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lizzybeth1986 · 2 years

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Eleanor's Kitchen

Book: The Royal Heir Book 1/The Royal Romance series

Rating: G

Pairing: None. Queen Eleanor & Signore Francesco friendship. Mention of Joëlle Theron & Queen Eleanor's friendship.

Summary: After a visit from one of his mother's old college friends, little Liam realizes he doesn't actually know as much about her as he thinks. (Eleanor's Kitchen)

Word Count: 3, 261 words.

Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for Fics of the Week.

Choices May Challenge (Day 8) - yellow | Mothers | "do you trust me"? (@choicesmonthlychallenge)

Chapter 2: Spaghetti al Pomodoro

There are many moments when Liam thinks he's seen his mother at her happiest.

When she sees him and Drake, weaving their way through the still-in-construction garden, their shins darkened by mud. When Leo briefly drops his disinterested-teenager demeanor, and actually looks happy to be at home. The now-rare days when she and Father go a full day without disagreeing on something (alright...maybe not that. You can still see her eyes nervously darting, like she's aware that the day isn't over and there's still time for things to go wrong). When her projects seem to take off. When people appreciate her new garden. When she goes to the public library. The rare times she gets to cook.

None of that compares, Liam realizes now, to the shine in her eyes at the sight of a carton of ripe, red, oval-shaped tomatoes in the palace.

As Mum closes her eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of the tomatoes, Liam surreptitiously picks up a note that seems to have fallen from the box.

Nori,

Got this straight from Zio Guiseppe's farm. He still remembers you! Keeps telling me how often you wolfed down their sfogliatella first time you visited. He even offered to just send you a bottle of homemade sauce to save time...but I told him if I did that you'd kill me!

Here's to serving your sons real pasta with real pomodoro, not those pathetic pink travesties you Cordonians call tomatoes.

Franci.

Mum sniffs in frustration when she finally reads the note. "I may be Cordonian now," she murmurs as if Francesco de Rosa himself is in the room, "but on the subject of tomatoes I will never be anything but Auvernese."

Liam frowns in worry. For the past year, Mum's home place hasn't even been mentioned in the palace. If this ever reaches Father's ears there will be hell to pay.

So instead of stoking the flames by asking his mother what's so special about Auvernal's tomatoes (not that he likes tomatoes, anyway, unless they're cherry tomatoes - the bigger ones always make your mouth pucker in the worst way, and Mum always needs to drown them in fresh herbs to make them taste halfway-decent), he asks about Uncle Franci instead.

"When did you go to Naples, Mum?" They've gone to Capri, they've gone to Venice, they've seen the Colloseum at Rome, he's even seen Father and Mum meet the Pope - all veiled and dressed in black - at the Vatican. He knows Napoli is where Uncle Franci stays, with Aunt Perizaad his wife - and they've come over to Cordonia a handful of times - but Liam can't for the life of him remember Mum ever going there!

"Oh, that?" Mum sounds a little surprised, almost as if she's just remembered something that never occurred to her before. "Of course you wouldn't know, sweetheart. I was still in university then."

Liam's eyes grow round as saucers. "You met Uncle Franci in college?"

Mum's laughter tinkles like glass, light but also a little hollow - her smile only half-there. "I met many people at college. Some of them you see almost every month."

"Really? Do you have pictures, Mum?" It's hard, to think of a time when his mother wasn't a queen, wasn't the woman on his Father's right side, wasn't the woman who considered this palace her home. Wasn't his mother.

Until now, he's never had to think about what Mum's life looked like before all that. Almost as if she emerged from the earth of their Capitol, like the goddess Venus did atop a shell from the sea. But Mum's eyes light up with a need Liam cannot name yet, so when she asks him if he'd like to see them right now, he says yes.

And he's excited at first, truly. He wants to see all these memories that seem to bring her so much joy. So he sits through thousands of pictures (Mum and Father. Mum and Global Leaders. Mum and a delegation of Applewood farmers. Mum and himself, now as a small child. Now as a toddler. Now as a baby, bawling his head off in a very uncomfortable christening robe. Mum and a very young, very scared Leo perched atop her lap). And as each yellowing album-page takes an agonizingly slow step back in time and Liam's childish enthusiasm begins to flag...Mum's own anticipation dims a little bit more, the dewy joy that lit up her entire face when she first saw those tomatoes slowly fading.

But then they're interrupted by the palace staff for teatime. And then they're expected to see Ana de Luca, Trend's newest and most popular interviewer, about a photoshoot. Then by the time they're done with all that, Drake runs to him, panting in exhilaration, telling Liam it's time for them to play.

And Liam runs, forgetting instantly all albums he's left behind and all the questions that led his mother to show them to him, too caught up in the promise of his own childhood adventures to wonder about her youth.

Eleanor shakes her head, chuckling fondly - tiredly - at the fading shadow of her son and his best friend, racing madly through the halls without another care in the world, before she puts the albums away.

"Mmm," Uncle Franci takes a seat next to Liam, greeting the smell of spaghetti slathered in tomato sauce with a sigh of appreciation. He'd called in last week, mentioning to Mum that he had work at the Capitol; to which she immediately suggested he drop by for lunch. "Smells just like Nonna's. I bet Pari gave you that recipe. But cherry tomatoes?"

Mum lets out an unladylike snort. "Just because they're not in your Nonna's recipe doesn't mean no Italian has ever used them."

"But these are Cordonian tomatoes. You may have the best baking apples but with respect to this one ingredient we beat you hollow."

"Pssh! Those are different. You haven't even tried our cherry tomatoes yet." Mum gets even more passionate in her defense of Cordonian produce, a strand or two of her hair easing themselves off her neatly-tied bun as she spritedly argues.

Liam breathes in a whiff of the pasta dish while the two keep sparring. He won't lie: it does look, and smell, divine. The basil smells fresh, the sunlight streaming from the windows casts a silky gleam over the already-thick sauce on the spaghettoni. The subtle pungent perfume of crushed garlic teases his nostrils. The mini-tomatoes that seem to offend Uncle Franci so much have a slight char, the blackness standing out against all the bright colours of the dish.

He's just not sure the pasta will taste as good as it looks, because they're tomatoes.

But Liam is sure of one thing. He's never enjoyed being in the kitchen with his mother, as much as he did when she was making this sauce. She's always been one to sing, do a little dance, tell a story, in the middle of cooking. Fairytales, old myths, childhood memories, little anecdotes of his life with Father and Leo, before Liam came along. Little folk legends she's read about in the public library.

But since she got that carton of tomatoes from San Marzano sul Sarno, her stories have started sounding different. They're brimming with love, but with a sense that she's lost something too. She talks about her father's wonderful, forever-fertile farm, that grew everything from root vegetables to dragonfruit. About her time at university, learning Cultural Studies and meeting a young Italian batchmate named Francesco de Rosa - now an up-and-coming Italian politician. Mum said they'd bonded instantly, teasingly calling each other "Volcano Children".

Volcanoes? Liam whispered as Mum sweated the garlic, why volcanoes?

Volcanic soil was very important to both our childhoods, she told him, sighing wistfully, Uncle Franci's birthplace isn't too far from Mount Vesuvius. Your Grandpa's farm was very close to Mount Ionia, which is our dormant volcano. The ash from all those ancient eruptions does something to the soil over time.

What does it do? Uncle Franci's tomatoes, crushed yet still a little whole, now joined the garlic-infused oil, what does that do to the food?

Mum didn't answer. She'd just tasted a spoonful of sauce, closing her eyes and smiling, occasionally moving her tongue around her palate. As if the taste of the tomatoes themselves transported her somewhere else.

He sees the same expression on both her and Uncle Franci's faces now, at the dinner table, feasting on the pasta. Perhaps a hint of surprise in Uncle Franci's expression.

Liam shifts in his seat, embarrassed; his plate is the only one left untouched.

Just one bite, he promises himself, lazily twirling strands of spaghetti around his fork. Just a little bit, and if I can't get through the meal I can complain of a stomachache. Mum will understand.

That one bite releases a whole bouquet of sensations all at once. The pasta is luscious, the tomatoes are shockingly sweet and vibrant, their richness unfurling over his tongue in a way that coats his entire palate. He's never had a tomato that tasted like this. The garlic and basil play hide-and-seek with his senses, only occasionally making their presence felt. It's almost like there's no need for the flavourings to take centerstage!

"More, Liam?" Mum says, her lips unfurling into small smile at the sight of his almost-empty plate.

"Yes please," Liam responds immediately, before realizing both their eyes - amused, a little relieved - are trained on him. "I mean, er, it's nice."

"Perks of living near a volcano," Uncle Franci says, grinning.

Liam giggles, twirling pasta around his fork into a huge cocoon, "Mum said so too."

"She's not wrong, cucciolo mio. It's all that volcanic ash. You won't believe how rich with minerals that soil is."

Liam nods even though some of the phrases are a little hard to understand, his mouth for once stuffed with pasta and tomatoes. He understands enough. But Uncle Franci's praise for Mum's pasta dish has only begun.

"I hate to say this, but I was wrong about the cherry tomatoes, Nori. Charring them really made all the difference!" he lets out a dramatic sigh. "Pari will be so smug when she finds out."

"Once a Cordonian, always a Cordonian, I'm sure," Mum laughs, a light, spirited one that Liam hasn't heard in a while. "She's in Bethulia right now, isn't she?"

Uncle Franci bristles slightly, and Mum purses her lips in response. Liam pretends not to know why; he's heard whispers about Bethulia often over the years, but has only visited the estate once. Its current owner, Baron Cyrus, is younger brother to the then-presumptive heir, who had left the estate years ago to start a new life in metropolitan China. She hasn't been seen since. "Yes."

Nervously, Mum runs a nail over the pristine tablecloth. "She'd told me her cousin Lorelai had come down for a sudden visit."

Uncle murmurs beneath his breath "You can imagine how well that turned out," before turning to Liam and saying - his voice falsely bright - "Did you know, Liam, that I met Aunt Pari through your mother?"

Liam straightens up in his chair, his eyes suddenly brightening, "Really?? You never told me that, Mum!"

Liam knows how fond Mum is of Aunt Pari, but the smile on her face remembering their first few months looks extra special. "Pari was my junior in university...she used to meet me every week for help with class notes. We grew quite close."

"Which is where I come in," Uncle Franci interjects, grinning, "because I was your Mum's roommate, and that's how Aunt Pari met me. Might I add I was the more fun of the two of us; no wonder she stayed around..." Mum rolls her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Both Pari and your mum always carried cameras around. Took pictures of everything and everyone. I actually have a few of those pictures on me right now," he says, passing a conspiratory glance Mum's way. She says nothing, but when Liam steals a glance her way he can see her mouth the words thank you.

Guiltily, Liam remembers they'd never gone back and checked Mum's albums, after the cart of tomatoes had come. The few times he'd remembered, something else had always come up.

"Can I see?"

Uncle Franci is still smiling, but the smile looks different now - softer and more thoughtful. Briefly, he places his hand on Liam's hair. "Of course, cucciolino mio."

The pictures are beautiful, dappled in sunlight, brimming over the four corners of the photograph with bright, happy faces. Here is one of Mum standing at the center of a university campus, holding a bouquet of sunflowers, her eyes crinkled in laughter as Uncle Franci and Aunt Pari mischievously kiss her cheek from either side. And another of Mum and Uncle Franci in plain cotton pyjamas - a far cry from the luxurious sleeping robes she and Father wear - wolfing down pasta, their faces nearly smeared with sauce.

"You have no idea how desparate we both would get for a good tomato pasta. We were so homesick that first year." Mum says, chuckling fondly at their younger selves.

"I'd still argue our San Marzano tomatoes have the slightest edge over your Auvernese ones!"

"Shut it, you," Mum lightly punches Uncle Franci in the arm, her eyes a tiny bit watery, as Liam leafs hungrily through the other pictures. This is a side of his mother he's never seen - and now that Uncle Franci has shown it to him, he can't help but want to know more.

The next photograph shows only a paper, with writing that Liam instantly recognizes as his mother's swirly, almost-calligraphic script. He reads most of the title easily, as well as her name ("Eleanor Moon") only faltering when he reaches the last word.

Breaking Bread: Exploring the History and Practice of Mediterranean Gas...Gas...Gastro...

" - gastrodiplomacy," Mum helps him, rubbing his back in encouragement. "It means you look at how people from different places cultivate alliances and friendships through food."

Liam looks up from the pile of photographs. "Like you and Uncle Franci?" The memory of today's tomato pasta still sends tingles through his tastebuds.

Uncle Franci guffaws in response. "More like your Mum and every soul she meets."

"This was my thesis - that's a research paper you present in the course of getting your degree. Mine and Aunt Pari's was in Cultural Studies, Uncle Franci did his in International Politics. Your father pursued the same degree...but he was a fair bit older than any of us." There is a glow of pride on Mum's face, the same kind that he often sees when an initiative of hers succeeds. "This was the most frustrating, most rewarding, tastiest research paper I'd ever written."

"We both gained weight when you wrote that one," Uncle Franci laughs, before setting the final photograph on the table, "oooh...I think Liam might recognize a person or two in this picture!"

The last picture shows Mum standing behind a huge banner, in a bright purple sundress and a hat, standing next to a vibrant black woman dressed in sunshiny lemon-yellow. They fashion their poses in a way that looks poised, yet casual enough so the onlooker deems them approachable. They wear their best smiles, but their eyes are razor-sharp with purpose. In blue and silver letters, the banner reads

Joëlle Moreau for President!

Eleanor Moon for Cultural Secretary!

Liam draws a deep breath. "Mum, is that -"

"Yes, sweetheart," she responds, eyes softening at Joëlle's deep brown curls, her warm, open smile. "You know her now as Duchess Joëlle, House Thorne. We won that year, too."

"Kiara's Maman," Liam murmurs, remembering it's been months since he's seen the playmate he's been playing soccer and "diplomatic doll games" with. "I didn't know you were in college together too!"

Uncle Franci lets out a small chuckle. "There's a lot of things you don't yet know about your mother," he tells Liam, sitting on his haunches so he can look the young child in the eye, one hand on his shoulder, "but I promise you, finding out will be fun."

Liam takes that little lesson to heart long after Uncle Franci leaves, making promises to arrange for Aunt Pari to visit soon. There is something about Mum's face in those pictures that tugs at him: expressions and hand gestures that he can't even remember seeing from Mum since the time he was born. Things about her he never knew, he never even thought to know. And the look on her face whenever he asks a question about them...that's a happiness Liam wants to grab with both hands and store in a bottle, so he can preserve the glow on her face and the shine in her eyes, forever.

Liam likes to keep this a biweekly ritual, Eleanor realizes three weeks into Francesco's last visit. The first time they went back to that cabinet of albums, he looked closely at the pile as if to imprint which ones had all the family pictures, and which ones featured his mother alone, imprinting them in his memory to save time. Since then, he's walked gingerly to the cabinet each time, plucking out whichever of his mother's albums he's in a mood for. Seeing him pore over each photograph, in awe, makes Eleanor's heart swell.

Something in her hurt inside when Liam left those albums aside...when it looked like he didn't even show interest in the parts of her that had little to do with him or their family. It's childish, she knew. She should be the mature one, she should understand how difficult this life is for any child to navigate. But it didn't stop the hollow feeling inside from constantly creeping in.

Liam points to another photograph now, chirping exitedly his guesses for who the figure in the painting at the background might be (He's right). This photograph is of Joëlle, dressed in a silky maxidress in one of those bright colours she used to wear so well, the head-wrap covering her hair, boldly patterned. She is holding the tip of a paintbrush to her chin, gazing at an oil painting of a young black man in a waistcoat, the fingers of his left hand fiddling with a cufflink, his eyes intense and vulnerable all at once. Jo's features are soft and delicate as she continues gazing at the painting, her eyes already brimming with a million dreams. Eleanor can almost smell the turpentine in Jo's small studio emanating from the picture, if she closes her eyes long enough.

Joëlle is perhaps the only courtier she's this close to... the only one she knows she can trust blindfolded. She won't forget how deeply troubled she'd been all those weeks ago, how much gibberish she'd poured out onto her old friend from Castelserraillan over phone. But somehow Joëlle figured out the problem she'd been plagued with, because Eleanor could understand it herself.

