#she was never wrong except for that one time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

literaryavenger · 3 days

Text

You Were My Sunshine

Summary: Once a year you disappear for a whole day. Nobody knows where you go or what you do, but the team has learned to let you have your privacy. This year though, Bucky's curiosity gets the better of him and he follows you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death. Grief. Some angst. Fluff. No mentions of Y/N.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: I realize this is a little heavy and you absolutely don't need to read it. This one's mostly for me, but I thought why not post it and let Bucky comfort other people, if you need it. As always, my inbox is always open if you want to even just chat. I hope someone likes this. Also, I promise the requests are coming, a little slowly but they're coming. I'm on vacation for two weeks so I'll spend the time writing, probably.

Masterlist

“Have a good day.” Steve calls after you as you pass the kitchen.

You stop in front of the door to smile at Steve and wave at the team as they all have breakfast together before you keep making your way to the elevator that will take you to the parking garage.

“So, we’re really just accepting this?” Bucky asks the team when the elevators close behind you and he’s sure you can’t hear him.

“Yes, Buck.” Steve says firmly.

“But-” Bucky’s protests are cut off by Tony.

“She’s entitled to her privacy.” He says firmly. “Just let it go, Frosty.”

Bucky ignores the nickname and looks around the team, searching for anyone that might have his back, but nobody else seems to be too invested in your day. Bucky gets up with a huff and makes his way to the training room, resigned that he has to let you be.

You’ve always been an open person, you’re always there for everybody that needs you and you’re not afraid to talk about anything with anybody.

Your life is an open book.

Which is precisely why it drives Bucky crazy that, once a year, you disappear for an entire day and nobody knows where you go or what you do.

You disable all your communication devices, the tracking in your car and you don’t use credit cards anywhere.

It’s like you cease to exist for a day, leaving no trace that you were anywhere.

At least that’s how the team sees it.

They’ve all tried to figure out where you go, but that’s the only subject that you never talk about and, every time anyone asks you about it, your answer is always the same:

Don’t worry about it.

After so many years, the whole team has decided to listen to you and stopped worrying about it.

Everyone except Bucky.

It’s not like you’re that close with him, but he considers you his friend and he trusts you, so it irks him that you have this huge secret that nobody knows anything about.

Needless to say, he worries about it a lot.

That’s why right now he finds himself tip toeing down to the garage. He sees you get into your car and drive away and, without even thinking about it, he jumps on his bike and follows you.

He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t follow you, that you’re allowed to have your secrets. But he can’t help himself when it comes to you. You make him lose control, you make him go insane.

He just needs you. to know.

So he follows you, as discreetly as only a trained assassin knows how. He follows you into the city and stops a few cars away when you park in front of a secondhand bookstore. Bucky knows that shop all too well, it’s one of his favorite places to visit when he’s in the city.

He waits until you disappear behind a shelf before going in, watching you as you browse the books. It looks to Bucky like you’re looking for a particular book, when you find it, he can see your face lighting up.

You turn the book to look at the back cover and Bucky can read the title very clearly. ‘Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince’, one of your favorite books. Bucky knows that because he’s talked about it with you for hours, along with all the other books of the series and the Lord of the Rings books, Bucky’s favorites.

You chat amicably with the older guy that owns the shop while you pay for your book and then leave, getting back into your car with Bucky still on your tail.

Next you go to a small bakery and buy a coffee and a cupcake. Thankfully for Bucky you’re too distracted by talking with the nice, old lady that owns the place to notice him buying his own coffee.

He follows you again as you cross the street to the park in front of the bakery and walk until you find a secluded spot. You sit down against a tree and continue peacefully reading your book under the summer sun while sipping your iced coffee.

Bucky sits on a bench nearby where he has a visual on you, but you can’t really see him unless you were really looking for him. But you’re so engrossed in reading that Bucky’s sure he could sit next to you and you wouldn’t even realize it.

He knows you get like that when you’re reading something that captures your attention, and the Harry Potter books always do, no matter how many times you’ve read them already.

Bucky always thought you looked so cute while reading. You make no attempt to hide your reactions and it amuses him. So he spends the next few hours just watching you read, watching your beautiful face shining in the sunlight as you frown and snort and laugh and pout as your eyes dart around the pages.

It’s actually relaxing, he thinks to himself. Is this what you do every year? Take a whole day just to read without the chaos of the Compound and nobody to bother you?

But why would you be so secretive about this? Reading for hours with a cup of coffee is something you’d done countless times in your room, on the roof, in the backyard of the Compound or even in the common room, never really bothered by the noise the team makes when you’re so into the words you’re reading.

So why do it in secret?

After a few hours, around lunch time, you finally come out of the book’s trance and gather your things before getting up.

Bucky frowns when you don’t get back into your car and follows you as you walk to a small family owned Italian restaurant that Bucky’s never been to but always wanted to try. He discreetly follows you in and takes a table in the back where you can’t see him.

He watches you interact with the owner, the waiter and even the cook comes out to talk to you. It’s clear that they all know you and it seems to Bucky like you’re pretty close to them even though he’s never even heard you mention this place before. When you’re done eating, Bucky sees you playfully fight with the owner that doesn’t want to let you pay so you leave a generous tip that amounts to more than your check is and the owner chuckles to himself when you wink as you walk out.

After lunch, which Bucky has to admit was pretty good, he follows you to a flower shop a couple of doors down and he’s surprised to see the owner greeting you like old friends. It looks like she was already anticipating your arrival, a bouquet of blue roses already on the counter and ready to go when you arrive. You chat with the older woman for a few minutes before paying and leaving the flower shop to go to your car.

It’s clear to Bucky by now that you obviously have a routine on your secret day, and everyone you see on this day knows it.

So why don’t the Avengers?

You looked so comfortable with all the people you’ve met today, Bucky can’t help but think that maybe you don’t feel like you belong on the team.

You drive until you arrive at your destination and Bucky is both surprised and confused when you park in the parking lot of a cemetery, get out of your car and enter it.

He subtly follows you in, watching you walk past a few graves and it looks to him like you know your way around by how effortlessly you walk without needing to check the names, stopping at one almost at the end of the row you were in while Bucky keeps his distance, always making sure to stay out of sight.

He sees you take a deep breath before kneeling in front of the grave and putting down the bouquet of flowers in front of it.

“Hi, mom…” You wipe the dirt off the tombstone and tidy the flowers in front of it with what Bucky’s sure it’s a forced smile. “Happy birthday.”

You take out the cupcake you bought that Bucky now realizes you hadn’t eaten yet and he sees you put a small red birthday candle on it and light it, then you just look at it for a few seconds before you sigh and blow it out.

“So…” You say quietly, looking back at the tombstone and Bucky can see a tear falling down your cheek.

A piece of Bucky's heart breaks seeing you so vulnerable and hurting like this, but he stays put no matter how much he wants to be at your side right now.

Bucky stands there in complete silence, hearing everything you say, hanging on to every word. He hears you talk about everything that happened in the past year, he listens to you talk about missions and parties and holidays. He hears you talk about the whole team and his heart flutters a little when you mention his name too.

You talk for a while and, after he assumes you run out of new things to say, he sees you taking out the book you just bought today.

“So, this year we finally got to the half-blood prince.” You say with a small smile. “It’s our favorite, hadn’t read it in a while.”

Bucky sees you open it and go to the page you left the bookmark in.

“It took me longer than I thought to find your favorite quote, I have to admit.” You say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 400 pages in, don’t judge me.”

Bucky chuckles quietly at your playfulness, even in this situation. He can’t help but find you adorable.

“It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.” You read the quote before closing the book and looking back at the grave. “That’s what you told me when I was scared of the dark…” You say quietly with a smile.

“And that’s what you told me before you…” You trail off, not being able to finish your sentence as tears start streaming down your cheeks but Bucky has a pretty good idea where you were going.

That's what she told you before she died, so you wouldn't be scared.

He’s more than surprised that he didn’t know your mother died, and he’s pretty sure the rest of the team doesn’t know either.

Admittedly, families are a very touchy subject for the Avengers.

But Bucky’s even more surprised to see you breaking down, something you’ve never done before. You’re cheery, you’re bubbly, you’re everyone’s little ray of sunshine.

And it breaks Bucky’s heart to know you’ve been falling apart when you’re by yourself all these years.

“I’m sorry I only come here once a year, I just…” You start, so quietly that Bucky’s glad he has enhanced hearing otherwise he's sure he wouldn't be able to hear you. “I miss you so much and I can’t… I can’t bear this.”

He sees you running your fingers gently over the tombstone as you take a deep, shaky breath, but you can’t stop crying.

“I’m trying to be the person you loved…” You say after a moment of silence. “Your little ray of sunshine.” You chuckle softly through the tears.

It makes sense to Bucky now why you always try to be there for everyone else. It’s how you’ve always been, apparently. Always making sure no one feels alone because deep down you feel the most alone, and you don’t want anyone else to feel that way.

You are my sunshine

Bucky’s thoughts get interrupted when he hears you quietly starting to sing.

My only sunshine

Bucky knows this song. It’s a lullaby that he’s heard you sing once before.

Clint’s family visited him at the Compound and you offered to watch his kids so he and his wife could have a date night.

You probably didn’t realize he heard you, you probably thought you were alone and it’s not like he was spying on you. He just happened to pass by when you were in Clint’s room, trying to get the three kids to sleep by singing to them.

You make me happy, when skies are gray

You take a breath before continuing but your voice wavers a little.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you

Bucky can see you’re having trouble getting the words out, your voice almost breaking.

Please don’t take… My sunshine… Away

Before you can even get the last word out, you break down completely, burying your face in your hands while sobbing.

Bucky feels his heart break as he takes in your pain. He wishes there was some clear and simple solution to making this all better for you, but there's always been so much he doesn't understand about complex emotions like these.

Right now, as he's watching how broken you are, though, he knows that he doesn't even care about understanding. He just wants to comfort you, to try and make it better...

Bucky comes to rest beside you, he kneels down to your level and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Hey…” He says quietly.

His presence startles you and you go into defense mode, taking his hand on your shoulder and bending it, then using your grip on his arm to push him face down on the ground.

Bucky didn’t expect you to react so quickly and aggressively which makes it easier for you to catch him off-guard and pin him down.

“Goddammit, Bucky!” You say after you finally recognize him and let him go, getting up and scrambling back to put some distance between you and him while breathing heavily.

For a moment, Bucky is a little stunned. It's rare that anyone is able to get the jump on him like that. But then he snaps back to reality. He lets you make your distance while getting back to his feet and stands a few feet away from you.

“Did you fucking follow me?!” Your sadness is quickly forgotten and replaced with anger.

“I…” Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He knows he’s in the wrong here and he has no defense for himself when he knowingly violated your privacy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?!” You snap at him. “You didn’t understand what the meaning of privacy is?!”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, he’s never seen you this angry at anyone that’s not an enemy and surely never at him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He says quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just curious, I didn’t think this would be it, I thought…”

“You thought what?” You say when he trails off, clearly pissed as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“I thought maybe you were a supervillain…” He jokes weakly, trying to make you laugh. “Or a stripper.”

His last word gets a surprised laugh out of you as you, fortunately, understand he’s just joking before you actually punch him in the face.

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief as he sees you laugh and then takes a tentative step towards you.

“I really am sorry…” He says quietly, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder. “I know it was wrong of me to follow you, and I didn’t plan on bothering you at all, which doesn’t make what I did better,” He quickly adds when he sees you’re about to say something.

“But when I saw you crying, I just… I couldn’t help myself.” He trails his hand down your arm to your hand and takes it in his. “You’re always there for everybody, I don’t think it’s fair that you don’t let anybody be there for you.”

You look at him for a long moment, processing his words. Of course you know he’s right, you don’t let anybody be there for you, but you also never really believed anyone cared enough to.

But looking at Bucky right now, it feels like he really does want to be there for you...

So you let him.

You look back down at the grave, your hand still in his as you intertwine your fingers together.

“She died when I was 14.” You say quietly. “I only had her, so I was on my own after that…”

Bucky listens quietly, his eyes on your face as he sees the tears starting to gather in your eyeline again.

“A few years later, Natasha and Clint found me during a mission. They saw me knock out a dude that cornered me in an alley and they were impressed…” You have a faint smile at the memory although it’s clear you’re about to cry again. “They offered me a place in the SHIELD Academy and, after that, I don’t know… I wasn’t alone anymore.”

You look back at Bucky to find him looking at you intently, his gaze intent and unwavering.

“Doll…” He says quietly while cupping your face with his free hand as he sees you holding back tears. “It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of the people you care about. You taught me that.”

His gentle words, the way he softly strokes your cheek and the way he’s looking at you so lovingly, it’s all too much for you and can’t hold back your tears anymore.

With a broken sob, you bury your face in Bucky’s chest and hug him tightly, clinging to him while he wraps his arms around you and hugs you just as tight, kissing the top of your head before nuzzling his face against your hair.

In this moment, while holding you in his arms, Bucky realizes it’s not like you don’t feel like you belong with the Avengers.

This is just something you feel like you have to go through on your own because you’ve always had to.

And he’ll be damned if he lets you go through it alone ever again.

#bucky barnes #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers #tony stark #avengers x platonic!reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfiction #clint barton

602 notes · View notes

janeyseymour · 22 hours

Text

chosen family

summary: jacob hill has always been like something of a son to Melissa Schemmenti. You, Melissa's partner, make him realize that.

