable lately.
This month, we had the luxury of spending more stuff than just on food. I was able to buy new boots for Prim, cold coat for me and a supply of oils for my mother to make ointments and resell.
And in the end there was still money left. So I bought a sewing thread and a needle. I grabbed my mother's old white dress from the back of the closet. She and Prim did all the repairs for me. Then I took my dress to Hazelle and paid her a good amount to wash it. She asked me for bleach, to remove the yellow stains from age and mold. Then she asked me for violet fabric paint. It was difficult to find something like that on the black market, it ended costing me a whole rabbit.
I was afraid it would turn my dress purple, but she said that the dye mixed in hot water removes all the yellow stains and makes the dress white like never before.
She was right. It was so beautiful it looked like I had bought it brand new.
As I get older and become more and more like my mother, her dress looks more and more like it was made out for me. The straight cut at the collar makes my long neck - which Peeta praises so much - stand out. The long sleeves hide my thin arms. The tight waist makes it my hips look more accentuated than they actually are. It's a simple dress, it looks like a nightgown. However, its fabric is so elegant that I look like a bride from the big city.
My mom puts my hair in a low bun and Prim makes a lavender flower crown to match spring.
The shoes I will wear are a problem. I only have my beat-up hunting boots and old school shoes. None suit the occasion. My mother's shoes are beautiful, but they are so tight on me. I refuse to spend the whole afternoon limping.
There is a third option, which I don't like very much. There are the shoes I used to wear at the reaping. The last time I wore them I was 19 years old, two years ago. This blue heels are so old they look gray.
I wish I had thrown them away, but you can never waste resources like that. Shoes are expensive. Even if they don't bring back good memories, they are still valuable. My mother cleans them and rubs them with lard to make them shiny. I feel weird, but it's my best option at the moment.
So here I am, dressed like a spring bride. And there he is, dressed like a merchant groom. Waiting for me at the door of the Justice Building.
He has combed his hair back and applied gel to keep the curls in place. A perfectly ironed white shirt, black pants with a silver buckle belt and a brown suit over everything, which make his shoulders pointy. He's perfect. On his feet are also his reaping shoes.
“You look so beautiful." he says.
“You too." I reply.
Then we link our arms and wait until they call us. I feel the heat radiating from Peeta. He doesn't usually get nervous, but today his forehead shines with sweat and he fixes his collar compulsively. So far I've counted five times in the last two minutes.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Oh, my brother lent me this shirt. It's itchy" He groans, awkwarly. I smile at him and he seems to relax.
There are several couples around us, waiting too. Everyone wants to get married in the spring.
Many young women in white. Some with lacy and chic dresses, others with old and yellowed, but all the same holding the hands of their lovers. The young men, one exhausted by work, one covered in coal dust, and another with elegant blue suits and shiny shoes.
We are all there, waiting to get to our turn.
When the door finally opens the old man calls out "Thompson" in a deep voice.
Then a couple enters, the girl with a veil and a garland and the boy with a leather hat. The two are shaking with so much excitement, they are completely in love. Still too young to free themselves from the burden of the Hunger Games. It's not good luck marry before you're 19. So I sigh, and wish them good luck on next summer.
After a few minutes, the couple leaves smiling and receives a round of applause from their family members who are waiting for them outside.
Then the man screams again "Greenwood".
An older, handsome boy, next to him is a blonde girl in a flashy dress. They are accompanied by their parents, elegant merchants. I start stomping my feet anxiously. I want to end the waiting once and for all. After a couple long minutes, they finally leave the building and when I least expect it the man is shouting for "Mellark". I head towards him as if he were calling my own name.
My witness is my mother, I wanted it to be Prim, but she is still a minor. Peeta's witness is his middle brother. He seems a little uncomfortable being there, but he pats Peeta on the back to encourage him.
“Mrs. Everdeen and Mr. Mellark, is it of their own free will that you both meet here today to be united in matrimony?” says the old man.
“Yes.” Peeta said vigorous.
“Yes.” I said in sequence, quieter revealing my nervousness.
Peeta takes my hand gently and squeezes it with his sweaty palm.
I thought I was calm until this moment, now I'm sure I'm terrified. While that old man talks boring things about marriage and laws and the importance of family I get lost in Peeta's flush face. His lips are tight and raised in a restrained smile. I feel my heart skip a beat.