Prince Liam will only show interest in seeing what you are passionate about showing, Elle. Jo had told her in her deep, soothing voice, I've seen you in the past few years, followed your news in the past months. You've been spending far too long trying to be everything to everyone. The perfect Queen for Cordonia. The perfect wife and consort for the King. The perfect mother for your sons. Where are you in all this?

It was a simple enough question; it still stunned Eleanor into silence.

We may be queens and wives and mothers, Elle, was the last thing she said before she kept the phone, but we owe it to ourselves, and to our children, to remember - always - that we are more than that.

Eleanor runs a thumb softly over Jo's face, her heart twisting with love. They meet regularly, she knows, but it's never the same. It's been too long since they've sat down for a heart-to-heart chat. Since they've giggled over the precocious younger children's games together.

Tomorrow, Eleanor promises herself. Tomorrow she'll call Joëlle, ask when she's free. Have her come over. Her youngest could join in, keep Liam company. It'll be a little like the old days, Eleanor whispers to herself, her spirits already soaring.

But for now... they'll shut the albums, keep them neatly back in the cabinets, and have lunch.

It's Liam's new favourite today. A simple tomato pasta.

Italian Words:

Zio - Uncle

Sfogliatella - a shell-shaped filled Italian pastry originating from Campania. It means "small, thin leaf/layer", as the pastry's texture resembles stacked leaves.

Pomodoro - Tomato

Cucciolo/Cucciolino mio - an affectionate term used for young boys (typically refers to a young animal like a young puppy or a young kitten - in this context Franci means "little cub" since the lion is such an important royal symbol)

Author's Note: Inspired by a line in Liam's Book 1 date scene, about how he used to enjoy simple tomato pasta as a kid, and another line about Franceso, the Italian statesman, being a friend of Eleanor's. Takes place roughly a year after the events of Ch 1, so Liam is over 7 years old.

Recipes for Spaghetti al Pomodoro:

Chef Carlo Cracco

Vincenzo's Plate

#choices fanfic #king liam #prince liam #eleanor rys #the royal romance #the royal heir #trr #trr fanfic #series: eleanor's kitchen #cfwc fics of the week #choicesmonthlychallenge

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binkszamsstuff · 2 years

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The reflection crouse

Goodbye mommy pt3

Masterlist

"I love you Tilly girl" y/n spoke to her.

"I love you too mommy" tilly responded, the image of her mother days before she lost her would always make her cry. As a child Tilly really tried not to notice the changes her mother was going through. But now those were all she had left of her mother.

She remembers her pale and sunken skin, her mother was terribly skinny and Ill looking. Her hair thin and dull, her eyes the same Tilly once found a journal full of her mums health that her dad kept to try and keep track. The last entry wrote.

Day: the 10th

Medication: take three times day, the two with the blue stickers on them she takes before eating and the ones with red after.

Weight gain/lose: I've tried to keep her full of protein but she still remains at 80 pounds.

Notes: the doctors and I have tried so many medications to give her more time, nothing's working. I fear the constant change of meds is doing more damage then saving.

Tilly had it hidden in her closet under her Jean's, she knew if her father found out she had the journal of her mothers last date he would be upset. Not mad just upset, tilly knows that he tries to keep the the hurt from her.

It was monday. Every monday before school Tilly and y/n would have mommy Monday. Pancakes and cartoons and after was the best. Today is the first monday without her mum. No pancakes, no cartoons, no mommy mondays, no mum. Tilly cried all day at school they called home and james had to pick her up early.

If someone asked Tilly what the hardest day of her life was she would say that Monday when she awoke to no mum.

The many times Tilly met dot she hated it. Her father's blatant disregard for her back handed compliments and tone deaf jokes made Tilly made.

The way she spoke about her mother was the worst of all, 'im your new mom now' she would "jokely" say. Or 'why is this old stuff all around?', 'we need to clean out this house of her junk' all these things bucky was ignored, all the clear dirty looks and eye rolls that Tilly gave to Dott ignored too.

"Dad I told you I'm going out with!" Tilly said with an annoyed sigh.

"Tilly can't you just spend some time with Dott? It's family night I told you this yesterday."

"And I told you I was going out on Monday! She is NOT family"need

3 months later.

17 she was turning 17, tilly had found some old pictures from her grandma and grandpa of her mother on her 17th birthday. Y/n had a 70s themed birthday party and everyone dressed up. They told her to the keep the pictures. And when she showed her dad he laughed so hard at the mere sight of them.

"The song dancing queen by abba played all night long, god look at me I almost forgot about my long hair. I guess I did a good job on the custom" he laughed. Their were many pictures of aunt Natasha, uncle tony, steve, thor, sam, aunt wanda, pepper, and tilly's favorite was her mum holding a very grumpy 10 year old yelena in her arms as she danced.

But her real favorite was the last two, one was of y/n smiling about to blow out her birthday candles her eyes filled up with joy and the candle light made her look beautiful. And the other one was of bucky and her slow dancing the perfect photo caught of the two. The look that her father had in his eyes Tilly has not seen in a long time. The way he looked at her mum.

So now it was tilly's 17th birthday and she was having a 70 themed party with all her friends and grandparents. She was off the walls as she and her aunts ready in her room, the only thing she didnt like was her father's new girlfriend Dott. Tilly hated her and she didnt care that her father was moving on and happy call her selfish but she didn't care. No one could replace her mother. When aunt nat found out she almost slapped bucky and she told tilly why. Dott was always trying to steal bucky away from her mother and the drama that went with it was enough for Tilly to never ever want Dott around her or her father.

Bucky insisted that Dott come tonight that it would be a good bonding time for them. Tilly felt as if her father was shoving her down her throat. And every time Tilly saw Dott she always tried to bring up that she should move in and 'we can get rid of all the old stuff' tilly's mother was NOT old stuff! Or she would try and convince bucky to donate y/n's things that were still around the house.

The party was going fantastic all tillys friends were there and her aunts and uncles. Until Dott spilt her drink on her shirt. Bucky and her going upstairs to clean her up but when Dott came down in one of her mothers shirts Natasha lost it and so did tilly and everyone else.

"What are waring?" Natasha seethed at Dott.

"She spit her drink nat its fine" bucky blew off.

"No it's not fine that was your wife's shirt, not just some shirt james your wife's."

"It doesn't matter Natasha shes gone. My wife died!" Dott smile didnt flatter.

Tilly started to cry. Did her dad really not remember what that shirt was? Was he that careless? That was the shirt y/n went to the hospital in. That was the last time y/n ever went to the hospital because she never came home from that one. That was the last shirt Tilly had ever seen her mother in and the music stopped, tillys grandpa holding her grandma as she cried and Natasha was about to slap bucky until Tilly muttered.

"I hate you, and today is my birthday that me and my family throwed to celebrate my mum and me. And you've ruined it! I didnt even want you here." Tilly stormed off her friends following her to make sure she was okay.

"Its just a damn shirt!" Dott said rolling her eyes "your mommys dead get over it!" Y/ns mother marched her way up to her and slapped Dott and then bucky. "My daughter deserves better then this and so does my granddaughter! That girl misses her mother and you! James my husband and I love you and my daughter did too but this is too much! I know it's been 7 years but that does not mean she didnt exist. I know everyone deals with grief in different ways but you forcing your daughter to act like her mother never happened is wrong. I'm every disappointed in you james" and with that grandma and grandpa walked upstairs to go to their granddaughter.

A/N: I know this was a crappy chapter but I needed to get it out so🤷

#bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshots #steve rogers #steve rogers au

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writteninverses · 1 year

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my year in fic

provide a line (or two. or three. hehe) for every fic you wrote this year.

no need to forgive

Maybe it was the alcohol, the loneliness or just how fucking sad he felt, but Sirius began to believe that Remus was betraying them. What on Earth was he doing all those months away? Getting reinforcements? Sirius knew that the Order was weaker and weaker every day, so Remus’ job was bullshit. Didn’t mean anything. Therefore, he must’ve joined them. He covered it with the fact that Moody asked him to go, to reclute them. It wasn’t working, it was fake. Was their love fake too? Was he trying to convince Sirius to join too? When did he make that decision?

blue room (not posted)

“Of course I will, but just tell me this, when is Sirius coming back? I think the last time I heard from him he was in Thailand!”

“My God, Remus, that was like 5 months ago. He was back in Amsterdam for a few months, you know, playing in that musical. And by staying in the same place for longer than 3 months, he’s decided he might as well do all that here.”

“Oh, I see. So I guess he is coming back soon.”

“Why do you look nervous? Are you actually nervous, Remus?”

“Come on, Lily. You know I haven't talked to the guy in years, our texts consist of us wishing each other a good birthday and a happy new year. That’s all. For some reason James and him have been able to maintain their friendship, but I don’t know what happened to us. We didn’t have a fight or anything when he left, he just left me here and I went to Wales.”

“Alright, I see it, Re. Maybe I can text you when he comes and you can see him when James and I are around, okay? That way you won’t have to face him all by yourself.”

Remus takes a deep breath and checks his phone again, “Yeah, that would make me feel better.”

i get along without you very well (not posted)

If you ask Remus Lupin how he is doing, he would say that he is doing fine, thank you very much. He is getting along very well, given the circumstances: he still has his mum, Poppy and a weird looking cat named Muffin that had stolen Sirius’ heart and now he is stuck with it.

one song glory (not posted)

It is late November when Sirius realises he is fucking bored. Bored of everything and everyone, nothing seems to spark some joy out of him. He despises his degree, his family and the fucking tattoos that he got at 15 that look hideous and he can’t even look at them.Sirius is in his 3rd year of University and he can’t wait another year to be able to finish and fuck off, God knows where. He is studying Law just because his parents wouldn’t have paid for his tuition if he had chosen to do something else, so fucking Law it is. Maybe he could be a lawyer in another country, far away from dear Mother and Father. But that means that he wouldn’t be close to his friends and Regulus, and that makes his heart ache.

sirius (not posted and i don’t even have a name for this)

Sirius doesn’t quite recall when this exactly started, but he remembers the countless hours spent in the bathroom, just looking at the reflection. it’s always helped him to come to terms with how he looks, at least from a perspective. Bella would make fun of his nose, how it was bigger than what’s expected of a Black. So Sirius looked at his nose in the mirror, and learnt to love it, convincing himself that it belongs in his face, that he wouldn’t want any other kind of nose there with his face. He had been born with it and it’s his, he wouldn’t trade it for anything else. At least he looked less like the rest of his family.

light carries on endlessly

“In this type of dance, you are both a leader and a follower. Every person dancing has these two roles. I saw that you know how to lead yourself around, but you fail to relax and just feel the music. You must trust everyone on the dance floor. They’ll lead you and you’ll lead them. The trick is trust, James. You must let yourself trust others.”

im tagging anyone who wants to do this!!!! xxxx

#my fic #i wrote quite a bit #though i just posted two things #but still!!#plenty of stuff in my google docs <3 #r/s

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sofoulandfairaday · 3 years

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The ultimate How I Met Your Mother Finale rant

I know this has been done before, and I know I'm several years late to the party, but I don't care, so IN THIS ESSAY I WILL tell you about why this finale takes the spot as the second-worst finale in TV show history (because Game of Thrones is still, to this day, unbeatable, and it will probably stay like that forever).

But first, a little context: I've just finished binge-watching HIMYM. This binge has been going on for three days straight (my final exam of the semester is in a week and I should be studying, so the fact that the last few days were a partial waste of time makes me so mad). Second thing: I already knew how it would end, and yes, kids, it does ruin the show for you. It ruins the show so much it makes your blood boil when you rewatch certain scenes, but I will get to that.

You might want to make yourself a drink because this is a complete list of all the reasons why HIMYM's finale sucks - I'm warning you, it's gonna be looong.

It completely invalidates the entirety of season 9

This is one of the complaints people most often have with this series, and I have to agree. It would have been so much better if the last two episodes never existed, and they just showed Barney and Robin dancing at the reception after walking out of the chapel, Ted noticing Tracy and then the platform scene. "And that, kids, is the story of how I met your mother". Cut scene. Honestly, I don't get the hate people give to season 9, barring the last 2/3 episodes, especially since season 8 was so much worse (except for a few honourable mentions, like The Robin). S8 was slower, less funny, and less deep, and while the authors took a risk by making s9 happen in the span of a weekend it paid off: they took their time introducing the character of the Mother to the gang and fleshing her out. They make sure to highlight all the little ways in which Ted and Tracy are perfect for each other, and even tie up loose ends, like with the Slapsgiving episode, that was a filler but it wasn't boring to watch (although it may be problematic for different reasons, I'm not Chinese, so I can't say for sure if it's cultural appropriation or just the authors making fun of a particular movie genre).

Some episodes were arguably great: "Daisy" was amazing, and that whole fight between Marshall and Lily was so realistic and well thought out, "Sunrise" was extremely important for Ted's character development, same goes for Tracy and "How Your Mother Met Me", "Bedtime stories" was impressive, "Rally" was incredibly funny and proved once again what a beautiful character Barney Stinson is, so much so that even Robin never has doubts that he (the guy with the biggest commitment issues on the planet) will bail on her before the wedding, and says to Ted that "he always comes back". Daphne's character is super funny and the right amount of annoying, the shenanigans of the gang are well thought out and all of the characters (not just Barney) complete their arc in this season. The last two/three episodes butcher that.

Marshall and Lily

Marshall and Lily, arguably the world's most solid couple, are the only thing this God-awful finale gets right, especially Marshall, who is my second-favourite character, that finally gets everything he deserves. But what about Lily? They never mention her career after Italy, and I refuse to believe she goes back to being a kindergarten teacher as if her year in Rome meant nothing. I also refuse to think she becomes nothing but a political wife, the equivalent of Zoey, but without saving the world. We know she has three kids, but her postpartum depression is never really talked about much and they definitely had the screentime to delve into it.

Barney

Where do I even begin? Barney Stinson is, without a doubt, the best character in this series, the glue of the whole gang. I think the message they were trying to give is that, since his trauma stemmed from the absence of a father figure in his life, he could only truly heal by becoming a father as well. People also say that n°31 had to stay just a number, because who could match up with Barney Stinson? First of all, I call BULSHIT on that last point, because Robin wasn't the only girl Barney could have ended up marrying. I used to think that too, but it's just not true: that is the equivalent of saying that Barney was incapable to truly love a woman and commit to her, even after all the development he got, and that he only got one shot at love in life, and that's it. This goes against the point the showrunners try to make by having Ted and Robin end up together AND by having Tracy get with Ted in the first place: "it's never too late, you always have another chance at love, etc." And, let's face it, Barney and Robin are legendary, but Barney and Nora (hell, even Barney and Quinn!) were pretty good together too.

Second of all, if they wanted to give Barney a kid, they could have easily done that, before Barney married Robin. Barney's "redemption" starts when he gets with Robin the first time, hell maybe even when we meet James for the first time: Nora, Quinn, finding out who his father is, the episode dedicated to the lies his mum told him/finding James' father, him getting to know his own dad, etc... those are all steps along the way. The s9 episode where Barney accepts the relationship between Loretta and the reverend proves how far he's come. So why not give him a daughter BEFORE he proposes to Robin? Have him cheat on Nora/Quinn with n°31, giving him a relapse, and having him get closer to Robin while struggling to be a dad to Ellie. That would have been great.

Or, you know, don't give him children. What's the point of burning the Playbook if you're going to have him write the second edition? What's the point of having him do a complete 180 in the last few scenes and acting like having a kid is the only thing that makes him change? What's the point of doing that when the show spends entire episodes berating Marshall and Lily for "changing too much" when they have a kid?

Also, Barney is the "challenge accepted" guy. He loves his wife so much, he spent years wanting her, and then he gives up because there is no WiFi in his hotel. How does that make any sense at all? This is Barney Stinson, the "I will fly out to San Francisco and buy Lily a plane ticket", the "I will steal every girl from my best friend just to save him for Lily", the guy that wrote the Playbook (it takes effort to pull those plays off), the guy that planned for weeks his proposal, the guy that waited years to get back at the man who stole his first girlfriend, the guy that makes every night legendary... are you telling me that that guy becomes the equivalent of a bored housewife instead of living his best life while travelling the world? Come on. They don't even try to make it believable.