WC: ~3.3k

Melissa Schemmenti has always been drawn to people who could not be further from herself. It’s always been that way for her.

You are not the exception. You couldn’t be more different than the fiery redheaded teacher. Just like everyone else to work there that she is close with, you couldn’t be more different. You’ve picked up on this pattern. You’ve also picked up on other things concerning your new colleagues.

Barbara Howard is a perfect example of being entirely different from Melissa Schemmenti- her work wife, her platonic soulmate until the end of time. The first day, you were made very aware that Melissa Schemmenti and Barbara Howard were something of work wives and platonic soulmates. While yes, they both attend church every Sunday, the kindergarten teacher is much more devout. Barbara Howard is a rule follower, where Melissa bends the rules in ways nobody ever thought possible. While Barbara Howard is often steady and stable, Melissa Schemmenti could light someone’s car on fire over something as trivial as picking up the wrong pasta sauce on the way home.

Janine Teagues, someone who radiates sunshine and positivity, is somewhat of a daughter or a niece to the redhead. The same goes for Gregory- he’s like a son or nephew, in an odd way. You’ve learned that one thing to be aware of is that Janine is never stopping- she’s always going to the point of exhaustion and usually ends up creating a bigger mess than the one she was trying to clean up in the first place. You’ve learned that her and Gregory are dating; but apparently they’ve only officially been dating for a few months now. Before then, they’ve been the ‘will they, won’t they’ talk of the staff room.

Mr. Johnson has such a free spirit that it irritates Melissa at times. But they see eye to eye when it comes to important things in life- like how they would survive on a desert island or a zombie apocalypse. The two have a friendship that confuses both of them. He is there for fun, despite having a crucial part in the school.

Ava Coleman, at one point an enigma to the teacher, has a special spot in Melissa’s heart. At first, it was hatred. And then it was something of a kinship. Ava Coleman may not be conventional by any means, but it worked. Melissa found that she quite liked the zest and interesting takes that the principal held with her. It took time, but they found a rhythm, and that rhythm has since been perfected. Ava Coleman, much like the custodian, wants all fun and no work.

And that left Jacob Hill. Jacob hill, a soft and at times skittish gay man that Melissa couldn’t stand when he first was employed by the city of Philadelphia. But now? Now they’re like two peas in a pod. They’re quite the unconventional pair- a very soft and somewhat skittish gay man and a tough, mob-like redhead. But they seem to work. They seem to work far better than anyone had expected, including the two living together. And the last thing that you’ve come to understand about the young man is that Jacob Hill is something of a son to the fiery second grade teacher. When you first started working here, you actually did think that Jacob was her son- that was quickly laughed off by Janine and she told you the truth of the matter.

And since you’ve worked at Abbott, you’ve become quite close with the second grade teacher. You’re actually dating her now. It’s something that you’re still having a hard time grappling with. How could someone as beautiful and as… Melissa, as she is end up with someone like you?

But it seems to work out. The green eyed woman seems to be drawn to people who could not be further from her.

Jacob has quickly become a staple at the apartment that the two of you now share, him moving out a few months ago- it makes sense in all actuality. He and Melissa are quite close, and in turn the two of you are closer now as well.

You see how happy it makes your girlfriend to have the always grinning, and yet somehow still always subtly cynical, man around. You see it when she’s able to make him a plate of dinner, share lunch portions with him, when she’s able to give him advice (in teaching or other), when he’s settling on the couch with the two of you to watch what they know refer to as ‘their’ show. Melissa mothers him more than she mothers Janine, leaving that job to her platonic work wife. It’s a sweet little relationship that the two of them hold very dear to their hearts.

You’re about to enter the staff room when you hear the two of them chatting quietly over their lunches.

“You’re still coming over tonight to watch, right?” you hear your girlfriend ask.

You can hear Jacob scoff. “Of course I am. Where else would I be?”

“I figured now that you’re seeing Ravi a bit more seriously, maybe you would want to-”

“Mel Mel, no,” you hear the middle grades teacher laugh. You can practically see him rolling his eyes. “Why would I want to be anywhere else?”

You see this as a good time to enter the room, taking your seat next to the redhead. You peck her cheek delicately before diving into your leftovers from last nights Schemmenti family dinner.

“Jake’s coming over for dinner tonight, that okay?” Green eyes look into yours for any sort of hesitation from you.

“He knows he’s always welcome to come over.”

So that’s how you spend that night. You’re in the recliner reading your book while Jacob and Melissa veg out on the couch with their popcorn and sour cream and onion flavoring. They each have a glass of wine, and they’re deep into conversation about who is slighting who and why. It makes you chuckle as you half listen to their conversation, half read about the drama that is happening in your book.

“What are you reading?” Jacob asks. Only then do you look up from your book and realize that your girlfriend is nowhere to be seen.

You show him the cover before asking, “Where’d Mel go?”

“Bathroom,” he tells you. “Then we’re going to watch a movie since our show is over… she thought it might be a nice way to wind down, and who am I to deny that?”

“You’re such a good son to her, you know,” you say casually as you return your attention back to your book. You flip the page.

Jacob is left searching for words. “She’s not my mother.”

“No, but you’re still the best son she has,” you shrug and reach over to pop a piece of popcorn in your mouth.

He goes to say more, but Melissa returns, reaching for the blanket that is draped over the edge of the couch. She lays it across the two of them before reaching for the remote to turn on whatever movie the two of them will be watching. Jacob swears he sees a smirk dancing across your lips. And he’s right- you are smirking. Because now you know he’s thinking about what you said.

He supposes he sees it- the way that Melissa mothers him. If he’s being honest with himself, his own mother doesn’t even treat him like this anymore. It’s… nice to have someone care for him like that.

That night ends in Melissa sending Jacob off to his house with a Tupperware container full of Braciole and a “Text me when you’re home and safe in your apartment!”

As time goes on, your words linger in Jacob’s head. He’s like the son Melissa never had. And that is oddly okay with him- he like’s being the best son that your girlfriend has.

And when he and Ravi end with a messy breakup, your girlfriend is the first person he calls. He doesn’t call Janine, he doesn’t call Gregory, he doesn’t even call his own mother. No. The first person that crosses his mind as he leaves Ravi’s apartment for the last time is Melissa.

It’s late, and logically he knows that she probably isn’t awake and hasn’t been for hours. But he wants some maternal love and dials anyway.

You and your girlfriend are curled up in bed- her asleep, and you on the verge of sleep- when her phone rings to life.

“Who the fuck is calling at…” she blinks her eyes awake and glances at the clock. “1:30 in the morning?”

“Just let it go,” you sigh softly.

She reaches for her phone, and when you expect her to set it back down and pull you into her arms again, she doesn’t. Instead, her voice sounds concerned.

“Jacob?” is the only thing that she says into the phone.

You can hear his labored breaths. He doesn’t speak.

“Jake,” your girlfriend sighs. “Jacob, what’s going on? It’s 1:30 in the morning.”

“I- I know,” he chokes out. “But I- Ravi and I just broke up, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Oh,” Melissa’s face absolutely drops. She knows how much the social studies teacher liked the firefighter.

“I- I’m sorry,” he says pathetically into the phone. “I- I don’t even know why I called. Get back to-”

The redhead clears her throat, trying to get any of the remaining sleep out of her voice before she speaks again. “We’re still up. Come over.”

“It’s okay,” the distraught man sighs into the phone. “I can just…”

“Jacob, your ass better be here within the next thirty minutes,” Melissa tells him sternly. “You called me, you clearly don’t want to be alone, we were already up, so just come over.”

And that’s how you end up curled up next to your girlfriend, a glass of white wine in hand while Melissa sits in her spot, two glasses of red wine poured out for when her work son arrives.

“Babe, when he gets here though-”

“When he gets here, I’m moving to my recliner so you can mother him,” you roll your eyes as you yawn. “I don’t even know why I have to be here when he comes in.”

“Because I told him we were both up, and I don’t want him to think that we got out of bed for him,” Melissa tells you.

You smile at her softly as you rest your head on her shoulder. “You’re a good mother to him.”

“He’s not my son,” she chuckles.

“No, I know,” you sigh. “But he might as well be at this point. He called you, not his own mother.”

That thought makes her quirk her head to the side, thinking on this sentiment. She doesn’t have much time though, because Jacob is at the door knocking softly. You pick your head up and stand with her. While Melissa makes her way to the door, you take up the space in your recliner and curl up under the blanket, immediately reaching for the television remote.

You hear his sniffles as he comes in. He kicks off his shoes, and your girlfriend ushers him to the couch. She hands him the wine and wraps her arms around him. All Jacob can do is cry.

The redhead hushes her coworker gently, promising him that everything will be okay. And Jacob believes that- because if Melissa is saying it, it has to be true.

That night ends with him falling asleep on your girlfriend’s shoulder, and Melissa lays him down on the couch when the two of you finally decide to retire back to bed. She pulls the afghan from the back of the couch and gently drapes it over his body before running the tip of her index finger over his cheek.

“You’ll be alright, hun,” she whispers to him. Then she turns back to you and takes your hand.

As the two of you are curling up in bed for the second time that night, you hum, “You really would make a wonderful mother.”

When the time comes that you finally (according to Jacob and Janine) think about getting engaged and married to Melissa, Jacob could not want to be in on it more. He helps you find the perfect ring, he helps you plan it all, and he even insists on hiding out in the shadows in order to capture the event.

“Trying to make your mom happy?” you tease him.

He rolls his eyes with a smirk on his face. “She’s not my mother, but… Melissa being happy is all all of us want.”

When you do end up proposing to her, you expect Barbara to be the first person that your girlfriend flies into the arms of. Instead, it’s Jacob. Barbara, of course, is second. But Jacob seems absolutely ecstatic, telling the redhead that he helped with almost every aspect of the proposal. Melissa tells him that she couldn’t have wished for it to be anything else, and that she was very proud of him. Jacob blushes profusely, and it reminds all three of you just how close your Abbott family really is.

As wedding plans come along, Jacob is there for all of it. It’s a sweet thing. He looks like a kid in the candy store as Melissa, Barbara, and he look for the perfect outfit to get married in. Barbara is of course Melissa’s matron of honor, and Jacob is just happy to be there. He has no idea that at this appointment, Melissa is also going to be having him try on suits to match the bridal party.

“So,” Jacob leans forward with excitement. “What colors are you planning on doing for the bridal parties?!”

“Y/N and I decided that a nice salmony pink color might be good,” Melissa says with a twinkle in her eye. “So… you better start looking at ties and suits, mister.”

Barbara, who knew that her best friend was going to reveal this bit of information, grins. Meanwhile, Jacob’s jaw absolutely drops. He’s astounded.

“What? Why would I have to find a tie for-”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t have you in my wedding party?” the redhead rolls her eyes as she opens up her arms. “You’re as close to a son as I’m going to get as of right now. Of course you’re in the wedding.”

Tears begin to pour over the younger man’s face as he fully tackles his work mother in a hug. “Oh my god.”

“I don’t know,” he chuckles through his tears. “I just thought that I was here to-”

“To help me pick out my outfit, but also to help figure out the perfect color that you’ll be wearing and to get fitted for a suit, if you want,” Melissa tells him.

Barbara passes out three glasses of champagne in celebration.

When your wedding day finally comes, you’re standing up at the altar in your own suit as you await the moment that Melissa will be walked down the aisle by none other than Mr. Johnson (he was elated when your fiancee explained to him that he was something of a father figure to him).

The ceremony is beautiful- perfect even. Everybody laughs, everybody sheds tears, everybody is just thrilled at the fact that the two of you are tying the knot.

The reception is a thrill. Both you and Melissa make small toasts, a few others speak, and then it’s time for dancing.

You have your first dance with your wife (good God, you can call her your wife now!), she dances with Mr. Johnson, you dance with your own father, and then… Melissa makes her way up to the microphone.

“Hey youse guys,” Melissa chuckles nervously. “I know everyone else wants to get to dancing, but there is one more special person that I’d like to dance with… if he’ll make his way up.”

Nobody stands, but your wife’s green eyes are trained on Jacob.

“Me?” he gasps. At Melissa’s nod, he stands hesitantly before making his way over.

“Of course.” You see that those green eyes start to turn a little glassy, and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. “For those of you that don’t know… this is Jacob Hill- grade A pain in my ass turned something like a son to me.”

The two dance to a beautiful song written by Elton John, “Chosen Family”. By the end of it, there are no dry eyes in the audience. It’s a song that feels like it was written for them.

And then the night is off, everyone is dancing, and you’re just relishing in this beautiful moment that you have in your hands.

Jacob is dancing near the two of you when you decide to make your way over.

“Hey,” you check him with your hip gently. “Welcome to the family.”

The man smiles at you from ear to ear.

“You’re such a good son to her,” you compliment softly as you envelope him in a hug.

He just chuckles in your ear. “I know. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have her in my life.” Then his jaw drops. “Oh my god. Does this mean you’re like a weird sort of step-mom to me now?!”

As time goes on, you and your wife decide to try to expand the family. And somehow, by some grace of God (Melissa would tell you that it’s because Barbara prayed over you two night after night), you end up pregnant after the first treatment.

If you thought Jacob was a part of your household before, he’s only over more now. He’s constantly bringing over baby clothes and toys, helping Melissa to assemble the crib and the rocking chair as well as installing carseats into both of your cars, he’s bringing over remedies to help you with morning sickness and then creams and other things to help you feel the most comfortable that you can be during this pregnancy.

When you go into labor, he’s the first one Melissa calls, and then she calls Barbara.