When the man stops talking we each receive a pen. Peeta leans over the thick book first, writing “Peeta Mellark” in cursive. Then it's my turn, my hands shake and I sigh, before finally putting the ink on the paper.
I start with the "K" of my name, with a less sophisticated calligraphy than Peeta's. Now my tremor is visible to everyone around me. Peeta's eyes are the heaviest on me, they make me blush.
“How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?” I sigh. He giggles and looks away as I write "Mellark." My new last name.
#a little normality in their lives#just young people in love#They end up together in every universe#the hunger games#thg#writing prompt#prompt challenge#katniss everdeen#Peeta mellark#Everlark#non reaped#fanfic#I love them#thanks for reading
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not sure if anyone has recomended monster x mediator yet but its such a fun game despite being quite short. the game is supposed to have mutiple routes eventually (which I'm not sure are supposed to be yanderes) but the one it has rn is complete and definitly fits the yandere vibes. If u like things that mix horror with humor and have a funnily pathetic but still terrifing yandere this one is a trip. Also the fact that the guy is a monster that looks like a madness combat character adds to the charm of it in my opinion lol
I'll be honest, I was a little skeptical about this game, but I saw how pathetic he is and now I'm very much on board. This game is supposed to have four different routes, but currently only has one for now. The comedy and horror is well balanced in the game itself. If you want to try out the demo, you can play it here.
The story starts out with the MC taking on a job for a large sum of money. They are currently in debt and need money quick. After receiving the first half of the money, they are directed to go to some abandoned building to get the other half. After receiving it, they are then told their task to go inside of the building. If the MC tries to run away, they will be shot on the spot. If they accept, they will be faced with a couple of doors. Their boss will then tell them that there are monsters that behind each door, and that the MC's job is to get all of them out of the room without dying.
Going into the red door, the MC is pretty much immediately knocked out before waking up and finding a large monster hovering over them and thousands of things pasted up in the walls. You can successfully get him out of the room in three different ways but can also be killed a couple of other ways as well. The first thing he does is declare himself as the MC's biggest fan, getting so excited that he grips his axe menacingly. If the MC gets him too excited, they will end up killing the MC. The monster (later revealed as 404), talks about how much he loves the MC's fanfiction blog and how he was really sad and depressed when the MC blocked him and even sadder when they stopped writing all together. 404 also reveals that he is such a big fan that he also knows all of the MC's passwords and even their bank account, with all of the fanfiction that they written pasted on the wall. 404 then asks if they want to see where he kills everyone and if they can write a fanfic for him.
If the MC is curious about where all the dead bodies are, 404 will bring them into another room to show them. We learn a lot about 404: he doesn't know what kind of monster he is, doesn't really need to eat, loves to kill with his axe and seems to have regenerative abilities considering he was shot in the head and was completely fine the next day. The MC can have two ways to get him out of the room, both of which are hilarious. The first way is to literally beg 404 to leave by pleading desperately (do you know that let me rizz you up meme? That's what you do) until 404 gets tired and does it for his super star. The other way is to seduce (?) 404 by telling him that it would be sexy of him to leave the room, which works well. We also learn about the facility itself, that 404 has been living there since as far as he remembers, that he loves killing the various people that come in, doesn't like the MC's boss (finds them annoying through the walkie talkie) and pretty much only kills and reading the MC's blog.
If the MC decides to oblige 404 with his obsession, they will start to write on a typewriter as 404 stands behind them excitedly. He keeps on asking the MC to add more and more things, making it 100 pages instead of 10, making the story a romance, making it a romance between him and the MC (noting that "the name Nick is the same as his username", which is a huge stretch).
If the MC refuses to write 100 pages, 404 will end up getting extremely angry and hold the MC by the throat, calling them and humans "bitches". He will start to kill the MC, crying and feeling despair as he kills the MC by choking them to death.
If the MC does oblige, they will write the most god awful fanfiction (their words) and end up pretty much just holding the a key until it fills all 100 pages. 404 ends up crying out of happiness at such a beautiful gift and leaves the room, just as the MC wanted.