Ted

While watching seasons 7 and 8, I felt that Ted was becoming the worst character on the show: he was boring, depressed, basically had no good storylines, the whole thing with Victoria was pointless and inconclusive (and the whole "stop being in love with Robin" was completely out of character for her), but whatever, we could have accepted that because it passed the message that two people could be good together, without being soulmates - which, by the way, renders the TedxRobin ship pointless, because they were right for each other, but Ted and Tracy were soulmates. Him being hung up on Robin in the latter seasons is almost pathetic, and the thing he does with the locket is insane, not romantic - BUT I will say this: it can be seen in two ways, depending on who's watching. I personally like the two as friends, so I see the whole thing as a "Dahmer" situation, but I get the people who see it as a "Dobler" one and see what he did as a grand romantic gesture.

The problem, though, is that the whole TedxRobin ship gets pretty old, pretty fast: it's an annoying on-and-off thing, that should have ended with the locket. Because, yes, Ted was in a dark moment, yes, he was probably depressed, yes, he thought Robin was his only shot at happiness, but he changes during season nine! He spends entire episodes letting go of Robin, including the one where she transforms into a balloon and flies away. Ted is the good guy, ultimately. He is the guy that is genuinely happy for his best friends. In one of the deleted scenes from the finale, he meets Robin years later and says that he's so happy with Tracy he never thought about Robin in that way anymore. All of that gets thrown in the trash. Why do that? To use a Harry Potter metaphor, Ted is Severus Snape, while Barney is James Potter: the former loved the girl of his dreams with all his heart, even to the point of creepiness, but they weren't meant to be together.

Robin

This, along with the next point, is the worst of all: Robin is the worst character of the entire finale. Her relationship with Ted in season 2 is wonderful, and I say that as a full-on Barney/Robin shipper. There was never a problem in their relationship, apparently, but they then break up because they have an "expiration date" and ultimately want different things in life. Except that Ted is not her soulmate. The only times when Robin wants Ted are the times where (1) she can't have him because he's either trying to move on or (2) the times where it's convenient, for example when they become roommates again and they solve their disputes again. Around that time, we see perfectly that Ted had moved on and that the person getting hurt was Barney. It's one thing to see Ted and Robin in the finale as two people picking up where they had left off after they dated. But this is not the case.

In season 7, we have the exchange that should have put an end to any and all TedxRobin drama, and that completely invalidates whatever the writers wrote after that about the two of them: Ted declares his love - "I think you know how you feel about me now. I don't think time's gonna change that. Just tell me: do you love me?" To which she answers "No". And Ted also says later to Marshall, that he's "happy because he can finally move on".

What a load of crap.

Getting over someone is hard, believe me, I would know. And, oftentimes, it doesn't happen until we find someone else to love (and from the moment he meets Tracy, there is no one else for Ted). But by giving Ted feelings for Robin after this moment, it takes away from the beauty of it- because it's one of the most heartbreaking feelings in the world when you declare your love to someone and they don't love you back. Ted and Robin were both honest at that moment, and it was the last genuinely good exchange between them. After that, during season 8 they try to show us Ted trying to get over her (and failing) and in season 9 Ted getting over her completely. This is also weirdly paced because at the beginning of s8 both are in happy relationships with other people and there's no jealousy (which is good, because at least they weren't toxic) and they seem just friends (when Robin leaves Nick to go see him in the middle of the night, she implies that she would do it for any of her friends), but after Ted breaks up with Veronica because of Robin everything is weirdly coated in this sort of tension between the two: first Ted loves her, but she doesn't, so when he helps her by taking her to Barney's proposal ("which means my best bro in the world has given me his blessing").

And, by the way, every time they try to paint Ted as the guy that comes through for Robin after this moment, they dumb down Barney's character. And still fail to make Ted a better guy than him (see: the carousel in Central Park).

Yes, Robin and Ted have some chemistry, but it is nothing compared to what Robin and Barney have. Every time Robin is jealous of Barney, it doesn't seem like a stupid whim, just because some other child is playing with her toys (except, perhaps, during The Robin). Robin and Barney's relationship would need a whole other post, and the next time I rewatch the series I will write down all the things that make them perfect for each other, but, to me, the biggest difference between the two relationships is this: in season 6, when she's not dating either one of them, Ted accuses Robin of never making him feel needed while they were together, whereas Barney praises her for it. Those are elective affinities: that's what Barney and Robin have, and what Tracy and Ted have.

Barney and Robin have more or less the same arc: they both get over their fear of commitment and they do that with each other. Time and time again, we are told that if they're ever going to settle down, it would only be with the other. The first time they break up is honestly so stupid, and even when they are broken up, they are the best of friends, which also makes Robin's behaviour in the finale look so stupid. The way the two of them fit together is unparalleled, both in a romantic and a platonic way.

Think about it: Robin makes Barney a better man, while she makes Ted a worse one.

Also, the whole point that there are different seasons in life for everything gets thrown out the window: apparently, Ted and Robin (that were a couple that ultimately worked in their young twenties) are the same people in their forties.

But that's not even the worst part. The worst part is that the two final episodes butcher Robin's arc as well: episode 23 starts with Lily saying "I want this girl to be in our lives" and we know Robin never made other friends outside of the gang, because she didn't need to, and now she walks away from everything because of fucking Ted?? This is saying "hey, Robin was only in the group for Ted, who brought her in, and now she leaves because he's not her puppy anymore". Robin was the one that was eternally indecisive between Ted and Barney and you're telling me that three years and many many life experiences later, she's still not sure?

The point of her story is learning how to get over her fear of commitment, learning how to be there for her friends (there's an entire episode dedicated to that, and it's the one where Lily's pregnant and we meet Robin's ex-best friend in Canada), and how to balance her job and her life. Also, the way her character is treated is un-feminist and un-progressive: she becomes Ted's consolation prize. She is passive throughout s9. She cannot, ultimately, win the modern-day struggle most women have and balance out career and love life, so her true life, her "happy chapter" begins after she has already accomplished everything she wanted to and she's free for Ted. She doesn't even go back to him, she just the prize the main character wanted for all his life and only got in the end because his wife died (ONE SCENE, people, ONE SCENE!). Also, this makes Tracy the "broodmare" that gives him the kids he wanted, and his "happy family" experience before he goes to be with his one true love.

The mother

This. This makes me so mad. One whole season spent on building up Tracy's character, just for it to go to waste. It would have been so easy to screw her up, but she is hands down the best thing about s9. She's the perfect woman for Ted and the episode shot through her perspective is the sweetest. By the end, I liked her more than Robin and Lily. She was the perfect addition to their group, she fit together with them in a perfect way, and they show us the biggest moment of her and Ted's life... for what? To have her die in a few sentences? And I don't care if they shot a funeral scene, I don't care if the finale was supposed to be 40 minutes long, because, in the end, it wasn't. The scene where Ted meets her is the second most beautiful one (after Barney's proposal to Robin) and the climax of the whole show, but they ruin her... and for what? The chemistry Ted has with her, he has with no one. The joy she brings him, the way she understands him, is unlike any other. I am sure that one of the reasons they killed her off was the shock value and I hate it.

I cannot stress this enough: Tracy makes Ted a better person. When he's with Robin, Ted is "the nice guy" in the most selfish and narcissistic version of the trope. When he's with Tracy, love comes easy to Ted. Also, the scenes between the two of them are arguably the best Ted scenes of the show.

The kids' reactions (ugh)

It's not really what they say- it's the way they say it. The end of HIMYM was not supposed to be funny, even though the show is a sitcom. It was supposed to be bittersweet and beautiful, because it's the end of an era, and the writers must have known that. So, Ted finishes telling his story, reveals to the audience that their now-beloved Tracy is dead, and the reaction is: "No, ahah, you totally have the hots for Aunt Robin" (their words, not mine). Like, what the actual fuck? I cringed when Penny said that. It's tasteless and not fun at all. Even if it has been six years... It's still your fucking mum, show a little bit of sadness at the thought of her.

The reason the show ended this way

What makes me especially mad is that I know for a fact that the reason they went with this ending is that it was the original one, always intended for the show, from season 2 onwards. And, if you watch it right after s2, it makes sense. But if you consider the eight years that passed and the massive character development, then no, it's not the best possible one. So many things hadn't been decided yet back in s2, especially about Barney, Ted, and Robin, and I hate that they didn't dare to scrap their work. This ending probably had sentimental meaning to the writers, but authors have to do what's best for their characters, not themselves. It's like with GoT, in a way: I think that the authors were all too aware of the impact of HIMYM and didn't believe that their finale would live up to the expectations... which compelled them to make the worst decision possible?? Every single character is OOC during the episode. Oh, and Marshall and Lily moving in the last episode is a ripoff from Friends (or maybe a tribute? Idk). Anyway, I believe that the authors were too attached to their sentimental version of "what should have been" and didn't give the characters the endings they truly deserved.

"Life works this way" // "Life only moves forward"

Some people say that the show is realistic because that's how life works. But I call super-BS on that. That might be true, and yes, people do get sick and die (Max, Marshall's dad...) and life does go on. But then, you don't frame it the way they did. It's just bad storytelling if you do it like that. And the problem is not the structure of season 9, because the characters develop in that season. The problem isn't even the mother's death. The problem is Ted ending up with Robin because that's not life moving forward for him, that's him, doing the same thing he did in 2005, 25 (twenty-fucking-five) years before!

In conclusion, this finale is incoherent and inconclusive, and not satisfying at all. The only character that gets a good ending is Marshall: why is that? What makes his ending great? It's the fact that his character arc is respected and he finally gets what he's been working towards for more than ten years.

#himym #how i met your mother #how i met your mother spoilers #how i met your mother finale #09x23 #09x24 #robin sherbatsky #ted mosby #tracy mcconnell #barney stinson #marshall eriksen #lily aldrin #swarkles #ted x robin #ted x tracy #barney x robin #a rant #the blue french hor #the yellow umbrella

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archived-kin · 3 years

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genshin modern au cheat sheet

i’m planning to do more pieces set in this au, so i’ve put together a quick list of the characters i'm planning to write about/include!

there are three main groups here - the zhao family, the ragnvindr family and friends, and the Miscellaneous Pals™

(the next volume in this au is going to be a xiao piece, and that should be up within the next two or so days!)

1. the zhao family

zhongli, 36: history professor at the local uni who also plays the guzheng very well, tea-enjoyer, a very proud and supportive dad who loves his kids more than anything in the universe - probably unironically has so many pictures of them in his wallet

xiao, 23: taking a degree in psychology at the local uni, has a cool motorbike, bit of a control freak, doesn’t like surprises, will drop-kick you if you look at him or his sister funny, wants a cat but his dad’s allergic, never really grew out of his emo phase

yanfei, 19: baby of the family, prodigy lawyer-in-training, far smarter than many people give her credit for, likes building snowmen, has to protect her unsuspecting dad from Evil Salespeople looking to make some extra money

xiao and yanfei are biological siblings, and zhongli adopted them when xiao was 11 and yanfei was 7. the circumstances of this adoption is a mystery that none of the zhao family members seem willing to divulge…

the zhao siblings can have a little bit of tragic backstory. as a treat.

basically they were born into poverty and often went hungry for days on end. biological parents were distant and neglecting (though not actually physically/emotionally abusive - yet.)

when xiao was caught shoplifting bread and fruit from a local grocery store so that he and yanfei could actually eat, both parents went ballistic and kicked him out the house in the middle of one of the coldest winters the town had seen

poor kid was practically freezing to death out there, and yanfei raised such a fuss back in the house that mum slapped her square in the face to get her to shut up, which xiao saw through the window, and he promptly decided that he Was Not Putting Up With This Shit for any longer

immediately went to a neighbour’s house and told them what was going on, neighbours promptly called cps, and an investigation was launched

parents were deemed unsuitable for raising kids and (after a lot of back and forth) the two kids were taken into care

meanwhile zhongli was kind of sad because he had no friends or family in this town and all he really did was write articles, read books, and mark work

then one of his co-workers mentioned hearing about xiao and yanfei’s story and it hit zhongli so hard that he immediately rang up the adoption centre and ended up taking them in

and from then on both yanfei and xiao were very happy and healthy because zhongli was literally the best dad ever and put everything into taking care of them

2. the ragnvindr family (+ friends)

diluc, 29: budding businessman who still works at his dad’s cafe but is looking to open up his own company some time soon, still buys himself juice in those little cartons with the straws, still doesn’t know how raising bread works?? how does it get bigger???

diona, 7: diluc’s adopted daughter who has her father firmly under her thumb, bit of a spitfire but can also be the sweetest kid ever, enjoys making ‘potions’ out of grass and flowers and water (diluc can and will actually drink these potions because his love for his daughter knows no bounds)

kaeya, 25: diluc’s idiot little brother who’s changed majors at least five times and still doesn’t really know what he wants to do, practises fencing and horse riding in his spare time like a nerd, spoils his niece rotten

lisa, 26: the first of kaeya’s three roommates, has a degree in english and could easily have gone on to become a leading scholar but chose to instead open a bookshop that gets way more business than expected because she’s pretty and men and women alike are all simps

albedo, 23: the second of kaeya’s roommates, bit of a genius, has already started his chemistry phd, is almost concerningly pale and exhausted at all times, has not gone a day without breaking one of the cups for at least two years

venti, 21: the third of kaeya’s roommates, studying music, acts way older than he is sometimes but is mostly just a child, asks at least one of his roommates to marry him every day without fail, was and still is both a music and a theatre kid

lisa’s actually the one who owns the roommates’ residence because it’s on top of her bookshop

i was going to keep the whole ragnvindr family trauma thing but i decided that diluc deserved to be happy in at least one au so the brothers are still happy brothers :D

unfortunately that means that i’ve transferred a lot of the family trauma over to diona

essentially her mother died when she was a baby and her father, draff, turned to alcohol to get him through the stress of raising a child alone. unfortunately this led to him drunk driving one day, and he crashed the car into one of the wall’s of diluc’s dad’s cafe.

draff died on impact since he was in the front seat, but three-year-old diona managed to pull through despite her injuries. one thing led to another, diluc ended up taking care of her for a bit while the authorities sorted the whole thing out, but then he got too attached and decided to adopt her permanently

now diona has a dad, three uncles and an aunt who are all willing to shower her with all the love she deserves :’)))))

3. the Miscellaneous Pals™:

xiangling, xingqiu, chongyun, 17: local high school kids, they’re all kind of dating each other, low-key got adopted by xiao at one point, guoba is xiangling’s guinea pig and they all have joint custody over him

barbara, bennett, razor, 17: also local high school kids, also kind of all dating each other (but a lot more tentatively), regulars at diluc’s cafe, almost never seen apart

lumine, aether, ??: they keep showing up here and there around town to climb a tree and just sit there throwing leaves at people on the streets, then disappear. no one knows who the fuck they are

tartaglia, 23: nicknamed childe by his friends, also known as Mr Moneybags, is always just hanging around the local uni campus but doesn’t actually study anything there. his real name is ajax, but he thought that was lame so he gave himself a cool new one

eula, 24: new teacher at the local high school, her father used to be headmaster and was notoriously cruel to his students so everyone’s kind of wary of her, but she’s just really sweet and wants the best for her pupils :(((

amber, 21: number one eula defender, teaches the younger kids at the local primary, likes bunsen burners a little bit too much, still can’t remember how to spell the word necessary

hu tao, 25?: shady local mortician who may or may not practise illegal things, was kind of dating yanfei at some point but zhongli sent her packing as soon as he realised who she was, no one knows what her deal is

xiangling’s already a budding master chef and has received several offers from culinary schools, xingqiu is planning to study literature/language at uni but also might just go straight to trying to get a book published, chongyun is going to continue the family tradition of studying the supernatural with maybe a side job at xiangling’s future restaurant so that he doesn’t end up with no money if he doesn’t get any supernatural work

barbara is planning to go to medical school and also sings/dances in her spare time, bennett still doesn’t know what he wants to do but is considering carpentry among other things, and razor is dead-set on working at either a zoo or an animal shelter when he’s older

tartaglia never leaves the house without at least three pocket knives and a water pistol. he’s never had to use them yet, but you never know...

eula and amber live together and are probably dating but they’ll both just dodge the question if you ask them about it

they’re most definitely together though because on eula’s birthday amber brought her entire class of little kids to say happy birthday and bring her flowers

(incidentally amber is diona’s teacher)

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un2-verse · 3 years

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BILLY — Kim Taehyung (3)

Synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

Pairing: yandere!Taehyung x f!reader

genre: angst, horror, weirdly some fluff lol

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, stalking, manipulation, conditioning, mentions of abuse, suicidal ideations/attempts, self harm, murder, depictions of torture etc (basically its gorey and fucked up), angel trap, etc stabbing and guns. do not read if triggered!!!!

wordcount: 2.2k

taglist: @yes-sol-not-soul @yoongiofmine

a/n: pt 3 is here!! honestly i wasnt expecting this amount of support as i’ve never published my writing before so thank u sm ♡ i was inspired to write this one night and i had no idea where it’d go or anything but i’m happy with the way its turning out :D fun fact abt me, i’ve been obsessed w the franchise since i was little and i actually have 2 saw tattoos, one of billy and one above saying “cherish your life” since that’s pretty much the motto of saw :) and i have quite the collection of saw/billy items so why not turn my fav horror film into a fucked up love story! let me know if u would like to be added to the taglist and pls enjoy reading^^ feel free to send me asks abt the series or anything u want~ i love hearing from u guys!! :D ps— taehyung and the reader dont have much interaction in this part,, theyll definitely be more of them together in part 4 :) unedited so pls excuse any mistakes!! tysm <33 and remember these are fictional characters and do not represent bts personally in any way!!

series masterlist

part one part two

The headlines constantly named the Jigsaw Killer, Billy. The somewhat eerie little doll that had a face as white as a Calla Lily with spirals on it’s cheeks as red as the blood that was shed during the tests. Billy was always dressed in a little black suit with a red bowtie and he was (most of the time) situated on a squeaky battered tricycle. Attached was always a tape that read “play me” and when the subjects did, a chilling voice— one that could make even the world's worst predators shiver with terror— would echo around the room.