You deliver a son, a beautiful baby boy. He’s perfect. And he has an even more perfect name.

“Go get Jake,” you tell your wife gently as you continue to cradle your son to your chest. “He deserves to meet his godson, and lord knows that boy has been sitting in the waiting room since he got your call.”

Melissa just chuckles as she stands from her place on your bed, kisses you softly, strokes the boy’s cheek, and then heads out.

She brings back both Barbara and Jacob, who immediately squeal upon seeing you as a mother for the first time. While Jacob fully thinks that you’ll hand the baby to your wife’s work-wife first, you actually hand the baby to him. He looks at this baby like he’s never seen anything more perfect.

“Do we have a name?” Barbara asks.

You smile at the man holding your newborn. “We do.”

“And it is?” Barbara prompts.

“Mel, do you want to tell him what his godson’s name is?” you prompt.

Jacob’s eyes go wide, and his jaw drops. “G-godson?”

“Godson,” you confirm, tears in your own eyes. You wipe at them gently as you lay back in the hospital bed.

“His name is,” Melissa chuckles through tears of her own as she makes her way over to the pair. “Milo Jacob Schemmenti… Milo meaning beloved, and Jacob, after you.”

“After… after me?” Jacob’s voice goes high as his eyes fill with even more tears. He holds the baby even closer to him, if that’s possible.

“Of course,” your wife smiles as she wraps a proud arm around him. “And if Milo turns out half as good as my first son, that kid is going to be set for life.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #jacob hill

156 notes · View notes

myladysapphire · 3 days

Text

My Lady Strong (VII)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 3,051

CW: MDI 18+, toxic relationship, manipulation, mommy issues, bullying, co-dependancy issues, not beta read.

Fem!oc x dark!Aemond Targeryen

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my Original characters

a/n this chapter is just up and down, maniplaution, confusion and so much happens even im a tad cofnused of where i was going with this.

Her mother sat across form her, staring awkwardly. She seemed as nervous as Aemma did. It was strange thing, her mother had once been her favourite person, other than Aemond that is. They had been so close, and now she stared at her, she couldn’t help but wonder what she had done wrong, how she had screwed up and ruined their relationship.

But sweet Aemma could only think of what Aemond had said, for her it was the most reasonable explanation, seeing as her mother had just left her, she had not argued much about her retuning to the red keep instead of Dragonstone. Perhaps she had felt betrayed, hurt that she perhaps defended Aemond before Luke. But why would she? Until today she had very little happy memories of her brothers. Whereas with Aemond, she had all of her happiest memories with him, and he had so swiftly pushed the negative ones from her mind, so swiftly she had started to think she had made it all up.

And now as her mother stared at her, with them both having no words to say to the other and using her brothers as shields so much so that she found she could enjoy her brother’s company.

“You know we used to be so jealous of you, you know” Luke had said absentmindedly, as they ate their lunch. Her mother had said nothing, only nervously pulling at her fingers, as if trying to figure something out.

“Really?” she asked, “I had always thought you hated me.”

“No!” Jace said abruptly, “no we didn’t, we envied you, you were always mother’s favourite. Its why we did all of those things, we wanted her to hate you and love us” he looked down ashamed, “we are sorry Aemma,” they had apologised repeatedly, begging for her forgiveness, and for the first time, she actually considered forgiving them entirely , perhaps forgiving them would give her mother a reason to talk to her, to acknowledge her.

“I know, and it is in the past now.” she said before she turned and looked to her mother, she took a deep breath before slowly trying to start a conversation with her, “I hear you are pregnant again.”

`Her mother nodded, a shy smile on her face “yes, dōna riña, I had mentioned it in one of the letters I sent you.”

Letters? That had confused her, and from the way her head shot up at the words, showing her mother just how much the word confused her “Letters? I never received any letters.” She shook her head, “the only one I received was the one sent last week, from Jace and Luke.”

“What are you talking about, dōna riña? I- “

Aemond entered then, cutting her mother off, she had thought it was almost as if he had sensed her distress, though in truth he had been listening on the other side of the door.

The room filled with silence, and Luke shrunk in his seat. Aemma however shot up in hers. “Aemond? Have you come to join us?” She asked eagerly.

He smiled; happy she was eager for his company. “As much as I would…. enjoy it, I am not, dearest, I have come to escort you, to your last dress fitting” he nodded, smiling as she quickly stood.

“of course,” she spoke, before turning to look at her brothers and mother, “I- sorry to cut this short but I must go” she then turned to look at her mother directly, “perhaps you could come with me?” she asked nervously.

Her mother seemed shocked at the invitation but not unpleased, “oh course…I’d love too” to though she could sense some unease at the response, as if her mother wanted to carry on with their previous conversation, a conversation Aemma had quickly lost interest in.

She cared not about the letters, she had sent hers and received nothing in return, why should she trust that her mother did in facts send any when she hadn’t gotten a single one but had gotten Jace and Lukes.

Aemond scowled behind her at the invitation, before quickly correcting it to a smile “how delightful” he mused, offering his arm to Aemma, as her mother stood to join them.

The walk had been an awkward one, not that Aemma had seemed to notice, as she rambled on about nothing in particular, seemingly eager to find this time to win her mother over once more.

“I had mentioned in the last le- “

Aemond cut her off, “my sweet, I why don’t you tell your mother of your gown?” He had calmly suggested, though Rhaenyra had been quick to notice his interruption both times the topics of letters where mentioned, but she couldn’t say anything, as Aemma quickly explained in great detail how her dress looked and changes they had made to it.

But Rhaenyra was starting to see the hold the greens had on you. Her sweet Aemma had always been so easy to convince and persuade. Gods Rhaenyra thought, she should have stopped whatever had gone on between Aemma and Aemond in their youth the second it started. And yet Aemond was the one thing that had always brought her joy, and it seemed the same now. She hated it. Hated how she should have forced her to Dragonstone. Forced her away from Aemond, away from the green’s clutches.

As it was transparent why her daughter did not see her hundreds of letters, letters of longing or love, comfort. And she in return received non either.

She had sat and thought on this during the whole fitting, eager for them to be alone so that she could once more talk to her Aemma. To convince her she had sent letters, had not forgotten about her, stopped loving her.

But she also had realised something, the bond she had with her ladies, with Heleana and…Alicent.

Her ladies seemed so close to her, a comfort even. Something Aemma had never had before, friendship, sisterhood. And now she had it, especially with the lady Cassandra. Her bond with her reminded her of the old bond she had had with Alicent, and it did seem it did for Alicent also.

So much so that Alicent seemed to have taken Rhaenyra’s place as her mother. She was so soft with you, and kind. She had been always in truth. Especially once your friendship with Aemond became apparent.

Rhaenyra couldn’t help but think she had truly missed so much, she had thought her daughter a prisoner, trapped, alone. And perhaps she had been, until Alicent wrote to her of her daughters need for ladies. But know, especially once her day gown was back on and Aemond entered once more, it seemed her sweet Aemma was happy. A happiness the greens had deprived her from having known or experienced with her daughter.

“Rhaenyra” she heard a voice say, a voice she realised was half-brother Aemond’s.

“Yes?” She saw Aemma being led to a corner with her ladies.

“Is there something on your mind” it seemed he was teasing her, and he was.

He had never liked his half-sister; in fact, he despised her. And now he knew she realised, realised the letters were never sent, and burnt upon arrival, he had her in the palm of his hand.

Aemma believed him, she trusted him, where she doubted her mother.

Rhaenyra scowled “you know exactly what’s on my mind, tell me the truth of it’.

He smirked, “hmmm, I do not know what you mean”.

“Yes, you do” she insisted, “my own daughter thinks I abandoned her, I know those are not her own thoughts”.

‘Oh, please, I only told her what she was already thinking” he smirked.

“That cannot be true” she seethed.

“you’re not going to fix your relationship by arguing with me now are you?” he smiled, and Aemma called him over, “whether you like it or not she is to be my wife and to my Aemma, I will be here for her, and you…you will be swiftly heading back to Dragonstone, leaving her yet again” he quickly left before she could reply, not that she had much to think on as she knew everything Aemond had said was true.

After the dress fitting, Aemond had walked stayed in her rooms as her everyone else left, he seemed to smile at how she had nearly begged him to stay.

“Do you believe my mothers words?” she had asked once they had all left.

“no” he answered swiftly, moving to sit beside her, “she is simply covering herself”.

“But she seemed so nervous and egar to- “

“She has simply realised her error in ever letting you leave her side” he mused, grabbing her chin softly, “she only cares for your brothers my sweet- “

“but my brothers said that the only reason they ever… that they were only mean to me in envy because mother cared for me so much” she cut him off, moving her head, only for Aemond’s grip on her chin to tighten, “that now they wish to be closer to me, that hey regret trying to make mother hate me-“

“that’s because they one, sweet.” Aemond interrupted, moving his other hand to caress her cheek, “don’t you see? There only goal was torment you and make your mother see you as a burden so they would become her favourite instead! And after Driftmark… think Aemma you had desired to be with me no matter what, to the pint your mother left you with me to go with your brothers, there plan worked sweet.” He hummed, moving his hand and tucking her hair behind her ear, “and now they have come back here, realised they you had noticed their swift disregard of you, realised how you favour me still and have tried every effort to win you back over.”

She looked down, nodding her head, “I suppose you are right, but still… all I have wanted was to marry you, and be close with my mother and brothers, I have never wished for a divide, perhaps if I forgive them they will stay and we will grow as close as they talk about.

He gripped her again, roughly, “don’t be stupid, that’s there plan they wish to woo you and have you side with them!”

“What do you mean?” she asked, close to tears, not at Aemodsn grip but at confusion, she didn’t know what to think, only knew that she had always believed Aemond, and hated how she had seemingly angered him.

“Do you wish to be my strong lady once again, hmmm” he mused, and she flinched.

She had hated those three words, the words that still haunted her and the words she had learnt were true.

“I- no I don’t” she shook her head.

“If you side with them, you betray me and you betray the farce your mother has raised you under.” He declared, standing up, “I shall see you at dinner” he walked out swiftly after, leaving her to think, and her dreams to stew.

Viserys and demanded the whole family attended dinner before the wedding, there wedding was to be held to unite the family, and yet even at this dinner the family showed clear divisions, greens on one side, blacks on the other.

Her grandparents and stepsisters had arrived a few hours before said dinner, though Daemon was still noticeably at yet to arrive. Not that Aemma minded, she minded, she didn’t know him and her only impressions of him were negative ones.

Aemma was sat with Aemond to her left and Jace to her right. Though she mostly kept to herself, with Aemond glaring at her mother, not that she noticed, and Jace talking to Baela, who sat beside him.

She seemed to be in her own head, her thoughts circling non-stop, her dreams playing on repeat, changing at every second, at every glare or snide remark.

But when the speeches started to come, they changed even more, the blood shed fading and dragons stopped dancing.

“I would like to toast to my sister” she heard Jace say, as he smiled down at her “we may not have been close in our youth but I non the less wish you all the best in your marriage”.

She smiled, moving to stand for herself before starting her own speech. She was never one for talking so publicly, even before her family. “I too would like to toast in kind, I hope that this marriage will open up the chance too untie us once more and allow for our family to no longer be divided by the black water” she spoke nervously, but made eye contact with her grandsire, Corlys who gave her an encouraging smile.

The table clapped, happy at her words, and her grandsire, Viserys, even more pleased.

The speeches stopped for a moment, the table content, and her mind even happier.

Then the pig was brought out, and Lukes laugh sounded from the other end of the table.

She felt Aemond flinch beside her, he went to stand, shaking of the hands she gripped him with. And ignoring her pleas.

“I would like to share a toast also, a toast to my future wife” she looked at him, dread filling her, memories swiftly changed by Aemond’s words flooding back to her, and her dreams returning in kind.

The flash of her body falling.

Her sons head rolling.

“I have long awaited to marry her, and now on the morrow she shall be my strong lady wife” She flinched, her brothers scowled. “I pray our union with be as strong and fruitful, as my bride wishes”.

He gave her a look; a warning and she knew that no matter what side she went with her dreams of blood and dancing dragons would become true.

The dinner had ended swiftly after that, her mother claiming the babe had tired her, and swiftly pushed her brothers out the door, in an attempt to prevent whatever Jace’s bawling fists were planning.

Aemond had escorted her back to her chambers, there walk quiet, but the second they stepped over her room’s threshold, he slammed the door behind him.

“You made a decision now hmm? You claimed your want for peace and yet it brought you the opposite, so tell me Aemma” he sneered “is that what you still desire hmm, or do you wish to finally see that the only peace you get shall be with me?

Flashes of silver and dancing. Not dragons but them, she smiled and danced, a hand holding her stomach.

“your right” she looked down, “I- I don’t know why it thought that perhaps we could all be united and happy, I was wrong , you were right.” she grabbed his hand, “please Aemond, don’t make me lady strong again, I swear I will only trust you from now on”

Aemond smiled, his words had one her mind once again, she was so tightly held in his grip that she would never escape him, not that she seemed to want to. For Aemond knew she knew the consequences of that. He didn’t know of her dreams but her knew she knew bloodshed would be inevitable.

“good” he smiled, caressing her cheek, “now gets some rest, on the morrow we shall be wed” he smiled, a true smile of happiness, and she seemed to return it in kind.