First of all, I think that the game does a good job of balancing the horror elements with the comedy. I did not expect to like 404 this much and definitely did not expect his personality to be like this. I did feel it was interesting that 404 believes that the MC's writing would "fix him" and even laments that even though he knows it wouldn't, he still wanted to try when he was killing the MC in a choke hold. He basically is a very feral online fan who meets their super idol (which gives me a bit of incel vibes), but not enough to be extremely obvious, much more than other yanderes, with him saying like he's a gentleman, or that he isn't angry at all despite the fact that he got blocked. I also love the various ways that you can get him out of the room, and just how obsessed he is with the MC. He seems to mostly be an obsessive yandere, with him pasting the fanfic of the MC's work all over his walls, delusionally believing that he is the same character that the MC writes, confessing his feelings to the MC while they're writing, not killing the MC (since apparently he's killed every other person that came in) and wanting the MC's writings to fix him. He is also a pretty pathetic type of yandere, hoping desperately that the MC (and their writings) would fix them, crying when he does kill the MC and generally seeing himself in their writing, but also rather dangerous just due to his violent nature. It's fun to see dangerous but pathetic yanderes since I feel like that's something that I haven't seen to much.
I am curious about how the other monsters will be like. It seems that as of writing this, the Knight Monster is currently delayed, so I guess we'll see if he ends up being a yandere too. I would recommend this game just on it's humor and interesting kind of intrigue about why these monsters are in the buildings themselves. He does look like a madness combat characters, you're right.
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'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART TWELVE]
-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-
⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; A night by the fire brings out desires.
⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) Ah, the burn is quenched. She fell first, he fell harder. Oh boy, he fell harder. Soft Jervis. This is still just the begginning. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Reader is still struggling with revenge and feelings. Reader doesn't give a fuck anymore. Reader and Jervis are still in their friends to lovers era. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching.
⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx @all-things-fandomstuck @killingboredom @sweetlimeharvest @frenchfryqueen69
⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR, - 'PART FIVE, - 'PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN' - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, - 'PART TEN, - 'PART ELEVEN, - 'PART TWELVE, - 'PART THIRTEEN,
♫ “baby, I'm star-struck by you / didn't know we'd get so far, and it's only the start.” Scary Love by The Neighbourhood
You're still reeling from the minor success with Selina. You can't stop thinking about the way she zoned out- just from your words. It looked as though her consciousness melted before your eyes, if only for a moment. Mr. Tetch, Jervis, was right. There is something intimate about hypnotism. It's like they become an extension of you and your own desires. Whoever they are, they become your puppet. It's exhilarating.
You similarly can't stop thinking about the feeling of Jervis's hands on your waist. The way he whispered those damn words of affirmation, like you were his number one priority. You still have no clue if you can trust him. But that doesn't seem to bother you anymore. He was the stranger in your dreams, the man haunting your psyche. You felt more connected to him then anyone you had been connected to in years. It sends a shiver down your spine.
You'd been staying with him for a little over two weeks now. Time goes by fast, apparently. Every mornings the same, it's become routine. He cooks breakfast, lets you sleep in. You get dressed. Eat together. You two talk about anything and everything over tea and biscuits, mostly about books and chess and crosswords and revenge. He simply makes you smile. You watch him struggle to use a smartphone and he watches you struggle to hypnotize passersby's.
You've begun to notice the pull to him has been growing stronger and stronger. The nature of your relationship with the man is questionable, at best. You don't know exactly what you two are. But you do know you are his only friend. You don't mind that.
You've also started to notice, Jervis has his own way of displaying...affection. You're not quite sure if that's the right word, but it works. He offers his numerous praises very vocally, or in small pats to your head. When he's having too much fun with you, he refuses to cook, or do anything to separate himself from you for even a minute. He hypnotizes the neighboring mansions household to go out for groceries, dinner, or even small trinkets that remind him of you.
You're unsure if it makes you uncomfortable or extremely flattered. After all, he could kill you at anytime if he truly wished. But you decide on flattered, after he buys you numerous dresses and flowers and your favorite issue of the Gotham Gazette. You don't mind whatever it is the two of you have. Forced proximity seems to change people.
He's your teacher in all aspects. Hypnotism, dancing, cooking, cleaning. Sometimes he'll come up behind you, and you can feel his heat behind you. It makes your breath catch in your throat. He'll position you, arms on your side, clicking his tongue at your posture or your form. What an interesting man.
It's turned oddly domestic. And you can tell...he enjoys it. It's like a dream for him. There's something about the way that his smile reaches his eyes, it makes it hard to resist him. He admires you.