Everyone knew that a doll clearly wasn’t responsible, yet they gave it the name Billy in hopes to somewhat humanise the face that instilled panic— they did not want to live in fear.

It was the only face behind the killings.

But this time, there was a different subject stuck in the test and Billy had made sure there was no way for them to survive.

“How are you scared of heights? You’re practically a giant yourself!”

“Just because I’m tall doesn’t mean I can’t be scared of heights Y/Nie.”

You had no idea how long had passed since Taehyung had turned up at the garage, you were too busy chatting away squeezed into the kitchen while your Dad, Yoongi and Hobi worked on the cars in the shop. If anyone could hear you both, they would think you’d known eachother since childhood— the playful jokes and light touches exaggerated that.

You’d only known him for a few hours really, if you added the time spent with him on the first day and now. It hadn’t seemed like all those weeks ago that you first met, he had a familiar presence, as though you had known him for years compared to the hours.

“I just wouldn’t imagine you to be scared of anything Taehyung… you seem so confident and fearless.”

You saw the way Taehyung looked at you. His eyes flashed with understanding.

“I did have my fears back then, much like yours.”

“What do you mean?” you had a rough idea on what he meant but you needed him to voice it.

A deep inhale and the words flowed from his lips before he could stop it, “The fear of living. I had been through some stuff you know, growing up. My mum was working a lot and my dad was an alcoholic, he was so fucking possessive and wouldn’t let her go anywhere without kicking off. It was a fucking shitshow and so toxic. This one time though, I’d pretended that I’d gone to school and waited outside the front door. It didn’t take long before I heard shit getting smashed and my dad shouting.” Taehyung was telling the truth only, he left out the part where he was also as possessive, if not more, than his father. Well, let's say… obsessive. “I just ran in the house and saw my dad towering over my mum and I don’t remember what happened but, I do remember my mum crying and my dad disappeared.”

Now Taehyung was lying through his teeth. He remembered clearly, almost like it was yesterday. He smashed the nearest bottle, pulled his mother away from the monster that scared her and stabbed him. Not just once, not twice but thirty-seven times. Hence the thirty seven tattoo on the palm of his right hand (the one he’d actually killed his father with). There was only Taehyung who knew what it meant, he counted every single time the broken glass pierced his father’s body, he counted with a smile on his face and a chuckle in his throat.

You were at a loss for words. Your mouth gaped in shock, eyes wide and your brain scrambled for the right thing to say. You reached over and grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. His thumb running back and forth along your hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.” There was no way you could relate, your mother and father were happy and in love. They had the ideal relationship, one you wished for yourself. You could empathise though.

“You don’t need to be sorry baby, it’s in the past and I’ve moved on from it. I was like you though, poisoned by the roots that keep you on the ground even though you wanted nothing more than to break free and be no longer.” A silence fell over you both before Taehyung uttered, “I wasn’t successful with my attempt so now I’m here to help you.”

Warmth spread throughout your body, a smile graced your features as you no longer felt alone.

You had a completely different idea to what those words actually meant.

It was nearing the evening when Taehyung’s car had been fixed. Yoongi popped his head in the kitchen to tell him but stopped himself so as to not interrupt the scene before him. You were laughing along to whatever Taehyung was babbling about with your hand resting on his bicep, with that look in your eyes that he hadn’t seen for years. Yoongi felt himself smile as he saw you hanging onto Taehyung's every word.

For the first time in forever, you looked alive.

Yoongi cleared his throat which drew yours and Taehyung’s attention, “Sorry to interrupt guys. We’ve finished with your car so whenever you’re ready we’ll be outside.” The infamous gummy smile overtook his features, you felt yourself beam in return.

“Thanks man! I’ll be like, five minutes.”

Yoongi nodded his head in reply and swiftly left the room.

You’d taken Tae’s hand into yours, playing with the array of rings that occupied his fingers. Solemn thoughts overtook, am I not gonna see him again? Was this, whatever this is, over before it had even begun? Your eyes stayed on his hand as you turned it over and traced your finger over the inked ‘thirty seven’ on his palm. “What does this mean?”

Taehyung didn’t think twice before he practically beamed out, “It’s my lucky number.”

The difference was, it wasn’t really his lucky number… although he did see it that way. It was the number that had stayed with him. It was something he was proud of, whenever he looked at the hand that killed his father, his chest filled with pride and a joyous feeling overtook his senses. It was his first murder. Something he relished in and thus, created the onslaught of Jigsaw killings. He targeted a certain type— those whose sins would lock them up forever if they were ever found out. Racists, murderers, rapists, drug dealers, con-men. Authoritative figures who abused their power. He even went as far as subjecting suicidal people.

You see, things aren’t sequential. Good doesn’t lead to good, nor bad to bad. People who steal, don’t get caught, they live the good life. Others lie, cheat and get elected.

Some people would call it karma but Taehyung, he called it justice.

He’d started this with one thing on his mind— those that don’t appreciate life do not deserve it.

Whenever a serial killer was on the loose, the press did what they always did. They gave them a nickname. While the public had named the doll Billy. The actual killer was named ‘Jigsaw’.

This stemmed from the jigsaw piece that was cut from the victims skin, no one knew why he was doing it or what it even stood for.

It did have a meaning although unknown to the public.

The jigsaw piece that was cut from the subjects was only ever meant to be a symbol that that subject was missing something. A vital piece of the human puzzle. The survival instinct.

After all, until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Across town an underground abandoned warehouse, was where the next subject had found themselves.

They were suspended in the air, their feet merely dangling above the ground. The putrid smell of death lingered in every crevice, the sound of rats scurrying along the concrete floor filled their ears just as they began to stir awake.

A pain in their ribs was the overwhelming factor to them finally coming around. When they groggily opened their eyes, they were paralised with fear due to the scene in front of them.

A doll sat a few feet ahead, perched upon a tricycle. Adorned with a black suit and a red bowtie. A slow red light flashed in his eyes.

Billy.

Before the subject could even register how, when or why they found themselves trapped in a test, footsteps echoed behind them. The subject called out, “Help! Please, somebody help! I shouldn’t be here!”

A tsk reached their ears, as a disembodied voice replied, “Trust me, no one can hear you. Scream all you like. You’d just be wasting your breath, you may as well cherish it before it's gone.”

With hairs stood on end, the subject stilled. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” The man's footsteps grew louder. “I’m here to serve justice, that’s all.”

The man rounded the subject, settling in their view with only his cloaked back visible while he tended to the little doll. He touched Billy delicately—like he was a little child that he loved dearly. He combed his gloved hand through the doll's black hair and eventually pulled his fingers from the tresses to pat his head gently.

“You fucking psycho! Let me go!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that which only infuriated the subject more causing them to shake in anger, a movement they soon ceased when they realised something was penetrating their ribs.

“I’d be very careful if I was you, we wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now… would we?” The cloaked figure spun around. An angry glint to his eye.

“What the fuck, you’re fucking crazy. Let me out, this isn’t right!” The subject tried their hardest to swing their legs, to somehow kick the man who’d imprisoned them.

“I think you’ll find it is right. You’re unworthy of the body you possess.” He inched closer, “see, when someone purposely intends to harm others, they lose their right to life.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The man arched a brow as he replied, “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He felt like it was a game of cat and mouse except, he was a tiger and his subject, was the tiniest prey to mankind. “But, let me remind you! Since you can’t get your thick fucking head to work. You’re a liar, a cheater and an abuser. That ring any bells?”

The subject's face dropped.

“Ah, I see by your expression you know exactly what I’m talking about! Glad to see we’re on the same page.” He shrugged his cloak off placing it to the side of the doll. “I want to play a game.”

“What game? This isn’t a fucking game! You’re sick in the head you fucking cunt!”

The atmosphere shifted, the man remained calm while the subject went ballistic.

“What is this? What fucking game?”

“You feel the machine that’s currently occupying your ribs? Well, in about ten minutes that’s going to rip you apart. I’m proud to say that trap is my baby. I’ve been working on it especially for you! How nice is that?” he reached out to tug at the subject’s legs, tormenting them like a cat would a mouse. “Anyway, as my beautiful angel trap will rip you apart, my darling little friend Billy over here,” the subject followed the direction the man's hand pointed, “is going to match your face with the ugliness of your soul.”

“Fuck, fuck this! How do I stop it? Tell me how I fucking stop it!”

A boxy grin overtook the man's face, laughter poured from his mouth as he leaned over and slapped the subject’s leg. “This is a special game.”

“Who are you? What do you mean by ‘special game’?”

He raised himself so he stood tall and grabbed a knife from his pocket, “I’m the man you call Jigsaw.” He traced the tip of the knife along the subject’s ankle, “and when I say a special game… I mean you can’t get out.” While the subject was screaming in realisation, Taehyung walked back for his cloak, hung it over his shoulder and stalked off back the way he came. He sent one last smile to the subject as he rounded them and within the blink of an eye, he gripped the knife and slashed the subject’s achilles.

A chilling scream pierced the eerie atmosphere, the subject couldn’t string words together. Abundances of anxiety, terror and pure panic took reign of their body. Taehyung grabbed the injured muscles and forced his gloved fingers in as he gripped and twisted them, “That’s for Y/N.”

Taehyung had pressed the timer before he cut the subject’s tendons. He grabbed the tape from his pocket and threw it on the ground and with a chuckle he shouted, “Game over!”

Before he reached the end of the hallway, he heard the gunshots pierce his subjects face followed by the sound of the angel trap, even this far away Taehyung heard every crack of the ribs and the noise of the body being tore apart.

Without looking back, Taehyung rounded the corner and slammed the door shut.

He’d chosen the Angel trap for the irony, the subject that was currently hanging from the ceiling was no angel. They were a fucked up, evil, waste of space. Taehyung had done the world a favour, he’d done you a favour.

That got him thinking, how much blood would you shed in order to stay alive?

[a/n: who do we think was in the trap???👀]

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Remember Us - part 2

Double feature this week. Here we go with part 2. Rowan takes another step on the path of recovering his life.

Also, we get to meet the kids <3

------

When Aelin got home that night after her shift at the hospital, she was tired and not just from the long hours spent in OR. She was tired in her soul. Aelin had managed to keep her thoughts at bay while operating, but as soon as she was out they came back. It had been hard to fight the urge to go and see him again. He wanted space. That was clear so she just went home instead.

Once she crossed the threshold, laughter welcomed her. Her kids sounded happy.

She shed her coat and removed her shoes and followed the happy sounds.

Walking into the kitchen she found her mother cooking and Thomas helping her setting the table and little Freyja banging her plastic cutlery on her high chair. She was a shy girl but would become alive and loud when she was hungry. Just like her mum.

“Mama!” Shouted her daughter as she spotted her.

“Mum,” Thomas echoed his sister and ran to her, hugging Aelin at her knees “hi my darling, how are you?” She kneeled at his height and ruffled his blonde hair.

“Helping grandma cook.”

“Food.” Shouted Freyja who got agitated trying to get the attention of her mother. Aelin went to her daughter and lifted the wee girl in her arms “hi my love,” and she snuggled her head against her mother’s chest.

“Hi mum,” said Aelin to Evalin. The woman stirred something in the pan and turned to her daughter “welcome back, darling.” She said and her gaze turned worried at her daughter’s tired expression.

Aelin shook her head, knowing what her mother was about to say “later,” she added. She did not want to talk about Rowan in front of the kids.

“Come on Tom, sit at the table. Dinner is ready.” On his grandma’s orders the boy climbed on his chair and started eating his meal.

Aelin joined them a moment later, all changed in house clothes and sat at her daughter’s side.

Thomas was three and had just started learning how to use a fork properly. They would cut the food for him and he would try to use the utensil. Rowan had been teaching him. A pang of sadness hit her and pushed back the tears, now it was not the time. She would feed Freyja who was only eighteen months old.

“Did you help grandma cook?”

The boy nodded while taking a bite from his fork and gave her a big smile. His green eyes lighting up with joy. Eyes just like his father’s.

“Aelin, let me feed Freyja. You have your dinner. You haven’t touched it yet.”

Aelin shook her head “I am fine. It can wait.”

Truth was… she felt nauseous and that feeling had nothing to do with being pregnant. It was fear. Terror of losing Rowan. Terror that he would never recover his memories and her kids would be left without a father and her without her soulmate. She almost lost him once. She would never forget the day she got the call from the hospital. Those horrible moments were forever etched in her memory.

Later on that night, once the kids were in bed Evalin joined her daughter on the sofa and brought her a chamomile tea.

“The kids are asleep. What’s troubling you?”

Aelin sighed and her hand went to her stomach “Rowan woke up.”

“Today?”

She nodded in confirmation and leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder “I had just left the OR when I got a page from his doctor. I went to his room and he was awake,” a loud sob broke from her lips “he does not remember me or the kids.”

Evalin pulled her daughter closer and hugged her knowing the pain she had been feeling for the past month “Yrene had told you it might happen.”

Aelin nodded slightly “I didn’t think it could hurt that much. He had no idea who I was. He doesn’t remember our kids.” Her sobs turned into proper crying “I am so scared, mum. So, so scared.”

“I know, darling.” Evalin kissed her daughter’s head “you will have to be strong a bit longer. Does the doctor think he will regain his memory?”

Aelin gave her a small nod “but it might take time and what if he realises that he doesn’t want us in his life anymore?”

“Rowan loves you and the kids madly. The road ahead might be bumpy but he will come back.” A ragged breath escaped from Aelin. She hoped her mother was right, because if she was not she doubted she would survive loosing him a second time.

Rowan woke up the next morning with an horrendous headache. He had a fitful sleep and his thoughts had been stuck all night on her. Aelin. His wife. At her side two small shadows representing their kids. In his mind he had this picture of him holding someone, the smell of lemon and verbena strong around him. But he was sure it was more a feeling than an actual memory. He had woken up all of a sudden and hadn’t been able to fall asleep properly since. His body recognised the other one.

A nurse brought breakfast and of one thing he was sure. He hated hospital food. Which led to another series of questions. What did he eat for breakfast? Was he a good cook? What was his favourite food?

Reluctantly he finished the food on his tray and decided to kill the boredom by watching tv. According to the news it was January and the meteorologist were warning all the citizens of Terrasen of a snowstorm warning.

He was so bored watching the news that he felt glad when Aelin knocked on the doorframe “Mind if I come in?”

He shook his head “is tv always this boring?”