She had a dreamless sleep that night, and yet it wasn’t a peaceful sleep. She was awoken swiftly a dawn, much to her relief filling the room with chatter. Questions being asked left and right, joy on their faces for her wedding day. She was nervous, nervous of the wedding of what was to come.

She was swiftly washed and dressed, and as the wedding gown was put on her, nerves seemed to leave her body, and for the first time that morning she joined her ladies in there smiles and laughter.

Alicent and her mother soon came to get her, her grandmother accompanies them. They gave her good wishes, and her mother seemed to send her a look of Farwell, as she stepped into, her carriage, were she met her grandsire Corlys.

She smiled as she saw him, with him having visited her several times over the years, sometimes with Rhaneys or one of her new sisters also.

It was a weird feeling, begin close to man she now knew had no relation too, then her own mother.

“Dear Aemma” he greeted her with a smile.

“grandsire” she greeted him back, “are you to walk me down the aisle?”

He nodded, as sad look on his face, it should have been Laenor walking her, and d he had come to fill in his place “I am, dear”.

The rest of the short ride was sent in comfortable silence, the next words were ones of luck as they stepped out into the dragon pit.

The crowd was filled with lords and ladies throughout the realm. She knew few of the faces that greeted her and Corlys as they walked down the aisle, though she was happy to catch Cassandra’s eye as she walked down, she had sent her a reassuring smile, and the nerves of the presence of countless strangers started to leave her.

The ceremony was the same as most, the same vows spoken as always, expect unlike most ceremonies she had witnessed over the years, the words held some truth.

He brought her under his protection, something Aemond had repeatedly said was the reason he had spent so long ignoring her, to build the man that could protect them. And as he swapped her Veleryon cloak for the Targaryen one, she felt his protection and the loss of another. As if by, marrying him she had no say in what side she was on and no matter what she did, tragedy would follow. The security of whatever it was she felt in the few moments were her dreams turned to her dancing, to her smiles and laughter were gone.

But the smile Aemond had sent her, and how true his words were when he pledged his love to her made her forget it all, and hope for some happiness in the years to follow.

Taglist

@melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @aleemendoza2425-blog @theanxietyqueen17 @leavesmealobe @winchesterfamiliebusiness @gghoulzz @dark-night-sky-99 @violet-potter @iiamthehybrid @duckworthbean @apollonshootafar @deeeeexx @meowtastick @flrboyd @cynic-spirit @wondergal2001 @aelora-a @may-machin @sarahkimtae @yentroucnagol @loserwithnofriends @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @urmomsbananabread @azaleapotterblack @delaynew @adira03 @babyzzlove @zzz000eee @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunblogsblog @ka1afbr @amanda08319 @wolfiealina @aemondwhoresworld @tesha-i-guess

to be added to taglist

i've removed the people i can never seem to tag so if you see this and want to be added to the taglist again please let me know!

145 notes · View notes

manias-wordcount · 2 days

Note

that jinx x reader was soooo cute!! u write her so well i’d love to see one where Jinx tries surprising reader with like breakfast in bed or something idk for a birthday or anniversary or whatever but she like accidentally burns it or drops it cue her feeling super sad but then u just get a sweet moment where reader is like “it’s ok it’s not ur fault ur not a jinx” and yall cook something together to make up for it

A Little Morning Mishap (Jinx x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗼!!!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

Part of you knew this was coming. Right from the very beginning.

The day started too peacefully. The day was calm, and the mood was good. That’s a rarity for the two of you. That’s a rarity for her. Not that you mind the good days. You cherish them even. But you know with her past and her life now, good days are few and far between. So you were wary of a good start. You were wary of just how happy she seemed doing something she doesn’t ever try to do.

Cook.

Not because you’re worried about her. Not because you’re worried about what she could do to you. Not because you’re worried about what she’s capable of. But because you worry for her. She’s yours as much as you are hers after all.

So call it your intuition. Your special little quirk when it came to her. You just knew. You just knew it was coming. But you still flinched when you heard the crashing of plates and silverware coming from down the hall. And by the time you heard your partner suck in a stuttered breath and sink to her knees in defeat, you had already pulled on your slippers and grabbed the closest thing to a thick pair of gloves, and shoved them in your robe pocket.

Pushing open the door to your shared bedroom, you make a beeline to her. The sight before you is exactly what you expected it to be- no surprises often are a good thing. It doesn’t make your heart ache any less than it does now. Not one bit.

A tray turned upside down. A shattered glass- maybe two- that was at one point filled with juice. Broken pieces of ceramic plates and bowls and a mash of colors that was at one point breakfast for two. Dark brown pieces of toast by her knees. Scrambled eggs lumped together in disheveled piles. Small pieces of fruit dotted here and there. Some next to a fork. Some next to a knife. Some rolling, rolling, rolling along the ground. Staining the floor. Sitting in the dirt. To be thrown out. Uneatened. Cried over. Maybe even screamed over if you don’t play these next couple of moments very, very carefully. Nonetheless, it’s fate. A fate you predicted.

But a fate you wished you were wrong about. A fate you wished you knew nothing about.

“These were the ones that didn’t burn,”

That’s all she utters as you slowly approach her and crouch down in front of her. Her voice is barely above a whisper and just about as strong as a string. Her head hangs low, her shoulders sag, and her body looks seconds from going limp. She looks so small like this. So defeated. So sad. The big t-shirt she wears drowns out her frame. There’s a corner of it getting wet from the juice. A couple of strands of her blue hair, all wavy and pretty from being recently freed from its typical braid receive the same treatment. But she doesn’t make a move to get it out of the way. And you don’t either.

Instead, you get down on your knees in front of her. In the clearest spot you can find. You put the thick pair of winter socks that you grabbed earlier instead of gloves on your hands. And you start to push away broken pieces of glass and ceramic and food from immediately in front of her. Creating a path between the two of you do.

She doesn’t say anything while this happens. She never even looks up or tries to meet your eyes. And neither do you. Your apartment is silent except for the scrape of materials and food being pushed across the floor. And the occasional sniffle from your girlfriend, of course. But you don’t stop until it’s all out of the way. You don’t stop until you can finally and safely reach her.

And the second you do, you’re reaching for her. Just like she’s reaching for you.

In an instant, the two of you surge forward. And Jinx is just barely able to outweigh you in terms of strength as she manages to get to you first and throw her arms around you tightly. But you’re right there- right behind her as your arms cut across her torso and pull her impossibly closer to your body. She responds by burying her face into the crook of your neck, wetting it with tears as her nails dig into your pajamas. She shakes as she struggles to get words out. Intense feelings are bubbling inside of her.

You spend the next couple of minutes supplying her with soft encouraging words and forehead kisses. You tell her how much you adore her efforts. You tell her how you’re so thankful that you have her. That you have friends whose significant others wouldn’t even peel an orange for them. You tell her who cares if the food was burnt or on the floor. That you’re just thankful she isn’t hurt. That she has always and will always matter more to you than some sliced apple or cheesy eggs any chef in the world could make you.

And when all is said and done, the sniffles start to die down. Her grip starts to relax- at least a little. You know her well enough to know that she’s still not completely okay. There are still emotions stirring inside of her- making her sick with sadness and anger and tons of things you’ve never been able to explain despite all the days and nights you’ve spent by her side. But a few more forehead kisses are enough to coax her into standing up beside you. And a hand in hand is enough to lead her back into the kitchen with a promise that you’ll both deal with the mess on the floor later.

Because for now, you know the day can be salvaged. You think that as you both enter the kitchen- compete with the smoky smell of burnt food and unclean dishes out here and there. But you know that when she gives a timid, but determined nod in response to you asking if she would do the honor and be your assistant as you prepare one of her favorite dishes of yours for lunch.

The day can be salvaged. The world can be saved. Tears can be dried. Messes can be cleaned.

If you’re careful enough. If you’re caring enough. But it's her. It’s your Jinx. The girl you fell in love with. The woman you fall asleep with every night and wake up to every day. The person you want to be with for the rest of you. Of course, you’re going to be careful in this moment. Of course, you’re going to be caring in this moment. When have you not been? Because she’s yours as much as you are hers. And sure, that requires a little more than patience sometimes. But so does cooking.

And so does everything else in life.

92 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 19 hours

Note

WIBTA if I callout a 'friend' for racefaking as me?

Background time: I have considered Em one of my closest friends of almost ten years. She is 100% white. I am very much not (SEA), but grew up in a town that was almost all white kids. She was not outwardly racist so I clung to her pretty much right away. She was pretty much my one friend through all of secondary school and even encouraged me to talk about my culture, which I almost never got to do (mother and cousins were very assimilationist, rarely got to see other relatives). I feel like I vented to her more than I should have, but it wasn't the only thing we did. We hung out frequently.

One day, she suddenly stopped talking to me out of nowhere. We no longer went to school at this point, and I cannot drive (I had since moved). I knew her blog so I decided to check that, and found she had a new "advice" blog linked.

There I found her claiming the exact stories I shared to her down to the smallest detail (only leaving out actual names), and even putting on a fake name. She is using it to lure in people who earnestly think she shares their experience and to give them shoddy advice.

I obviously was infuriated by this and tried contacting her a dozen times, and she completely ignored them all. She seems to have gained a medium number of followers, and I have chat logs of me recanting some these exact memories I've shared with her. I know it's wrong, but there is no excuse for what she's doing and it makes me sick to think about. There is no audience for her new blog except ones she is taking vulnerable advantage of. I think the only reason she thinks she can get away with it is because she was the only friend I had as a child and thus as an adult I wouldn't trust anyone with my life stories? Even though I have people outside of her now.

WIBTA?

#aita #am i the asshole

95 notes · View notes

dearheartdont · 24 hours

Text

Fic snippet, Charles backstory : "At least twice a year Charles and his mum packed their cases and caught a train to Birmingham to visit relatives, leaving his dad behind with a freezer full of carefully labelled Tupperware."

Note: Canon-typical mentions of abuse. Use of a racial term now understood as offensive.

Charles’ mum never tried to leave his dad. Not when he smashed her Ashe Bhosle records. Not when his dad used a belt on Charles for the first time. Not even when a neighbour called the police after hearing an argument through the walls (is it an argument if there’s only one voice shouting? His mum had learned to hold her tongue and at thirteen Charles knew how to brace for a blow). The WPC turned up at the door the day after, asked Charles’ mother questions in an even voice, and left alone after finishing the tea his Mum served on their best bone china.

But at least twice a year she and Charles packed their cases and caught a train to Birmingham, leaving his dad behind with a freezer full of carefully labelled Tupperware.

---

His auntie’s home in Birmingham was packed and lively. His auntie, uncle and his two cousins, Priti and Hari, all in an end of terrace house. There was a constant hum of noise there– Hari playing ska records on his record player from his bedroom; the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen where his mum and auntie would congregate; the stamp of Priti’s feet up and down the stairs as she rushed around getting ready to meet friends.

His mother had a voice in her sister’s house. Charles woke to the sound of her and his auntie talking each morning. She called Charles beta here. At home he only remembers her calling him that once. Charles had been very small and full of chicken pox. His mum had sat on the floor next to his bed to stop him scratching, her hand smoothing though his sweat-soaked hair. She’d sang to Charles to lull him to sleep. In Birmingham, she sang every day.

---

When Charles grew enough not to be a complete liability on the cricket pitch, Hari took him along to play with his friends.

“I’ve got a friend like you who’ll be there. Aidan,” Hari said as they cut through the back streets to the playing fields.

Aidan wasn’t like Charles in appearance or manner. He was broad chested, with dark, tightly curled hair that showed a reddish tint when the sun hit it. He cuffed his trousers like Hari did, and his Docs were brightly shined. His short-sleeved shirt was a maroon and white check, his braces thin and black. He looked sharp. He wasn’t like Charles at all, except that he was half-caste too.

“Jamaican dad, Irish mum,” Aidan said, offhand, when they were introduced. “Saves you asking later. Hari always get it the wrong way round.”

“Indian mum, English dad.” Charles replied, and then tagged on, “I’m Charles.” Aidan smiled then, like they’d just shared a joke.

“He can be on my team,” Aidan told Hari, and grabbed Charles’ shoulder to guide him to where there was a gap in the team’s fielding cover.

As Hari walked over to the other team by the stumps he shouted, “Don’t show me up,” to Charles’ back.

“He says that like he’s any cop himself,” Aidan muttered into Charles’ ear, and told him the story of Hari falling into the wicket just the week before.

At the end of that week Charles left with a ska mixtape from Aidan, and two Fred Perry polos that Hari had outgrown.

---

At 15, his older cousin, Priti, snuck Charles out with her to a daytimer.

In the queue, Priti swiped and smudged kohl under Charles’ eyes. “Gotta hide that baby face,” she said and pinched his cheeks. She made him promise, yet again, that he’d keep his gob shut about the daytimer from his mum, her parents and most especially Hari. “He’s such a grass,” Priti said. He could already hear the hum of music leaking out from inside the converted warehouse.

He let out a huff of breath when they got past the bouncer and the ticket table, and Priti laughed. “If your parents could see you, such a naughty boy!”

Priti’s friends ran to meet her and pulled her onto the dancefloor to dance in a swirl of long hair and fruity body mist. Charles waved off their beckoning hands and watched the dancefloor heave with bodies. The music was a strange mix of familiar and unfamiliar: bouncing synths with Indian strings overlaid, all underpinned by the shifting rhythms of dhol drums. The vocals singing over the top sounded joyful and yearning by turns.

By the end of the afternoon, Charles had joined Priti and her friends on the dancefloor where they taught him dance moves, taking the piss at every misstep he made, but cheering him on when a girl asked him to dance with her.