On a different note, you keep seeing Selina each night. You give her the minor scoop on what's happening. She thinks you're trying to learn hypnotism to hypnotize Mr. Tetch. She doesn't need to know exactly what's going on. You're a good liar. You got that from your mothers side. She also doesn't know you try to hypnotize her every night she comes over. She tells you everyone thinks you're either dead or as good as.
Oh well, you think. It's happening. You're getting close. You can almost taste revenge on your tongue. You can't stop the play-by-play of imagining your fathers face for the first time after this. You wonder if it would be hatred, or disappointment. Good. He chose Lee Thompkins over you. He knew. His own daughter. His blood.
You stare into a fireplace. You watch the flames lick up the side of the walls, dancing to a peaceful rhythm. It reminds you of your heartbeat, the steady crackling inviting your eyes to look. It's beautiful. It's calm. It's a welcomed warmth.
You hear footsteps behind you, and don't turn to see who it is. The sound of two china teacups clanking together on their plates, Jervis comes to rest beside you on the couch, offering you a cup. You take it gently. He sits cross legged beside you, unwinding from the day.
You remember what he said on the balcony all those days ago. Nights in Gotham are mesmerizing. The man next to you, he's turned your life upside down. And now...you two are...what? Partners? Associates? Friends?
You feel his gaze burn into you, one of admiration, as if he were staring at a painting. He leans his head down.
"You look pensive, dear. Are you anxious?" He stirs the cup of tea lazily, eyes boring into yours. "We have the world for you and I to call our own. We have money, we have an estate. We have a wonderful plan. Why worry?"
The world for us to call our own. There he goes again- saying things like that. You feel your blood run hot.
"Remember when you shot me?" You can't stop the words coming out of your mouth. He seems to falter slightly, and his body tenses. His voice is barley above a whisper.
"...Yes?" He looks at you with an edge.
You nod, recounting the memory. You're not sure what you expected him to say.
"Did you like me back then?" You whisper. You see his grip on his teacup turn his knuckles white. Your words are forward. You always need answers. You curse yourself.
"I did...I do." He breathes. He speaks as though it's his last night alive, faced with a great opportunity to finally speak his mind. "...But I always knew what you were really destined for. We were always fated to be together. Even from that first night."
It's all out in the open. Fated to be together. You digest his words. How strange- to be enthralled, captured by someone. His trickery, his identity. His hypnotism. It dawns on you, he hasn't once moved to compel your affections. At least not that you remember.
The whole situation suddenly makes you laugh.
He's stunned. He's silent long enough that he realizes he's staring, and makes an effort to keep his expression neutral. But his eyes don't lie, completely enamored with you.
"You're laughing."
"I am," You huff through quiet giggles. "This whole city- this whole situation, it's all so fucked."
His smile slowly widens once more. He doesn't know what to make of your reaction. He was certain you'd be cold, fearful. But you're not. You're...laughing.
"...You have quite the mouth on you." He's amused, despite himself. He sips on some more of his tea and puts down the cup. He speaks again with quiet humor. "You laugh when you're nervous, don't you?"
You shrug. Your voice takes on something playful. "And what do you do when you're nervous? Go bat-shit crazy?"
"Ah, among other things." He hums, sitting back. That grin of his kills you. "It was only one time." It was not, of course. He studies you.
You smile at this. At the way he talks. The way he dresses. Everything about him is so perplexing. "You're entertaining, you know."
He crosses his arms and shifts in his seat. His gaze is one of amusement. He's just as interested in this exchange as you are.
"Am I?"
"Yeah. You just have this edge to you. I can't quite place it."
"I'm nothing if not enigmatic, I assure you." He can't help but feel strangely proud of this. "I am many things; charming, polite, beguiling-"
"Cocky." You add to his list, interrupting him with a shit-eating grin on your face.
"Perhaps." He snickers. "I prefer confident, dear."
"I'm sure you do, showman."
You two enjoy the banter. Neither of you have been very much of a flirt with each other. Perhaps it's the fire, the smiles on your faces, the rush of revenge and hunger coursing through the two of you.
"And you are...what? Curious? Persistent? A tease?" He asks, delighted.
"A tease?" You snicker at his words, and offer a fake gasp. You roll your eyes. "If anyone is persistent, it's you."
He snorts at that. Yes, he's definitely enjoying this.
"Oh, really? Am I just going to have to accept the role of a relentless pursuer? An incessant suitor? An unceasing hound?" The words flow smoothly from his lips. You wonder if he's talking about his experience with Alice...or with you.
