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copper-16 · 3 days

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First Meetings

Elena attends her first football youth team camp, and meets someone who, though she doesn’t realize it at the time, will become a very important person in her life.

(a/n: I must admit this is probably one my more favorite Elena stories I’ve written, so if anyone has anymore ideas that involve older Elena and this new OC we meet here you’d be my new best friend cause I wanna write more about them 🥹)

The first national team camp Elena was ever invited to was when she was only fourteen years old. The call had been to Ingrid, who was then immediately turning to Mapi with a huge smile on her face.

Partly because it was their daughters first call up, and partly because it had been Norway who had come knocking on her door.

Mapi and Ingrid would always argue (playfully, most of the time), about which country their daughter would represent, should she choose the path of becoming a professional athlete.

And while it didn’t matter in the end, for their daughter chose instead to become a doctor as opposed to an athlete, she did spend a good bit of her youth playing both football and handball, very competitively.

She had been in La Masia, and showed great promise as a future defender, so it really wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone involved when Elena was selected for Norway’s U16 camp, despite the fact that she was only fourteen.

And though both Ingrid and Mapi were excited (once a certain Spaniard got over being butthurt that it wasn’t Spain who had come calling), they left the ultimate decision up to Elena on whether or not she wanted to go.

“Mi sol, at the end of the day the choice is yours. You are allowed to do whatever you would like, your Mama and I would always support that,” Mapi reassured gently, and Elena nodded her head slowly, but she still looked rather unsure.

“Thank you Mami, I appreciate it, I really do. I just…is there any way I could have a minute before I decide?” The teenager asked gently, and her mother nodded easily.

“Take all the time you need, there is no rush,” Mapi promised, squeezing her daughter's shoulder gently before the girl slipped away. But instead of heading for her room as the Spaniard expected her to, she headed for the balcony instead.

Elena pulled out her phone carefully from her pocket as she shut the door behind her, staring at it for a few moments before clicking open to her contacts. She hit dial before holding it up to her ear, listening to the line ring before it clicked, signifying that her godmother had picked up the phone

“Elena, pequeña! What have I done to deserve a phone call from my favorite goddaughter?” Alexia practically yelled into the phone, not exactly helping the argument that she ‘wasn’t old’ and ‘understood technology completely.’ The girl rolled her eyes at her godmother's antics, even if she knew to expect them.

“Tia, I am your ONLY goddaughter,” Elena reminded her, but there was a smile on her face regardless.

“Ah semantics semantics! What is up pequeña, how are you?” Alexia asked, her voice a little more soft and gentle now. It wasn’t exactly a common occurrence for the green eyed girl to call the blonde like this out of the blue, so the former Barcelona captain made sure to seem extra attentive.

“Oh I’m good,” Elena said carefully, before she went quiet. Alexia didn’t respond, sensing that there was more the younger girl wanted to say.

“I got invited to a U16 camp, with Norway,” she finally forced out quietly, bracing herself for the former Barcelona captain to gasp, to scream, to get all excited. She had been preparing herself for Alexia to lose her mind, to be so excited that she wouldn’t even listen to Elena’s concerns.

But it never came.

“You don’t sound excited pequeña,” Alexia commented lightly, her tone filled with more protectiveness than excitement, and no judgment whatsoever. As much as Alexia wanted her goddaughter to be a footballer, same as her mothers, she cared far more about her well-being than anything else as trivial as her career.

Elena sighed, fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she tried to organize her thoughts appropriately, in a way that was understandable.

“I am excited, but I’m also…I don’t know. I’m not even sure if I want to be a footballer, is it silly of me to consider even going?” Elena asked, her insecurity poking through in her tone.

“Oh course you can still go, even if you are not sure. There is no requirement, it is not a contract that states that if you go now, you are obligated to become a footballer,” Alexia reminded gently. Her words were soft, and Elena clung to how secure her tone was, as though she held all of the answers to every problem the teenager had ever had.

It was one thing for her mothers to tell her, but for Alexia to? It was somehow better, hearing it from her mouth. As biased as Alexia was, because she loved her, she had always been honest with Elena too.

“Yes but…well there are people like you who are or were SO sure of what they want to do, and would I be taking up someone else’s spot by committing when I’m not even sure football is what I want to do? I love it, I know I do, but I’m just not sure that it’s what I want for the rest of my life,” Elena explained, and it was not a new thought in her mind but it was still hard to say, because she’d never spoken the thought aloud to someone. Not even her mothers, who were inside the living room trying very hard to pretend like they weren’t eavesdropping on the entire conversation.

Mapi was practically sitting on Ingrid’s lap, she was leaning so far over her wife as she angled her body and ears toward the balcony, even if she couldn’t hear much with the door being closed.

“Elena, for as many people who are sure, there are a hundred more who are not. You are fourteen, you are not supposed to have everything figured out right now. Look at people like Salma, she couldn’t decide until she was practically eighty years old what sport she wanted to do!” Alexia exclaimed, and even though Salma had picked her sport at nineteen and not eighty, it still managed to elicit a small laugh from her goddaughter.

“You deserve to be there, that is why they called you up! This is a chance for you to go and see if you like it. That’s what youth team camps are all about,” Alexia insisted, and there was a pause on the line before the teenager spoke again.

“But also…what if they don’t like me Alexia? What if I am not Norwegian enough for them, or not good enough at football, or I’m weird and young and I don’t make any friends?” Elena said all in a rush, dumping out the bucket of her worries to be sifted through by her ever loving godmother.

“Oh Elena. They are going to LOVE you, because you are kind and considerate and compassionate. The rest of it isn’t important, you just need to go in there and be kind and you will make friends, I promise. And hey, who knows, some of the girls there might be international as well! Some of your mothers old teammates have children, many of whom were all raised in different countries,” Alexia rattled patiently, remembering acutely how worried she had been when she had begun to be called up to national team camps. She tries her hardest to tell Elena what she needed to be told when she was a young girl, with nobody to give her this advice first hand.

“I remember when I was younger, god I was a disaster at youth team camps! I was so awkward and shy, but the girls were still always so nice and welcoming, I didn’t have much time to feel self conscious about it,” the midfielder remembered fondly, chuckling to herself as she thought back on the memory.

Oh, if only I had managed to grow out of my social anxiety as I got older, she thought wryly, before focusing back on the conversation.

“And hey, at the worst? It’s only two weeks. Two weeks of just giving it a try, and then at least you can say that you did it. If you don’t like it, nobody will force you to go back,” Alexia promised.

“And you’d still…still be proud of me? Even if I hated it and never wanted to play football again because it was so terrible?” Elena asked quietly, her voice soft.

“Elena, I would be proud of you if you went on to win the Ballon d’Or, or if you never touched a football again in your entire life. I will always be proud of you, no matter what you do. But for the record, I don’t think it’s going to be that bad, but even if it went terribly, I will still love you,” Alexia insisted, and it’s the truth. Years later, when Elena graduates from medical school, it will be Alexia who skips the Ballon d’Or ceremony that she had been invited to present at, in order to sit in the front row with Mapi and Ingrid’s family, screaming when her goddaughter walked across the stage to receive her degree.

But for now, she is content to love the teenager in whatever way she needs, including when she is just trying to figure out what she wants to do in life.

“Thank you Alexia. I love you,” Elena whispered, her throat suddenly tight with how grateful she is to have her godmother in her life.

To the rest of the world, Alexia might be the terrifying former Barcelona captain, one of the best players of their generation, but to Elena? She had always been the woman whose face lit up when she walked in the room, the woman who adored spending time with her and reading stories and gave her the best hugs.

“I love you too pequeña, always,” Alexia insists, wishing her goddaughter goodnight before they hung up the phone.

With a renewed sense of sureness, Elena marched back inside with determination and right over to where her mothers were sitting together on the couch, pressed up against one another as they tried to pretend that they weren’t entirely focused on the balcony.

The dark haired teenager raised her eyebrow slightly at the upside down crossword Mapi was pretending to complete and the fact that Ingrid was staring at her wife like she was trying to memorize the silhouette of her face despite the fact that they spent every single day together. She knew they were just doing their best, and that they were both far too nosy for their own good.

“I would like to go to the youth camp,” she declared, and both Ingrid and Mapi smiled brightly at their daughter as they nodded their agreement, happy to see that she was so sure of herself.

—

Ingrid had flown out to Oslo with Elena, but she only stayed long enough to drop her off at the hotel and check her in with the staff members. The players were going directly to training, where parents really weren’t supposed to go, and Ingrid hadn’t really planned to spend a whole ton of time around unless Elena needed her to, for some reason.

It wasn’t the first time Elena had said goodbye to her mother before they separated for something like this, but it did feel weird to know that she wouldn’t see either of her parents for a whole two weeks.

She clings to the Norwegian for a hair too long, her grip tighter than it’s been in awhile. She feels young again, much younger than she actually is. Luckily, Ingrid’s love is readily available, and she doesn’t comment on her daughter's slightly desperate grip.

“You’re going to be just fine, Elena. I love you, you call me if you need anything okay? Your Mami and I will call you once a day at least but if you need us more than that we are only a phone call away. And we can always hop on a flight if you need us!” Ingrid rambled, knowing that when she stopped talking she would have to leave.

“I will be okay Mama. I’ll be sure to call you and Mami a lot to tell you about everything. I love you!” Elena called out as she finally forced herself away, leaving with one of the trainers to get settled in her hotel room before training commenced in a bit.

She got her stuff settled in the room, noticing that another girl had already placed her luggage on the opposite side of the room. The green eyed girl wondered briefly who her roommate would be, but she didn’t have much time to think on it when someone came to get her for training.

She was one of the last to arrive, and therefore by the time she had arrived out to the pitch, all of the girls were starting to warm up.

Most of the girls are older than she is, standing in groups as they all laughed and chatted in a variety of languages. Elena was generally a pretty outgoing person in most circumstances, but this admittedly made her more nervous than usual.

A lot of the girls seemed to already have groups of friends, and seemed older than her. It felt awkward to go up and introduce herself to these random people who already had a set friend group.

She could see Frida and Emma’s daughter Kajsa in a group with a few other girls. Her mother had told her that Kajsa would be there, but the two didn’t know one another, because Kajsa was nearly two years older than she was.

She noticed a few of the girls were standing by themselves off to the side, and she surveyed them quickly to determine who to walk up to. Most of them looked pretty focused, staring intently at the ball they were working with, clearly deep within their thoughts.

She clocked Valeria, Marta and Caro’s daughter, but the look on her face is dark and filled with a determination that offsets Elena from feeling willing to go up to her.

When she turned to her right, there was a girl who looked to be a little younger than the rest, much like herself, who was juggling the ball off to the side of the group. She had light brown, almost mousy hair, and unlike the other girls who were by themselves, she had a bright smile as she looked down at the ball.

She actually looked like she was having fun, and Elena isn’t entirely sure what makes her feet start moving, but all the sudden she’s standing right in front of her, clearing her throat and greeting the girl.

“Hi,” Elena said softly as she walked over, a wash of nerves. The girl looked up at her in surprise, her mouth forming a little “o” as she stared back at the other girl. The ball fell listlessly at her feet, and she offered a slightly shy smile of her own back.

“Hey,” she replied, her voice soft and calm. She seemed quite nervous, her outward behavior a direct reflection of what Elena was feeling on the inside.

“I’m Elena,” the teenager introduced, and the girl seemed to perk up slightly. She seemed very shy, and if there was one thing the green eyed girl was good at, it was getting introverts out of their shell.

“My name is Kaia,” she echoed Elena’s greeting, and the Barcelona native couldn’t help the grin that broke out onto her face at the flush that was peaking through Kaia’s cheeks.