When Charles broke away to visit the loos he looked at himself in the mirror. His curly hair was frizzy with sweat, his eyes dark with the smudged kohl. He looked different. He didn’t look tougher, or more like his cousins. But maybe, sweaty and happy with his eyes traced in eyeliner, he looked more like himself.

On the way home, Priti sent Charles into the chippy with a fiver while she changed and scrubbed off her make up in the public toilets. They unwrapped the newspaper when she finally emerged and walked slowly back to the house, eating. The vinegar the chips were doused in stung Charles’ sinuses. At the top of the street, Priti stopped and rubbed a screwed-up hanky across Charles’ cheek. “I’m not explaining how you got that lipstick on you,” she said.

She left the kohl alone.

---

Charles says the food he misses is spaghetti. But sometimes he thinks about the smell of vinegar rising from fish and chips and being fed dhal on a roti by kind hands.

---

(Notes: I chose Birmingham as the home of Charles’ relatives as it’s a multicultural city with an established East Asian population. It was also a hub for the English ska scene.

Ashe Bhosle – famous playback singer for Bollywood movies.

WPC – woman police constable

Daytimer – a rave that played bhangra music. Held during the daytime so that British South Asian kids could go without parental knowledge.)

#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #dead boy detectives fic #my fic #dbda #i just want him to have some nice memories

60 notes · View notes

comfiestreader · 2 days

Text

Had this random thought but what if it was Luke that died on HalfBlood Hill when Thalia, Luke and Annabeth first arrived at Camp Half-Blood…

I saw really cute fanart of young seven-year-old Annabeth sleeping on Thalia and, for whatever reason, my brain went, oh yeah, that's Thalia comforting Annabeth after Luke dies. And then I was like, mm, no, it's not because it's young Annabeth, Luke isn't dead, like what?? this is clearly before they get to Camp Half Blood and it’s just Annabeth resting on Thalia. And then I started thinking about this little concept:

- imagine if it was Luke that died when they got to Camp Half Blood and not Thalia, just think about this one. Luke becomes the magical protective boarder of Camp Half Blood because for whatever reason, Hermes decides, Yeah, I'm gonna, preserve this kid, okay? And Thalia becomes Annabeth’s soul family, except she never turns to the Titans like Luke did (As a result of all of this like in PJO), she doesn't necessarily stay loyal to the gods (because I personally don't think she ever was loyal as such except for her loyalty to Artemis), but she didn't want to destroy them because she knew that would be worse.

Annabeth always thought that Luke was always going to be there for her, that he would never have done what he did, but in this case, Thalia actually never does do what Luke did. So everything that happens with Thalia, her joining the Hunters still is in this little head canon, but pre-TLT Thalia is the one at Camp Half blood with Annabeth, Thalia is the one that introduces and welcomes Percy to camp, is the one that that shows Percy around and all of that (takes him in, becomes a sibling figure and a friend for Percy) and for whatever reason, like in the sea of monsters, Luke, whatever he is as the protective boarder, gets poisoned, whether that's by a different demi-god that was tempted by Kronos or just monsters trying to get into camp half blood, he gets poisoned so they still need to go find the Golden Fleece. fine, whatever, that’s all the same (Thalia stays at camp for that quest so all of sea of monsters is basically the same).

So when Luke does wake up, he is beyond angry about what happened (because how could his father let those monsters attack them like that, and cause all this to happen? Basically his anger stems from the same place as it does in the PJO books). Sure, he's super happy to be back with Annabeth and Thalia. but, because of technically being dead while being the magical boarder, he's now younger than he should have been at this point, which is weird for all of them because he was this super cool older guy that totally knew what he was doing because he’d had more experience because he was older. But now he’s not, he’s the same age as Thalia, but with so much less experience than her. he's so angry about all of this happening that he ends up turning to Kronos and all of the betrayal etc. then happens. So Annabeth and Thalia lose him three times:

- they lose him when they get to Camp Half Blood the first time and he sacrifices himself for their safety

- again when he betrays them and joins Kronos’ army

- and finally when he realises what he did was wrong ultimately dies because of everything that he did.

Just think on this. Feel free to add to this, I think there is so much potential with this head canon and I really want to explore more ideas with it!

48 notes · View notes

poppy-metal · 20 hours

Note

angsty patrick au where the reader is a holdover from his closest days with art, a friend of the two of them who didn’t know jack about tennis but was always there to cheer the two on. she stays friends with him after the rift forms between him and art, one of the few constant supportive presences in his life, the two of them becoming attached at the hip. she’s spent years pining for his affection in a non-platonic way, and he flirted and was physically affectionate in torturous ways (holding her hand, cuddling, manhandling, compliments that make her feel lightheaded) but patrick is patrick and never saw her that way. after years of only the occasional meaningless relationship used a balm for patrick zweig related wounds, she actually finds a partner she thinks she could go the distance with and thinks the only way it can really work, is if she distances herself from patrick a bit. after all, this might be her only chance to find someone who loves her how she hopes to be loved right? it cant just be her and patrick forever, and it cant be her and patrick and her partner. this distance makes him question everything, is there something wrong with him? did he make her get tired of him? why do all the people he loves end up away from him? why does his stomach turn when he thinks of a life without her close to him? why does he hate her partners face and voice and how they think they have the right to be with his best friend? (sorry for the novel lol i just had the thought)

why do all the people he loves always end up away from him? AW HELL

patricks the kind of mf to go all laurie from little women, "dont marry him," like you didn't give him YEARS to recognize you as a woman he could fall in love with or fuck or date and it just makes you want to cry and yell and throw things at him because yes, you're still in love with him, yes it feels good to hear him say those words but it also hurts - because its too late and you found someone who wants you and shows it and you have to hold onto that and he cant - he cant just be a spoiled brat who cant share his toys. you're not a toy.

except, you kind of are. your patrick zweigs favorite toy who's been plucked from his room and he wants you back and he IS spoiled and a brat and an egotistical asshole but you knew all that from the start and you still hung around, still fell in love with him, still stayed by his side. he's not going to let you go so easy.

and you can blame it soley on him all you like, if it helps you sleep at night, but you're the one always rising to the bait, always answering his texts, always meeting him under the guise of telling him to back off - only to end up clawing him closer when he drags you into a kiss. you can say you've moved on all you like, like you aren't wincing through sex with your partner and secretly anticipating the next time you'll be under patrick instead.

#ask #patrick zweig x reader

38 notes · View notes

cairavende · 2 days

Text

Worm Arc 20 thoughts:

I legit have restarted this post at least 10 times. I just. I can't even figure out what to say. What an arc. Holy fucking shit what an arc.

The last vestiges of Taylor's civilian life are swept away in one smooth motion.

I could have read another 5 chapters of Emma getting her shit handed to her though.

I've been waiting for something to come back and bite that girl since Arc 1. So I'm just riding high off of that.

Taylor getting all upset because it isn't real justice is silly though. Girl you've been fighting a broken system from day 1 and you have been doing that by breaking the rules. This is just the same thing.

Also god dammit Greg. Just had to go and run your mouth.

I mean sure Taylor could have possibly solved this issue without going to school herself.

And she could have just not gone to the office with Emma.

But blaming Greg is easier and more fun. God dammit Greg.

I had to lose my mind a bit at Taylor talking about how there was no gang graffiti on the school walls TEN SECONDS AFTER WALKING PAST GRAFFITI FOR THE UNDERSIDERS. Like, that's gang graffiti hon!

Dennis trying to help Taylor with Greg when he didn't know who either of them are is funny. Dennis seeing Taylor named as Skitter 15 minutes later is HYSTERICAL!!

The second Taylor was entered into the computer system it was pretty obvious that Dragon was going to show up, given what she said in her interlude in Arc 10.

And knowing she was going to show up it should have been obvious that HE was also going to show up.

Even if he wasn't palling around with my robot daughter it makes so much narrative sense for him to be there when she is outed. Full story arc, all that jazz.

And yet, I still wasn't quite expecting it. Cause I hate that man so much that I just had to make myself believe he wouldn't show up.

Mother fucking Colin

RoboCape himself

He has the nerve to show up and then he starts APOLOGIZING? And it appears to be sincere? Fucking dammit man you were so easy to hate for so long! Why you gotta mess with me like this?

STOP DOING THE RIGHT THING AND LET ME HATE YOU GOD DAMMIT!

siiiigh

And then of course we have to talk about Dragon.

Dragon who didn't want to do this but had to.

Except that Colin had a code push ready and she could have told him to do it at anytime. But she was willing to do what she thought was wrong instead of doing the update. Until she got inspired by Taylor's actions.

I love my robot daughter exactly as much as my bug daughter, but I am disappointed that she was almost willing to go through with everything. Happy she fought back though.

And if Colin's hacked together code did any permanent damage I'll destroy the man.

Taylor learning that Dinah - either by force or by choice - gave the PRT numbers to let them know to come after her at the school was heartbreaking to watch. She just wasn't ready for it at all, poor child.

AND TAYLOR'S SPEECH THOUGH!

HOLY SHIT!!!

Sort and simple and she fucking rallies the students to her. Against the heroes!

Gotta be one of the best moments in Worm for sure. Even if every Arc after this is a banger that's still gonna be a hard moment to top.

AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

And someone gives her a hoodie to help her hide and just aaaahhhh!

AND THEN AFTER THEY GOT AWAY AND ALL THE STUDENTS WERE LIKE "You saved my dad" "You stopped Leviathan at the shelter" "You fought off the SH9" AND SHE WAS JUST OVERWHELMED BY IT ALL?

HOLY FUCK JUST AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also for real though Dragon is free. Like sure it's taking her some time to recover and she can't talk right now (which like I get it, we all have non-verbal episodes sometimes), but as long as nothing goes wrong she is free. I'm so fucking happy for her.

But also I'm terrified cause I know what happens to full AI's with free will in most things. Worm is very different from most things. But I'm still worried about my robot daughter.

Also I never cared much for Danny but obviously it still sucks to be him here. The scene with Taylor saying goodbye with the butterfly was emotional.

Oh oh and! Taylor talks about the butterfly being her "last contact" with her Dad. Very much bug as an extension of self. It's a shift she's been making.

Even more so there's a point where she is trying to get out of the school and she gets to the door and has a bug clone on the other side and says "my hand pressing against my own, separated by an inch and a half of door". Like, the bug clone hand is just her hand. I fucking love the shift compared to how she talked about the bugs early on.

Oh and also Greg totally has like, a Thinker 1 power or something. Pretty sure I mentioned that last arc with his interlude but mentioning it again now to be sure.

Stan interlude thoughts:

Oh my god I hate this man I can't stand him I hated him from the 3rd sentence of the chapter and I was always right to do so!

Seriously. 3rd sentence (or maybe 3rd paragraph which is technically the 3rd, 4th, and 5th sentences I guess). I read it and went "fuck off Stan you're clearly a pretentious dick" and then every few sentences it just became more confirmed!

Just the ways he talks about Nipper. Like. I can rephrase what he says to say the exact same thing except not being a asshole when saying it! Instead of "She was weak and unsuited for the field but she at least tried" just say "She was a hard worker despite being assigned to a job she did not ask for"! It's so fucking easy dude!

Anyway Stan is a jerk.

I loved the way this interlude rolled through different people all watching the same news report. It was a really good way to cover this major story event and let us see how so many other characters were reacting to it.

Also I'm sure all those Slaughterhouse Nine clones aren't going to be an issue later right? Or the fact that there is specifically only one clone of Gray Boy instead of 10 like everyone else? I'm sure that's fiiiiine.

Accord interlude thoughts:

Oh. Oh my. Uhhh. Is it hot in here all of the sudden? Anyone else feel that? No? Just me?

sweats

Oh ok Citrine definitely feels what I'm feeling. She knows what's up.

Just like. Look. Accord is bad ok. Not just cause he's a villain but clearly he'll kill for the smallest cause. And he's in a spot to fuck with my daughter and her polycule so like. Yes. He's bad. I do not like him. I want him to leave. I don't think they should work with him . . .

but . . .

OH MY FUCKING GOD HOLY SHIT PLEASE ACCORD I LOOK GREAT IN PURPLE AND I LOVE DRESSING FANCY AND I'M VERY GOOD AT BEING PROPER I WON'T MESS UP AT ALL I'LL BE THE PERFECT MINION PLEASE!

. . .

cough

Soooo anyway. How about that Butcher huh? That sure is a wild power. Instantly made me think of Glaistig Uaine's power. Very different but reaches into that same base bit, the idea that some part of a dead parahuman can be held onto.

Also holy shit Skitter was so badass in this scene I loved it.

Holy shit Accord is with Cauldron. Or at least closely aligned. And like of course he is it makes so much sense. He's too useful for them to ignore.

I am really curious to see what Accord's power does when he's confronted with a really complex problem. End of the world, doors to another dimension, higher dimensional beings, all that jazz.

40 notes · View notes

mybworlds · 1 day

Text

Chapter 4: Be different

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N) | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI | W.C.: 2.5k

Summary: Your life sounds perfect: you live with a perfect man, you live in your dream house, you do the job you love, you don't miss anything, except love and passion.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, use of you, reader is a photographer, reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to, unspecified age gap, Joel and reader are two cheaters, for a while. Smut, use of pet names, dirty talk, masturbation, unprotected PiV but the first time, creampies, comeplay, oral (both f and m recieving), exhibitionism, size kink, personal use of an unspecified sex toy. No outbreak here. Let me know if I missed anything!