Aelin chuckled and for a second she saw a glimpse of him. He always hated tv. The only reason they had one in the house was because she had pestered him about it “yeah. You find reading more interesting.”

He switched off the television and faced her “I am…” he sighed “yesterday… I was overwhelmed. It was… it still is too much.”

“I know,”said Aelin trying to suppress the instinct to touch him. Not until he was okay with it.

“Tell me something about me, about my life. Us… anything.” He started, eager to know more. He needed it “do I like breakfast?”

Aelin laughed “you do, and you are a great cook. On Saturdays you always make us pancakes and let Thomas help you flip them.” She smiled at the image. Thomas on his knees on a chair beside his dad.

“You are a healthy eater so you tend to scoff enormous quantities of fruit and veggies while complaining about my crazy dietary habits.”

She was dying to show him pictures of the kids but decided against it. One step at a time. Let him become familiar with the idea of being married first.

“You are a lawyer. A kickass one at that.” His green eyes were trained on her “you and Lorcan opened your own practice. After graduation you two got a job in a fancy company but eventually got tired of dealing with rich bastards and opened a firm that deals mostly with family law but also offers legal support to us common human beings.” She had been so proud of him. The big job had left him miserable and with very little time to live. He had been stressed and after two years he had realised that the huge salary was not worth it. Lorcan had followed him and together they had started their new adventure. They had started small snd simple, but slowly as they took in more cases they had to start hiring more people and the firm had gotten bigger and successful.

“You love hiking, nature in general and winter. We are both in love with theatre and on our first date you took me to a play.”

Rowan looked at her and that tug in his chest came back for a visit.

“We have been married for seven years and you proposed at my best friend’s wedding. We were dancing and you asked me what if we were the next ones to do that? Then you went on one knee and asked me to marry you.”

He kept listening, adding some more pieces of info to what he had gathered so far. And the more Aelin spoke the more that connection he had felt the day before grew stronger.

“What type of doctor are you?”

“I am the chief of paediatric neurosurgery and I work two floors above this.”

Rowan took a deep breath and asked a question that had been burning in him since she has appeared “do you have any photos of us, of the kids?”

Aelin felt like crying and extracted her mobile phone and scrolled through her huge quantity of photos “This is Thomas. He is three.”

Rowan looked at the boy and saw a blond mop of hair just as golden as his mother’s and two striking green eyes just like his. In the photo the boy was laughing while he held him in his arms.

Aelin swiped and the image of a little girl appeared and he gasped. There was no doubt that she was his daughter. Her hair was silver as his and even her eyes were the exact copy.

“She is so much like you.” He noticed the smile appearing on Aelin’s face. While she talked about their life her face had lit up and in front of him he had the most stunning woman he had ever seen. Probably. He wasn’t sure but Aelin took his breath away.

“Are we happy? As a family?”

Aelin nodded without even thinking about it. They were, she had no doubts about it “Yes. We wanted a family, kids. It was our choice.”

Rowan nodded and wanted to believe her, needed to believe the passion and the love in her voice.

“I need time.” He said quietly, averting his gaze from hers for just a brief moment “This is a lot that I need to process. I will need time but I want to hear more.”

Aelin sobbed and grabbed her backpack and extracted another mobile phone “this is yours. It survived the crash because you used a military grade protecting cover. I just charged it. The password is 0305.” She gave him the mobile “it has photos, texts. Everything is still there, maybe it will help.”

Aelin looked at her watch and stood “I have to go, I have a surgery in two hours.”

Rowan nodded.

“You can text me if you want. My contact is under Fireheart.”

He looked at the phone and then at her “will you come back?”

Aelin took a step toward him and kissed his silver hair as she did the previous day and then nodded.

She waved at him and disappeared through the door.

He moved his attention to the phone and tried to figure out how to switch it on. Once he did it asked him a pin code and he entered the digits she had told him.

Once the phone was unlocked he was welcomed by a picture of him, Aelin and the kids on a beach. He had Freyja on his shoulders and was laughing as she patted his head. Aelin was holding Thomas potato sack style and the boy was grinning. With his fingers he traced her face and then went looking for the photo album. Before opening he hesitated. His life, his memories were there and he was scared.

There were picture of his wife. Plenty of them and she always had an amazing smile. Of one thing he was sure:Aelin took his breath away. Photos of their kids and he spotted one of what he suspected was a newborn Freyja. He held the little bundle in his arms while Thomas was at his side staring at his sister. He saw happiness, he saw joy, but most of all he saw love. Deep love that bound the four of them. Aelin had not lied. They seemed happy. He found photos of what he assumed were friends but he could not tell who they were, he hadn’t covered that part yet. Accepting the idea of a wife and kids was hard enough. He was not ready yet to add more people. The mere idea made him feel dizzy.

He was getting tired again even if it was only morning, but he pushed through and found the app with the text messages and went to look at the ones from Aelin and he read the last one she sent him go and win your case and then tonight I will show you how proud I am of my sexy lawyer.

He scrolled back through the thread and read random texts between them until he went back a few months and saw a text with a picture attached.

You are away for work and I miss you. I went for my first proper check-up and I am proud to share with you the picture of the new member of our family. The image was greyish and grainy but the message was clear: Aelin was pregnant again.

He placed the phone on his lap and closed his eyes calming the sense of panic overwhelm him.

And with his eyes closed he tried to remember.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #rowaelinkids #angst

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 3 years

Text

The friend.

This whole series is based on the one comment that was made to Racehorse towards the end of his episode about him having a daughter. There are no spoilers of the episode and I have been lucky enough that my amazing friend @beccabarba has co written every second chapter of this 10 part series about this amazing cocky and smug man, who we both love!

Warnings: sets the story line, smug and cocky Racehorse and oral smut.

WC: 2159

Enjoy x

The fashion industry was cut throat as it was, but in Chicago it was even worse. The backstabbing and the stepping over each other, was next level, but you copped it from another aspect, and sometimes that was harder to deal with. You were born into it, your family one of the most famous in the industry. Much to your mothers disappointment, you hadn’t been born with the fashion gene, but you handled the other aspect of the business. You were the inhouse lawyer; you were head of PR and you also managed the models.

Some would say you were one of the most powerful women in the company and sometimes in the industry, the models holding their success in the palm of your hand, so that was held against you a lot. Some looked up to you and others tried to be your friend just for your power alone. But you kept your group small, and as you got older you hired models not just because of their beauty, anyone could be made to look beautiful, but you actually got to know them. The last thing you wanted to be doing was spending a long summer with a bunch boring pretty two-faced people.

Eliana was one of those amazing models. She was extremely beautiful, down to earth, fun to work with, fun to party with and she was actually a friend. You spent so much time together that you both knew everything about each other, about your families and everything in your past. She had been with your families company coming on 3 years, you had been to every photo shoot with her, every fashion week she was in and every abroad trip she had been on, personal training sessions almost every day and multiple late nights out drinking and dancing. You hadn’t been in your office for long when your phone buzzed, Eliana’s number flashing on your screen,

“Happy Birthday, Chica”

“Gracias linda. Thank you for the hamper, I love it”

“Welcome” you smiled over the phone.

“Please tell me your coming tonight?”

“Eliana-“

“Don’t you Eliana me. Babe, you’re not too old. No one hates you and I really want you there. Your one of my best friends”

“Only because it’s your birthday”

As you drove up the drive to the mansion that was hired for the party, you weren’t surprised at the size of it. Eliana had told you all about the strained relationship with her parents and how they both over compensated finically when she asked for it. You had heard all about her Dad’s career, that she didn’t know much about other than he was a lawyer and how her Mum moved on with guys half her age to get back at him, you knew how much they fought and about how he still wore his wedding band even after he spilt from her mother just to save face and make everyone think he was a happily married man.

The music was blaring when you got out of the car, a valet taking your keys to move it and you walked inside. You made your way around the luxurious party, gold champagne glasses being passed around on gold trays, an over-the-top table covered from one end to the other with finger food and when you walked out the backdoors, round white tables scattered over the lawn with over-the-top gold center pieces and people scattered everywhere. You had just taken a glass of champagne when you heard your name shrieked across the yard. Eliana walking towards you like she was on the cat walk,

“Happy Birthday, babe.”

“Thanks, babe. I’ am so glad you came” she wrapped her arms around you pulling you in for a big hug and she kissed your cheek “Wouldn’t have been the same without you” Eliana pulled back, her hands going to your shoulders and her eyes scanning down your body in your powder blue short dress shorts, powder blue tank top and matching blazer “And you look fucking sexy”

You had felt his eyes on you from the moment you walked into the back yard, you blushing at how his brown eyes burnt through you. Everywhere you turned or whomever you spoke to, you could see him watching you. You were speaking to one of the other models you managed when you looked over his shoulder, seeing the handsome stranger standing there on his side. His salt and pepper hair and beard in place perfectly, his grey dress pants fitting just tight enough, his white button-down fitting snug around his chest, his sleeves rolled up showing off his amazing wrists and arms, and the black cowboy boots that made you grin. He must have sensed you starring and he turned his head, giving you a wink and raised his glass to you, his long fingers wrapped around it.

The night was flowing smoothly, mostly everyone you worked with was friendly and talkative. You had a dance and food. You had decided on one more drink after you went to the bathroom to freshen up, your last for the night and just so you had a drink for when the cake was cut. As you washed your hands and reapplied some lipstick, you could hear a voice that made you shiver through the door at the tone it was being spoken in. You listened for moment and then opened the door, gasping when you came face to face with the handsome stranger that you had been eyeing up all night,

“I have to go” His eyes locked with yours, slipping the phone in his pocket once he hung up. You saw the cheeky glint fill them and a wolfish grin spread across his face “I was hoping I would get to bump into you, sweetums. Having a good night so far?”

Your mouth was too quick for your head, the words coming out before you could stop them,

“Better now I’ve bumped into you” you smiled sweetly.

A chuckle left him, his thumb and pointer finger ran around his mouth, smoothed down the beard on his chin and he looked down at his watch. You saw him raise his eye brow and then look back at you, he reaching for your hand and pulled you down the hall way to another door. He opened the door pushing it open and pulled you into the room shutting it behind you both. Your eyes did a quick scan of the four-poster king sized bed before he came up to you grabbing your attention again,

“So beautiful” He pulled you into him, his body flush with yours his hands going to your hips and he dipped his head, his lips ghosting yours “Any objections?” he muttered.

“None” you moaned when he pulled your hips into him.

His hot wet lips crashed on yours, the taste of whiskey still on them and his tongue pushed into your mouth, your mouth opening willingly and your tongue’s rolled and moved together. You moaned into his mouth when you felt his hand move from your hip to the hem on your shorts, up your thigh and slip into your panties. His fingers moving through your wet folds. You broke the kiss with a gasp when two of his long fingers pushed up into you, his other hand going into your hair and pulling your head back. Your mouth dropping open when a third fingers joined the others and the pad of his thumb found your clit easily,

“Such a filthy girl, coming into a room with a stranger”

You laughed breathlessly, his fingers driving into you hard and deep,

“I ‘am not the filthy one” you panted out “Always go knuckles deep with women you meet outside of a bathroom?” you moaned, your hands going to grab onto his thick forearms when he hit your sweet spot.

“Cheeky and filthy. My favourite combination” You saw him bite his bottom lip and look down his nose at you as his fingers drove into you again and he rolled your clit.

You tried not to scream loud while you came hard on his fingers, your walls clamping down on him hard and your knees trembled, your whole-body filling with warmth and your heart beating hard in your chest. Slowly his grip in your hair loosened and he pulled his fingers out of you. As he brought his hand up to your eye line, you could see the shine of your wet on them and he grabbed one of your hands guiding it to cup his hard cock behind his zipper.

You smiled sweetly, grabbing his writs with your other hand and wrapped your mouth around his fingers, your tongue running over them. Without taking his fingers out of your mouth, he took his hand off yours on his crotch moving it to the back of your neck and he pushed you down. He only needed to do it gently and you followed his instructions sinking to your knees with his fingers still in your mouth and his hand on the back of your neck. Once you were on your knees, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a pop and you licked your lips,

“Want to see how filthy I can really be?” you purred.

You saw his eyes go black and a growl rumbled in his chest. He made quick work undoing his belt buckle and zipper, pushing down his pants and boxers, his hard thick cock almost hitting your face when it sprung from his boxers. Your eyes blew open and heat swept through you again at the size of him. His thumb and pointer finger grabbed your chin, tipping your head back, your eyes focused on his again,

“Open wide, my sweet”

Your mouth opened and he rested the tip of his cock to your bottom lip. You stuck your tongue out slightly licking his tip and he let out an almost silent grunt biting his bottom lip. You gave him a cheeky wink, leaning forward and taking him fully into your mouth. You relaxed your throat and took him as deep as you could sinking right down to his base, his black curly hair tickling your nose. You ran your mouth back up to his tip hollowing your cheeks, licking around it like a melting popsicle and sinking back down on him again.

Both your hands rested on his thighs, feeling his muscles tensing when you licked over his tip, his precum coating your tongue. Both of his hands threaded into your hair resting at the back of your head, his fingertips pressing into your skull. You had to squeeze your legs together tight for some relief from how the sounds you were pulling from him turned you on. One of your hands left his thigh to cup his balls, squeezing them gently and your other ran around to his right ass cheek, cupping his firm flesh massaging it lightly,

“Such a dirty girl, taking my cock so well” he grunted.

You felt his hands ball into fists in your hair holding your head still as he started to roll his hips into your mouth fast and deep, his cock hitting the back of your throat, tears running down your cheeks and saliva dripping out of the corners of your mouth. You pushed him into you by his behind and you played with his balls in your hand. He let out a loud groan and a string of swear words, his hot salty cum spilt into your mouth and trickled down your throat. You sucked him clean, feeling him softening on your tongue before he pulled out, he leaning down wiping one corner of your mouth dry with his thumb.

You hadn’t gotten his name and hadn’t gotten his number, his phone ringing just as he zipped himself away and he just walked out of the room without a word, so you went about your business back outside talking and being social. Happy Birthday had been sung and the cake had been cut. You were talking to a mutual friend, when you heard your name, turning around to see Eliana walking towards you with the handsome stranger that was knuckles deep in you not to long ago,

“Y/N” she walked up to you, linking her arm in yours “I want you to meet my dad, Richardo Diaz. Dad, this is my boss and best friend Y/N Y/L/N”

Your mouth dropped open and your heart stopped as he coolly reached his hand out to you like his cock wasn’t just in your mouth less than 30 minutes ago. You reached out taking his hand in yours shaking it and giving him a small tight smile and trying to hide your bright red cheeks,

“Please, young lady” he looked at Eliana with his eye brows raised “My name is Racehorse, only my mother calls me Richardo. Nice to meet you, Y/N”

Tags: @beccabarba @alwaysachorusgirl @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @ben-c-group-therapy @jemmakates

#ricardo diaz #ricardo racehorse diaz #racehorse diaz #racehorse diaz x reader #racehorse diaz x female reader #the good fight #the good fight fanfic #the good fight fic #the good fight smut #the good fight fanfics

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mxtantrights · 3 years

Text

past lives | 10

a/n: final part!! AHHHHHHH stay tuned for the epilogue!!! And thank you guys so much for coming on this journey with me. I really appreciate it and YOU! <3

You awoke to the smell of cement and dry wall. It smelled so bad you could feel it in your throat. Your eyes cleared up to the spectacle in front of you. It was Ra's and Nyssa with their arms crossed.

“Is this some sick parent teacher conference?” you joked.

“No games. You failed to deliver the package.” he said.

“You mean your grandson? The one who left of his own volition?”

“Nonsense he is the heir to everything I have. He can’t leave.”

You looked over more to your former friend, “Nice to see you too Nyssa.”

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan?” she asked.

You look at Ra’s and he’s already staring you down. You don’t think he’s told her. It would have been best not to. Withholding information is his favorite skill anyways.

You’re about to say something when Ra’s comes over and backhands you. It makes you curl in the chair they’ve put you in. You weren’t surprised, that didn’t make it any less worse however.

He really doesn’t want her to know.

“All you had to do was seek him out. You couldn’t even do it.”

His smack- you hate to say it- brought up a thought to the front of your mind.

“When did you know about my father?” you asked.