"You're doomed by the narrative." You settle on, beside yourself. His eyebrow twitches at this.
"You're terrible." He says with a mock groan. His eyes light up, the smallest twitch of his lips reveals his expression is one of childlike joy. You shrug and smirk.
"I'm honest. It's what you and your silly little delusions need." You bite your lip, and gently poke his hat to emphasize. You watch his smile falter as you poke it. Not many people would touch the hat. How...intimate, he thinks.
"...Yes, I suppose I do fall into delusions often...are you going to set me free from my fantasies, then?"
Time seems to stop at his sentence. He is talking about you. Whatever the two of you are.
You set down your tea, and make up your mind. You take both his hands into your own, and watch his dazed expression. You two look at each other, and a mutual feeling blooms inside you two. Warmth, comfort.
"What do you fantasize about, Jervis?" You ask softly, just below a whisper. The firelight bounces off his dark eyes, glinting.
He holds his breath before he speaks, smile disappearing. He seems completely serious, completely devoted, completely obsessed with you. You consume him.
"I fantasize about you. What else is there? The thought of just..."
His faze drifts to their intertwined hands. There's an intensity as he speaks. It must be the warmth of the flames, or the comfort of the surroundings, but the words that tumble from his lips are different than usual. There is a vulnerability to them.
"The thought of you and I being one...forever," He continues, "Is it wrong to want another's whole heart? Their affection, their adoration? To want to claim them as yours?"
"Is that what you want?" Nothing exists right now, except him. "For me to be yours?"
"It's what I crave....I want you all to me. You and your attention. I want that and I would go to any lengths to get it. I would move hell and high earth for you, Y/N."
Fuck it, you think. He's the closest thing you've ever gotten to home.
"You really are crazy, you know that?"
Before he has a chance to speak, you cut him off with a kiss.
His eyes widen in delight. He's stunned, almost unable to believe what's happening. He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you into his lap and returning the gesture twicefold, with passion. His hands move through your hair, cradling your head.
You sigh into his lips, pulling away ever so slightly. You feel him squeeze tighter. He's needy, desperate, still kissing along your lips and jaw and neck to consume every part of you.
The fire is all but forgotten, the sound of the city around them is muted. All you two can hear is the sound of your breath, your heartbeats, your touches.
He pulls you closer, his hands resting on your hips. His grip is tight, unrelenting.
You finally pull away, finding each other equally stunned at what just transpired. Heavy breathing and panting sounds out.
The silence for a moment is almost deafening. You can read it on his face. He can't believe someone would willingly kiss him back without needing to use his gift. He looks upon you with a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and pleasure.
"Don't shoot me again, yeah?" You say against his lips, retracing your steps. The sudden urge to run away melts within you as you imagine what your dad might say, what Tabitha might say, what Selina might say. You swallow.
He speaks gently, watching you get up, as if he can't quite believe this is real. He can't help the giddy smile that stretches across his face. He doesn't want you to leave. He wants you with him. Forever.
"I make no promises."
#gotham#x reader#gotham x reader#batman#batman rogues#gotham villains x reader#batman rouges gallery#batman x reader#dc comics#jervis tetch x reader#jervis tetch#jervis tetch gotham#the mad hatter#the mad hatter dc#the mad hatter x reader#gotham mad hatter#dc mad hatter#mad hatter#jervis tetch imagine#gotham jervis#gotham jervis tetch#fic series
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the distance is nothing when one has a motive (ao3)
After Alex comes out to June and Nora, he joins a queer forum where he soon meets the user known as ‘mostardently’. Unbeknownst to him, that user is Prince Henry, Alex’s enemy in life. Slowly, they fall in love, but how will they react to the truth?
Or, the classic enemies to lovers
✨🇺🇸💌🇬🇧✨
it's my time to post for @aroyallybigbangrwrb and i'm so excited for you to all read this fic that i've been working on for the past couple of months. it has it all: fluff, smut, slow burn love, funny moments and pride and prejudice quotes. i had SO much fun writing this!
you can also listen to three (!!!) playlists whilst reading this fic made by the wonderful @tailsbeth and honestly every time i got a song sent through i got so giddy, the playlists really are perfect! they've been on repeat
main playlist | alex's playlist | henry's playlist
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I just read the stsg mailman au on Twitter and it's so fucking good OMG I was smiling the whole time. Also Suguru is such a brat like, can't he just accept a gift or answer a question like a normal person ? Does he have to be a little shit (I love him) ? I'd be so pissed if the person I'm flirting with kept sending me confusing messages like that 😭😭
Anyway the thread fic was amazing, kudos on you <3
ohh thank you so much! ♥️
i'm having the time of my life writing this threadfic, it's all joy and fluff and fun! you're right though, suguru is a dickhead and i simply adore him for that tbh. he's so funny to me with his petty corrections and his answering questions with questions, ugh!!
not sure if you're aware, but i started up part three yesterday so there's more to the story yet! however, i'll be posting the whole thing to ao3 when it's finished. thank you for the love, i'm really grateful!