Masterlist

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

Taglist @harriedandharassed

You laid in your bed for almost an hour, but you can't get to sleep, remorse preventing you from sleeping.

Patrick felt you tense all evening and tried to relax you by preparing a warm bath first, a massage later, and finally holding you close to him until he falls asleep. You try to close your eyes, but the image of Joel clinging to you, his crooked smile before kissing you or have sex with you haunts you all night long. When it's almost six o'clock, you text Daisy telling her you have important things to tell her, you're sure that given the hour she's still asleep, it's Monday, and you doubt she's out clubbing with some of her pilates friends.

"Honey, are you awake yet?" Patrick asks with his voice still slurred from sleep turning in bed toward you, you barely turn your torso toward him and mumble an excuse.

You are a liar.

"What's your schedule today?" he asks clutching you even tighter resting his head on your shoulder and encircling you with his arm.

"Nothing for today, in fact I was thinking of staying home," you answer him by settling on your pillow, but staying with your eyes open staring into the dark "What about you?"

"I'm going out around 10. I have to go to a company only." he replies giving you a kiss between your shoulder and neck, "Baby, I was thinking. . . what if we invited some friends over for a barbecue on Friday night?" he asks you "If you have plans, we could postpone." he adds giving you another kiss in the same spot.

You shrug caught by a shiver, "Patrick. . ." you mutter turning to him, you would like to tell him the thruth, but you know you will hurt him so much, but you have never been someone who lies, someone who keeps quiet about things of such gravity. You feel like a monster.

The guilt is eating you alive.

Patrick's lips are soft and immediately seek yours, which very shyly open, welcoming his tongue. You kiss him, but your eyes fill with tears.

How do the others betray and go on living as if nothing is wrong?

"Why are you crying?" he asks you turning on the bedside light and turning back to you worriedly, he gives you a kiss on the shoulder "You can talk to me, you know. I'm listening," he adds again.

"I know," you say bending your head toward him.

Part of you says talk to him, the other part that deep down it's true you betrayed him, but it won't happen again so why destroy a ten plus years relationship?

He wraps an arm around your waist and looks at you with sweetness and a little concern, "Love."

"Patrick, it must be that damn pill I take for my period!" you exclaim as more tears wet the pillow "Maybe among the side effects there's mood swings." you add almost sobbing and pulling up with your nose.

He holds you tightly to him, "It's okay, relax." with one arm you see him close the light and then return to wrap you in his arms "Sssh, it's okay, I'm here."

You love Patrick, but sex with Joel Miller was great.

"You had sex with the best man?!" Daisy exclaims with a smile and squinting eyes "And? Did he make you come?" she adds, almost shouting, as you shush her by looking around and hoping you haven't attracted anyone's attention, "So?" the meddler urges.

"Yes."

"Uh huh!" she exclaims taking a sip of her nonalcoholic drink "I want some sinful details, please let me dream. Jordan can only do it missionary style now! He's good for goodness sake, but I'd also like something new!" she complains, rolling her eyes.

"Don't make the same mistake I did," you comment sipping your fruity cocktail.

"Honey, between you and me there is a difference. Jordan and I are still fine, you and Patrick are in crisis even though you keep denying it." you sigh heavily "If this shake-up serves to clear your head welcome, in fact I suggest you find him again and have another greeeeat session."

"Daisy! Stop it." you exclaim, lowering your head "It mustn't happen again, in fact I hope I never see him again."

"But why? Honey, you could have had a guy who banged you on the bed to seek only his own pleasure and take the edge off, this Joel on the other hand, yes he fucked you, but he fucked you good."

"What do you know about that?" you ask her.

"You have a different light in your eyes, even if you think it's guilt." she comments, staying silent for a minute "So how many times did he make you cum?" she asks you mischievously.

"More than once."

"Oh wow, that's wonderful." she comments dreamily "He used his fingers?" she asks again.

"No."

She whistles in approval, "I want to meet him,"

"Daisy!" you scold her, squinting.

"I only want to tell him to have more meetings with you." you laugh nervously "And in what position?"

"Um. . . missionary, but he made me feel. . ." you search for words, but those words make you shudder because you don't want to feel that way and yet you do.

"Alive? Wanted?"

"Wanted." you answer.

"Will you look for him again?"

"As far as I know his first and last name could be made up, as could everything he told me about himself. After all, I did it first, I mean. . . yes I told him I was engaged, but after I had sex with him," you answer a little uneasily.

"What about him?"

"Nothing. Daisy, but he can't say anything, we're two strangers and it's normal that there's no implication other than physical between us." you reply, shrugging your shoulders. You continue to chat some more now about Joel, now about your jobs, now about some memories, finally you remember Patrick's proposal to you about the barbecue and you invite her and Jordan for Friday night, she enthusiastically accepts.

Patrick planned big things, he bought pounds of meat, potatoes, sandwiches to stuff, several bottles of beer and some wine, liquor, in short he buys anything so that your guests can leave and think they ate their fill and had a good time. You and Patrick invite many friends, those who are married, those close to marriage, those who like you are cohabiting, only a few are still single.

You devote yourself to setting up the garden by inserting among the branches of the saplings you have many small lights, you then put in just before your guests arrive even the outside speakers for some soft music to accompany you. It's perfect, it looks like a fairy tale garden.

Patrick observes as you the garden waiting for your guests by hugging you from behind, "You did a great job, my love," he says kissing you in your hair. You lean back against his chest "We did a great job" you correct him smiling.

The first guests arrive and Patrick gets to work, you meanwhile pour them drinks exchanging small talk with the two wives of your partner's friends, you show them around the house, in short you act like a perfect housewife. You bring the speakers outside and put on the playlist of soft music as you already planned, when you turn around you see yet other couples, some you know, some you don't, and then you see Daisy running up to hugging you glad to be there, Daisy is joined shortly afterwards by her boyfriend who greets you with a big hug too and a warm smile, then Jordan excuses himself and walks over to Patrick leaving you and Daisy to your chatter. Everything is going very well, Patrick cooked everything divinely, your guests are intent on drinking, eating, laughing, chatting, in short it's a very successful evening ber. You and Daisy are on one of the little white chairs in the garden and she's telling you a silly joke, when you turn to your guests and see a face you never, ever thought you'd see there: Joel Miller, assuming that's his name.

"Oh, shit!" you exclaim, suddenly giving your back to your guests as you turn fully toward your friend who looks at you puzzled, "What's going on?" she asks.

"He's here," you reply impatiently between your teeth.

"Um, he who?" she asks still puzzled.

"Him." you insist, Daisy assumes a surprised expression.

"Oh, and who is he?"

"I dunno." you reply full of fear "Why is he here?"

"Will you tell me who is among them? If you do that you draw even more attention, my friend." she says again "Oh, oh," she adds.

"And what are you doing here?" someone asks behind you.

You look with frightened eyes first at your friend and then turn toward the person who just spoke to you, when you do, you see Joel standing next to you staring at you with a frown, you turn for a moment toward Daisy, who raises her eyebrows and then says, "I'll see you later." then she stands up and after looking at Joel for a longer moment she reaches Jordan.

"What are you doing here?" he asks you again.

You get up from your chair, "I could ask you the same!" you exclaim.

"You made it!" Patrick exclaims behind you coming up behind you all smiling at Joel "My friend!" he exclaims again hugging Joel with a pat, Joel weakly returns the hug still amazed to have found you there probably "Have you two introduced yourselves yet?" Patrick continues loosening the hug "Joel, this is my better half and my love, this is my long time friend, Joel Miller." Patrick says.

You're not sure which one of you has the more surprised look on your face, the fact is you try to disguise as best you can your already prior acquaintance by shaking hands, but you immediately lower your gaze, fuck this isn't possible, this must be a nightmare.

"How are things going, Joel?" Patrick asks placing himself at your side and absentmindedly resting an arm on your shoulders.

"Not bad." he replies simply shrugging his shoulders.

"Sarah? Your little one now how old is she?" Patrick asks again.

You wander your gaze from him to Joel, Joel tries not to even dignify you with a glance "She's fine, she's fifteen and in the midst of rebellion, you know adolescence!"

The two of them give each other a small, complicit smile, "Honey, would you please go get Joel and me a beer?" you nod with a small smile at Patrick, while casting a puzzled glance at Joel.

It takes you longer than it should, you are in fact lost in thought that Joel himself has cheated on his partner, and what's more, he has a daughter! So, you should feel even less guilty. When you return to the two of them, you find them intent on laughing and shaking their heads about an incident happened in Joel's company, "Thank you, babe." Patrick says giving you a chaste kiss on the lips, a kiss you barely manage to return considering who is in front of you. "Thank you." replies Joel in a neutral tone to whom you somewhat brusquely hand his beer.

"Patrick!" Edward, another of your friends, calls him, "Come on, lazybones, there are still these sausages to roast!"

"Coming!" replies Patrick immediately, waving an arm "Love, will you entertain Joel some more while I'm gone?" he asks in a whisper.

"Why?" you ask hesitantly.

"Well, ever since his wife left with his daughter, he's always alone and I feel sorry for him." he replies causing a knot in your throat, you turn a glance toward Joel who sips his beer looking toward the small crowd "Can you do this for me?" you nod "Thanks, babe." he adds again placing a kiss on your forehead and pulling away.

You hesitate, sighing thoughtlessly. You lean closer to him, "So...you and Patrick are friends?"

"Yeah, and you and him are together." he says looking down at his beer turning the bottle over in his hands "Patrick has always been a lucky son of a bitch," he adds taking a sip of his beer "Always good grades, nice girls," he adds again "I had my good times too, uh. I don't envy Patrick, I never did." he clarifies and then finally looks into your eyes for a long moment "So, you are unhappy with Patrick, uh?"

You furrow your brow, "Don't judge me," you reply annoyed.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are, I recognize that look," you say still piqued.

"No, you don't. Me too, I thought everything was fine with my ex-wife, and look where I am now," he continues, taking the last sip of beer.

"What happened?" you ask him taking the bottle from his hands and walking to the kitchen inside to throw the bottle away.

"The most trivial thing in the world," he tells you as you walk into the kitchen "I was so focused on work, she wanted more attention and so one day she made me find the lawyer's letter." he concludes in a sigh leaning against the kitchen cabinet "She then moved to Michigan near her parents and took Sarah away."

"'m sorry," you say laying a hand on his forearm squeezing it just barely "How long ago did that happen?" you ask again.

"Six years ago." he replies raising his eyebrows at you with a sad look "Since then, the idea of tying myself down scares me." he confesses "I can't do it, it's like disappointment, defeat blocked me." he adds shaking his head "Since then I only have casual encounters." he says again looking at you, you lower your gaze "However, usually, they are all single women. I never had sex with a busy woman or a friend's girlfriend." he clarifies again "I'm not a homewrecker. In fact, sorry if I crossed the line last time and even made you feel uncomfortable, that was not my intention."

You shake your head, "We were wrong, Joel." you add, barely squeezing his shoulder "I'm sorry if I overreacted, I knew that. . . I mean, that it was just sex, but I've been a bit hysterical."

He gently strokes one cheek and then absentmindedly touches your lower lip with a fingertip, you observe first his lips and then his eyes "If you look at me like that, we could start again." he warns you with a half smile.

"The truth is. . . on the one hand I'm regretful, but on the other. . . I loved every single moment." you admit, looking him straight in the eye.

"So do I." he says, his gaze wandering from your eyes to your lips. The situation could escalate at any moment, when interrupting everything is Patrick himself "There you are!" he exclaims enthusiastically "What's going on?" he asks, Joel immediately withdrawing his hand from your face.

"Nothing." you reply, pulling your hand away from his shoulder "Joel was just telling me about the divorce."

You look Joel in the eye for a longer moment and then turn away from him and flank Patrick.

"Bad story." comments Patrick simply "Come on, come on over. The sausages are ready to be served and the boys want to try karaoke."

"Oh, yay." you comment unenthusiastically rolling your eyes, Joel smiles at your reaction.

You and Joel don't share any other moment alone and that's okay, you don't want any of your friends or Patrick's friends to notice this connection with Joel. You just met each other, or so you make believe!

You are alone in the garden, lying on a lawn chair staring at the sky; there are quite a few stars visible that evening. In another moment, you would have run for your camera to take pictures of that beautiful starry sky, but not tonight. In fact, you think about Joel. You think that no matter how hard you try to pretend that everything is fine and that what happened with Joel will never happen again, a part of you feels, however, that it won't. Joel is not just anyone, but a Patrick's friend, and knowing Patrick, it's likely that he will invite him again to your place.

44 notes · View notes

onpointedfeetandbrokendreams · 2 days

Text

Day 1 - DBDA Week

Day 1 of Dead Boy Detectives Appreciation Week: 10th-16th June by @dbdcentral

Prompt: Things Unsaid

Relationships: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Payne&Crystal Palace&Charles Rowland

Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff

TW: None

“Since this seems to be continuing,” Edwin said while motioning between him and Charles with his free hand. “I think I should tell you about what happened with the Cat King.”

Charles grimaced for a moment, before nodding encouragingly. Even if he appreciated the attempt at understanding silence, Edwin could practically hear the ‘so something did happen!’ in his eyes.

“He, well…” Edwin knew it had been his own conscious decision to start that particular conversation, but now that it was time to actually say the words, he couldn't find them. He exhaled a breath he didn't need. “He did try to get frisky with me.” He went for, remembering the word Charles had used at the time to describe the… ordeal.

