HOUSE OF THE DRAGON SEASON TWO Episode 2

Rhaenyra Targaryen Masterlist

One-Shots:

None yet...

Headcanons:

Their Love Language

How They Mark You Headcanons

Hotd characters x Sick!Reader

House of the Dragon characters with a s/o that hates Targaryens

circle k (back to you) masterlist

pairing: tim drake x f!reader

In which you're just the graveyard shift employee at Circle K bombarded by vigilantes.

full summary: Working at a convenience store in Gotham City is a thankless and often dangerous job. Especially if you are working the graveyard shift.

You quite liked your brief stint at the Circle K in Keystone City, if only because the Flash could be found taking care of crime before they even happened. Plus, your store was the one he frequented the most for snacks and drinks to replenish his energy.

Even if your friends, Steph and Tim, don’t actually believe that he visited you and in fact said you two were friends. (No, seriously, he did!)

But a surprise visit from him with Red Robin in tow, a pointed insult to the Bats’ general hostility and unwelcoming nature, and suddenly, you have a revolving door of vigilantes at odd hours of the night.

Your most frequent visitor and the one that bothers you for a reason you can’t articulate since it also coincides with Tim Drake’s sudden avoidance of you?

Red Robin.

But it’s probably nothing, right?

contains: canon-typical violence, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, not actually unrequited love, eventual happy ending

ao3 | fic playlist | story tag

🏪 chapter index; completed!

chapter one... on my way to circle k

chapter two... it's getting late

chapter three... this doesn’t feel right

chapter four... walking slow (all alone)

chapter five... i am found on the ground

chapter six... hear the sound of your heart breaking

chapter seven... just get me through the night

chapter eight... where did i go wrong?

chapter nine... i want to make it right

chapter ten... there’s no way to hide it (i know what you’re fighting)

chapter eleven... i am always running back to you

chapter twelve... back to you

This is Dominique Pélicot. The husband behind the most harrowing rape case in France. Inspite of Gisèle (wife) being the epitome of courage right now and choosing to go for a public trial to warn and educate other women of such perpetrators, the husband's pic is not being shared in most of the new articles. This is Dominique Pélicot, who must be shamed.

Here are the names of other perpetrators who could be identified till now. Some of these men were HIV+ and/or suffering from other STDs. Gisèle found that she was carrying four STD's.

Shame Must Change Sides.

Gisèle Pélicot, a French national, endured at least 92 sexual assaults committed by over 72 men over 10 years, while she was drugged by her husband, Dominique Pélicot, who documented many of the rapes.

'She could have opted for a closed trial, but that’s what her attackers would have wanted'.

She has courageously decided that the trial of her accused rapists be made public. This is to make other women aware of the excuses and games such men use and to reveal what these men look like: just any other man.

"B-but Palestinians can get their freedom with peace not violence 🥺🥺" no. Screw your feelings. The armed resistance against colonizers and murderers is what will give Palestinians their freedom and what will eventually achieve real peace.

An enemy that bombs and uses white phosphorus against civilians doesn't know nor practice what your broken moral compass describes as "peace". Freedom was proven throughout history not to be achieved through kneeling and asking the oppressor to kindly stop. Freedom needs to be taken by force. Your little Utopian way of thinking doesn't work in the real world. Your feelings don't matter because you're not the one living under occupation. Your feelings don't matter because you're not one of the thousands of children who lost their limbs. You're not one of the children who became orphans due to this genocide. You're not the mother who lost her child to the carpet bombing. You're not the father carrying the remains of your child in plastic bags. You're not the newlywed woman who lost her husband. You're not the one at risk of either getting killed any second or losing your loved ones in the blink of an eye!

"Peace" is not really a thing you see during a live ethnic cleansing!

Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Jacaerys Velaryon  — in House of the Dragon: 2.01 "A Son for a Son" (x)

House of the Dragon Masterlist

Rhaenyra Targaryen Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

Aegon ii Targaryen Masterlist

Miscellaneous:

One-Shots

Hands on Me (Benjicot Blackwood x Reader x Aeron Bracken)

Drabbles

Ten Minutes (Jacaerys Velaryon x reader)

Incorrect Quotes

House of the Dragon Incorrect Quotes

House of the Dragon Incorrect Quotes 2

Aegon: So you like Aemond?