It’s in words that Nyssa isn’t able to pick up on. You know. He knows. It’s clear he doesn’t want her to know. Another hint at telling her might earn you worse than a slap.

“After you came out of the pit. I looked into your identity some more and did some research.” he said.

“Tell me,” you move your arms bound to the back of the chair, “Did you spawn Damian afterwards because of me?”

“No, you’re not the reason. I had already been watching him for some time. You were just a happy coincidence.” he answered.

Ra's folds his hands behind his back and moves around Nyssa, and then around you. In a circle. The predator and the prey. What was Nyssa this time around?

“You never reached out.” you said directly to her.

“You left.” she shot back.

“He wanted me gone.” you nodded to her father.

“It was a test you imbecile!” she shouted.

It made you flinch. You realized that maybe Nyssa wasn’t going to let bygones be bygones. And from her stand point she didn’t have to. You hurt her.

Ra’s circles around you once more. His eyes never left Nyssa though. It gave you a sickening feeling. How everyone was his pawns. Specifically Talia and Nyssa. The women in that family needed serious counseling after being brought up by a man like that.

“If it was a test then why did he let me live? The moment I stepped out the door I should have been dead!” you shouted back.

She stayed silent. So you continued.

“He’s lying to you Nyssa.” you said.

“She’s right I lied to you. It wasn’t part of some test.”

Nyssa turned to her father in shock. You were sat wondering why he would give himself up so easily. What did he have to play here?

Whatever it was could wait. He was far enough now to not strike you again. You needed to let her know.

“He wanted me as a back up for Damian. My half-brother.” you said.

Nyssa turned back to you and when she did Ra's smacked her too. You winced for her, his hand print would probably be on your face in a few minutes. Just like old times.

He turned to you.

“You ruined my plan to bring my grandson back. Now he knows I’m here.” he said.

“He ran away for good reason. I’m glad he did. I would've never handed him over to you anyways.” you spoke.

“You didn’t have to hand him to me, you were just going to serve him to me on a platter.”

“No. Because I know you were tracking me through my phone, both of them. You think I didn’t notice how heavy that flash drive is? I know a cloning device when I hold one. And the burner phone? That was cheap work.”

He began to laugh. It made you sit further back in your seat. Him laughing was never a good sign. And it never sounded right. All those years in the pit must’ve done something to his laugh, along with the rest of his mind.

Ra's al Ghul came face to face with you. He wasn’t a pleasant man to look at. His breath even more telling on how close to death he is. But you looked him in the eye anyways.

“And that’s why you’re here. The bargaining chip. He’ll come for you, because just as you care for him he cares for you.”

He lets up and in the background you saw Nyssa shift her arm really quickly. You don’t know what it was for.

The family had gotten a hit on your location. It had been four hours since you were taken. Everyone decided to suit up and hit the streets for the first two hours. Redhood and Red Robin took downtown, Nightwing enlisted the help of GCPD to search Midtown and Batman and Robin took Uptown. With the league they couldn’t be too careful.

In the middle of searching is when they got a comms message from Alfred. Your phone had pinged off a tower in Crime Alley. As Bruce and Damian were closest they began to head over to that neighborhood. The rest of the boys and some footmen from the GCPD were on their way over.

Batman and Robin got there and Alfred was able to narrow down the closest tower that your phone pinged off of.

In the bat mobile Damian remained quiet. He had kept mum about the real reason you were there with him when Gotham Academy had caught on fire. Bruce could tell it was something he wanted to speak about alone.

“So what's the real reason?”

Damian let out a sigh, “This isn’t our first meeting. We’ve had a relationship since I was born. Back on the island.”

“With the league?”

“Yes. It was sad when we could no longer see each other, grandfather had offered an out. I never thought we would see each other again.”

Bruce stayed quiet for a moment. All that could be heard was the engine of the batmobile.

“Did you know you were related?”

“I found that out the same day as Gotham Academy. We had a conversation later that night.”

“You snuck out?”

“I had to father. It was for good reason. We were able to put the pieces together. I said I would handle grandfather.”

“Damian.”

“This has gone on for too long. It’s my fault. If something happens-”

“We’ll make it.”

Then he steps more on the gas.

Your head lulled forward after the sixth blow he dealt you. It wasn’t like you earned it. He wanted to prove a point to Nyssa. That you were expendable to him. That in the grand scheme of things you didn’t matter.

“All that training, wasted! You can’t even get out of the restraints.”

You swallowed the blood that was in your mouth, “What makes you think he’ll come for me?”

“We’re going to send a public ransom across all of Gotham. I figure a hundred thousand as the bounty will circulate enough to get to him. And then he’ll come and find you.”

“He’s just a child.”

“No he’s more than a child. He’s my grandson, the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul.”

“And what does she think about all this?”

“Enough!” he shouted.

You were punched again.

“I’ll get someone to send the ransom around.” Nyssa’s voice said.

You lifted your head up to look at her but her back was already turned to you. This however did earn you another punch, to the gut this time, by Ra’s. You let out a disgusting sound at the impact.

“Instead of a coincidence you’ve become an inconvenience. This time I won’t put you in the pit.”

“Why would you ever put me in there in the first place, huh? I was a no one! You didn’t know me or my mother. You just snatched my body and made me one of your foot soldiers.” you screamed through the incoming headache.

He did that mechanical laugh again and you wanted to spit at him. You never thought he was a good man. All the things he did. The things he told you to do. You can’t absolve all of the blame but he was an undeniable reason why you did those things.

Drop offs turned into stake outs. Stake outs into undercover. Undercover into sedation. With him the lines were blurred, because there was supposed to be nothing you wouldn’t do for him. But you chose Damian. Or, you chose Damian’s new life over his old one. And he didn't like that one bit.

The door bused open and in came Batman. You didn't think you'd live to see him up close. It’s true that while in Gotham you would probably see him once or twice. But this?

You watched as Ra's attacked him on sight. It was like the two were in sync. Batman hit, Ra’s dodged. A kick here, a swerve there. They seemed to be equals. You know you could never pull that off. Ra’s would have you flat out in under a minute.

When Batman should have swerved he didn’t. And Ra’s got the best of him with a punch. This gave way to a kick to the side and a head pull into the ground. You struggled to get out of your restraints. It wasn’t looking good for either of you.

Ra’s picked him up, and you watched in horror as he hurled him toward you. Batman collided with you so hard that he broke the chair you were in. It sent you back into one of the many crates in the room.

Batman groaned as you lifted him off of you. You slid over to the side on the floor. He was definitely not light. He knocked the only wind out of you that remained after Ra’s punishment.

No more chair meant your hands were free.

You pulled your arms around to the front. You could try to take him like this. Even though you could hear him laughing in the foreground.

“Here.”

You looked over at Batman. He was holding out one of his knives, shaped like a bat. You took it without passing a comment on it. You passed the blade over the restraints and made quick work of them.

On your feet, the laughter stops. You inched closer and closer to him.

“I didn’t snatch your body, your mother handed you over when she found out you were murdered. She asked me for this!” he said.

You stopped.

“What are you talking about?”

“When you died she went to a very dark place. With how dark she got it didn’t take long for her to find one of my associates and get in contact with me. She begged for you to be brought back. Her child!”

You ran into the attack. The words that came from his mouth just made you see red. He threw his fists but you ducked and weaved. After weaving you landed multiple blows on him. You grabbed him by the shoulders and brought your knee into him.

He went down a bit, only for a few seconds, then got his bearings back. Ra’s spit out the blood from his mouth.

“You’ll leave here with no parents. And it’ll be at my behest.”

In through the door comes Robin. A robin with a face too familiar to hide behind a mask.

“Grandfather!” the little robin shouted.

That makes you look behind you. At Batman. Bruce Wayne.

Your father was Batman. Your father.

#dc x reader #batman x reader #damian wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #Ra's al Ghul x reader #robin x reader #Tim Drake x reader #Nightwing x reader #Dick Grayson x reader #Jason Todd x reader #PAST LIVES

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the-sappho-of-lesbos · 2 years

Note

You’re a spoiled brat

I feel like I don’t really know how to respond to this. I’m really sorry for what I have done to upset you though. I know I don’t have it as hard as a lot of other people and it might seem like I’m extremely spoiled but I guess there is a lot behind the scenes that makes it look that way.

I guess part of the reason I’m able to buy what I do is because I still live with my parents. Not having to pay for all my own rent and utilities really leaves extra money you know. I pay for my share of rent but it’s not the same as living alone. I’m lucky that I have parents that haven’t kicked me out and let me live with them at 22, but also there is a lot of stress and mental exhaustion that comes from living in this house. I also don’t have a car , as I catch public transport everywhere. So I don’t have to worry about petrol prices or insurance.

I think my families financial situation is probably pretty different to some peoples. In high school I had a part time job and there were many times where my money would go towards bills or rent or cars to help the family. My mother would often take it out without telling me either so I wasn’t always sure how much I had in there. But I was happy to help. Whatever she didn’t use I would use to buy comics or manga or books. But my mum also has MS and when I was around 18 or 19 I can’t remember, she officially medically retired, which means she got access to all her super. And around that time (as in a couple of years after) my great grandmother and my grandmother passed away. So we got some money from them. That money is pretty much where I got most of my older furniture from. It also helped us when my dad was unemployed for a while.

I’m very, very grateful to be on the DSP (disability support payment) so I can afford all my appointments and rent and phone and transportation etc. I’m so grateful I live in a country that takes my debilitating mental health seriously enough to provide resources to help me get better so I can one day work like I want to. I’m grateful that because of this I also get cheaper medicine and transportation. All these things help. And it often leaves money left over. I try to save when I can or help out with other people or donate to places with my left over money. You know give it back to other people that could use it. But I also buy things for myself. I used to be really bad with spending and it was very unhealthy. I would use it yo self harm. I would use it to stop myself from self harming. I would use it to fill this void in my chest. I would use it to keep me from killing myself because the only thing I could find in life to look forward to and wake up for was that 3 seconds of getting a package. But I’ve worked really hard to be better at that and I set myself budgets so I don’t do it as much. Because I regret a lot of what I did with that money and I feel terribly for it.

But also I don’t really have a lot going for me in life. I don’t have a job or a purpose and I feel pretty useless. But being able to buy books or photos or what have you of LGBT things to share on here so everyone can see it gives me a little bit of purpose. I like being able to see how happy it makes people to find books they like or images of people they see themselves in. It feels like it’s all I can really do at the moment. So o get those things for all the lovely people who have followed me on here. It feels like it’s the best I can do right now , you know?

But also with being on the DSP I can’t save up TOO much , otherwise they’ll cut off my payments. And I need them now for appointments and stuff. So that’s also why I buy things. But I try hard to buy second hand or from small business when I can so the money goes back into the economy.

But yeah. I’m sorry , I really am. I never intended to hurt or upset anyone on here. I’ll try better. And I hope you have a lovely day 💕

#asks #anon #answered #trigger warning self harm #tw sui implied #tw self harm

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part V/VII)

"the perfect excuse"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadowss @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley19 @dianarte

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa

Warnings: language, drinking, makeout getting spicy

A/N: idk what happened here, this was not planned I'm just horny ig??? Anyway have this part that was definitely not meant to unfold like this but hey, I'm not mad, so enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I checked myself in the mirror one last time before heading to the kitchen. There was no actual need of dressing up nicely, since we both would be spending New Year's Eve at the flat, but since Ginny, Ron, Harry and Hermione were coming, we decided to clean up for our guests.

"Hmm, smells good." I leaned on the doorframe, observing George finishing cooking.

"These past five months' messes paid off." He joked, grabbing a kitchen rag to clean his hands. "Can you keep an eye on it while I go get read..." He trailed off automatically when his gaze landed on me. "Woah— okay." He cleared his throat, eyes slightly widened at my outfit, and I couldn't help but enjoy a bit too much his attention. "You look really good— is that the new blouse?"

"Yup." I replied, a coy smile dancing on my lips as I stepped to him and picked the kitchen rag myself. "C'mon, go clean up nice for our guests."

It only took him a couple of minutes, since he might have had his suit ready.

"Mind lending a hand with the tie, love?" He requested, stepping into the kitchen with his attention on the shirt's cuffs which he was buttoning up.

Damn, he looked so good; it wasn't even fair.

"Y/n?" He chuckled, finally looking up.

"Uh— yeah! Sure." I threw the rag over the counter and led my hands to the tie, taking my time to make the knot; maybe I wanted an excuse to have my hands on him.

We stayed in silence until I was finished; it wasn't an awkward silence, but it wasn't comfortable either— it was, in fact, stifling.

"There you go." I more like whispered instead of talking, sliding my hands down his chest briefly. His eyebrows were knitted, trying to decipher my demeanor; his hands caught one of mines before they fell limply on my sides, and for a second, I thought he was about to do something really stupid —something I had wanted to do for the last three months—, but then the bell rang and we stepped away from each other, going to receive Ron and Hermione as if that moment hadn't happened at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GINNY'S P. O. V.

I took a sip of my brandy as we laughed at Ron's joke, my eyes drifting to Hermione and then to Y/n's lap, where Teddy rested, giggling and blabbering nonsense at George's hand movements and funny faces.

George had confided me quite ashamed that he fancied Y/n about two years ago, but I knew the looks he gave her were of something more than a little crush, if you may.

Had I not known Y/n, I would be worried she was projecting Fred onto the younger twin, but the girl knew better than that, so when we got to experience how their domestic life unfolded during New Year's Eve, I felt nothing but happiness at the way Y/n laughed at my brother's jokes, or how she stared at him in pure adoration as he played with Tonks's and Lupin's baby.

"You're getting him waaay too exited, mate." Harry chuckled, extending his arms for Y/n to hand him the toddler. "He needs to go to sleep."

Teddy, who we had put to sleep in Y/n's room shortly after dinner, had woken up right before the New Year came to us, and, since he refused to go back to sleep, Y/n took on the task of entertaining him. George joined as soon as he witnessed Teddy's hair going rainbow-like at Y/n's actions.

"Actually, I think we all need to go to sleep." I said, leaving the glass on the table.

"Boo, you're supposed to be the youngest!" Y/n whined, earning a laughter from the rest.

"Ginny's right, though." Ron stood up and all of us followed his lead. "It's really late and I don't want mum to see us drunk when she wakes up."

"Not a good impression to make on your future mother-in-law, oi, Granger?" George's tease made Hermione's cheeks flush, murmuring an 'idiot' before giving him a hug. "Take care, all of you." He added after he and Y/n had hugged everyone goodbye.

The five of us exited the flat and apparated in the Burrow's yard in silence until Harry asked, "are they together now?"

"We don't know." I confessed with a grimace.

"Well, together or not, they're definitely fucking."

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, slapping her boyfriend's arm.

"I just said what everyone else's thinking." He defended himself, and none of us could deny it.

READER'S P. O. V.

We began to pick up the dirty plates, glasses and cutlery in order to take them to the sink and leave them there to wash them tomorrow.

"Oi, look what I found." George wiggled a firewhiskey bottle at me from the living room.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed the half empty ice cream tub I had just left over the counter, a couple of clean glasses, and I made my way to George.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"—and that was only in our... Third- no- fourth! year?" He finished the story, joining me in the giggling; I didn't doubt the story was funny, but I was sure it seemed ten times funnier because of the alcohol. "Wait- where were you back then?" He knitted his brows in confusion.

"A year below you." I laughed.

He snorted. "Below me," he took a look at his empty glass before reaching for the bottle with a laugh "hell, I wish."

I couldn't help but laugh too. "Sure you do." I wouldn't have laughed if I were sober, but then again I highly doubted he would have said that if he were sober. "Y'know- you can have me below you anytime you want, Georgie." I replied between lazy giggles, leaning on him so he would pour more firewhiskey into my glass too.

A loud snort left George, triggering one of my own. "Sure, darling." He loosened his tie and tossed it to the floor. "Why's it so hot in here?"

"Mmm... Must be 'cause of you." I threw my head back to stare at the ceiling. "Or... maybe's just the alcohol." I groaned at the feeling of my head spinning, and sat upright again to chunk the now full glass in one go. "I'm hot too."