#♥️#le-panda-chocovore#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#geto suguru#satosugu#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#mailman au#ask fushiglow
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Hello!!! Long time no ask! Lol, I've been battling sickness, and I'm and out of hospitals and specialists, and whilst I sit upon my bed, I was thinking of how I used to absolutely ADORE your stories!!! So, I come here seeking a HOTD story!!!
Would it be possible for you to write a story/one shot about an old character I had asked you to make? She was the only child between Laenor and Rhaenyra, but never wanted the throne, in this story could you write her reaction to hearing about her brother, Lucerys' demise from Rhaenys? She was close to her brothers even though they were half siblings and I can't imagine how she must have felt knowing Aemond, who she had once been betrothed too and cared for, was the cause.
Goodness I miss your works and I look forward to seeing the HOTS season 2!!!
Loss of the wrong blood
Targaryen family x daughter of Laenor and Rhaenyra!reader
warning : angst, emotional, implied war, mention of death (of lucerys), mention of war and death, very slightly implied Aemond x reader, reader is female, no use of Y/n
Summary : Once the succession to the throne seemed secure with her being the true child of Princess Rhaenyra and her first husband Laenor. But that time is over, the war is upon them, and into the storm comes the news of Lucery's death, a time when much worse was to come.
Info : OMG I am so happy to have written this my dear I wish you all the best and the best of health I really hope you enjoy this and I am always open for more. It was really nice to visit old friends again and I wish you a lot of fun…everyone else too of course ;) Season 2 will be amazing and so sad at the ame time
masterlist
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The blood of the Targaryens, Velaryons and Hightowers all older than most houses. Three families that came together under the royal family a family from Alicent and the Hand of Otto Hightower grandfather of the three children of the queen who were also the uncles of the three blood infested children of Rhaenyra a daughter of King Viserys of the kingdom of joy and a woman who would one day ascend the throne.
The three princes, as they were often called, were three children with dark brown hair and dark eyes who knew that they were not the true heirs, born out of love for their beloved mother. Three sons without a father a real father who burned to death in the flames of his castle.
But in those dark days, in the days when Aegon was crowned king, the green ones were preparing for a first strike and the black ones were sharpening their blades and dragons around Rhaenyra, there was a trueborn in the family besides Rhaenyra and her three half-siblings, it was her only daughter.
The only daughter from the marriage between Laenor and Rhaenyra was born one night when it had worked out in a circuitous way with wine and potions with slaves and under the moonshine.
A night from which Rhaenyra's only daughter, the second-born child, was born with white light hair, violet eyes and a darker skin that resembled Velaryon's.
Eyes that now showed assurance as she raised her sword and pointed at her older half-brother who had also moved into position before the two approached each other under the command of the Master of Arm.
Swords slashing against each other, the dragon Vermax looked on curiously at the older Seasomke who was looking at his horse. A battle, a training between siblings, a battle in which Jace was seen to have the strength of his father Harwin, a battle in which the skill of the Velayrons came to the fore.
It was a back and forth until it came to the point where her two brothers moved away and she shrugged off his ,,I'll see you in a minute, you lame chick" with a roll of her eyes and saw the teacher's look of approval. But she saw how tightly Jace clutched the sword, nervous about his first mission for the empire, for their mutual mother.
She knew that she and Jace should have gone, not Lucerys, who was still too young for her. But I can't go…the heiress can't go, she thought, handing her sword to her holder hanging over the fireplace as she put on her formal clothes to say goodbye. Her eyes briefly lingered on the picture of the entire family of Targaryens, Velaryons and Hightowers at the family dinner.
Where everything was still sort of okay until Aegon ruined it, ,,And you defended me Aemond," she murmured and put her finger on her uncle her real blood relative not her half uncle like Jace, Luce and Joff. Despite the fact that it was only a picture, she could see the sapphire in his eye and she felt his gaze on her, he was always with her, had been promised to her.