Y/N: Yes...Thoughts?

Aegon: and prayers, girl what

No, bc Osha and Qimir are closer to a Force Dyad than you think.

Osha hadn’t been connected to the Force for years. In fact, the one time she desperately needed it, she still couldn’t use it.

That all changed on Khofar, in episode 1x05 she told both Sol and Jecki that she was starting to “sense things again”

But it wasn’t until the cortosis helmet came off of The Stranger that Osha felt the full range of someone’s Force signature again, the first one and the only one in years. And it was his.

The way the camera immediately cuts to Osha, all other sounds going silent except the quiet buzzing of the Force. She sensed him, like she hasn’t sensed anyone before in such a long time, and hadn’t sensed anyone since until her confrontation with her old master.

It is a connection between Osha and Qimir that was foreshadowed. A power between the two them.

Vermithor: I value bravery and courage in the face of danger

Silverwing: This one’s so sad and pathetic. I’ve decided he’s my poor little meow meow

Waiting

Nothing changed Levi, he’s always been like this—broody—not so much the forgetful part. But you loved him anyway, and that was enough for him.

It started with the little things, until Levi forgot to shut off the sink one night, ruining the kitchen floorboards.

CW: Post-war Levi x fem!reader, angst, memory and cognitive decline, major character death

A/N: I cried while I wrote this. Happy late Valentine's Day XOXO ~2.2k words

It started with the little things. A forgetfulness masked by old age, and yet it always felt like something more. 

Levi Ackerman was anything if not prideful, and yet the confusion that dazed him at times forced him to tell you, his beautiful wife, that he was struggling with something deep, so much so that you urged him to visit the doctor.

He hated doctors. He had enough of them after the Battle of Heaven and Earth. Prodding, pestering, painfully pricking at him to ensure he remained alive until adequate care could arrive. Who would’ve known it’d take weeks?

And so, Levi hated doctors—but he loved you, his wife, so much that he’d bear through another annoying visit. If anything to soothe your mind that this is just him in his old age, that this is nothing more than another bumpy hill before he’d get better.

He saw it all his mind, you’d wheel him to the doctor’s office, just so that they’d tell him the war changed him, and that many war veterans face mental struggles. Then they’d charge an arm and a leg for the “prognosis”. You’d happily give payment if it meant Levi’s just fine—as fine as Levi Ackerman could be, but fine was good.

Nothing changed Levi, he’s always been like this—broody—not so much the forgetful part. But you loved him anyway, and that was enough for him.

It started with the little things, until Levi forgot to shut off the sink one night, ruining the kitchen floorboards.

You’d seen Levi swing through trees to face the ugliest of titans, seen him fight through despite the pains in his body, and yet that first harrowing face of forgetfulness stuck with you.

The doctor’s appointment was moved up from next month to next week. 

You wheeled him to the office, hands on the push handles subtly shifting every now and then to pull the graying bangs from his forehead to behind his ear. His hair is getting long, you think. It’s time for a haircut and he hasn’t even mentioned it.

The doctor says that war changed Levi. That many war veterans face many mental illnesses—and yet Levi’s is a strange and unique one, one that the doctor’s heard of but very, very rarely. As if done with the novelty of being “unique”, Levi scoffs at the doctor, limping from the examination table back to his wheelchair.

“Well then, your job is to cure this right?” The doctor’s face is blank and expressionless.

“There’s no cure.”

The walk back to your home is silent, more silent than you think you can bear. Your hands on Levi’s push handles stay put, no longer casting them towards his hair for loving caresses. You don’t want to impose on his boundaries after a conversation like this—Levi wishes you would.

Dinner is eaten silently, deep contemplation overtakes the both of you.

“Screw what the doctor said,” he utters.

“What?”

“I said screw what the doctor said, I just won’t forget. I can’t imagine it can be so difficult.” For some reason, it felt like the easiest solution in the world. You beam at him and the hopeful look in your eyes make him feel warm.