The taller girl's accent was strange, no matter what language she spoke. Her Norwegian was accented, and so was her English, and Elena couldn’t put her finger on it until they were hanging out in their room later that night.

The two had been selected to room together for the two weeks, so it really was serendipitous that Elena had chosen to go up to Kaia as opposed to any of the other girls who were by themselves.

They were sitting in their respective beds in their hotel room later that night, when the taller girl turned toward Elena with an air of nerves around her.

“Is it okay if I call my mums?” She asked, and the Spanish Norwegian immediately furrowed her brows. Kaia clearly takes it as being more malicious and less as the confusion it really is, as the dark haired girl tried to figure out if what she had said was the truth. Kaia had experienced plenty of teasing in her youth from her peers about her two mothers, and she immediately draws back in on herself as a result.

“Yeah I…I have two mums,” she said softly, but the confusion shifted to her when Elena smiled brightly at her sentence.

“Me too!” She exclaimed, and Kaia’s mouth flopped open, her reservations fleeing her with the drop of a hat practically.

“Really?!” The taller girl asked in amazement, her whole face lighting up in relief. She didn’t often meet many others who could say this.

“Yeah, I do! They used to play on the same football team together, that’s where they met,” Elena explained, and once again Kaia looked at her new friend in complete surprise.

“That’s exactly what happened with my mums too! Do you want to meet them?” Kaia asked earnestly, and Elena nodded before she bounded over to the other bed, stuffing her smaller body close next to Kaia’s as the girl FaceTimed her mothers.

“Hello darling!” Elena recognized Fran Kirby by both her appearance and accent in half a second, understanding settling over her. She remembered her mother telling her that Maren and Fran had a daughter her age, but she didn’t know that Kaia would be here.

Suddenly, Kaia’s English accented Norwegian, and Norwegian accented English were starting to make sense. The accents made sense when she could place exactly where they had come from.

“Mum, this is my friend Elena,” Kaia introduced, and the dark haired girl watched in amusement as Maren poked her head into the camera frame as well, a big smile on her face.

“You’re Ingrid and Mapi’s daughter, right?” Maren asked kindly, and Elena nodded eagerly, waving hello to the older woman she had met several times.

“You guys have met each other before, but only when you were babies!” Fran recalled, a statement Maren agreed with readily.

Ingrid is equally as excited about Elena’s befriending of Kaia when they call her and Mapi right after, the two girls regaling their day at training in long detail.

Okay, it’s a lot of Elena talking in long tangents as Kaia listens patiently, adding in a few details here and there. But the older girl seems completely content to listen to Elena speak, capturing every small detail and little moment.

For the two weeks they are at camp, the fourteen and fifteen year old are entirely inseparable. They eat together, train together, and when one of them gets lonely, they crawl into the other's bed to hang out and talk far past when they were supposed to go to bed (neither of them are aware that when they are older, they’ll spend every single night like that, together).

Kaia followed Elena around almost like a lost puppy, and the dark haired girl happily drug her everywhere she went. It was easy for Elena to pull Kaia out of her shell, natural really, and they clearly fit together really well.

It’s clear to anyone with eyeballs that Kaia has a crush on Elena, but neither of them are quite old enough to pick up on it. All they know is that they both loved spending time with one another, although neither of them realized just how much until later in life.

But as relationships usually are when you are young, when the two girls leave camp, despite having exchanged phone numbers, they fall out of touch with one another. Kaia lives in England, and Elena still lives in Barcelona, and the opportunities for them to see one another in person are rare.

They still follow one another through social media, and the occasional texting conversation. When Kaia gets her first Lioness call up at just 17, Elena is one of the first people to text her congratulations. And when Elena graduates high school, Kaia of course texts her to congratulate her as well, thrilled for her friend.

But nothing feels quite the same as when they were younger, and Elena tried to accept that. She tried to move on, unsure of why she was so stuck on some two week friendship that, in the grand scheme of things, shouldn’t really have meant anything.

Or would it?

Luckily, their distance wasn’t something she’d have to accept for forever.

—

Elena had just gotten out of one of her university classes when she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket, and she reached down to fish it out.

The dark haired girl couldn’t stop the shock she felt traveling through her when she saw the name on her phone, and the contact pictured attached, signaling who was calling her.

It was an old photo, one from four years ago in fact, and it felt like a time capsule, pulling the green eyed girl back to a time of football camps and giggling under the covers with one of the funniest people she had ever met. A time of spending two weeks attached at the hip with a shy girl who blushed when she held her hand to drag her toward the gym, who always passed her the ball even though she clearly wasn’t the best player at camp.

She stared at Kaia’s picture for so long she almost forgot to accept the phone call, and she scrambled to do so before the ringing ceased.

“Kaia?” She asks into her phone almost breathlessly, despite the fact that she’s standing still. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she’s not entirely sure why. Her and Kaia haven’t spoken really since they were fourteen and fifteen, and they were eighteen and nineteen now.

It was too long for her reaction to be this visceral, but it still is, for some reason. She can’t explain it, she doesn’t want it to ever go away, though.

“Hi Elena,” Kaia says softly, and her voice is lower and more mature, but it’s still Kaia. It warms Elena’s heart immensely, and she smiles despite the fact that the English footballer can’t see her.

“How are you?” The dark haired girl asked, genuinely curious. She could have picked up the phone and called, she knew that, but for some reason she hadn’t.

It felt even more strange for Kaia to be calling. Shy, quiet, sometimes awkward Kaia, who sometimes people thought was mean, but Elena knew it was really just that she spent far too much time in her own head.

Although, she didn’t look all that awkward when she was on a football pitch, scoring goals like she was born to be a nine. She was brilliant, if a bit inexperienced.

“I’m, I’m good. Really good actually. But I, well, I need your help with something,” Kaia explained quickly, and Elena raised her brow but asked what the striker needed all the same.

“You spent last summer in Sweden right?” Kaia asked, and when Elena confirmed it, she continued. The green eyed girl had gone to spend the summer with Frido, and even Ingrid and Mapi had come for a few weeks on holiday as well. “I’m going on loan to Hammarby for the season to get some more experience, and I was hoping you had any some tips on how to get around, or your favorite spots. Or any of the slang they’re using nowadays, it’s been an embarrassingly long amount of time since I’ve been back to Norway, and the only Norwegian I’m speaking nowadays is with Mom,” she revealed, and Elena felt her heart flutter in her chest.

If she were thinking about it logically, it would be a little suspicious. Plenty of the girls who they played with in the youth teams were actually playing in Sweden, and probably knew much better than Elena did from just a summer spent with Frido in the countryside.

And there was always the fact that her mother probably knew dozens of Swedes, who again would know better than the Barcelona based Spaniard.

But she doesn’t care, because Kaia is calling her, and suddenly she has an excuse to talk to the girl who she’s been unable to get out of her head for years. She hadn’t realized until an embarrassingly long amount of time after the fact that it was a crush she had on Kaia back then, but as soon as she had realized she had been unable to let that go.

Would things have been different, if they had stayed in touch afterward? She wasn’t entirely sure, but it didn’t matter. Maybe they could be friends now, if nothing else.

Even if it isn’t going to turn into anything, she’d rather have a tiny bit of Kaia than nothing at all. She doubted Kaia would ever feel the same about her, and how could she? Sweet, brilliant, talented, soon to be famous Kaia, who would never fall for the university student who had little interest in the fame and money that football wanted.

(Oh, if only she knew that Kaia wanted every single part of her, wholly, completely. She always had, even when they were kids.)

—

Elena rolled over in her sleep, and unlike usual, there was an object blocking her from doing so fully.

An object that smelled like jasmine and everything safe in the world, and the dark haired woman instantly turned to burrow into it, clinging tightly to the woman in her bed.

Strong arms pulled her in tightly, and she blinked her eyes open sleepily to find that Kaia was smiling down at her, before the hazel eyed woman held her face gently in her hands, leaning forward to press a resounding kiss to her forehead.

“Good morning,” she said softly, before she moved to bring Elena further into her, pressing their bodies together as she had longed to do for what felt like years. The smaller woman allowed her body to be moved easily, wrapping her own arms around Kaia and holding her close.

“You weren’t supposed to get in until later today?” She says in lieu of a greeting, her voice raspy and soft as she allows herself to stay nestled against her girlfriend. It's been over a month since they last saw one another, with their respective busy schedules.

“I took an earlier flight. I wanted to see you sooner,” Kaia admits sheepishly, her nose twinging with pink as it gives away how clearly besotted she is. Elena’s eyebrows furrowed adorably in confusion as she leaned back to look her girlfriend in the eye, and the brunette reached forward to press her thumb to the space between her eyebrows and smoothing the crease, just because she could.

“I was asleep! That can’t be exciting enough to move your flight to get in at seven in the morning,” She protested as she looked over at the clock with a wince at how early the time was, but Kaia just let out a small laugh.

“I firmly disagree, you are completely adorable when you are asleep, and you get all clingy in the mornings. I couldn’t stand to miss another morning of it if I didn’t have to,” Kaia argues good naturedly, and Elena smiles before she presses forward, finally kissing her girlfriend for real. She loved this version of Kaia, the one that was all soft and giggly and gentle.

It was the version of her that only existed for the green eyed woman, and nobody else. And as much as Elena loved seeing her girlfriend score buckets of goals on the pitch, this would always be her favorite version of the woman.

“You don’t have to miss it anymore,” the Barcelona native whispered against her lips with excitement, and could feel the curve of Kaia’s own lips as she echoed the dark haired woman’s smile.

“Not anymore, no. I’m going in at two today to sign the contract and take photos, so you need to help me with my hair and makeup,” Kaia explained, and Elena let out a sigh of relief as she nodded, more than willing to do so.

After her one year loan spell at Hammarby, Kaia had returned back to Chelsea until she was twenty two years old, when she had made a move to Atletico Madrid for a year. All the while, she and Elena had never lost touch after that initial phone call about Kaia’s ‘Swedish questions.’

While she was at Hammarby, Elena had come to visit her several times (as much as her school schedule allowed), and the more time they had spent together the more the two had realized that what they had went far beyond the bounds of a normal friendship. By the time Kaia was set to go back to Chelsea after her loan, the two had begun dating.

Elena’s six year medical school program was in Barcelona, and when Kaia went to move clubs to Spain when she was 22, the only offer closer than England had been for Atletico Madrid. The couple had figured that it was better than nothing, and Elena had argued that it would give the Barcelona staff a chance to see how brilliant the English player was.

And sure enough, she was right, because it was not more than a few months into her contract that they reached out, asking to sign the Lioness after the expiration of her one year contract with Atletico Madrid.

All of which led them to today, after nearly five years of dating, when Kaia signed her first Barcelona contract, which would keep her in Catalonia for the next four years.

“I love you so much,” Elena murmured as she tucked herself back into the striker, allowing herself to collapse into the sturdy arms that are wrapped around her.

The brunette deposited a resounding kiss to the crown of her girlfriends head, cuddling closer to Elena and relishing in the closeness that they never seemed to be able to get enough of.

And while they don’t know it at the time, they’ll never have to be without one another for the rest of their lives, luckily.

#ingrid engen #mapi leon #ingrid x mapi x daughter #barcelona femeni #woso #alexia putellas

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spore-loser · 22 hours

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Rhys holding grudges against Lucien and Nesta despite Feyre forgiving them is disrespectful of her wishes and hypocritical of him in general.

ACOFS: “But I cannot let go of how [Lucien] treated you after Under the Mountain.” “I can. I’ve forgiven him for that.” “Well, you’ll forgive me if I can’t.”