He was a man she had once not disliked, their interests were similar and he was gentler and more affectionate than her first uncle Aegon. Soon she hastily put the picture away and closed the golden buckle with the dragon while seahorses and dragons in silver and gold appeared on her cloak and clothes.
It was a reminder to everyone here on Dragonstone and King's Landing that she was the only legitimate child and heir to the throne besides her little hall brothers Aegon the third and Viserys the second.
,,We are the true family they say but that's not true" she mumbled as she looked at the painting of King's Landing a painting in the glory days of the city a city that knew who the true heirs were she and her two half brothers and her two uncles and her dear aunt Helaeana and her three children her cousins.
As she left her room, she remembered one thing about Lucery's hopeful sad expression-hope for no war and grief that he was walking alone, his fears threatening to hollow him out.
,,Mother, father…Harwin the house of Velaryon and I we are all so proud of you my little Luce" she reminded him and placed a hand on the brown haired man's cheek looking into his dark eyes as he pulled her into a hug and gave a soft ,,Thank you sister" before she stroked his head one last time and watched him mount Syrax.
She felt Jace's hand on her shoulder, ,,He's going to make it our little Lucerys," her older brother said as he closed her in a hug and she watched him mount his dragon Vermax and watched her brothers until they disappeared into the sky.
But things were to turn out differently - they were messengers on behalf of Queen Rhaenyra, but Jacaerys fulfilled his mission to the Arryns and the Starks in the north…but Lucerys met a bitter, gruesome end over the sea, murdered by his uncle on Vhagar.
A message that came to her late as the fire burned in the hearth and she sharpened her sword as her stepfather Daemon had always advised her to do when waiting, ,,Keep your weapons and mind sharp so you can't be surprised," she remembered his words.
She felt his hand on her shoulder as they shared the few moments they had. Daemond was not like Laenor, she barely remembered her real father, but whenever she saw the sea, the air whirring around her and the fire, she knew he was with her.
Before an almost timid knock on her wooden door made her put down her sword, ,,Come in" she said and saw that it was her grandmother. ,,What brings you to me, grandmother?" she asked, but saw that there was something like sadness in the Targayren baratheon's violet eyes. She saw Rhaenys come to her and stand beside her, her grandchild having risen from the bed and looking at her uncertainly.
She was just about to open her mouth when she heard the news, ,,Lucerys is dead, killed by your uncle Aemond," her grandmother said and wrapped her in a hug that was not returned.
Violet eyes darted around the room looking for something, looking for Lucerys, his image seemed to blur until she saw the family picture…Lucerys is supposed to be gone? Aemond? Could Aemond have done this after all?
Releasing herself from the embrace she saw her grandmother blurred tears had entered her eyes and were running down her cheek as she shook her head, ,,No-what? You're making a horrible joke, Rhaenys," she mumbled, but she could hear the distant sobs of her two brothers, the conversations and voices of her mother and stepfather. Lucerys saw the dark eyes and felt his soft hair under her hand. a few hours ago she had seen him, but he was still alive.
The older woman wanted to put her on the bed and tell her what had happened, but her granddaughter pulled away, ,,No! No, it wasn't Luce, it wasn't my little Lucerys!" she screamed, shaking her head and grabbing her sword before running out of the room.
She felt abandoned by everything, had lost her beloved brother, had lost everything, all because of an iron chair that was hers…a family that brought death. Something had to be done, something had to be done, but the point of war had been passed with his death.
Running past the sleeping chambers and rooms, she arrived in the main hall breathing heavily from crying and running. ,,Tell me it's not true, mother!" she called across the hall, seeing the queen's expression mixed with tears as she broke away from her uncle and husband and slowly, almost shakily, approached her daughter with a ,,Dear child".
But before she could embrace her just as Rhaenys wanted to do, her only daughter threw the sword on the floor in front of her. ,,You-you're the queen, you have power mother damn it he can't be dead!" she screamed in rage, anger and grief, not noticing Jace watching her with tears as he hugged his little brother Joffrey.
,,Your brother, the Lord of Driftmark, will be avenged, you can be sure of that, daughter!" Dameon, who could hardly tolerate such behavior even if the lords and ladies and servants were no longer in the room, pointed out publicly. Lord of Driftmark she thought and laughed in her emotional frenzy the title goes to Joffrey a child and Rhaena now a widow her betrothed murdered even before the wedding with her cousin.