Of course, you think, Levi won’t let you down. Levi who's survived it all would fight this too, and things will be as normal as they can be.

“What’s with the shit eating grin,” Levi asks you one afternoon. You had just come back from the local market.

“I brought you this journal,” and you shove the bound papers into his lap.

“You can write everything you remember, the ladies at the market told me it helps with memory loss.”

“You didn’t—”

“No, I haven’t.”

Levi’s reluctance to let anybody know his illness was debilitating, your friends would definitely care if something were going on. But Levi’s image has already been impacted once—he didn’t want to add another smear to the already imperfect painting.

And so, Levi writes, albeit only in the evenings and when you are fast asleep. He writes of his mother, his friends, his squad, Hange and Erwin.

He writes about you.

Your name, the day he met you, a cheeky soldier with a death wish, as he likes to say. He writes about the day he told he you he loved you and first kissed you, the day he married you. He wrote about it while it was still fresh in his mind, where he willed for it to remain, where he begged for it to remain, for the rest of his life.

Levi forgets your birthday. 

It’s a good thing others didn’t, because neighbors and friends arrived to give you well wishes. He kisses you at the end of the night and you smile at him, and you forget about him forgetting.

Levi forgets about the chicken in the oven.

Fortunately, you arrive on time to salvage dinner, some of the skin burned, but digestible. He apologizes, face red in embarrassment. You tell him it’s nothing.

Every morning you inspect the journal while Levi rests, warm with the memories that still persist. Levi’s fighting, you think to yourself, everything will be alright.

Things remain in limbo for a while, with you picking up the pieces of Levi’s forgetting mind and putting them in their place. It remains like that for a while, you reminding Levi of the things he’s supposed to be doing. 

Suddenly, so suddenly, you come home one morning to find Levi struggling to stand, finding support in the nearby table.

“Levi,” you exclaim, “what the hell are you doing?”

He seems almost startled by you, but he clenches his jaw in defiance.

“Where the hell is everybody? We need to stop Eren, and I’m just sitting here doing nothing.”

Suddenly, so suddenly, it’s like you’ve woken up and are facing reality for the first time. 

The tears slip from your eyes, the hands by your side clenching and unclenching into fists. Levi looks at you with a stern expression, calling your name, but you ignore him as you walk away. You hide in your bedroom.

Levi talks of titans for two days straight, washes the same dishes several times, asks you where Hange and Erwin were, before finally snapping back into reality.

You’re crumpled on your bed and he sinks there with you, head falling into your shoulder. He’s silent in quiet horror, you’re silent in quiet loneliness. He apologizes over and over. You tell him it’s okay.

The frayed edges of Levi’s mind begin to tear at the seams, the gaps in his mind no longer something he can conceal. He wills himself to write. Where there was once lengthy journal entries, now repetitive sentences covered the pages.

We are living in year 86x. The war has ended.

Erwin Smith is dead. Hange Zoe is dead.

The war has ended.

The war has ended.

The war has ended.

Levi forgets your anniversary, Levi forgets to bathe, Levi forgets the route home when he steps out to buy…something—he can’t remember what he was supposed to buy.

To avoid your pained gaze, Levi’s wheelchair permanently lives near the window in the corner of the living room. Away from disturbing you, away from being near you.

Things remain like this for a while. You wait—for what, you don’t really know. You watch Levi scramble day in and day out, until he finally stills, hands in his lap, staring outside the window.

After months, you inspect his journal, wanting to feel hope, wanting to remind yourself that Levi’s fighting, that he’s trying.

The last journal entry was weeks ago. All that remain are scribbles. Levi remembers the routine, but does’t remember what he’s supposed to do. 

The doctor says there’s nothing left to do, and so you watch your husband implode. And oh you wouldn’t wish this on your worst enemy. To watch the man that loves you forget you. To watch as the man you love forgets everything.

Levi’s exhaustion is apparent from where he sits. He holds his teacup, fingers feeling weird where they were. Why does he hold teacups like this?