Lucien tried his best to help Feyre after UTM. He advocated for her at his own expense and there was only so much he could do because he was not the HL. He tried to bring Feyre back to the SC because he thought she had been kidnapped, was being mind-controlled, and sexually assaulted. Then (regardless of his reasoning) Lucien risked his life to get Feyre back to the NC.

“You still can barely talk to Nesta,” I said. “Yet Elain you can talk to nicely.” “Elain is Elain.” “If you blame one, you have to blame the other.” “No, I don’t. Elain is Elain,” he repeated. “Nesta is … she’s Illyrian. I mean that as a compliment, but she’s an Illyrian at heart. So there is no excuse for her behavior.” “She more than made up for it this summer, Rhys.” “I cannot forgive anyone who made you suffer.”

Feyre was right but Rhys just brushed it off with infantilization of Elain and a vague statement about Nesta. Both Elain and Feyre at that point had called out the double standard of blaming Nesta and not Elain.

The IC could judge Nesta all they wanted but none of them had a right to hold Nesta accountable for that situation. It was Archeron family business and Feyre’s choice to forgive Nesta. It is disrespectful to her and that choice for Rhys to forever hold a grudge and let it affect his behavior. Feyre repeatedly told him to back off her sister. She knew Nesta in a way the IC did not, did not take her behavior personally post-cabin, and could handle her. Being antagonistic to Nesta would in no way help Feyre’s relationship with her and only contribute to the strain.

What does Nesta being Illyrian at heart even mean? We didn’t get an explanation on that, so it is left up to our interpretations.

“The Illyrians (…) are unparalleled warriors, and are rich with stories and traditions.” -ACOMAF

This is how Rhys introduced Feyre to his and his mother’s people. So I assume what he meant with the comparison is that Nesta is strong(-willed) and ruthless. Whatever he meant, his reasoning is: due to her similarity, Nesta’s behavior is inexcusable.

I’m not saying Nesta’s treatment of Feyre was excusable, but at that point Nesta had done everything Feyre asked of her and then some. She had been involved in the war effort on every level, from diplomacy to helping in the camps to strategy to the battlefield. She saved Cassian’s life multiple times. She directly risked her life to distract the King of Hybern. She helped kill the King of Hybern. She was crucial to the war effort and Rhys just ignored that because of something Feyre had already forgiven Nesta for.

Rhys himself is actually Illyrian so why is his behavior excusable? For weeks he sexually exploited Feyre in front of everyone UTM without any logical reason except to get back at Tamlin. Feyre forgave him and they moved on without Rhys even offering an apology or them having a real discussion on how it hurt her. Why does Rhys get away with his abuse so easily but for the rest of Nesta’s life she is to be held responsible for something she was singled out for? (Not even holding her accountable for the verbal abuse, but specifically the hunting thing.)

“They’re my family. You have to forgive Nesta at some point.” (…) “Should that be my Solstice gift to you?” he murmured. “Forgiving Nesta for letting her fourteen-year-old sister go into those woods?”

It was not Rhys’ place to forgive, it was Feyre’s. And why did Rhys only blame Nesta for letting Feyre go? Their father was the one responsible for the Archeron’s poverty and he made no attempt to work even before his attack. Rhys knew this.

he hadn’t argued when I announced that I was going hunting. He hadn’t bothered to attempt to stand from his seat by the fire, hadn’t bothered to look up from his wood carving. He just let me walk into those deadly, eerie woods that even the most seasoned hunters were wary of. -ACOTAR

“My mother died when I was eight; my father lost his fortune three years later. He sold everything to pay off his debts, moved us into a hovel, and didn’t bother to find work while he let us slowly starve for years. I was fourteen when the last of the money ran out, along with the food. He wouldn’t work—couldn’t, because the debtors came and shattered his leg in front of us. So I went into the forest and taught myself to hunt. And I kept us all alive, if not near starvation at times, for five years.” -ACOMAF

Why did Rhys not hold it against Feyre’s father that he sat by and did nothing while his youngest daughter went out to hunt? Instead, Rhys asked Feyre if she wanted to name their son after him. The narrative obviously treated the Archeron father differently because he came through for his daughters in the end and gave his life for them, but why was he never judged by the IC for his failure to his daughters in the first place?

Rhys holding a grudge against Lucien and Nesta for how they treated Feyre is peak hypocrisy. He mistreated Feyre throughout their whole relationship.

ACOTAR: Going into Feyre’s mind and using it to humiliate her, and everything UTM, which was all completely counterintuitive and unnecessary to their survival.

ACOMAF: Rhys only gave Feyre the illusion of choice, emotionally manipulated her, and gaslit her about Tamlin. He put Feyre in dangerous situations several times without all the facts both at the Weaver’s cottage and using her to bait the Attor (near the Archeron house, also putting them at risk).

ACOWAR: Being 500+ years old, he should have been the one to think better of entering into a toxically co-dependent death pact with his only twenty-year-old mate.

ACOSF: Regardless of his reasoning for it, hiding that Feyre’s pregnancy was life-threatening is medical abuse. It’s disrespectful to her on multiple levels because she made it very clear to Rhys she never wanted to be left in the dark. He had her whole support system in on it too, isolating Feyre emotionally. Her whole family betrayed her trust over something Feyre should have been told before she even got pregnant. Even if Rhys is only half Illyrian, there was always a chance of his and Feyre’s children having wings, and it was common knowledge among the bat boys that wings were a danger to high fae mothers.

#acotar #acotar analysis #feyre archeron #lucien vanserra #nesta archeron #rhysand #sjm critical

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 21 hours

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Ironically i thought F&B was the worst thing Grrm has ever written, however watching hotd has made me appreciate F&B alot despite how terrible it's compared to other Grrm's good stories. it's still better than whatever Condal came with. The fact that book!Alicent& Rhaenyra despite being historical figures have much more agency than show!Alicent& Rhaenyra who are pov characters is so funny to me.

I do like F&B, but I like it for the faux history aspect of it, not the story. The story is nothing special. There are some cool bits, and I think most of the characters have the potential to be really fascinating, but they are bare bones at best.

Ultimately though, the characters in the F&B do generally act in a consistent way, and if you work backwards from their actions, you can arrive at a characterization. I feel like the show has done this with Aegon and Aemond for the most part, and even with Daemon, with a few hiccups along the way. But with Alicent and Rhaenyra they did the opposite and it shows. They started with the characters they wanted to portray, and then went about forcing these new characters to perform book events, when those events were not written for a pair of estranged ex-friends, they were written for a stepmother and stepdaughter whose relationship has always been contentious at best. The actions that Alicent and Rhaenyra take in the book are not the actions that people love each other would take. If George had written them as close friends from the start the Dance would have played out very differently!

But that's not the story he wrote, and adapting actions written for people actively antagonistic towards each other to characters who are meant to love each other forces the showrunners into certain corners. Making Otto and Daemon the masterminds orchestrating the violence (remember, in the book Otto never suggested murdering Rhaenyra and her children, and Daemon was the one who urged caution when Rhaenys wanted to go straight to war), inventing a prophesy and deathbed misunderstanding which fundamentally alter the nature of the conflict, these things are done to soften the impact of the canonical actions of these women, but it also absolutely takes away from their agency. You get a really odd situation where the showrunners simultaneously want us to believe that the women should be in charge because the men ruin everything, but the women themselves are both unable to take direct action for fear of harming each other, but also unable to retreat, because the story demands they come to a certain end. Rhaenyra cannot accept the peace terms Alicent sends, or any future peace terms she proposes, and for all that they might come into conflict, Alicent cannot actually join team black and betray her entire family, the children she spent her whole young adulthood keeping alive. Ryan Condal has said that even after Luke's death he still believes there is hope of reconciliation but we know that fundamentally that can only be true in theory because the ending is a forgone conclusion.

There are people who say that Alicent is fundamentally caught between duty and desire, and that is why her character is inconsistent, but I cannot help but think that the reason why her actions are inconsistent is because half of them were written for another character entirely.

#asks #alicent hightower #hotd critical

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hiwelcometothemonstersancturary · 2 days

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I think that the whole gang, if put into a seemingly inescapable situation, would want to go out together like the toys prepare to do in the furnace scene of Toy Story 3.

Anon why did you do this to me... Now I have to write this.

Goodbye, forever this time

Warnings: Major angst, major character death, unhappy ending, everyone dies in the end, gore, blood, fire, explosions. Notes: Not canon to Poppy Worldwide! That AU has a happy ending.

So, this was it.

This was how they would die.

Dogday wasn't expecting things to go like this. Not after everything they went through, not after all the work they put into their new lives, not after finally escaping that nightmare. He had a taste of freedom and the Sun to look up to every morning. He could take long walks in the woods, could say hello to every single one of the friends he thought had died. He had everything.

And now, his mother was dead, his father was gone, and they had nowhere else to run.

He stared at his bloody hands. The last thing Angel told him was to live. Not survive, live. "You are everything I have", they choked on their own blood. "So please, try to live without me".

"This is it", Dogday muttered, still feeling the ghost of his parent holding his hand. "No way out".

"Quit whining", Long Legs groaned, spread on a corner, trembling and now without one of her legs. How ironic. "This can't be it".

"But it is".

He had to control his tone so he wouldn't break down in tears. At any moment, the fire would find them, and once it did, it would be over. And if it wasn't the fire, then it would be Pierre.

"What did mom tell you?", Marie added. They all heard it. It was a stupid, stupid rethorical question. Dogday took a step towards her:

"What do you want me to do?"

"Think of a way out of this! We can't let them down again!"

"Mom is dead!"

"I saw that, do you think I'm blind?"

"Quit it, you two!"

Dogday lowered his ears. Kissy and Poppy were hugging each other, the tiny doll, now partially broken, speaking up only loud enough for the group to hear.

"Please", she cleaned her own tears. "Please, just stop".

"I'm sorry", he muttered. "It's just..."

He could still hear Elliot throwing them away from the room that started the fire, using whatever was left of his strenght to end Sawyer's life once and for all.

Dogday felt a hug. He closed his eyes, feeling Catnap purr. "I'm sorry".

The feline held him closer. Dogday sobbed. The fire was getting closer as well.

He heard a sigh; Marie then hugged him. Her way of apologizing, he knew it, and that was the only reason he was still able to reciprocate the hug.

Then, the others joined. The entire family of 88, now 86, soon enough to be 0. They smelt like ash and dried blood, just like before Angel found them.

Dogday wanted to scream, but he couldn't. Not like this, not in this situation. So when they all stopped hugging each other, he merely pressed his head against Catnap's, holding him close, and watched in silence as a scream echoed in the background.

"It's Pierre", Craftycorn muttered. "I-it's him", she hid her face, Huggy trying to comfort her. "What should we do...?"

Delight got up.

"Mother told us to live", she spoke up. "So let's do that one more time, shall we? When he comes over there, he will be weak enough for us to kill him. And then, we can dance one last time".

"We will pass out before the fire is able to do much damage", Bubba muttered. "This may be for the best".

The other critters agreed. And, although a bit later, the others nodded along.

Dogday pretended Angel was still alive for them. He tried to wipe Catnap's tears, but only left their mother's blood on his face.

"I love you", the orange dog was able to whisper.

"I love you too", the other whispered back.

They were robbed of everything once again. But this time, at least this one time, they wouldn't die alone in a dark and empty factory, but a burning laboratory next to each other.

Maybe things were meant to be this way. Maybe they were never meant to live. Maybe this was what took Angel's life.

"Goodbye".