,,You Daemon…Lord of Driftmark do you all hear yourselves? Joffrey is it now, Rhaena is a widow mine-my brothers are bastards with no claim and I'm the only damn child left to a queen without a kingdom! What do you want to avenge Dameon!" she screamed at him, pushing past her mother and giving her uncle a look that was returned by the dragon's violet eyes.
Caraxes and Seasmoke could be heard outside and the other dragons joined in. They all felt the pain and suffering.
For a moment everyone seemed to think that Dameon was going to hit his stepdaughter and great niece but he just put his hand on her shoulder for a moment before walking past her, ,,I'll get us back to bloody Westeros if it means I can avenge this family," he said audibly to everyone and put on his helmet before walking out of the hall.
The doors slammed shut and silence returned to the Targaryen Velaryon family, all of whom remained silent. Going back to her sword and picking it up, she slowly walked to her mother and hugged her for a moment, listening to her sobbing words of comfort, but in the princess, in the only princess of the realm, an idea had already formed, an idea for which she was born.
,,Don't worry mother, everything will be all right again, the war will end," she assured her, looking into the sad violet eyes before she disappeared past her family into her room and stayed there.
She lingered there with the picture of the family in her hand and looked into his eyes, gazing at the gemstone before she waited for the mode to slowly open. A thought she knew seemed to be the only thing left to fight.
She was the only legitimate child of the black she was the only legitimate child of the royal family she had to do what she was meant to do. Putting the leather bag over her shoulder, the sword hanging from her belt, she reached for the bridle for Seasmoke who was staying on Dragonstone in the pits.
The moon was covered in clouds and darkness fell on the family as a shadow flitted through the corridors. Dragons and seahorses gold and silver shells and fire could be seen on her kelding as she ran her hand over the doors of her beloved family members. ,,Forgiven me mother, Jace, Joff and Raenys…forgive me father I will put it back into order" she murmured leaving the letter on the iron table before scurrying out of dragonstone to the hells and calling out to valyrish for her dragon to come to her.
,,We'll fly back Seasmoke we have to try" she said and put the leather around the pale silver gray dragon a growl made her look up and Seasmoke grumbled as they both knew that they had to fly through the storm, that it was the storm that awaited them that Aemond promised her hope for the offer as Aegon accepted the offer of marriage for the peace of his brother with his niece and she hoped that Alicent and Otto with Larys would finally leave the strings of power alone.
Mounting her father's dragon, Seasmoke flew into the sky with a roar, his roar and fire barely visible or audible. The dragon brought his rider safely to King's Landing into the courtyard, protecting her from the guards with fire and wings until the proclaimed king with his sister queen, children, mother, grandfather and his brother Ameond were in front of her.
Only then did she step forward and kneel before them, throwing down her sword, and it is said in the books of the secured that violet tears of the dragon rolled down her cheeks in the darkness of the night as she asked her uncle Ameond to marry her as a peace offering.
A marriage that should have happened much earlier when she saw the pitying yet devoted look on Ameond's face. It was the chapel in the Dance of Dragons where the marriage took place, a marriage that was short-lived as Daemon kept his promise and his great-niece became both prisoner and wife.
It was a time when both sides fought a side that the other took more and more. A family struggle that ended in death and the throne went to the true heir after Aegon's death.
The green blood was wiped out and the only true heiress, the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon, ascended the throne and the only thing she had left of her beloved family were her two younger half-brothers full of fear of tomorrow, her grandfather Corlys a man with sorrow and yet hope in him when he looked at her and her husband's sword in her hand while her mother's necklace hung around her neck and the symbol of the dragon joined the seahorse on the banner in the throne.
It was the Peaceful Queen's reign that unified the kingdom and made the way for her younger brother when she died. But she was in the place she hated surrounded by a small part of her family that was slowly rebuilding with the memory of her beloved mother and brothers for whom she had statues built.
The peaceful queen would never let the history of her family be forgotten…and so once again a Targaryen sat on the throne full of grief, hope and a story that began with the spilling of untrue blood the death of her brother Lucerys Velaron.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#hotd#house of the dragon#house targaryen#house velaryon#house hightower#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenys targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#lucerys velaryon#daemon targaryen#aemond targaryen#character x reader#reader is female
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