But only when he forgets your name does your own world implode, the bits and pieces of your self floating, with nobody to piece you together.

He doesn’t sleep in your bedroom anymore, only married people do that. In Levi’s mind, he’s respecting you, an unmarried woman, and so his permanent spot by the window also becomes the spot where he sleeps.

The doctor gives him a couple of more weeks, but it’s months of confusion, months of gazing into nothing, grasping at far away memories. 

Where’s Erwin?

Where’s Furlan and Isabel?

Where’s my mother?

You remind Levi that they’re gone, but that they’re waiting for him. Wherever they are.

You wait. For what, you don’t know.

It’s months of self hatred, before for a moment, Levi finds relief; clarity.

You catch him staring at you one evening, when you’re cleaning the dishes of tonight’s dinner.

“You remind me of someone I used to love,” Levi tells you.

Your heart catches, blood freezing, before you smile, a shaky breath escaping you.

“Yeah,” you respond, “used to?” 

Levi stays silent. You’ve long gotten used to the silence and the quiet contemplation, but for some reason you are compelled to look at him.

You are used to his lost gaze, used to the permanent furrowed brows that are always deep in thought. Is it your lover trying to remember you? The fighter in him, still combatting the destruction of his mind?

You look at him like a teacher looks at their student, the answer at the tip of their tongue, the knowledge in the deepest part of their mind, waiting to be brought out.

You are used to the defeated glance of despair, the quiet confusion that tells you help me.

You are not used to, however, the look that now graced Levi’s face.

Recognition. It startles you. It startles him.

He calls your name and your breath hitches. You can’t help the tears that slip. He says your name, over and over again and you walk over from the kitchen counter to his spot by the window, toppling over his wheelchair in an embrace. Your face falls into the crook of his neck as he wraps his arms around you.

“You married me,” he says quietly, “why?”

You’re quiet, not trusting your voice to not fall and break down, but force yourself to speak anyway.

“I love you,” you say, voice hoarse, “that’s why.”

Neither of you say anything else. His face falls into your shoulder and he breathes you in—you smell familiar, look familiar too. Perhaps Erwin and Hange can tell him later who you are and why you’re embracing him. You’re just too warm to let go right now. All he knows is that you’re his wife—his beautiful wife.

For the first time in a long time, Levi wheels himself into your shared bedroom and sleeps next to you. For the first time in a long time, things feel normal.

That chilly evening, Levi left your world.

It wasn’t his world anymore, no—hadn’t been his world in a long time. His permanently furrowed brows have relaxed, and finally his face appeared peaceful. You were glad. Even if you sobbed quietly for him to come back, you were glad.

All that was left was to wait.

You waited.

You waited for death.

Your gray hair swayed with the breeze one fateful morning. Something clicked within you, something about the peace that morning made you smile an all knowing smile. What’s with the shit-eating grin, you could almost hear Levi ask you. 

That night, neighbors and former comrades surrounded you, their children in another room to spare them the pain and grief that came with death. You were glad that they didn’t have to see you. At a young age you had been a witness to countless deaths at the hands of titans and the world, let them salvage their innocence for a bit longer.

You were in delirium. You were drifting, memories and glimpses of your life flashing before you, it all felt so real. Your parents, the scouts, the war. The most prominent moments though were the ones with Levi. It was then you realized that you had almost forgotten what he looked like before his injuries. You had almost forgotten what he sounded like before illness overtook him.

Captain Levi Ackerman. A symbol of hope.

Levi. Just Levi. The man you had fallen in love with.

You smiled fondly as you felt the tendrils of your mortality begin to blur; the feeling of peace filled you, it felt like falling into a deep sleep. And the peace continued to lull you, leading you to nothing and infinity all at the same time. 

You wandered, away from the cries of the world, and suddenly, a silence.

Then, you saw him. Your face broke out into a beaming smile.

“Levi,” you called out to your lover, your feet moving automatically to reach him.

There he was, his vision clear, his limbs intact, not a single layer of exhaustion on him. His face broke out in a small smile and he called out to you; you felt whole again.

There he was. Waiting for you.