#poppy playtime #poppy worldwide #save everyone au #catnap #dogday #smiling critters #the smiling critters #ppt poppy #kissy missy #huggy wuggy #bubba bubbaphant #miss delight #mommy long legs #the angel #the prototype #experiment 1006 #garca writing

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gauloiseblue · 2 days

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Just read the newest fic and OH MY GOD I HAVE NO WORDS

HOLY FUCK

Something something König is kinda low key ungrateful for the Angel saving him from the Fae preferring that the Fay might as well take him and kill him or shit if she's not taking him

Something something König seeing having his Engel for himself as an appropriate reparation for essentially giving him crippling addiction for the divine

Something something König wanting his Engel as a way to still think of himself as salvageable if not redeemable

Something something IOFAB König seeing his wife as something of an angel in a very twisted way

Something something König first trapping his Engel through divine and mystical ways (the blood and the removal of her halo) and then keeping her with him through worldly means (irl stuff that a celestial being only observed from far away)

Something something IOFAB König being very devoted to his wife in a very twisted way, giving her whatever she asked him for except freedom and some other things

Something something IOFAB König wanting to feel his wife's sublime presence and affection through any means necessary

Something something IOFAB König wanting his wife with him and only him at all times akin to a child praying to his guardian angel Angel of God, my guardian dear...

Something something IOFAB König having his wife as a way to taste the closest thing to heaven since he knows he's not getting there

Something something both Königs seeing their obsession as home after spending years in the battlefield

Girlie, why did you put your poetries in my inbox AKDLFLKDJK— 😭😭😭😭😭 not me squealing and kicking my feet when reading your ask orz

Yea, he's such an ungrateful human :/ he should've built a shrine or a temple for her to express his gratitude, but nooo, he put her through hell instead.

(Fun fact, if you translate the title, you'll find that it's an idiom that basically sums the whole story.)

And you're so right. Both IOFAB and heretic König share one similarity. They're both ruthless and extremely selfish. They're also very forceful, aside from the non-con element of course. It's like he has the mindset of a bird collector; if he can provide protection and fulfill their needs, then it's alright for him to keep them.

I honestly wrote that story because there's just something about being kind to the wrong person. Like, we all know that we should be kind to others, but what if that person ended up betraying us? Just like what I described in the story, an Angel is a protector of the innocents. So she had no choice but to 'mark' him as a way to protect him, but she forgot that human changes. She didn't expect that the kid she once helped would go that far to meet her again. Moreover, to keep her by his side.

Then again, I always love the problematic stuffs. Like devotion if it's taken too far, corruption, the whole manipulation thing, obsession, etc etc.

Once again, thank you for your ask. I'm genuinely happy when people look past my problematic kinks and enjoy the stories that I wrote <3

#little-shit-with-zero-control ask #cod #call of duty #konig x reader #heretic König #IOFAB

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oraclemilf · 5 hours

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Thankkk YOU. Astarion is NOT Wyll. I like what they’ve done with Astarion as a character but the fandom is so so so so wrong about so many things. I’m always like, “Astarion would NOT say that/do that/think that/etc.”

I think the big problem with astarion fans is that they want him to be secretly nice. He is not nice. Even after you go all the way through act 3 and convince and build him up to being a better person he only really gives a shit about your small party of friends and a few others he can vaguely empathize with and that's IT. Even at his best, he's very ride or die for a select few people only. He's not a romantic he's been through a horrible abusive relationship, so he's super gun shy about any intimacy that's not a manipulation tactic or sex. Yes, he has a beautiful romance arc with Tav, and he's a very well written character, but he's also deeply corruptable and self-serving at his core level. His character development hinges on guiding him away from his true nature. He doesn't have a secret heart of gold or whatever he has to do the dirty work of changing his mindset and actions from scratch. I like him, truly. But I'm tired of the portrayal of him as a poor, helpless little guy who didn't know better. He did that shit! Love him despite it. Or don't I'm not your Mom.

Wyll, though? He has never done anything wrong in his entire life. I don't care. Like everyone wants the grizzled overprotective guy with a heart of gold who got in a bad way with a being more powerful than them but trying to be good despite that and try to turn Astarion into that WHEN WYLL IS RIGHT THERE. He's even a rich noble who got kicked out on the streets and had to survive on his own with a demon breathing down his neck AND STILL he chooses kindness. Wyll is similarly a dangerous soul pact with a much more powerful being that has total control over his body and actions, but he still tries so hard to always do what is right despite it. He will take any punishment to protect people. He met Karach for 5 minutes after trying to kill her on false information for weeks and was literally ready to die by Mizora's hand to atone for his mistake. I love him so fucking much he needs more love from this fandom he's my favorite guy of all time. His story needs to be finished so fucking bad. WYLL SUPREMACY FOREVER.

#bg3 #astarion #wyll ravengard #oracles prophecies

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jjelliacee · 11 months

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‘You think me weak,’ Glorian said, willing her voice not to quake. ‘You always have – but I know whose bone and blood I am. I am the chosen of the Saint, the fruit of his unending vine, the iron of the eversnow. I am the daughter of Sabran the Ambitious and the Hammer of the North, and I will rule this realm without fear. My reign will be remembered for centuries to come.’ She let the words soak through the silence, then said, ‘I am enough.’

Glorian Shieldheart in the style of Jeanne d'Arc by Albert Lynch

#glorian shieldheart #glorian berethnet #a day of fallen night #the roots of chaos #samantha shannon #book art #she makes me weep in the most pathetic way #i want to take her away from whatever is going on in her story #my art

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evansbby · 1 year

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I love the poyt series BUT PLS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD KILL STEVE OR ANYTHNG LIKE I SERIOUSLY HATE HIM. AND NO AMOUNT OF CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT CAN SAVE HIM. LIKE I WAS SEETHING IN THE LAST CHAPTER OF HOW QUICKLY WE JUST FORGIVE HIM??? LIKE TF it's always like this i'm sick of reading stories where the man lead does shitty things and the female forgives him for the bare minimum. PLS MAKE YOUR EXCELLENT FIC DIFF THAN OTHERS AND MAKE THAT MAN MISERABLE AND GIVE US A HAPPY ENDING NOT WITH HIM!! Thanks!

Your opinion is completely valid and I’m glad your so invested in the fic but please do trust me!

#this kiiiinda is rubbing me the wrong way 😅😅#she’s forgiven him bc she’s innately kind #also she does say she WANTS to hate him for all he’s done to her but she just can’t #Steve still have a LONG way to go as well #apologising means he recognised the problem #it’s what he does from here on out which counts #just trust where I take this story #and if you don’t agree with it or find it believable then that’s okay #the hardest part to write is Steve’s developments #and I don’t claim to be an amazing writer so maybe it IS hard to believe #but still I ask you to trust me and leave your judgements till the end of the fic #also I feel like most dark fics end with the reader escaping the bad guy main character #although I’m not giving away the ending of poyt bc I want it to be a surprise #but yeah… I’m not trying to be like other fics OR be deliberately different from other fics #I’m just writing the story that is coming from my heart and soul #i know that sounds cheesy but that’s how it feels 😅😅😅#and whatever happens… if you don’t agree with it then that’s valid but I’ll stand by whatever decision I make #GOD WHY DID I MAKE IT SOUND SO MUCH DEEPER THAN IT IS #idek!!! this kinda made me sad/mad but not really bc I understand where you’re coming from???#but please respectfully don’t tell a writer how to write their fic 😌😌😌#anon #poyt ask

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bumblingbabooshka · 2 years

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Was trying to design a telepathic alien child that is the embodiment of ‘kills you with my mind’ - and I succeeded! So here’s my daughter, Jeepers!

Alt Color(?)

#My main design influences were 50's sewing guides on pinterest - Jake Sisko - and The Jetsons #This alien telepath child with the urge to hurt others is me fulfilling a promise (by which I mean random post) I made a while ago #saying I wanted to give Tuvok and Lon Suder a violent girl ward - so here she is v_v #her race does not have arms! Nothing bad happened to her arms - she was just born like that as are all her people #My thought is that Jeepers was abandoned on a planet by her people and the shock/trauma of that abandonment + having no one to guide her #led to her basically taking over that planet and banning all adults from it as she views adults as untrustworthy and terrible!#When any ships with children aboard enter into the planet's air space she uses her powers to disorient/distract the adults and sends #her little army of children aboard the ship to cause havoc and bring whatever children were on it back down to the planet #the planet is full of crashed ships because if anyone tries to go down to get the children back she disorients them enough to crash the ship #I have an entire episode idea but long story short is that Tuvok - the ultimate dad - fights through all attempts to scare him away in order #to rescue the children - and when he sees that their attacker actually IS a child herself he wants to help her as well #and she desperately probes his mind for the hatred/anger/fear she's felt from all the other adults but finds none #and then she cries and he picks her up and soothes her like any good parent would v_v #I think they eventually return her to her people! Tuvok and his telepath daughters whom he has to say goodbye to v_v #Jeepers cannot actually telepathically influence people to do things - she can only make them hallucinate but she's VERY good at doing it #however as a child she often has trouble keeping the hallucinations realistic or logical #which works for fear but not so much for trickery #also she'll bite you! So watch out for that #bea art tag #star trek oc #Jeepers #Her eyes go spiral-y when using her telepathic abilities #her people also age very slowly so she's probably pretty old in human years but she's still a child if that makes sense #like - say her species lives to be a thousand years old. 200 years old would still be a small child.#she remembers her parents being 'really tall' and when you ask her how tall she says 'outer-space big'#her name is from Jeepers Creepers by the hi-los:#jeepers creepers where did you get those peepers? Jeepers creepers - where'd you get those eyes??#How did they get so lit up?? How'd they get that size???? <- it's a pretty disconcerting song

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luv4freddie · 5 months

Text

Fools - T.N

in which the only Hufflepuff friend in the group of slytherins develops a crush on Theodore Nott— something only fools do.

fem!hufflepuff reader, bff Pansy, use of euphemisms and teasing yn for being innocent but sfw, reader is very emotional, jealous theo, 2800 words

"Y/n!!"

After a year, you'd think that people would get used to seeing the same Hufflepuff go over to the Slytherin table, but alas, half the Great Hall turned to watch you approach the table and take a seat next to Pansy.

She sticks her middle finger up behind your back, aiming it at all of the people who are still staring, and they quickly turn away. It was an unlikely friendship, but she was not going to let anyone make you feel bad about it.

"About time you get here," Draco huffs, "I've had to hear Pansy's 'girl talk' while you were sleeping."

You smile sheepishly at him, you had taken your sweet time this morning, hitting snooze a few times before listening to your favorite record and doing more singing than actually getting ready— resulting in you being extra late to breakfast.

"Sorry, Draco."

"Don't apologize yn, he doesn't deserve it."

You can hear the teasing lilt in Theo's voice from across the table, and Draco throws a handful of grapes at him.

"Whatever," Pansy turns her back to them, "did you hear, apparently the Hufflepuff chaser has a crush on you."

Your eyes flit between her face and your hands, and you wonder where she got her information from.

The boys around you seem to perk up at this, and Draco chides Pansy for deeming that piece of information unimportant compared to all her other, much more useless, girl talk this morning.

"Where on Earth did you hear that?" You cut in, not enjoying the way everyone is suddenly interested in your (nonexistent) love life.

"From a very trustworthy source," is all she'll give away, and you cringe.

"Can we change subjects, please?"

Theo narrows his eyes at you, as if he's searching your face for something.

"You don't care about it then? You're not jumping at the chance to ride his broom?"

The Slytherins around you snicker at his euphemism, but you go bright red.

"I- what! Why would you say- no!"

This only makes them laugh harder, but Pansy collects herself enough to place a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Don't worry, we all know our little puff would never."

You slap her hand away, upset at them treating you like a child.