"Oh darling... You can't even imagine how much— I mean... Every day— but tonight you look partic... particular...ly? Dashing." George was leaning back against the armchair's feet, his eyes closed, his cheeks flushed and an amused smile dancing on his lips. "Why must you be so bloody perfect?" I found myself staring a bit too much at the ginger. "There's still a conscious part of my brain that knows I shouldn't be saying this shit." An idle chuckle left his chest and one of his eyes peeked open. "I'm gonna blame the alcohol, aight?"

Right, the alcohol —The perfect excuse.

I laid my glass on the floor and got up, stumbling towards him. "Oi, careful— you don't wanna trip and fall." He laughed, steadying me with his hands as I plopped down on my knees besides him. "We won't make it to St. Mungo—" With one hand on his shoulder and one on his cheek, I went for it, cutting him mid-sentece in the process.

It was one hell of a sloppy kiss, and I was so concentrated on doing it right that I didn't even hear the moan I sent into his mouth.

What the hell are you doing?, My mind screamed.

I attempted to pull away, but I felt George's hands on my sides, clutching my clothes in his fists to tug me flush against him. I took the cue and did my best to climb onto his lap and straddle his legs without losing balance.

What we were doing felt terribly wrong, and, the morning after, we would regret this little slip so much, but in that exact moment I could only think that his lips tasted like fire whiskey, strawberry and chocolate, and that the quiet moans slipping through them between the kisses were loud enough to quiet down everything in my head.

I stopped to take a breath, resting my forehead against his; our eyes locked, pupils blown out.

Heavy pants left our lungs, as if we had just run a marathon. It felt like the kiss had made a bomb go off, one that we had unconsciously been building up those past months.

It took an instant of looking at each other to know we thought the same; we wouldn't get this opportunity ever again, so at that point, we might as well carry on and pray for it not to be too bad in the morning.

This time it was George who smashed his lips against mines, teeth clashing and tongues going in each other's mouths. The situation was escalating quick; a tad too quick, I daresay.

He cursed and mumbled something about too many clothes, proceeding to pull his shirt over his head with my help, given that he could only do so much with that amount of alcohol in his sistem.

I could do even less, though. It was proven when I first attempted to get rid of my blouse.

I struggled to unbutton it, an awkward, dizzy silence falling among us before his hands travelled to mines "Wait... Lemme..." He frowned, finding that simple task as frustratingly difficult as I did. "Bloody..." A browned off grunt left his swollen lips.

"Tear it." I mumbled, letting my hands roam over his chest.

"You sure?"

I hummed, somehow impatient. "We'll fix it tomorrow." I captured his lips once more.

We'd fix it tomorrow.

I felt his hands fisting my shirt by the cleavage before giving it a firm tug, making my gasp; I wasn't expecting all the buttons to come off in one go, given his drunken state.

I didn't even have time to discard the piece of clothing before his lips attacked my neck, shutting my brain off instantly due to the sensation.

"You want this?" He whispered in my ear, his hands going up from my thighs to my back until they reached the clasp of my bra.

Not trusting my voice, I nodded vigorously, making the world shake around me so hard that I had to shut my eyes.

I felt a feather kiss on my shoulder and his fingers unfastening the bra; he was doing his best to be smooth, which wasn't a lot, but I could tell he was trying hard.

"You're so sweet." I blurted out as his fingertips ghosted over my skin while he removed the top from my body.

He tried to reply something, but articulating kept getting harder and harder as we went deeper into it, so he gave up on words and so did I; at least until his fingers slid between my legs and started to tease me through the fabric of my remaining clothes.

"Bed." I whimpered, unconsciously rocking my hips against George's hand whilst my own travelled to his crotch, feeling his erection and consequently earning a moan from him.

"D'you think we'll make it?" He inquired, already retreating his hand briefly so we could stand up.

Soon enough we were stumbling to my room, hands all over each other, bumping against the furniture and walls due to not being able to stand upright.

When we fell on the bed and tossed the rest of our clothes to the floor, it began to dawn on me how bad this was going to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

My head was pounding violently in my skull; that's most likely the reason why I woke up. It took a moment for the blurry memories of the previous night to flash into my mind.

"You feel... so good..."

"Fuck- George— faster, please..."

"Y/n— I'm-"

"No." I shoot up, not acknowledging that Y/n was still asleep by my side. "Fuck no. Nononono." I ignored the terrible headache caused by the hungover and, grabbing my clothes, I exited the room. "No fucking way." I kept mumbling to myself, stalking to my dorm to throw on some fresh clothes.

I sat on my bed, my hands running through my locks, bringing back the memories of Y/n's tugs on them in the process.

"What the fuck did I do." I almost choked on the sentence.

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

Text

How We Met

here it is, my last fic for rowaelin month! thank you so much to everyone that’s read, liked and commented on my fics, it’s been so much fun reading and writing these last four weeks! i’m glad to know that i’m not the only one that is in dire need of more rowaelin content (srsly, i would pay sjm a truck load of money for a strictly rowaelin book bc i miss them sm)

here’s part 4 for the little series i had going on. i was so tempted to make this an angst piece but held back lol.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

cw: none

1.8k words

enjoy and thank you again!!! :) 💕💕💕💕

Gathering the ingredients for the cake that she and Ophelia were going to make for Rowan, Aelin plopped them down on the kitchen counter and tied her and her six year old daughters hair back. Even in the kitchen light, Ophelia's hair was a vivid shade of silver and when she turned to look at her mother, the golden ring in her eyes were just as bright.

“Up, mama!” Ophelia asked, pointing to the step ladder that Olive made for her little sister in her woodshop class at school. Getting it off from atop the fridge, Aelin and Ophelia started their baking session for today. It wasn't often that Aelin baked cakes from scratch but it wasn't every day that her firstborn turned sixteen—not that Aelin could really comprehend that her Olive was sixteen—but Aelin wanted to do this for her, wanted to make something special.

She hoped that it wasn't going to taste as bad as the last cake she baked. Rowan had been sick afterwards and didn't go to work the next day.

That was five years ago, so surely with gaining wisdom as people said when others got older, her baking skills grew too.

“Where did everyone go?” Ophelia asked, her little tongue poking out as she helped Aelin sift the flour.

“To get dinner for tonight. We're having Ollie's favourite.” Which was cuisine from the Southern Continent, there was a restaurant that specialised in the spicy food, and Aelin couldn't wait—she and Rowan often tried to recreate their favourite recipes, but it was never right, so Olive wanted to have the genuine stuff for her birthday and not her parents shoddy attempts.

Not that Aelin could blame her.

They continued making the chocolate cake, Ophelia babbling on about her day at school, when her little one asked, “How did you and papa meet?”

Aelin blinked at the sudden question, but answered it nevertheless. “At the grocery store.”

Ophelia furrowed her brows, and with the way her nose scrunched up, she looked so much like Rowan that it made her heart sing. When Aelin first realised that she was pregnant, she was nervous, they had only been married for seven months and while they spoke about having a child of their own, she didn't think it would happen so quickly—but Rowan's enthusiasm melted away her fears. She would never forget his tears of joy when she showed him the pregnancy test, his beaming smile when they heard her heartbeat for the first time. Aelin would walk through hell, as long as Rowan was by her side, or waiting for her at the end.

It wasn't always perfect, however, they had their ups and downs like every long-term couple, they had moments where it felt like they were walking on tightrope, either because of their own personal issues or marriage issues, or when Egan was fourteen and completely lashed out at Aelin, accusing her of replacing his mother—but she worked with her son, telling him that she had never intended to do that, that Lyria would always be the woman that brought him into the world, and that Aelin was raising him. Her heart broke in two at his pain, but she understood, he grew up with photos and stories of Lyria.

Or when they had the awkward conversation when Olive was eleven and asked why she didn't look like Rowan, and Aelin had explained her story, about Sam being her biological father, but he had given them space for Rowan to raise her instead. That had lead to brooding silences and confusion, but otherwise, Olive still saw Rowan as her dad, but she did ask from time to time about Sam, what he was like and what he was doing (the last update Aelin received from him via email that his wife was pregnant with their second child. Aelin was so happy for him that he was able to have a family, a feat that was made easier since Arobynn had been dead for years by this point) and that she would like to meet him properly one day; Aelin had kept that to herself, not wanting to tell Sam in case Olive changed her mind—Aelin hoped that she wouldn't.

Overall, their life together was what she needed, she went to bed each night loved and fulfilled. It was better than what she might have had with Chaol all those years ago, she was fairly certain that if she had married him, it wouldn't have been a long marriage.

“How did you meet at the food store?” Ophelia asked, her brow still furrowed as she and Aelin stirred the cake batter. It surprisingly smelled good.

“I needed something from a high shelf,” Aelin said, “and I couldn't reach it. Your papa was only a few feet away from me, so I asked him to get it for me.” She might have also subtly ogled him as his shirt exposed his tanned skin, and Aelin had damned near swooned at the sight of his six pack.

“Did you get married at the food store?”

Aelin laughed at the question. “No, we got married at the beach. And then you arrived not long afterwards.” Sometimes they wanted another, but things financially were going so well that they didn't want to jeopardise that by adding another mouth to feed.

“Can you have another wedding?” Ophelia asked, looking at her mum with wide eyes. “So I can go? Please?”

“I'll talk to your daddy about it, but I like the sound of that.” Kissing her daughters forehead, they continued. Just as they were putting the cake in the oven and the icing mix in the fridge, the front door opened and three booming voices infiltrated the house and the mouth watering goodness of food.

Aelin's eyes widened at the amount of food that Rowan piled on the table. It looked like they were feeding a small army and not a family of five.

Ophelia helped her older brother set the table, Egan ruffing her hair as he recounted their little adventure to the restaurant.

As they sat down, Aelin mentioned Ophelia's request. Rowan pretended to mull it over as their daughter pleaded, giving her best puppy dog eyes. It didn't take for Rowan to relent—he really had trouble saying no to her—saying that a second wedding was a great idea.

Ophelia squealed in delight and squealed even more when food was placed in front of her (she was very much like Aelin in that regard).

“How did the conversation of another wedding start?” Rowan asked as they all started eating.

“Phia here wanted to know how we meet.”

Olive snorted. “Yes, the ever romantic story of meeting in the toilet paper aisle.”

“It was not the toilet paper isle!” Aelin protested. “It was the cereal aisle.”

“At least you kids have inherited my manners,” Rowan said, “your mother didn't even ask nicely. She just came over to me and said, 'You're tall, could you get that box for me?'” It had taken him a moment to realise he had been spoken to, too focused on deciding what box of porridge to get when Aelin showed up, wearing a faded band shirt and shorts, pointing to the box of cereal that had far too much sugar to be healthy. He had said 'yes' because it was the nice thing to do, and had stayed behind, talking to her for so long in the aisle that his vanilla ice cream had started to melt.

It was the best decision in his life back then, he never thought he would have gained a friend in the grocery store—and that the friend would become his wife.

“I have manners. I said, 'Excuse you' first before I told you what I needed.”

“That's not really using manners there, ma,” Egan said, smiling as poked her tongue out. He looked so much like Lyria that it was almost scary—he still loved flowers and plants too, and was currently studying to become a florist and then one day horticulture. The backyard was full of flowers and plants thanks to him, making into a little wonderland instead of the barren plain it used to be.

“I did say 'thank you' afterwards.”

“You said 'thanks',” Rowan interjected, laughing as Aelin threw a chunk of her flatbread at his head. Ophelia's cute laughter rent through the air.

“It's the same thing!”

“If you say so, love,” Rowan muttered, his lips twitching. Aelin rolled her eyes in the dramatic way Rowan was used to, but he saw the mirth behind the movement.

“Like I said Phie, it's very romantic,” Olive said drily, sounding very much like Rowan. She had even inherited his scowl, which she was wearing now as she sniffed at the air. “Is something burning?”

Aelin had never run so fast as she did right then, the kitchen filling with smoke as she took in the blackened cake. Swearing viciously under her breath, Aelin chucked the cake into the bin, apologising to Olive as she did so.

“It's okay, mum, dad got me an ice-cream cake earlier today anyway.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at her husband, who simply gave her an innocent smile in answer.

Rejoining her family, they talked well into the night, helping Aelin to forget her failed baking attempt. Ophelia asked more questions about their time in the grocery store and how that moment lead to friendship, to pining for the other without realising it, to a life together.

And to think, Aelin almost didn't go to the grocery store that day.

Rowan thanked the gods that he had remembered at the last moment that he had no porridge left, otherwise, he might not have met Aelin at all. Might not have had this life, this family. Part of him would always be sad that things had gone so wrong with Lyria, and he would always miss and love her. But he learned in therapy that it was good to have a life, and Rowan was glad that he heeded that advice.

He thanked the gods all the time.

And thank the rutting gods he did right now for the umpteenth time that Aelin deemed him tall enough to get her food for her, to stay in that aisle with him as they got to know each other.

Rowan was a very happy man indeed as he and Aelin went to bed that night, the smiles still on their faces at Olive's unrestrained joy at the sight of the car they spent weeks looking at second-hand dealerships at, hunting for the perfect car for their daughter.

Thank the rutting gods for all those moments in the past, present, and future.

Rowan couldn't wait to marry her again, and neither could Aelin.

Life was good.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work #thank u!!

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amymel86 · 3 years

Note

Hello! Do you have any bits of your awesome writing to share for WIP wednesday?😍

I just saw this anon!

And thank you for asking <3

This is a bit more of this as yet untitled 'post-apocalyptic/fertility/modern arranged relationship???' fic. The first bit I posted on tumblr is here and as before, some things are not yet decided (like town names) and things may change...

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, darling?” Her mother’s voice on the telephone was a balm to her soul.

Sansa’s finger brushed the soft vivid petals of the small potted iris she’d bought at the store today. The iris symbolises hope, wisdom and courage among other things and she prays that the pretty purple and yellow bloom will lend her some of those. “I’ve got to try something, Mum,” she says, turning her attention to the two separate bundles of paper in front of her. Two men, two candidates, two different futures. Sansa had filled out all the matching service’s extensive questionnaires and scrutinised all the information she could find on the program. It seemed simple enough – you’re rewarded for helping to repopulate. In turn, the authorities help to pair you with someone who should be a good match dependant on all the information they have about you. The aim is that this new generation of children are raised in the traditional family unit. That had appealed to Sansa. “I can’t seem to find the right guy all on my own anyway,” she said into her phone.

“How do you know it will be safe, though?”

“It says here that my situation will be monitored by my own caseworker. I can call them any time I want. They’re not just going to drop me at the guy’s house and just leave us get on with it.”

“Hmmm... tell me about them? These men that they’ve narrowed down for you.”

“One’s called Waymar, he’s a financial advisor here in the Vale,” Sasna pauses, looking at the man’s photograph on his paperwork before fishing out the other. “And the other is called Jon, he owns a farm in the Reach.”

“None in the north then?” Her mother has been itching to get her back home. “I just wish there was a way to know that either of them were good men, Sansa. That’s all I want for you.”

Sansa put the two photos together. Two possible fathers for her child.

“That’s what I want too.”

***

“Shit! Holy fucking shit!” Jon says to himself, hanging up from his phone-call. “Mance!” he yells, bursting out of his trailer to find the old man. “Mance! It worked! It fucking worked!”

He’d relented. When Mance first put it to him that he should sign up for that weird government breeding program or whatever the fuck it was, he thought the old man’s last brain-cell must’ve fried up in the sun. But if they were going to make it easier for them and it meant Mance could keep the farm (and Jon could carry on living there rent free), then it was worth a shot. So he had relented. He’d filled out what seemed to be a gazillion and one questions about himself, his politics, his views on family and finances and education and fucking... art and shit. These damned government people wanted to know everything about him down to whether he scrunched or folded his toilet paper it seemed. He’d even had to lie. He didn’t like doing it, but there was no way that a fertile was going to pick him if he didn’t. So, he fished out an old photograph – one taken before the bar brawl that lost him his sight in one eye, and he’d also lied his asscheeks off by claiming he had ownership of the farm. He knew – he knew – that these lies are just more things that were going to trip him up one of these days but with Mance urging him on, he’d signed that damn form and offered himself up for the program.

And now a fertile had chosen him.

Him.

Fuck, he might throw up.