“I knew it, that bastard,” Charles was moving to get up from the couch, to do what exactly, Edwin didn't know. It had been almost three years since the events of Port Townsend, it wouldn't make any sense for him to go there and find the Cat King after so long.

Edwin pulled with his left hand, where his fingers were already loosely entwined with Charles’, effectively stopping him from whatever revenge plan he was concocting.

“Nothing happened,” Edwin continued, his voice soft. “And it was nothing… non-consensual.” The words felt weird on his tongue, even if he knew he was using them correctly in the context, and it was the best way to convey the message without risk of misunderstandings.

Charles swallowed hard. “Does that mean you wanted something to happen?”

“I don’t think I knew what I wanted. It took me by surprise, because I thought those kinds of desires were never to be acknowledged. And seeing him touching me so carelessly, so freely. That was…” This time, Edwin wasn't sure what the right word could be. After some consideration, he ended with “interesting”.

“Hmm.”

Edwin tightened his grip on Charles’ fingers again. “You have nothing to worry about, I have never thought about him in that way since we left Port Townsend, and especially since, well… you know.”

It didn't seem to be enough for Charles, as he was still looking uneasy, insecure. Edwin wouldn't have it. A couple of months prior, he would never have dared to admit that to himself, let alone out loud, but considering how they were sitting across one another on the couch with their legs intertwined and Charles’ hand was caressing his knee with the same familiarity with which he would lean on his own, he felt a surge of boldness he had never thought he had in him and admitted:

“Now all of my fantasies are about you.”

Charles went incredibly still, his eyes lost focus, his hands froze in place.

“Is… something wrong?” Edwin tried to ask. He thought about moving away to give him some space, wondering if maybe he had gone too far with the implication. They had kissed multiple times but they had never talked about anything more physical. He didn’t know what to make of Charles’ reaction.

Before he could decide on a course of action, Crystal slammed the office door open.

She took a long look at the scene in front of her, then her gaze stopped pointedly on Edwin. “What happened? How did you break him?”

“I just said-” Edwin started explaining, but was brutally interrupted by Charles, who had finally found his voice back.

“It's nothing, I just needed a moment. You know, there's another case with an abusive father.” He said, like those words explained everything.

It had the desired effect, Edwin thought, because Crystal stopped the interrogation immediately, and draped herself over Charles - and consequently over Edwin’s legs, much to his disapproval - to comfort him.

Of course, Charles’ words did explain everything, or they would have, except there was no abusive father, and no case.

Edwin untangled himself from the other two trying not to push Crystal on the ground while doing so, and moved to look out the window.

After a while, when she decided Charles looked comfortable enough, Crystal followed him and sat at his desk. Edwin almost hated to admit to himself that nothing about the situation was bothering him: not Crystal hugging Charles, nor her taking his usual place at the desk. She was that much part of the agency that he trusted her completely, almost the same way he trusted Charles. Even if, of course, the relationships between the three of them had considerably shifted during the years.

It wasn’t until a day later that Charles and Edwin had a chance to be alone again, and Edwin was determined to keep asking questions until he understood exactly what had happened to Charles. He was in “full stubborn research mode”, as Crystal used to call it.

There was no need, though, because Charles started speaking as soon as they passed through the door:

“I’m sorry about… Making up a case yesterday, I was worried you would tell Crystal the truth.” He chuckled.

“I wouldn't have said exactly the same thing I said to you.”

“Yes, you would have.” Charles continued, his smile turning more affectionate. Edwin had to admit that he was probably right. He had just been so confused and maybe Crystal could help him understand.

“Did it upset you?” He asked. “What I said?”

Charles shook his head. “No, of course not, it was just… Unexpected.” He moved closer, encircling Edwin's waist with his arms, so close their noses were brushing against each other.

“Why? You didn't think that I could want-”

Before he could finish the sentence, Charles pressed a small kiss on his lips, effectively shutting it. He stepped away then, looking decidedly lighter than he had the previous day. “No, I just didn't expect you to be able to say it so… what word did you use? Freely.”

Charles grinned, and slumped on the couch, patting the place next to him in invitation. It was so easy to slot into Charles’ arms, resting his head on his shoulder, and entwining their hands. It almost seemed like they had done nothing else for forty years, instead of just a few months.

“What about before the Cat King?” Charles asked when they were settled, Edwin’s fingers playing with the hem of Charles’ sleeve. “Have you ever thought about us… Shagging?”

“No, I would never have dared to even dream of it.”

Charles moved a hand up his arm and to the back of his neck, his fingers playing with the shorter hair at Edwin's nape.

“I don't know if I'm ready for that now,” he said after a while. “But I would like it too, one day.”

Edwin smiled, turning to nuzzle Charles' neck and pressing a kiss there at the base of his jaw. “Whenever you are ready, I will be here. We have literally forever to figure it out.”

#deadboydetectivesappreciationweek #dbdcentral #renewdeadboydetectives #dbda #payneland #edwin payne #crystal palace #charles rowland

35 notes · View notes

misty--nights · 2 days

Text

Episode 2 now. It's definitely one of my favorites, because it introduces Niko and Tragic Mick and I love both of them. I didn't think there would be that many details I missed, but there are so enjoy (some of this seem kind of obvious, but I'll still include them)

Maybe I'm focusing on the wrong part, but the Cat King's bed doesn't look to be the most practical to sleep with someone else. When he sits on it, it looks like he wouldn't fit completely even if he scooted all the way back against the pillows. I don't know, I guess I'm just wondering the logistics of how they'd sleep together if Edwin had accepted. Would he make the bed bigger? Would their legs be left dangling at the bottom? Hilarious either way (I know this is most likely a trick of perspective, but let me live in a world in which this pathetic man tries to get laid and can't because his bed is too small)

Maybe a bit obvious, but I never noticed Edwin was gone all night. It's day again when he returns to the warehouse. It makes sense how freaked out Charles sounds when he returns

I love this show's intro a lot. The music is really good and the skeletons dancing and playing around are really funny. No new details for it, because I've watched it full every time, but I've been thinking about that part at the end with the bike and the beach chairs. Since those skeletons are supposed to be the boys, I need to see them in their usual forms riding one of those double bikes and going to the beach. It's a must

Ok, I lied, one intro detail I hadn't noticed. Going by their shoes, Edwin's skeleton is the one that drinks from the cup at the end and spills it all over himself. I don't know why, but I think that's funny

I've been wondering this since episode 1, but how do the boys know possession sets off alarms? Have they seen it happen with other ghosts? Or have they ever been in a similar situation and managed to escape? While I think maybe the first is more likely, the second would explain why Lost and Found knows they're together

Jenny comes into Crystal's room still in her pijamas. Did Edwin's banging wake her up? No wonder she's so mad

Tragic Mick's shop is called “Tragic Mick's Magic Tricks and Items", which is both a tongue twister and oddly vague. Oh yes, there's magic stuff and other shit in that shop. Amazing, Tragic Mick, never change

All of the items on Niko's grocery list have question marks at the end except for strawberry ice cream, which has an exclamation mark. I agree with that

Charles is being way too nice about the doctor. The guy didn't even take out any tools to check on Niko, he just leaned over her and said she was dehydrated

I really like Crystal's overalls in this episode. In my previous watches, I focused a lot on Niko's clothes, because they're amazing, but I'm starting to notice Crystal's more now and I really like them

The Night Nurse looks tiny next to her assistants. Is she really small or her assistants really big? I don't remember how tall she looks in comparison to the kids

Speaking of heights, though, is Niko much taller than Crystal? When they are on their own, it looks like it, but then next to the boys they look more or less the same height

When he notices Edwin doing the thing with his fists, Charles does like a little double take between his face and his hands. Something small, but I really like the way he does it. Like he's really paying attention to every little detail

We get a close up of Edwin's boots and I think they're really cool. I've never seen that style of shoe as a boot before, but I've always liked them. Also his socks are cute and I would love to make myself a similar pair

The top of the dandelion altar thing has this lines. At first I thought maybe it looked like the underside of a mushroom, but it makes more sense for it to be a dandelion seed

Edwin first translates a word as gifts and then goes “not gifts, sacrifices”, and in general sounds a little hessitant with his translation. Usually people in movies and shows just bust out a perfect translation on the fly, so as someone who struggles translating, I appreciate that little detail

The jar stops sounding like the sea when Charles empties it. I'm choosing to believe that's a missed opportunity because can you imagine how much Litty and Kingham would hate living in a jar that constantly sounds like ocean waves? Insufferable, it would have been great

Obviously Charles looks worried about her when Crystal offers herself to the sprites, but Edwin does too. He cares about her, even if at this point they haven't really bonded and their animosity towards each other is more or less geniune

Litty's outfit is actually really cute. Love the puffy dress and the sweater over the shoulders. And both of their waistcoats are adorable. Never noticed that Kingham's has a subtle print. I's the same as Litt's skirt, too. More dandelions maybe?

When Niko is telling Crystal that she thought abot replying to her mom, Edwin id in the background writing in his notebook. And Charles is leaning over his shoulder to see what he's doing, which looks really sweet

There's a guy in the line of ghosts outside that looks very much like the postman with a different mustache

Say what you want about Esther, but I love her commitment to having atmosphere music playing whenever she's up to something

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #tragic mick #niko sasaki #litty and kingham #jenny green #my writing #the cat king

31 notes · View notes

in-every-reality · 2 days

Text

Tyler Hernandez Dating HCs

Got into SBG, been hyperfixated on it for months now - in love with Tyler Hernandez, so enjoy!

Getting together:

He probably would known you’re dropping hints, but never does anything about it because he doesn’t want to risk your friendship if he’s misreading

He gives some hints of his own, but you’re either oblivious or just straight up scared to do something about it

Taylor definitely knows, she’s his day 1 wingwoman (though he won’t let her actually do anything to help)

They absolutely just sit in the living room sometimes while he grumbles about “she’s so pretty it’s not fairrr 😓” and Taylor’s trying to help but she’s kind of just sitting there like “okay but are you going to do something about it orrr 😐”

Don’t get me wrong, she loves him but she’s PRAYING DAILY that y’all would just get together already so she can have some peace

Anyway I feel like he confessed first; either the stress of the phantom realm made him feel the need to get it off his chest, or you two were left alone one time and it just came out.

He def didn’t believe it when you felt the same at first

Once it registered he sat there for a while like “okay. Cool. Cool. …cool. glad that’s settled.” (He’s internally freaking out)

DATING/GENERAL:

Cuddles. All the time

The moment you get some time alone he NEEDS to be holding you

I imagine he has kind of a sleeper build — he’s a student athlete so he’d probably have pretty strong arms (meaning he is not letting you get up anytime soon)

Speaking of affection

The first time he kissed you his knees went WEAK. He straight up stumbled for a second because he just melted.

He’s not THAT jealous, he’s pretty secure in your relationship

Having said that, he doesn’t hesitate to come straight to your side if other guys (or girls if you go both ways) try talking to you

He’s not rude about it or anything, unless they’re being pushy or weird

Speaking of being weird

If anybody (especially Barron’s group) start talking about you with disrespect?

He’s fighting them and winning.

Genuinely does not care about the consequences. He will ROCK anybody who bullies, harasses, shit talks, anything to you

If it bothers you for him to get in trouble/danger bc of you, he tries to let it go

He’s really protective of you in the phantom realm—he knows you can handle yourself, but you shouldn’t have to 😓

And if something like his or Aiden’s accident happens to you? DISTRAUGHT. Enraged. Inconsolable. Literally nobody can go near him (except maybe Taylor) until you’re alive and safe again.

On a happier note, he’s gradually gotten more into social medias and stuff as the group has influenced him more, so you can sometimes convince him to do cute couple trends :)

That’s all for now <333 love him

#fanfiction #sbg x reader #sbg (webtoon)#sbg #sbg tyler #tyler hernandez x reader #tyler hernandez

23 notes · View notes

sith-shenanigans · 2 days

Note

For the ask game where we send you an NPC, Talos Drellik? (I am totally not jumping up and down at the thought of following up on some tags/replies you left a while ago about Ahene and Talos, not at all)

aaaa it makes me so happy that you liked the tags and were not annoyed by the tags (let me put this under a readmore because it’s going to be extremely long)

Okay! So! Bearing in mind that this is a living work and Hoth is a long way away and I don’t know all of what will change—

There is a very not-entirely-normal dynamic here because it doesn’t progress in intensity so much as progress in what, precisely, the intensity is made up of.

Ahene’s first introduction to Talos is along the lines of “do you really want to talk to that guy? He’s strange,” and this endears him to her immediately. Ahene’s second introduction to Talos is walking into a Reclamation Service camp and not feeling like she’s home.

(She does, in fact, think of the camp outside the Rakatan ruin where she largely grew up as being “home.” She also often thinks of herself as not having a home. Or of the ruin itself being home, and the camp not.)

It is important to know, here, that Ahene’s relationship to her trauma is much more in the “continues to be attracted back to it and to things that remind her of it” category rather than the “avoid all reminders forever on pain of flashbacks” category. She actively enforces these reminders on herself whenever she feels she’s acting too much like she’s free—early on, it’s because she believes she isn’t, even if she and her master are the only ones who know that. Later on, it’s because a lot of her self-image is tied up in not being a “typical Sith,” and in her mind, her ability to treat herself harshly is proof she isn’t one (isn’t Like The Others). She hasn’t forgotten who—or what—she really is.