"Well if you guys are only gonna tease me, I'm gonna go back to my own table."

"Y/n, we didn't mean-" Theo starts, but he's still got a smirk on his face, so you ignore him, leaving before he can try and stop you.

You take a seat at your own house table, and the Hufflepuffs around you immediately welcome you into their conversation.

You don't know why it bothered you so much. They were right, you weren't going to be "riding someone's broom" anytime soon, but hearing the way they talked about it— like you were just some silly, innocent baby— really bugged you.

If you were being honest with yourself, you also knew that deep down you've been repressing feelings for Theodore, because you knew enough stories about him to know it would never work. He was a heartthrob, and had no issue finding girls to entertain him at night— to him you were just a little girl. That conversation was just more proof. There's no way he'd be interested in you.

You unintentionally make eye contact with Zacharias Smith when you finally get out of your head, but you immediately look away, turning back to your friends just as Hannah asks about your Christmas plans.

You don't see your Slytherin friends again until Charms class, and Pansy immediately brings up what happened at breakfast.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that. I don't want you to feel bad, that's just how we are."

You give her a tight lipped smile, shrugging your shoulders. You've realized that most of the anger came from the realization that Theo probably saw you as a child, not actually their teasing.

"No biggie, it's forgiven."

She eyes you suspiciously but decides not to question it, instead starting to talk about her next party idea until she gets shushed when Professor Flitwick starts explaining directions.

You use the quiet moment to sneak a look at Theo, who's leaned back in his chair smirking at something Draco said next to him.

Pansy turns to you and you quickly shift your focus, but it appears she's already seen you. She gives you a raised eyebrow, and you play dumb, looking back at the teapot on your desk and trying to give it legs.

"What was that about back there?" Pansy asks as the two of you walk out together.

"I know it took me forever to get those stupid legs," you cringe, hoping to throw her off course.

"No I meant your staring."

You try not to look guilty, just shrugging your shoulders and explaining, "figured the boys might have figured it out faster. Should have known better."

She grins at that, muttering "you really should have." But something tells you she doesn't quite believe your story.

Your thoughts are only confirmed the next day when she invites you over to her dorm and then immediately suggests the two of you take veritaserum to play a game of truth or dare.

You let out a sigh.

"I'm not doing that Pans, just ask me whatever you want to know."

She grins, "you know me so well."

"Unfortunately," you tease, and she slaps your arm but asks her question anyway.

"Do you have a crush on Draco?"

Her face drops into confusion when you start laughing hysterically.

"That's what you thought? Merlin, you had me scared for no reason. No Pans, I absolutely do not have a crush on Draco."

She lets out a small sigh of relief, but you can tell she's a little peeved you laughed at her.

"Well what was I supposed to think? You got all grumpy yesterday when we were teasing you about your love life, and then the staring. It was either that or you're secretly in love with Nott, which, lets be for real."

She leaves it at that, but your cheeks flush pink. Be for real what? Be for real, he'd never want you? Be for real, what universe would the two of you work out? Be for real, he hates you?

The thoughts keep coming one after another, and suddenly your vision is blurred.

"Hey, woah, what's wrong?"

You cursed Pansy for being so observant.

"Nothing, I think my allergies are acting up." You say, but there's sadness in your voice, and there's an inch of snow outside, which isn't exactly pollen friendly.

"Don't lie to me y/n."

"I'm sorry for being so stupid and emotional." You cry, and Pansy rubs your back slowly.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with being emotional! You don't see us do it much, but a lot of that's got to do with how we were raised. I wish I felt things as deeply as you do."

Your tears seem to slow, and she smiles.

"Now as for stupid, that depends on where that fit came from."

You look up at her in embarrassment, more hot tears threatening to fill your eyes.

"I... what did you mean?" You ask instead.

"Huh?"

"When you said be for real about me secretly being.." you couldn't bring yourself to say it, as if saying the words would make it true and something you could no longer push away and pretend wasn't there.

Realization dawns on Pansy's face, and she immediately wraps you up in a hug.

"Oh yn, it all makes sense now."

You continue to cry, and she looks at you with what you assume is pity in her eyes.

"I know, I'm such a fool! I know it would never happen, I know half of Hogwarts has a crush on him, I know he'd never want a girl like me." All of the things you'd been keeping to yourself and secretly thinking come spilling out of your mouth, and Pansy rubs your back while you continue to cry.

"Hey don't talk like that! Theo doesn't care about those people, and I know he cares about you. Not to mention, "a girl like you"? You're the exact type of girl that Theo needs. He practically never smiles the way he does when you're around. Just calm down okay?"

You nod through your cries, finally settling down as Pansy throws a magazine at you and the two of you lay across her bed.

Unknowingly, you end up falling asleep, tired from the amount of crying you did. Pansy notices but decides not to wake you, heading down to the common room where the guys would be getting back from quidditch practice soon.

When you wake up the room is dark, and a quick looks around reminds you you're in Pansy's room and not your own. You check the bathroom attached to the dorm, and when no one is in there you head down to the common room, assuming that's where she's gone to.

The whole group is sat on leather couches and armchairs when you make it down the stairs, and you rub the sleep out of your eyes as you approach the group.

"There's our assonnata bella," Theodore purrs, and you immediately flush even though you only understand half of his phrase. (sleeping beauty)

"Sorry for falling asleep." You apologize as you take the seat Pansy offered you, coincidentally landing between her and the reason for your crying.

"Stop apologizing so much," Theo whispers in your ear, and you refuse to look at him in fear of him seeing exactly the effect he has on you. Instead you continue to look at Pansy.

"No biggie, you needed it after that." She says, and you nod.

"After what? What happened?" Draco asked, ever the nosy weasel.

Pansy looked at you, obviously waiting for you to answer so she could go along with whatever you say.

You consider lying, but figure there's no point. They all know you're an emotional person, no one would find it unusual.

"I- uh- cried a little bit. Tired me out."

The boys (that you can see) all nod their heads in understanding and decide to switch topics, finally letting you relax.

However, since you'd turned your back to Theo, that now meant when you leaned back to get comfy you leaned directly into his chest, as he had one arm on the back of the couch behind you.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" You whisper, shooting back up and speaking only to him in an attempt to not draw attention from the others.

"Don't be silly," he says back, pulling your shoulders so you're back in the relaxed position against him, "you're welcome in my arms any day ragazza dolce." (Sweet girl)

You flush red again, but this time you do look up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes.

"You know I have absolutely no idea what you're saying, right?"

He grins, "that's part of the fun."

"Whatever," you turn back away from him to look at the group, your head resting right over his heart, "as long as you're not calling me a troll."

"I promise I'm not." He says, ruffling your hair before the both of you rejoin the main conversation.

"Zacharias Smith was at our practice today," Draco tells Pansy, and she looks at him in surprise.

"Really? Maybe he was looking for yn. She does sometimes keep me company in the stands."

"Oh he definitely was." Blaise smirks, and you feel Theo tense behind you. "Walked right up to Theo and asked where the pretty little one we're always hanging out with was."

"What?" Pansy shrieks, looking over, although you're unsure if the intentional target was you or the boy behind you. Her eyes momentarily widen at seeing your position before she notices something and smirks.

"Theo," she drawls, "I didn't notice those cuts on your knuckles earlier, is that new?"

Everyone turns to look at Theo, and you sit up in alarm, turning to look at his hand that's laying behind your spot on the couch.

"Theo! What happened? Why didn't you go get this checked out?"

He averts his eyes from your gaze. "Just wasn't thinking about it," he shrugs.

You frown. "How could you not be thinking about it, that looks painful!"

He shrugs again, grimacing when you grab his hand, insisting he let you heal it.

"Just let me go get my wand okay? I left it in Pansy's room."

You get up to leave, and with your back turned you don't see Pansy whisper to Theo and then him get up and follow you.

"I'll just come with." He announces, following you back to your friends room.

You try not to think about the intimacy of being alone with Theo while you tend to his wounds, trying once again to shove all your feelings down far in your heart.

Thankfully none of Pansy's roommates had come back, and Theo sits on her bed while you grab your wand from her nightstand before standing in between his spread legs.

"Give me your hand."

He complies, and you try not to blush at the warmth of his, much bigger, hand resting on your own.

"This is nasty Theo, did you punch a wall or something?" You ask, beginning to heal a few of the cuts. Luckily most of them were clean from where he'd washed them when he showered after practice, but they were scabbed over and his knuckles were blue with beginning to form bruises.

He lets out an amused huff of laughter and you stop your ministrations, looking up at him immediately.

"Tell me you didn't actually punch a wall."

He shrugs, "it was either that or Smith, and I know you don't like when I get into fights."

You feel yourself heat up. He didn't hit someone because of your preference, and the person just happened to be the guy who supposedly has a crush on you.

"Well I'm glad you didn't send my housemate to the hospital wing at least, although I wish you wouldn't have hurt yourself," you sigh, continuing to heal his hands.

Out of nowhere he pulls it away.

"Theo?"

"Look, I-" he cards a hand through his hair, contemplating his next words. "I didn't like it that Smith came looking for you. Especially that he asked me."

You look at him in confusion, "what? Why?"

He looks distraught, but he can't help the crooked smile that etches itself on his face.

"You're damn oblivious, you know that?"

You continue to look at him, no thoughts behind your eyes.

"Uh, I mean I guess? I've been told that a few times, though I'm not sure how it's pertinent to this situation."

Suddenly Theo's hands are on your cheeks, and his face is inches from your own.

"What- what are you doing?"

"I want to kiss you." He states plainly, as if it's the most normal thing in the world— as if the five words didn't have you spiraling out of control.

"Wait- do you want to kiss me because you think I'm like pretty or do you want to kiss me because you like me?"

You'd never even thought he would consider you pretty, but at his words you had to rethink a lot of things you thought you knew.

"I like you, amorina." (Little love)

"Really?" You know you should be celebrating, but you can't help the doubt that creeps into your mind. "You don't think I'm a silly, innocent, little Hufflepuff?"

He grins, "you can be my silly little Hufflepuff. And no I don't care that you're not jumping at the opportunity to go broom hopping."

You can't help but laugh a his phrasing, but you're glad he knew what you meant.

"I like you, amorina, I don't care about anything else, as long as I get you."

You smile, and Theo swears he could die happy if it's the last thing he sees.

"Well in that case, I want you to kiss me too."

He can barely hold back his own smile as he places his lips on yours, cradling your jaw with one hand while the other holds your hip.

He kissed you gently, not at all like what you'd expected, but you feel his adoration flowing out of it, and you can't help but break it to let out a giggle.

"And to think I was crying over you a few hours ago."

He grins, standing up and grabbing your hand to walk back down to the common room together, where your friends were waiting for you to go to dinner.

"No more crying over me okay?"

You nod your head, and he pulls you in for one more kiss before you rejoin the rest of your friends.

#theodore nott #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott oneshot #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fluff #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst #slytherin x hufflepuff #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n

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deadsetobsessions · 5 months

Text

“Tim. Timmy. Ancients, kid, what are you doing?!”

Danny Phantom smacked away the instinctual terror of seeing an eight year old dangling out of a third story window.

“I gotta go take pictures of Batman and Robin! They’re out tonight!”

Danny thought that his barely healed vivisection wound might bust open from the sheer stress.

“Setting aside how you even know the patrol schedule of honest to god vigilantes, why’d you choose the window? The house is literally empty, just walk out the front door, for Ancient’s sake.”

Tim paused, a motion Danny was overwhelmingly thankful for, and blinked sheepishly.

“Um… for the aesthetic?”

Danny allowed the silence to settle between them before dropping his head into his waiting hands. Tim panicked.