This can go one of two ways. Either completely up Shit Creek without a paddle – with his lies and reality crashing down on top of one another, leaving them exposed... or, his fertile somehow looks past his deceits and sticks with him and they-... well, shit, he could actually become a father. No-one becomes parents these days, especially not ‘round here. Fertiles flock to the big cities, to men with bigger pockets, or they work for couples who can afford to pay them off in exchange for a kid or two.

“It worked?” Mance asks, rolling out from under an old Ford pickup that needed a new exhaust. “They sendin’ us a peach?”

Jon shook his head. “They’re not sendin’ you anyone, old man. An’ don’t call her that – they’re-“ Fuck, what did the council call them on all that paperwork? “Reproductively abled.” He’ll have to remember that if he doesn’t want to offend her.

“Well, shit,” Mance grins. “What did I tell ya? Knew your pretty face was good for somethin’!”

Jon frowns. “Ain’t so pretty no more though.” He might have to go get himself a patch to cover his milky, sightless eye. It’s fine most of the time since Mance is the only one he sees unless he’s going to drink at Hobb’s, but he certainly doesn’t want to put off his ferti- reproductively abled friend who’ll be arriving in three weeks.

“She got a name? Your new peach?” Mance asked, earning him a glare.

“Sansa. Sansa Stark.”

Mance grunts and nods. “Sounds fancy.”

Yeah... It did sound kinda fancy he supposes. Jon’s first reaction had been that it was a mighty beautiful name, but now he thinks of it...

“Shame we can’t look her up – see if she’s a beauty or not.”

Jon can’t remember a time when that was an option. He was barely 11 at the highest point of the virus’s hold. Government officials had deemed certain channels on the internet were causing more harm than good by spreading false rumours, incorrect statistics and completely counterintuitive medical advice. The whole thing was shut down, now deemed illegal, only to be reconnected again three years later apparently looking like a foreign landscape from the one before. The internet was no longer a platform to socialise, only government approved informative sites remained. Mance says it’s better this way – that all people used to do was post vain images of themselves for attention anyway.

Jon wouldn’t mind seeing a vain image of Sansa Stark right about now though.

Not that it mattered terribly. As long as they get along and she decides to stick around she could be as ugly as sin. In fact, she probably will be, won’t she? Most pretty ferti- reproductively abled women stick to the cities and its high-fliers.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself. You just gotta keep her happy here and-

“Mance?” he asks, an issue coming to mind. The man grunts in acknowledgement. “Where the fuck is she gonna sleep? She’s not gonna want to stay in my trailer.”

The man grins in response. “I’m glad you asked, boy. I’m glad you asked.”

***

Her caseworker was meant to meet her at the train station. It was quite a drive to the farm and he was meant to pick her up, make sure she’s safe and happy and introduce her to Jon.

That hasn’t happened.

“Please accept my apologies, my dear,” Mr Baelish said down the other end of the phone. “There’s been a mix up with my schedule. We can set you up for the night at a local motel or ask your match to come and get you. Which would you prefer?”

Sansa eyes the dirty looking motel across the street from the train station. Everything here at [[INSERT TOWN NAME]] seems a little on the... rundown side. Maybe the sooner she gets to the farm, the better. Plus, her tummy is all a flutter with anticipation to actually meet Jon. She’d wound up swaying towards Jon as a match due to a few reasons; 1 – he does not live in, around, or anywhere near Harry or his crazy mother. 2 – he owns a farm, and that had conjured up hazy daydreams of idyllic country life. Sansa may enjoy big nights out in the city, drinking her dirty margaritas and feeling her bones vibrate against the base beat in a nightclub, but she knows that’s not what she wants to raise a child around. A child will want to run barefoot through wheat fields and chase chickens and milk cows and –

Let’s just say Sansa has a few ideas and that they all helped to sway her away from city pleasures and towards farmhouse life. And Jon

And last, but not least, reason number 3 – Jon himself. Put side-by-side, his and Waymar’s photographs looked rather similar if truth be told, but Jon won out on something that Sansa just couldn’t describe. Looking at his photograph gave her goosepimples along her forearms because it was like he was looking right back at her. There was something in the depths of his eyes – a kindness? A wit? A strength? She’s not sure, but she couldn’t find the same qualities when she stared at Waymar’s likeness. And his answers too. His questionnaire was full of how he’d like to teach a kid how to walk and ride a bike and fix a... a tractor for heaven’s sake! And so her head was flooded once more of this idyllic life where they got up to watch the dawn stretch over the farmland and they’d grow their own vegetables and she’d bake a pie every day and it would just be perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Sansa glances around the near abandoned train station.

This doesn’t look so perfect right now.

“Could you please arrange for Jon to come and get me, Mr Baelish?”

***

It’s been an hour and fifty-six minutes precisely since Sansa last spoke to Mr Baelish to arrange her match coming to get her. An hour and fifty-six minutes of sitting on the curb, waiting, surrounded by her three suitcases. She’d started off by sitting at the nearby bus stop, purely because it was somewhere to sit and she had a clear view of the road, but after the rude bus driver insisted that if she’s sat there, she must be wanting to hop on his bus, Sansa decided to park her butt on the dusty, sun-baked curb instead. Her legs were beginning to numb and she was starting to get a headache from the sun beaming down on her head. The curls she’d styled into her copper locks have likely lost their hold by now. What a waste. Opposite, on the other side of the street, beside the dirty little motel, there was a tiny bar that advertised the fact that it hosted exotic dancers at the weekends with a blinking neon sign. Next to it was a hunting and fishing ‘emporium’ and beside that was a vacant store with an old dirty sign that read ‘Blouses & More!’. Presumably, the ‘& more’ still wasn’t enough to keep that fine establishment in business in this funny little town. At the end of the block was ‘Tarly’s Drugstore’ and Sansa had been debating with herself whether or not she should haul her suitcases over to go buy a drink and a magazine for about the last hour and fifty-five minutes.

But she hadn’t wanted to miss Jon Snow’s arrival.

Jon Snow, who seemed to be pulling up outside Tarly’s Drugstore in a dusty Ford pickup truck right about now. Sansa stood, expecting him to come right on over considering how long she’d been waiting for him, but she found herself wondering if she’d got it all wrong when she hadn’t caught a good enough look at him before he darted straight into the store.

Sansa is done with waiting. She grabs her smallest case and places it on top of her larger one, trying her darnedest to roll all her luggage across the road in a lady-like fashion. She could feel the eyes of several passers-by on her while her stiletto heels clip across the street. In turn, her own gaze fell to Jon’s cream-coloured truck. Its front bumper looked a little rusty and wonky too. There was a big gash in the leather of the bench seating on the passenger side. On the truck bed, there were a number of items, including a rocking chair that seems to have a couple of spindles on the chair-back missing, and a new double bed mattress wrapped in clear plastic. Sansa was almost done frowning at the state of the vehicle when the over-door bell of the drugstore tinkles.

“Holy shit,” he curses. And yes, it definitely was Jon standing right in front of her. Only... well... his hair was tied into a knot at the back of his head and.... and... he was wearing a black eye patch? “Uh,” he stood there, arms laden with bottles from the store as the gaze from his one good eye quickly darted down her frame and back up again. “You’re her, right? You’re Sansa Stark?”

Sansa found she could only nod, looking him up and down, like he was with her. He was in jeans with oil smears, some tough, heavy looking boots, a somehow pristine white vest and flannel shirt with the arms ripped off.

Speaking of arms...

Gods-damn! Sansa’s focus was momentarily derailed...

“Sorry, I-“ Jon starts before his grey eye drops to the floor and then returns to her, looking a little bashful. “I didn’t expect you to be so pretty.”

Oh boy. He may be wearing an eye patch right now but this man could win over a thousand girls with that smile, Sansa’s sure of it. She resists the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. She’s here to find out if they’re well suited enough to start a family together – she needs to keep her head and think rationally, not allow herself to be swayed by his rugged country boy charm. It was Harry’s looks that enticed her in the first place – and look how well that turned out for her?

“Thank you,” Sansa says, blinking back at him before his words truly hit home. “Didn’t they give you my photograph?”

Jon shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

Huh.

“Did they show you mine?”

Sansa bites her lip and gives a nod.

Jon grimaces. “So I guess you weren’t expecting this?” He points to his patch.

Sansa shakes her head. “No... did you... did you do something to injure it?”

Jerking his head, Jon begins rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. “It’s a long story... but... it ain’t gonna get any better, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“Oh.”

They stood, staring at one another for a heartbeat or five before Jon sucks in a breath over his teeth and glances down to the bottles he clutched to his chest with one arm. “I tried to get you some things to help you feel at home,” he says, “these are the nicest smellin’ soaps ‘n’ stuff from Tarly’s.”

“Thank you,” Sansa replies, knowing full well that she brought her Highgarden Floral Scents bathroom range with her.

Jon chews on his lip as he eyes her suitcases. “Lemme get those for you,” he offers before dumping the bottles in his arms into the truck bed and reaching for her luggage. Sansa’s heeled shoes seem welded to the spot. Jon notices. Scrubbing both hands down his face in resignation, he takes a step closer to her and Sansa realises for the first time, that he had dirt beneath his fingernails. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “It was a shitty thing for me to do,” he offers, his words low and husky. Sansa feels the timbre of his voice set off a trickle of gooseflesh down her spine. “I’m sorry.”

She blinks at him, momentarily confused.

“About this,” he explains, brows high on his head as he points to his patch. “I shouldn’t have sent that old photo of before this happened, but – fuck – even my ex-girl won’t acknowledge I exist anymore with this and I knew I shoulda been honest about it but-“

“This ex-girl...” Sansa suddenly found herself left with a sour taste in her mouth. “... does she still mean something to you?”

Jon licks at his lips, his eye falling briefly to her own. “No, ma’am,” he shakes his head.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #wip wednesday #but late #oops

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theji · 3 years

Text

Things Yizhan Made Me Do

It's BXG Day today! 🐢💛

To commemorate the occasion, I thought of making a list of 13 out-of-character things that I've done since falling into the fandom. (OK I'm a bit late I meant to do this sooner, the day is ending soon in a couple of hours).

1. Start a blog

And a public one, no less. I had a blog when I was in my teens but that was private, like a personal diary. My day job already involves writing so off-work I would usually like to indulge in mindless activities. Now, here I am, maintaining a Yizhan blog. I have not even used Tumblr prior to this but I'm enjoying it now, rambling about our fav boys. Writing is not a chore if it's about them.

2. Join a fandom

I joined a boy band fan club once upon a time, some 15 years ago, but I was never as invested in it as I am now with Yizhan. Back then it was just buying some merch, attending their concert/autograph sessions, listening to their songs. Apart from work, dog mum duties, personal relationships, other hobbies like kombucha brewing, most of my free time is now spent on the fandom. My Netflix account is crying. There is just so much to do and catch up on (I'm not complaining). I also enjoy interacting with and learning from other bloggers here. Antis are no fun and some industry news/developments/hate messages are upsetting but ultimately, you curate your own fandom experience. And I choose positivity and rationality.

3. Indulge in RPS

I don't ever 'ship'. What is 'ship'? 😆 I was always a dutiful audience, just enjoying whatever drama series and moving on after that. I started with CQL like most people and I didn't even notice/like GGDD until much later. Didn't even set out to 'ship' anyone but now I'm a self-professed turtle. SZD is SZD, and anyone can see something special between them if you keep an open mind. I wrote about my SZD reasons here previously. That said, GG & DD are individuals, each with their own successful careers. They come first, the ship comes second. That I'm very clear of.

4. Use Chinese apps

Gosh, my phone and tablet are now full of Chinese apps. I used to have only WeChat cos I needed it for work but now I have Weibo, Oasis, Douyin, WeTV, MangoTV, Youku, etc. Some of them are not even available in the app store so I had to find alternative sources to download them. haha..I even have paid membership for some of these apps. And now, browsing Weibo daily becomes a routine. If you wish, you can just get stuck browsing Weibo for a long long time. It's entertaining.

5. Read fan fic

I only started about 6 months ago but now I'm hooked and fics are largely the only thing I read these days, apart from news. But I only read Yizhan or WangXian fics (p.s. calling for fic recs of other pairings!) I know some might have different feelings about fan fics but to me, I really just see them as fiction, with characters (and sometimes traits) bearing similarities to GGDD. Similarly, I separate the platform from the incident so I have no problems going to A03 despite GG's incident. I just enjoy seeing the characters named XZ/WYB having happy endings in many different timelines and universes. While most of the fics I read are explicit (by design), I don't use them as tools to play out certain fantasies or to think of GGDD in a sexual manner. In fact, I really hate fics that have little substance and just go into the explicit parts without plot development. I like those with interesting premises too, like one I read recently where XZ is a serial killer and WYB is a police officer investigating the case but also in love with him. I do have plans to share my list of fav fan fics some time down the road so keep an eye out for it!

6. Willingly read Chinese

Yes, Chinese may be my mother tongue but I don't use it much in daily living unless I have to. I also find it tedious to read Chinese cos the characters are just so squashed together. If I have a choice, I will always pick English. But now, I read so much Chinese from my daily weibo browsing. I even read fan fics in Chinese! Who am I? On the plus side, I think my Chinese comprehension and translation skills improved. I also picked up some internet lingo used by Chinese netizens, which are pretty interesting like doi, 🐮🍺, 🖍. My all-time fav is yyds.

7. Act like a cougar

In real life, I have always maintained that younger men are childish. At least those I have encountered. But look at me now, fangirling over two younger men (I am closer in age to GG, but still..). I even jokingly call them my 'China Boyfriends'. I look at them very respectfully most of the time.

8. Buy merch

Seriously, once you start, you can't stop. At least that was what happened to me, although I'm still quite selective when it comes to supporting their endorsements. I usually go for consumables like food, cosmetics vs collectibles cos I'm more practical. Also, GG says to support their merch within reasonable means so that's what I'm doing. Just buying things that I'm interested to try and not because it has their faces or names slapped on it. In a way, this suits me cos I like trying new brands and stuff anyway.

9. Keeping a Yizhan archive

Photos, weblinks, videos, songs, fan fics list..my phone is full of these things now. I think my Yizhan photo gallery is only second to the folder with my dogs' pictures. But how can you resist when we are blessed with new pics of them almost every week?

10. Camp for livestreams

I'm lucky I live in the same time zone as the boys so I don't have to wake up in the wee hours of the morning just to watch something. But that's the thing, being in the same time zone sometimes make me feel like I HAVE to watch that thing live because, why not? Why wait? Not shy to admit that I once watched a live programme in the middle of work but I made sure I finished what needed to be done. I think so long as we don't let these livestream schedules run our lives, there's no harm in camping for them.

11. Watch c entertainment

I am one of those who used to pass over Chinese productions, simply because it's a Chinese production. Not in a scoffing manner but I'm just genuinely not interested in them nor the celebs. I was more of a US/UK production kind of person, occasionally Korean/Japanese. Now, I'm learning to enjoy them although I just watch those with GGDD in them. No energy to follow other Chinese celebs anyway. The other programme I'm contemplating watching even if it doesn't have them in it is Who's the Murderer (GG was only in one of the cases) cos I like the premise. On the flip side, now my sis and partner keep making fun of me cos to them, all I do now is "watch China shows". That is so not true. Or is it?

12. Write fan mail

I wrote a letter to GG once. A long-ass letter. I hope he read it. That's all I'm gonna say. 🙈 hahahahaha

13. Desire to visit China

China was never on my list of to-visit places. Just wasn't interested. I have been to Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou a few times in the past for work but even then, I never felt the urge to revisit for leisure. Now, I wanna visit GG and DD's home town, visit Chongqing to see the graffiti wall with Bobii Zanbii on it, eat mala hotpot and try out their sauce recipe, attend BXG events, dine at the CQL restaurant... Watching TTXS also made me realise that there are many beautiful places in China with natural landscapes and all that. I used to be clouded by my disdain for the regime and some behaviour of its citizens but now, I recognise that the country is separate from the regime or a smaller group of poorly behaved citizens. China is a beautiful country and I would love to visit some day. I will fly over immediately on my own if someone gives me tix to ADLAD!!

Well, I hope some of these things resonate with you. Feel free to share the OOC things that Yizhan made you do.

Once again, Happy BXG Day! 🐢💛🐆🐇🐷🌶🦁🍑🐶🍍🛹🎋

#yizhan #bjyx #things yizhan made me do

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