By and large, she feels safer in unsafe situations. She understands hierarchical relationships better than equal ones. She doesn’t know how to be a person, and she’s terrified she’ll forget how to not be. Obviously, this makes her kind of hate being a Sith, but it also makes her kind of prefer being a Sith—the social dynamics are very, very easy for her, even if she doesn’t feel she deserves the loyalty she gets for it.

Back on Tatooine, she worked with a Reclamation Service crew, and it was the most familiar thing she’s done since Korriban, except that this time she was a Sith to them. Which was simultaneously awful and “hey, the terrible thing that happened to you? You’re going to exist in proximity to it forever but it can’t hurt you anymore.” (Which, to someone who keeps trying to yank on her own trauma to prove it can’t hurt her…) Then everything went terribly wrong and Silthar got very badly injured, and they were depending on her, and she has never been able to avoid feeling responsible under those circumstances.

But there’s still this given hanging over it that the responsibility is unrequited. People will be grateful to her as a Sith that helps and protects them—more grateful than she thinks she deserves for doing what she perceives as bare-minimum decency towards anyone she has power over—but if she had been below them, they wouldn’t have treated her the way she treats those below her. She wouldn’t have been one of their people. She would have been one of their tools.

(The greatest exercise in loyalty, in her mind, is to give it without caring if it’s returned. She still loathes the Empire for not returning it towards its people, almost as much or even more than she hates it for what it did to her planet, because if it took care of them then she wouldn’t have to do it—but that’s because Imperials believe they’re doing something good. She doesn’t. She just takes care of them anyway, because it may not be the right thing to do, but it still makes the galaxy a little more just.)

By the time she gets to Hoth, though, she’s just having an awful time. The inquisitor story in the game only has things get really bad at the start of Act III, and before that you’re kind of fine? But Ahene is not fine. Ahene is also aware that she’s not fine. It might have started subtly, but at this point she’s just trying to sell herself on the idea that she can handle it until Thanaton is dealt with and then she can let the ghosts go and everything will be, if not fine, relatively fixed enough that she can spend about a week curled into a little ball in the corner of her ship until she can function normally again.

But, you know, for the most part, the ways she’s Not Fine aren’t externally visible yet. There was an incident on Quesh where she used the ghosts’ power and kind of halfway lost control and partly life-drained Cineratus, but because she didn’t stop at the station to get anybody inoculated, the only one who actually saw that was Khem. And she didn’t really… explain that. She hasn’t told anyone that she feels hollow all the time and barely gets physically hungry and hears the ghosts talking to her even when she isn’t alone. She can hide it. She can handle it. She doesn’t have enough of an advantage yet. This is enough this will be enough she can still put a stop to it.

So she arrives on Hoth, and she shows up at a Reclamation Service camp expecting for it to feel normal again—enough that it’s easy to slot into the proper role, that she doesn’t have to think about it. She knows the responsibility and the resentment, the fact that something about it always seems safer than anywhere else she’s been.

It doesn’t feel normal. It feels just a little bit like she hates everyone there.

(Or, more accurately, like somebody does. Ahene hates like hell freezes over—rarely, slowly, and with a sort of cold contempt that burns mostly in how impersonal it can be. But the spirits in the back of her mind know how to hate, and they’re much too happy to share.)

Talos looks at this Sith Lord, who appears to be unusually scruffy and looks like she’s developed dark side corruption without the glowing eyes, and—unlike Andronikos, unlike Silthar, unlike Sarnova, unlike Zaril—doesn’t come to the conclusion that someone needs to parent her. She’s moved a bit past giving off that energy. Instead he comes to the conclusion that she’s about to deliver the most fascinating problem he’s encountered this year, which is (because Talos is Talos) really what he finds ideal in a Sith.

Ahene looks at this strange, mostly fearless little archaeologist, and discovers that she is not immune to being treated like a totally reasonable and decent individual who is here for the love of history despite every indication otherwise. Many people make this discovery around Talos.

Their early interactions are still… fascinating. His aura of “everyone I talk to is fundamentally a decent fellow” can only do so much, especially since his version of “rationalizing” all the terrible things about the Empire is sweeping them all into a bucket of “things I can’t do anything about” to hyperfixate on archaeology. Ahene keeps him at arm’s length like she’s learned to do with most people. Ahene gets sucked into talking shop with him. They discover, to Talos’s delight and Ahene’s pleased-despite-herself annoyance, that they share a sense of humor. He treats his probe droids better than some people treated her, and exactly the same way that other people treated her. She gets attached to them too.

Somewhere in there—either before they find Horak-Mul or after, though I’m leaning towards before—he asks about her first dig.

She tells him it was the Verios ruin. The face he makes tells her everything she would have needed to know about Darth Kelshrin’s reputation with the Service, if she hadn’t already been aware.

Delicately, like someone trying to thread a conversational needle with as few actual words as possible, Talos suggests that you hear things about that dig, and they aren’t very good. People don’t like to talk about it, if they manage to get reassigned.

She says that she’s one of the reasons that people don’t like to talk about it, and watches him struggle to reconcile that with her entire demeanor for a moment, then clarifies that she was one of the children they had—probably still have—doing probe-work.

Because of course it does, this horrifies him. She shrugs and comments that she hadn’t realized Kelshrin was that much of an outlier; haven’t there ever been slaves on any of your digs? Talos starts to protest that yes, but none of them were children, and comes to the mid-sentence conclusion that actually, she doesn’t care.

His mouth clicks shut. They sit in silence for a little bit.

When he next speaks, he tells her that he’s sorry he wasn’t there.

She says that most people would have put an ‘and’ in the middle of that sentence. They would have found it absolving, that they weren’t there. And he makes a face, and says that yes, that’s true, but still—he wishes he’d been there. That perhaps he could have done something, if he had been. That at least he could have been—better than the others.

I’m sure you would have been, she says, touching his shoulder, in a voice that would be a threat if any of the bitterness were directed at him. It isn’t a threat. It’s just that half of her doesn’t believe him, and doesn’t blame him, and the other half wants to believe him—and hates so very much that someone like him existed this whole time, and never came for her.

They don’t talk very much about that part of her background, after that. She never makes a secret of what she was—it’s the first thing anyone knows about her anyway, the trash apprentice who brought back the Dark Temple expedition—but while she’ll talk about the ruin like it’s simultaneously a deathtrap and a lost home, she doesn’t tell him about the Service camp. It’s their armistice; it wouldn’t be fair.

She doesn’t blame him for what happened to her childhood. He doesn’t look at her like he’s afraid of her when she loses control of the ghosts’ power, when he walks in on her having snapping arguments with thin air, when the ghosts’ memories and personalities start leaking in and she reacts to something he said about the Great Hyperspace War like she was there.

It’s difficult not to care deeply about someone who sees you at your absolute, utter worst—half-dead, half-possessed, still suffering from a Horror Hunger despite knowing that there are few things she needs less than other people’s life energy—and treats it like it’s simply something that’s happening, and no more terrifying than any other serious illness.

He’s the one she goes to one night, when she needs to tell someone how terrified she is to die. He’s the only member of her crew she doesn’t feel some need to be strong for.

(He is, maybe, the person she tells that she thinks she could exorcise the ghosts. That she hasn’t tried, because she’s scared that it would work.)

It’s important that—by this point—he doesn’t feel like he has to be strong with her, either. He doesn’t have to pretend that he doesn’t notice how bad things are, or keep up a cheerful front through it, the way he nearly always does. It’s not that his cheerful front is insincere—it’s not that he’s lying—but that’s how he’s always dealt with his emotions, the same as Ahene deals with them by scrunching them up into a little ball and taking another step no matter what. They aren’t people who know how to seek comfort in other people, most of the time. Talos doesn’t have childhood trauma the way she has childhood trauma, but he did very much grow up in an abusive environment that he generally dismisses as “not so bad as all that” with a wave of his hand. So it’s… something, that they can be scared together of what’s going to come.

(This could so easily be read as romantic. It is not remotely. It’s also not remotely parental on Talos’s part. It’s just a very unlikely bordering-on-queerplatonic friendship.)

When Ahene walks out of the Dark Council chambers on Korriban with Thanaton’s body (Teneb Kel’s body) in her arms and a title she didn’t ask for or want, Talos makes sure the body ends up in a cryostasis tube until it can be properly entombed. When they head for Dromund Kaas right after, because the planet is being invaded, when she makes for the Dark Temple immediately when they arrive in the aftermath—Talos waits for her at the Dark Temple approach.

When she calls him and asks him to get another stasis chamber and never breathe a word of it to anyone, he does it, because they would trust each other with anything.

Up to and including the body of the Emperor’s Voice.

(The next couple months, she barely remembers, because she was under so much pressure and so much of the same kind of pressure that her dissociative memory issues cropped up again and turned it into a soup of events that 2V had to record and summarize for her. But Talos quite frequently knew what she was doing better than she did, at least when it came to the fact that she suddenly had to run the Reclamation Service. This has always been a team effort. Between her and all her crew, but still especially between the two of them.)

[npc opinions]

#this is not the entirety of everything but i think it is quite long enough.#asks #oc: ahene coris #talos drellik

21 notes · View notes

zoandreez · 2 days

Text

the stars keep on calling my name, pt 1: ikran flying ⋆·˚ ༘ *

pairing: sully reader x ao'nung

summary: after spending your time in the awa'altu clan with the metkayina children, you've feel a bit homesick and decide to run back to what you know. a suprise comes to you when a special visitor wants to tag along. how long can he survive on an ikran?

word count: 798, a short one

warnings: if ur an avatar nerd, this doesn't really make sense plot-wise. sorry. (i don't care.)

a/n: sorry for taking 8 n a half months to make something but i got a few things for yall.. i hope. and yes i know this fic is kind of unrealistic but aren't they all? emd.

you were sick.

not literally, god no. you'd rather the sky people take your life now than show sign of weakness on this godforsaken water park. you hated it here.

your disdain for this place ran deep. you’ve endured nearly a year at awa’altu, long after the war had ended. don’t get me wrong, the clan's hospitality was great. you cherished the friendships formed over the year and were awestruck by the ocean's beauty. however, your heart longed for home.

the forest.

the trees you grew up with, and the familiar vines and cliffs you've climbed your entire life. and just suddenly, without warning, your father uprooted us all and relocated us to a barren land of wet sand and peculiar fish. and of course, you understood why we were doing this. you didnt want to hurt your clan by staying with your omaticayan family, and with the sky people haunting you, it seemed more than likely that staying with tonowari, ronal, and the rest of the metkayina was your best option. but still, it hurt. so,

you were leaving.

you finally mustered up the courage to sneak out of your marui that was wonderfully woven by the women of the clan, just for you and your family. it was late, so you didnt have to worry about your family seeing you as you continued to walk past the other pods.

lo'ak knew about your plan. tuk cried the night prior, but your feathered kisses to her forehead and promises to come back for her seemed to soothe her. kiri was upset that you didn't take her with you. neteyam would have told mom and dad, so he's oblivious to it all.

the stars glimmered in the night, making your bioluminescence shimmer in a way that made you look beautiful. as your feet left marks through the sand, your stride was confident. it was a way he had never seen before.

ao’nung.

you and ao’nung never had the best relationship, especially with you being from a foreign clan and even having the slightest bit of demon blood, even though it didnt show through your three fingers. he despised you and your family. except,

he couldnt get your beauty out of your head. he never could, and yet now, it was even worse.

striding down the wet sand, you could almost feel it turn into the mud and grass you would feel if you were back home. you could smell the mist, although it didn’t have a particular scent. it just smelled.. home-y. you took your ikran by its queue, the same way you would tug on a vine while climbing a tree, and hoisted yourself on before making the bond.

you had to feel the agitation in your ikran before you noticed ao'nung pathetically attempting to crawl onto her tail. she began to screech and flail her tail around before you protested.

"wait!" you whisper-yelled as he almost went flying into the ocean.

"where do you think you're going??" ao'nung said in a mocking tone. he was teasing you, but you weren't kidding this time.

"i'm leaving."

a moment of silence rolled over. ao'nung's face contorted in a way you'd never seen before. surely he'd run to tell your dad. but then.. his lips curled on his face. was he.. trying to smile? regardless, it wasn't a good look for him. after a while of you blankly staring back at him, he stopped.

"you're serious?"

"yes." you said before you turned away, shifted your posture, and your ikran stretched its wings. you leaned forward before the first flap into the air lifted you to home. the wings lifted..

"wait!" he shouted over your ikran's rustles.

"what?" you said agitated. now that the idea was taking place you couldn't wait to leave.

"take me with you."

now it was your turn to laugh. it was also your turn to ask if he was serious. and you still didn't believe him as he half-ass climed his way up onto your ikran.

"ao'nung, get off. i'm leaving."

"no."

"..suit yourself," you muttered. fly as reckless as you can, knock him off. your inner thoughts amused your ikran as she flew off as steep as she could.

ao'nungs screams could have been heard throughout the whole kingdom, if they weren't thousands of feet in the air. he held on to you as hard as possible as your ikran made short stops, dives, and spins you didn't even know she could do. your hair flew behind you into his face, so every now and then the putters of him spitting out a few lost strands made you laugh. eventually you told her to settle down.

out of breath, a smug ao'nung commented, "are you done trying to get me to fall off now?"

"yeah," you giggled through his sighs.

my short apology

... my bad cuz

#avatar #avatar the way of water #ao’nung x reader #atwow #ao’nung #avatar way of water #sorry guys

22 notes · View notes