“You- you can’t stop me!”

And yeah, Danny really can’t. In the months he’s been mooching off of the Drakes (not that they’ll notice), Danny’s learned that Tim Drake is nothing but relentless in the pursuit of whatever he sets his mind on. Whether thet might be putting hot chocolate in his cereal (which Danny doesn’t actually mind) or, apparently, stalking a pair of vigilantes.

He wanted to hack into the library cameras? Danny had to hover just to make sure the kid didn’t get caught after arguing for an hour about it.

He walked out of that argument with a loss, yes, but he also let Tim know that Danny cared about him. Danny also walked out of that argument with a new hatred for Janet and Jack Drake and his mind (just as diabolical as Tim’s) whirring with plans to haunt them.

Tim is never ever introducing his new little brother to Tucker. Ever.

“Okay. I don’t want to see you take unnecessary risks, but I’m also aware that I can’t really stop you. So. I’ll go with you.”

Maybe this is like… Tim’s obsession? When he put it that way, Danny lost the fight to prevent this tiny kid from what clearly is the only joy in his poor life.

“But…!” Tim’s eyes darted to Danny’s chest, the vivisection scars still fresh in his mind.

“They’re healed.” Danny pulled his dumbass little brother off the window sill, core settling as Tim follows willingly. “I’ll make us invisible and fly with you behind Batman and Robin so you can get even better shots. You can’t make any noise, though. That camera got a shutter sound, right?”

“Yeah!” Tim’s face brightened and Danny melted. He shoved a bottle of the (incredibly stinky but helpful in a pinch) ecto contaminated tap water into a backpack, along with some snacks and a blanket for when Tim gets cold. Danny’ll be fine, he’s got a Space Core. The cold his kind of his thing.

“Cool. We’ll stay out of earshot. If things starts to get too dicey, we’re heading home, okay?”

“Okay!” The look Tim shot him is full of trust and adoration and it makes Danny’s human heart squeeze painfully. “C’mon! I don’t want to be late!”

“We need to talk about your stalking tendencies later,” Danny said fondly.

“I’m not stalking them! I’m observing them!”

“Uh-huh,” Danny drawled, picking Tim up and making them intangible and invisible. “They’re not a bird observatory and also, even the birds in the observatory knows they’re being watched. Batman and Robin clearly doesn’t.”

Danny felt more than saw Tim’s pout.

He laughs as they fly just below the Gotham-brand of toxic smog. He waves to the City’s Spirit as Tim cranes his head around to catch sight of Batman and Robin.

“There!”

Danny obliged. With Danny’s flight, Tim got much better- much closer- photos than he would have originally.

Danny hung back as the pair of vigilantes swooped down to take care of a mugging.

“Wanna mess with them?” He grinned down at his little brother, canines glinting.

Tim looked up at him, admiration and mischievousness in his gaze. “Yes.”

Gotham parted her clouds in response to their glee.

——

Dick Grayson, AKA Robin, finally understood why criminals are so creeped out by him.

Other than the whole flippy child kicking grown people’s asses and winning thing, obviously (that, and Batman loomed menacingly behind him everytime a criminal even looked at Robin wrong).

Batman had picked up on it first, but the for entirety of their patrol, they kept hearing eerie little giggles and laughter. Haunting them. Never distracting. But persistent. And so creepy. He got goosebumps.

“B, I wanna go home.”

“Hm.” That’s a resounding yes if Dick’s ever heard one.

Maybe Alfred can chase away the giggles and chuckles.

Robin shudders and follows the Bat home.

——

Danny lowered the temperature as he held Tim up near Batman’s cowl so his brother could giggle menacingly. He knew for a fact that any recording device would get completely cram led by the sheer output of ambient ectoplasm he’s emitting. Plus, it freaked Robin out and raised the hairs on the back of the vigilantes’ heads. He tones it down when he noticed Tim rubbing his hands together.

He let out a quiet laugh, enjoying the flight with his brother in his arm and the light of the stars (thanks, Gotham) at his back.

——

Danny: oh, this kid’s got an Obsession, gotta let him do it safely, he’s a liminal from all that tap water

Danny: *forgets Tim isn’t a ghost nor is he from Amity and is therefore extremely breakable*

——

Danny and Tim: doing crime is a good bonding activity

Batman and Robin, who wants to say no it isn’t but they’re literally a pair of illegal vigilantes:

——

Dick as Robin: *cackles*

Tim, learning habits from stalking them: *giggles*

Gotham Criminals: *fear*

#danny phantom #bamf danny phantom #dick grayson #tim drake is a menace #tim drake #baby tim drake #Tim Drake is a little shit #Danny Phantom is a little shit #they’re messing with the bats #and getting away with it #inspired by dick’s iconic Robin cackle #that creepy lil shit #i love them your honor #they’re brothers your honor #Gotham’s F grade tap water #thanks scarecrow #Gotham’s tap water #dc x dp #dp x dc

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thebibliosphere · 8 months

Note

The only thing I need from the BatMuppet story that I didn't get yet is the HIIIIIIII-YA moment where Miss Piggy karate chops Bruce Wayne.

And has no idea the significance of doing so.

Oh, no, no. She doesn't do it to Bruce. She does it to the Joker.

They're at a televised charity gala, making the rounds. All the usual glitz and glam. Miss Piggy has just left to powder her snout when the shooting starts, and cries to "get down on the ground now!" reverberate through the room. It's almost half expected that the night is going to end in a hostage situation. It's Gotham, for Christ's sake. But no one's expecting the Joker. He's supposed to be in Arkham. The Bats just put him there. He shouldn't be out already.

Bruce is stalling for time, trying to give the Boy Wonder and all his other kids time to get to them. He's stammering, hands in the air, offering to pay whatever the Joker wants if he'll let all these people go. Except the Joker doesn't take ransoms. He barely takes prisoners. And he's got a gun aimed squarely at Bruce Wayne's forehead.

But Bruce keeps trying, inching forward on his knees, hands behind his head. Trying to figure out how much he can get away with in a room full of all these fucking cameras. He's going to get shot. He already knows it. It's just a question of whether he can duck and make sure it goes through his shoulder and not his head. Christ, he fucking hates guns.

"Come on," Bruce says, trying his hardest to sound both scared and amenable. "Everyone has a price. Name yours."

The Joker laughs, gesturing grandly with his free hand. "Tell you what, Brucie-boy, you'll get a price when pigs fly!"

The sound of enraged hoofs striking off marble makes itself known. A deep, guttural squeal tears through the night. The kind that hunters of old knew to fear and keep at the end of a long spear. The Joker turns just in time to see Miss Piggy flying through the air. Eyes red. Tusks bared. Hand raised. "HIIIIIII-YA!"

Jim Gordon's outside, preparing to launch a frontal assault, when the news comes in over the radio. He listens, shouldering the radio against his ear as he pulls a cigarette case out of his pocket. "To shreds, you say? What about the henchmen? To shreds, you say..."

#batfam #batman shitpost #batmuppet

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a-b-riddle · 14 days

Text

Part 7

Can't stop thinking about how the 141 met reader

(she's a long one. not entirely happy with it either so may edit later)

No harm done yet.

You never saw Simon actually hurt anyone. Johnny and Kyle would share stories about poor recruits who fucked around and eventually found out that Simon had no issue beating them within an inch of their life.

You knew he had a reputation and, like the rest of them, had blood on his hands. But it never bothered you. Didn't make you think twice about loving him or seeing him as the protector he had always been to you. To be frank, you could never actually picture any of them being violent.

But his voice... Fuck. His voice. It fucking rattled you. You actually feared for those fucking idiots now. Sure, they deserved to have their asses kicked, but an ass-kicking was probably going to be a welcomed after thought to whatever Simon would do.

You rinsed off, not bothering to wash your hair, but needing to wash up before getting in the bed. Hoping the scalding hot water washed away the uneasiness on your skin that had began to settle into your bones.

Even feeling fresh and laying in clean sheets, you still found yourself tossing and turning wondering exactly what did Simon do?

Did he walk away? Realizing you weren't worth the trouble, did he just tell them to knock it off?

You had stupidly expected Simon to check in. To check if you made it home alright or at least to let you know he was okay. So you waited... And you waited. You had half a mind to call him yourself before remembering it wasn't your place anymore to care. You had cared enough for the five of you.

It was well past two in the morning before you finally called it a night.

The next morning, still nothing from Mr. Riley. Not a 'did you home alright?' or 'are you okay?' text. Nada. Zilch.

Whatever.

Fuck him.

You had to open up shop, but luckily your Saturday mornings were much more relaxed. The shop wouldn't be open until 10, so you had the time to sleep in and enjoy the morning.

By noon, Mere had sent you several texts reminding you that you had promised to go out. You had tried to dissuade her. The encounter with those men last night had brought back sour memories. One involving handsome men coming to your rescue when it was most certainly needed.

You had tried to bail. Giving her any excuse you could: Last night put you on edge. You no longer wanted to go out. After last weekend, you just needed some down time.

Eventually you had realized she was not taking no for an answer after she had shown up to your apartment, already ready for a night out.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Mere asked. Mere was in her usual Saturday femme-fatal attire. The black leather pants that accentuated her curves and red corset paired well with her freshly box dyed color black hair.

She looked more like a dominatrix than someone who worked at an attorney's office. Even if both professions included bending someone over and fucking them for all their worth. You wondered who would charge more by the hour....

You had pulled out a off white lace square neck top and a pair of high waisted medium washed baggy jeans. A perfectly cute outfit for a night out. Which was your defense when she had suggested you needed to change.

Tab had arrived later than expected (something about a system being down at work), but made up for it by bringing a pre-game snack. Yes, you had officially reached the age where you no longer starved yourself hours before going out to get more drunk quicker and cheaper. No you had to eat carbs or else you wouldn't be able to leave your room the next day as you pathetically nurse a hangover.

Tab wore a denim skirt. If you could even call it that. It paired well with the white tank top that you could make out the shape of her nipple piercing.

But they looked hot. Really hot.

"This is a perfectly acceptable outfit."

"For a day at market, not for trying to get laid."

"I don't want to get laid." You said, rummaging through your closet, yet again. "Getting laid is what got me in this mess in the first place."

A little over two years ago

"Fuck him." Tabitha wrapped her arms around your shaking body as you continued to sob. "He was a prick who didn't fucking deserve you."

"He couldn't even get you to cum." Mere felt the need to remind you as if that would somehow lessen the blow of your heartbreaking into a million shards. The shrapnel feeling like it would kill you.

"I loved him," your voice is small. "I fucking loved him." You had been dating for almost three years. You had his grandmother's ring on your fucking hand for God's sake. "I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid." Tabitha gave you a squeeze. "He was a liar and a fucking coward." Meredith rubbed her thumb on you bare leg, offering physical reassure. Letting you know even if she wasn't the hugger Tabs was, she was still here.

"You can't keep locked up in this apartment." She was unfortunately right. You had not only barricaded yourself in your apartment for two weeks, but you hadn't returned to your bedroom. The scene of the crime. "You need to get out."

"Yeah," Tabitha rubbed your arm as if trying to coax you out your metaphorical shell. "Get some fresh air. We can go grab a treat. Maybe go out for some coffee." It didn't surprise you that Tabitha was offering a treat to entice you to leaving your sanctuary.

"I was thinking going to a bar." It also didn't surprise you that Mere offered her way of coping. Getting so drunk that you forgot what you even sad about. Or going out and finding someone to fuck the sadness out of her.

"Because getting alcohol in her system in this state is just what she needs." Tabitha was the mom of the group whereas Mere was the fun drunk aunt. They balanced one another out.

"Actually," you said, giving a pathetic sniffle. "Going out would be nice." Getting away from the apartment is what you need. And going out would be the excuse you would need to get yourself all dolled up.

What you hadn't planned for was getting so pissed that you had manage to breakaway from your friends. Searching for them in teh crowd of people. Failing and when you pulled out your phone were met with a completely black screen.

Dead. Perfect.

The same moment you swore the night couldn't get any worse, it did.

He looked the same. Same as he been four months ago when he asked you to become his wife. Same as he had been two weeks ago when you had caught him fucking another girl. The girl he told you not to worry about. The girl he insisted was just one of the guys. A girl you had told him time and time again would fuck him the moment she had the chance.

It wasn't always great to be right.

When your eyes connected, your body had went into immediate flight mode. Every neuron in your body was shooting out signals of RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN. So that's exactly what you did.

You fucking bolted.

Or felt like you bolted. But you could only scurry so fast in chunky heels while simultaneously pulling down your skirt that had decided to ride up. Aching to show your ass for all of London to see.

You had made it a quarter of the way back to your apartment. Your feet aching. Toes pinched together from the strap digging into them.

"Baby, please!" You heard him before you felt his arm clamp down on your shoulder. Hard. When did his touch become something heavy? Something that practically burned you.

You turned. Eyes brimming with unshed tears as you hissed at him to leave you the fuck alone. The begging came, but you turned around. Determined to go home. He didn't deserve the chance to explain himself and he could most certainly shove his apology up his ass.

He wouldn't shut up. Insisting it was a mistake. A one time thing her fault. How she seduced him. As if he were the victim in all of this. You weren't buying it. Not for one moment. One doesn't accidentally invite some slut over and fall balls deep into her while they are in the same bed he shares with his fiancée.

It wasn't until you were in a more dimly lit area that he had gotten the nerve to grab you. His grip was firm on your arms as he held you in place. "Listen to me!" His voice was panicked.

The feeling of anger slowly began to dim as something else began to rise.

Fear.

You were afraid.

You were in a part of town not many people were out and about in at this time of night. No bystanders to really take note of the scene, or at least not any caring enough to stand by and watch; even for entertainment.

Your friends didn't know where you were at and you were tipsy. And alone.

"Cardan," you swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "Please let me go."

"Not until you talk to me," his fingers dug into you. "We can work this out, okay? It was one mistake." He tried to argue, his voice rising, soaked in desperation. "What's one mistake compared to three years?"

"Cardan," you tried to pull away, his grip only tightening. "You're hurting me." It came out as a pathetic whimper. You were so close to crying, too afraid to scream.

"Hey!" A voice barked from behind you. It caused your whole body to stiffen."Get your fucking hands off her. Someone noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here. Someone was here.

"We are having a conversation." Cardan's eyes left you, looking at whoever stood behind you.

"The lass said to leave her be." Another voice. Someone else. Two (three if you counted yourself, but in that moment you couldn't) people against one. There was no a possibility of you getting the fuck out of this situation.

Cardan stood firm. His eyes looking past you. A silent refusal to back down.

"Either you let her go," another voice. Another accent different that the first two. "Or we fucking make you."

"One against four. Odds aren't in your favor, mate." Four. Four men stood behind you. Faceless strangers there to help you.

"This doesn't concern you." Cardan bit out.

"Aye," Scottish. The second guy was definitely Scottish. "I think it does if she's tellin' ye' to piss off and yer bein' a bawbag about it."

"So what'll it be?" The third voice, deep and threatening, yet still so... calming. As if the vibrations from his deep, rich pitch washed over you.

Cardan looked back at you, his eyes not as manic. He realized he didn't have a chance. This was a fight he had to walk away from or else he wouldn't be walking away from it at all. "I'll swing by tomorrow, okay?" He asked.

You couldn't do anything, but nod. Agree that you could talk tomorrow in the safety of the sunlight. Eventually he walked across the street before fading out into the night. Blending in with the shadows.

You turned around to meet your would-be saviors.

Four men. All slightly older than you and so handsome you felt foolish for gawking at them as if this were your first time seeing a man. Hell, maybe it was. At least specimens like this. All of them tall and broad. Towering over you.

No wonder Cardan got the fuck out of there. Tabs was right. He was a coward.

"You alright?" The one who first spoke up asked. You could place his voice. Now just needed to place the other three. He had a hearty mustache and mutton chops. A look on any one else would make you immediately get the ick. But for a moment you wondered if that mustache would tickle... "Do you need us to call anyone?"

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"I just want to go home." You said. "Thank you for stepping in. I don't know what would have-" You stopped. Too afraid to think about the possibilities. There was a time you would never believe that Cardan had the ability to hurt you.

There was also a time you believed he would never cheat. You weren't really sure what to believe anymore. "Anyway," you continued. "Thank you again." You turned on your heel before continuing your stride.

You had only made it several feet before you were stopped again. "Which way? One of us can walk you home." You weren't entirely sure. But with a dead cellphone and a unhinged ex probably lurking in the shadows, there was little time to weigh the pros and cons before giving them a general direction of where you lived.

Which just so happened to be the direction in which two of the four lived. The Scot and one of the two who had yet to speak. The first one, who had still yet to introduce himself instructed the two of them to drop you off and let him know you had made it home alright.

You had hoped that the rest of your night would be met with silence, but the Scot couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm Johnny." He introduced. "And the spooky, silent type is Simon." He gave a playful wink. You gave him your name, not wanting to be rude.

"Not my place to ask," he began. "But what was the deal with that fucker? Ex-boyfriend?"

"Johnny." Simon's tone held warning. You appreciated the defense, but frankly didn't care. These were strangers. Who cared what they thought.

"Ex-fiancée," you clarified. "One who decided to fuck another girl in my bed. Not even our bed. My bed."

"Jesus fucking Christ," the Scot swore. "I was right. He was a fucking bawbag." For whatever reason, that made you laugh. For the first time in two weeks you fucking laughed. And it felt like you were breathing again.

Simon was quiet, not contributing to the conversation and just letting Johnny babble. Talking your ear off in a short trek as if it were an olympic sport.

You were so distracted with his voice you hadn't realized how far you had made it until the sound of your keys clattering onto your kitchen counter brought you back.

Back to a situation you didn't know how the fuck you landed in.

Two men (who you don't know) are in your apartment. Your friends don't know where you are. You are a little bit too inebriated to plan and exit strategy. Doesn't exactly help your confidence in fighting them off since they are built like fucking brick houses.

"He won't come sniffin' around here botherin' ya, will he?" Simon asks, speaking for only the second time since he had threatened Cardan. You shake your head.

"No," you said. "I have him blocked on everything. So I think when he saw me tonight it was just kind of an opportunity, I suppose?" You offer. Cardan had showed up to your place one time with a random assortment of flowers and a useless apology you had to hear through the door as you covered your mouth. Concealing your cries. Too afraid to let him know you were there.

Too afraid that some part of you would be weak enough to take him back.

"We'll leave ye' be." Johnny said, nodding his head toward the door. "But if he comes bein' a shite to ye again, you can give us a call."

"Phones dead." You explain, holding up your phone as if you needed to prove yourself. Johnny offered the brilliant, yet simple solution of giving him your number. He sent off a text, knowing it would be there when you turned back on and promising to check in later.

They both gave subtle nods of goodbye before turning away.

And just like that, they left. The door clicking softly shut behind them. You stood, frozen for several beats before walking over and locking the door.

You plugged your phone into the charging cable, waiting until it lit back to life before shooting off a text in your group chat with Tab and Mere.

Sorry I took off. Ran into Cardan and fucking made a dash for it. Sorry if I worried you. I'm at home. I'm okay. Grab lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it? My treat?

You signed off the text with a heart emoji and turned your phone on do not disturb. Too afraid of your friends going all Mama Bear on you for running away while drunk. Even if your reasons were valid.

You had texted Johnny again. Not because Cardan dared to bother you again, but to thank him. Acknowledging that not many men would have done for you what he and his friend did. Johnny assured you it wasn't anything.

Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out with Simon always tagging along. It took you a while to realize he did actually like you, but his stoic nature was just who he was. You had met Kyle and John, both as charming and respectful as Johnny and Simon.

John had been the first two mention wanting to take you on a date. It didn't go well with the other three. They all had the same intention and a rock, paper, scissors tournament seemed to juvenile to figure out who got the privilege in courting you. Eventually, they had decided to ask you.

Putting you on the spot to answer the question that had begun to tear them apart: which one of them will it be?

Johnny made you laugh. He was the first person you thought about calling when your day was a bit grey. He saw the positive in everything and was the one who made you feel like even the bad days weren't so terrible.

Then there was Simon. The one who you felt like was your safe place in body and mind. You would babble all day talking to him, thankful when he would let you rant. Your mind was able to go on auto-pilot in terms of safety because you knew Simon would handle it. He also gave the best hugs.

John was the one who instilled the confidence in you that you needed. Your bookstore, your writing, whatever aspirations you had, no matter how wild, John would support it. Nothing was too big. After you all started dating, he was the first person you ever let read your book. He gave you praise as well as critique, pointing out multiple plot holes and helping you craft it better. And never once taking credit for it, even when it was due.

Kyle was the most thoughtful one. He was the one who knew you liked trying knew things so he made an effort to always make date nights interesting. A new restaurant, a new activity or experience. He was the biggest giver of the group.

So when they did ask you, you answered honestly.

"I can't choose." They insisted that you didn't need to spare their feelings, but you stood firm in your decision. "No. I can't choose. I'm interested in all of you." When they pressed on why the fuck you didn't say anything earlier, you told them to avoid this kind of situation. Where you had to choose. You were fine continuing on as just friends if that meant you got to keep all of them.

Mere and Tabs were great friends, but they are the ones who helped pull you out of the slump. The ones who made you feel lovable. The ones who made you feel like a woman again.

"Helloooooo." Mere's hand waved in your face while another held something she had found in your closet. "So are you going to change or not?" Your eyes darted to the skimpy glittery black dress. The same one for your first date with them. Your stomach twisted as you took the sparkly dark fabric in your hand.

You nodded as if trying to shake the memory out of your mind. "I'll change and we can go." Better just to get it over with.

The place that Mere had dragged you to was a club that played music that you would only listen to while encapsulated in the aroma of cheap liquor and sweat. Your outfit form-fitting. The material too stiff to be comfortable, but it was cute. The hem of your dress coming to rest just below your ass cheeks. Hugging your body in a way that made you feel self conscious the moment you stepped out of your building.

Mere had run into some work colleagues. Names you couldn't and wouldn't remember. There had been a high profile divorce going on. Very messy. She had been so encapsulated by the gossip that she hadn't notice you and Tabitha had slipped off toward the bar.

Tabitha insisted on shots and you needed something to get your mind off the less than exciting night. Your expectations weren't high, but fuck. You would have been much more comfortable wearing the jeans. You felt like a piece of fucking meat. It would have been so bad if someone were gonna buy you a dr-

"This seat taken?" It was a cliche introduction attached to a slightly better than average face. Decent enough where it didn't hurt to look at him, but not attractive enough to be a seat.

"By all means," you said turning back to Tabitha who looked at the guy now sitting to your left and raising her eyebrows. Fucking hell. Not her too.

"It's pretty packed tonight." He commented, attempted to make small talk. You hated small talk. At least unless it came to Johnny who would get into discussion on politics, religion and why on the side was the best way to fuck because it gave him 'a perfect view of the front and back of ye.'

"You come here often?" You asked, not wanting to be a total bitch, but having absolutely zero desire to be entertaining him.

"When I can." He said. "I prefer the Artifact a couple of blocks down. Not many people heard of it. A bit of a hole-in-the-wall place." Oh cool. A fucking hipster who liked to act superior at knowing a place that is underground. You could feel any possibility of getting your pussy wet, dry at the thought of this man actually wanting to come onto you.

Jesus, when did you become so harsh.

I blame Simon.

"Oh," you say, no longer interested in entertaining the conversation. "Sounds lovely. My friend and I just came out for a bit of girl-" you turn to look at Tabitha who had somehow miraculously disappeared in the 45 fucking seconds that your back was turned....

Little bitch.

"Bathroom, I suppose." He laughed. It was the sincerity in his voice that irked you. God, why was he pissing you off just trying to start a conversation?

"I suppose." You gave a soft smile back, turning once the bartender had come over to grab your order. Which the stranger next to you had insisted buying. Nothing quite as arousing as obligated conversation.

"There's no need for that-"

"Percival." He introduced. "But my friends call me Percy." Your immediate thought was who the fuck names there kid Percival. The second was to offer him a fake name. Real enough to be believable, but fake enough where if he tried to search you up on any social media, you could just deny having any.

"I hate to be brash," he started. Then don't. "But I can't imagine a girl like you being single."

"Not really looking for anything romantic at the moment." You say, the first time you've been truthful this entire conversation. Percival leaned in closer, before asking in a low voice that he was doubt trying to convey as sexy, "Are you sure?"

And there it was. The final ick that nailed the coffin shut.

You offered in a soft smile before swallowing hard. "Percival,"

"My friends call me-"

"I'm going to be frank." Your voice is soft, as if explaining to a small child why we don't always get the things we want. "I just got of a very long and deep and meaningful relationship and the idea of being near another man in any intimate or emotional capacity wants me to cause very serious bodily harm to said man."

His expression fell.

"I appreciate your confidence in coming over here and making small talk, but if you're wanting to fuck me or even attempt to be friends, I must inform you that is no only not in the cards, but not in your best interest." You turned, downing the rest of your cocktail.

"Time for a trip to the bathroom myself, I suppose." You stood from your seat, having to readjust your dress.. "Have a good night."

You were washing your hands when a red-faced Mere walked into the bathroom. Tabitha on her heels with a concerned expression.

"What did you do?" Mere asked.

"What are you talking about?" You asked. You had half a mind to ask them why the fuck they pulled a disappearing act after insisting you go out.

"You told Percy you would castrate him?" You looked as if you had been slapped. The pieces falling into place to reveal a totally fucked up puzzle.

"You fucking tried to set me up." You seethed, a finger pointing accusingly.

"Well, fuck, what did you expect me to do?" She asked. "You were sulking."

"Listen to me!" You cried. "I want you to listen to me. I was with them for two years. It hasn't even been two weeks and you're going behind my fucking back and trying to set me up with fucking Percival? How the fuck do you even know him? Do you even know him?" She ignored your last question. How convenient.

"I thought it would be good to get it out of your system." She tried to defend, her pissyness now matching yours. "You always do this. I was just trying to help."

"What do you mean 'I always do this'?" Your eyes turned into slits.

"Why don't we just calm down and-" Tabitha tried to stop the escalation. Mere, very obviously, ignored that cue.

"You get so hung up on a guy, or in this case guys, it takes you fucking weeks to recover." You stare at her. Unsure if she was really comprehending the bullshit that had come out of her mouth.

"I'm certain you aren't trying to make me feel bad for grieving a relationship that I was in for over three years to a man I was engaged to. To find him fucking in my apartment, in my bed the same week I was going to get my wedding dress."

"It's not just Cardan," she went on. "Issac in our second year of school?" You gave a humorless chuckle.

"Oh yes," you said condescendingly, "the boy I had dated from 14-years old- until I was 19. The boy I gave my virginity two months before he told me he was not only not interested in me, but women in general." As if that somehow lessened the blow. "Absolutely shouldn't have bothered me a bit."

"You only went out for classes and food for two months!" She said as if you had hit a pedestrian with your car. As if you were a fool for being so distracted by a breakup you couldn't be bothered to carry on with life as normal.

"I'm sorry that I actually take the time to grieve my relationships." You said. "I forgot that it may be hard for either of you to comprehend what a relationship is like considering the only relationship either of you have is with your work or with each of us."

"Hey!" Tabitha said. "I understand your pissed, but there isn't need to attack us like this."

"Attack you?" You asked. "Attack you? This isn't me attacking you. This is me responding to an uncomfortable situation that you put me in. I told you I didn't want to even think about me. I didn't want to fuck someone else and you go and do this?"

"He seems like a decent guy." You roll your eyes.

"Probably why he's not your type, right?" Mere crossed her arms over chest. Eyebrow arched as if she were hoping the words enticed you to realize that you had a history of going after the wrong guys.

Unfortunately, it did not.

You sucked on your teeth, carefully choosing your words before World War III broke out in a nearly vacant bathroom in South London. You took a deep breath. Calming yourself as best as you could.

Before saying fuck it and letting it loose.

"Just because your idea of coping is getting drunk and fucking someone you plan on never speaking to again, quite literally discarding them like trash, doesn't mean the rest of us cope the same way." You hoped it hurt. You hope it stung the same way she had tried to sting you.

You had hoped that your word would be the final blow before both sides called a treaty.

"You mean like they did you?"

And just like that, you heart stuttered. A rapid dum dum dum in your chest as it had been tripped up by her words. The truth in them heavy. The shift in the air was almost immediate;.

"Sweetheart-" Tabitha had tried to reach out before you jerked away.

"Enjoy your night." You said, grabbing your purse where you had left it by the sink. "I'm going to go home and wallow in my self pity." You exited the bathroom, hearing your named called again before shifting it into gear and getting the fuck out of there.

Weaving through the sea of bodies like water flowing around rocks.

Who the fuck cares if you want to cry? To grieve? To be angry? To get closure? To move on? Who cares if you don't want to be the girl who gets her heart shattered and not fuck somone else? Who wants to feel the comfort of a familiar body, a touch that feels safe one last time before you go back into a world where you will only be touched by a stranger?

It didn't matter that you were the one to breakup with them, even if the relationship was broken. It's foundation cracked.

What did matter is that the people who should have supported you and in the way you were dealing with your loss in your own way, didn't. And that's the part that they seem to forget. It is a loss. It's mourning someone who hasn't died. Someone who is still living, yet still no longer there.

"Off already?" Percy cut in the way, blocking your escape. You weren't in the mood.

"Listen-" you started before he cut you off.

"Not anything romantic, I know," he raised his hands as if in defense, "but maybe like another drink or a dance?"

You closed your eyes, wanting to hold off starting a scene and tearing him a new asshole. "Like I said, not. interested." How much clearer could you spell it out?

"Come on." He said, his hand coming to rest on your hip. The grip on it weak. You were by no means the type of woman that could take on a man like the ones you still held in a chamber of your heart. But you could most certainly handle your own against Percival. "I'm asking for a dance. After what Meredith told me, I figured you'd be down for at a little more than that."

"I don't follow." Your blood ran cold. Your heart praying that any assumptions that were running through your mind were wrong, they were wrong.

"She mentioned you having a group of like guys you fucked, but stopped fucking." He shrugged, offering a coy smile that you ached to wipe off with the back of your hand. "I don't judge. It's kind of hot honest. Did they run train or-" You felt it then. His hand had traveled from your hip to the curve of your ass.

And you froze. You froze like a coward. Too afraid to speak or scream. Too ashamed to push him away, cause a scene.

But you didn't need to do any of that.

In an instant, Percy's hand was off of you. It took you a moment to realize that a figure dressed in black stood beside you. Your own personal grim reaper.

"Put him go!" You pleaded, breaking out of your trance. You took hold of his arm putting all of your body weight on his arm, trying to break his hold. He didn't falter.

You could handle you own against Percy.

But Simon could fucking kill him without breaking a sweat.

You looked at Simon's face. His eyes were darkened. The soft brown you had once loved staring into were now almost black. You could even make out the dark circles, even in the unsettling flickering of strobe lights in the club.

"You touch her again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Understood?" Pure venom fell from Simon's lips, but you knew he wasn't lying. Simon was the type of man who didn't say something he didn't mean.

You knew that all too well.

Percy choked out an ineligible, gurgled response as Simon's hand held firm on his throat. "He understands, goddammit, no let him down!" You ordered hitting at him as if it would stop him. "Simon, please!"

It was only when you said his name, did Simon loosen his grip. Letting Percy drop to a heap on the floor before he started a having a coughing fit, trying to suck in as much air as he could.

Simon looked down at you and the exit before scooping you up and hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of flower.

You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die and never show your face again.

"Get in the car." He at least had the decency to open the door for you. Simon wasn't a flashy man, by any means, but he was still a man. A men did love their cars.

He stood, waiting for you but you didn't move. You glared up at him. He had carried you out of there in the most humiliating way possible. You had to fight against the hemline of your dress or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

Hand still on the door, he leaned down, getting closer and closer to your height. "You get your ass in this car right now," his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll have you over my fuckin' knee." His tone was sharp. It wasn't seduction in form of a threat. It wasn't even a threat.

It was a promise.

"We're over." You reminded.

"Do you think that'll fuckin' stop me from spankin' some sense into your bratty ass?"

"It doesn't give you the right to fucking do that to people, Simon!" You huffed. "You could have killed in."

"Could have," he agreed. "But didn't. You're welcome." he nodded toward the car. "Now, in you go or I'll do it here. You already know I don't mind an audience."

The heated seats were a bit to warm for your liking against your bare ass. The tension in the air was uncomfortable. Your hands ached to touch the radio. Anything to stop the silence between the two of you.

"I got home fine the other night by the way." You said, looking out the window, hoping to make him feel like shit for not checking in like he should have.

"I know you did."

"What do you mean you know I did?" You asked, turning to look at him. He shrugged as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not stopping.

"Just did." Was his only answer.

"Are you fucking stalking me, Riley?" That made him laugh. You would have felt better if there was at least a sense of humor in it, but, instead, only disbelief.

"Oh, Riley now, is it?" He asked.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be." You caught it. A very small slip, but it was something... something you couldn't place.

"Then why?" You ask, your tone softening. "For someone who makes it very apparent to be done with me, you sure do show up at convenient times. Hard not to think your keeping tabs on me."

He didn't say anything. No explanation or excuse. Not evena smart ass comeback or remark.

His hands reached forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume just loud enough that if you were to try and continue the conversation, your words would be drowned out.

He pulled up in front of your building, yet you made no move to get out. You turned off the radio, soaking in the silence once more. You wanted to know why? Why was he appearing out of nowhere like a fucking ghost? Why was he helping you?

He sighed before putting the car in park and stepping out. Coming around to your side he opened the door. "Get inside. Go to bed." There he was again. Fucking bossing you around as if he still had a say.

You wanted to cuss him out. To spew hateful words just as he did you.

But you didn't.

You were tired.

So fucking tired. And the idea of going to bed did sound pretty good in that moment. You made it to the door of your building before he spoke again. "And if you need to out at this time at night call a goddamn cab."

"Why?" You asked, turning around. "Getting tired of having to follow me around on foot, Si?"

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you speaking. His body shifted forward, as if contemplating getting closer to you. As if the pull you once had was still there.

With his eyes trained on you, you felt a chill run down your spine. Twice you had seen that look on Simon's face before. The look that he had given the figures concealed in the shadows last night. The same look he had given Percy.

Only this time, it was directed at you.

One that personified the saying, 'if looks could kill.'

"Because," he growled out, "the next time I find someone else touching you that way, I'll fucking kill them."

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