#since it's been so long since i drew these that chapter 4 is already up lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mmogurl · 4 months ago

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In The Shadow of Dragons Chapter 1: Requited Passions

18+ | 7.2k | Daemon Targaryen X Female OC | possessive, protective, objectifying, simping, raunchy Daemon | Uncle / niece incest, Smut, Dragons, Political Intrigue, Plotting, Murder, lots of old timey concepts that don't make a lot of sense today, but are still kind of hot/fun.

The second born daughter of King Viserys Targaryen, Ryna, is nine and ten years old and still unwed. Despite being surrounded by suitors, she has yet to find a man who captures her interest, and bristles at the pressure to select a husband. But a chance encounter with her enigmatic uncle, Daemon, promises to disrupt all her assumptions and to set her on a path she could never have anticipated. (Loosely set in episode 6, but Laena has already died a year prior)

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9 Also on AO3

The Great Hall was bristling with celebration held in honor of Viserys’ latest grandson, Joffrey Velaryon. The massive chamber was alight with dancing shadows, decorated grandiosely with Targaryen tapestries hung where all could witness to demonstrate wealth and power. Long tables filled with the most toothsome of fine delicacies lined both sides of the throne room. Perhaps Father was trying to distract the noble assembly with pomp, away from the very obvious fact that Rhaenyra’s children were all bastards.

Numerous guests filed in with their entourages in tow, announced by the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Criston Cole. Ryna grimaced at who he declared next.

“House Lannister with their lord, Jason Lannister, Lord Paramount of the West, and Master of Casterly Rock,” Cole’s voice was stout enough, but had nowhere near the authority his predecessor, Lord Harrold Westerling had in his day.

The Lannister strode at the head of his retinue, like a preening peacock adorned in so much crimson and gold that one might think he were royalty and not the hosting family.

Ryna sat sandwiched between her good-brother Laenor Velaryon and Lyonel Strong, a position that made her feel most irritable as she was not even allowed the courtesy of being placed next to her own kin. The Hand was pleasant enough, albeit mostly a stranger, but she had never grown close to Laenor given how much time he spent preoccupied with affairs outside of his marriage.

As always her father, Viserys, sat proudly next to Rhaenyra, his named heir and, one might wonder at times, favored daughter, despite how much he protested to the contrary.

When the Lannister party drew close to the high table, Lord Jason bowed before them with a flourish and as his party withdrew, he climbed the steps and approached the King.

“Congratulations, Your Grace,” he fawned in the manner only a Lannister could muster, a tone both disrespectful and servile at the same time. “Healthy babes are a worthy cause for celebration. Where is the strapping lad? I had hoped to pay my respects.”

Rhaenyra piped up this time, looking exhausted and not fully recovered from child bearing even though it had been days since Joffrey’s birth. Ryna supposed the wee babe had been keeping her awake more often than not.

“Prince Joffrey is resting. He would not tolerate staying up any longer. You know how babes are, always sleeping,” she replied, playing into Jason’s feigned deference.

It was then that the Lannister shot a glance down the table at Ryna. She tried to smile just politely enough so as not to encourage more attentions from the man, but it was without success.

“Your Grace…” he started off in that same falsely sycophantic tenor. “Has the Princess given any more thought to the courtship I proposed?”

Father looked down the table at her, leaning forward slightly so that he might see the expression on her face. Ryna’s eyes were pleading ‘No’ while trying to remain civil in the lord’s presence. Viserys’ features hardened with annoyance and he rested back into his chair.

“The Princess should be happy to consider your attentions. After all she is but ten and nine summers and still not wed,” his voice was stony and strict, markedly cross with her for shirking her duties even longer than Rhaenyra had.

Jason Lannister ruffled his feathers as he voiced appreciation to her father and stepped down the length of the table until he came to stand before her. Ryna had to choke back a smirk when the thought occurred to her that the Lannister’s sigil should be a primping cock instead of a lion, for Jason had more in common with a fowl than the fearsome and proud predator.

“Princess, I trust you will save me a dance?” he squawked and it took all she had to keep from rolling her eyes.

“I shall try, Lord Jason,” she answered with a prim smile through grit teeth. “But, I have not been feeling well. It might be something I ate.”

Father shot her an irate look and Ryna had no doubt that if they had been seated next to each other, that she would have felt his palpable frustration.

“The Princess is in good health,” Viserys said, with a snide smile. “Expect her company once the revelry starts.”

With a pompous smirk, Jason Lannister excused himself and made his way down the steps and back to the banquet. Ryna heaved a sigh, finding it difficult to hide her true feelings on this subject, despite years of learning to comport herself in the presence of refined company.

Viserys was still glaring at her, and she reckoned he might be wrathful enough to cause a row amongst guests and their kin alike.

“Ryna, draw near,” he called out and she rose from her seat and came to where he sat.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the birth of my grandchild, but unofficially, I had hoped you’d make use of the congregation of eligible lords and find a husband once and for all. Enough of this procrastination. Find a man worthy or I shall make the choice for you.” His voice was low so that the company in attendance of the great feast could not hear them.

“You would wed me to a Lannister?” she practically spat. “Just to fill the coffers with his dowry?!”

“Watch your tone with me, girl. You have heard me and I will not suffer your insolence any longer. Leave me so I might enjoy the festivities.” Viserys turned his head back to the next guests approaching the King’s table. He was done with her, his decision final.

Ryna could not help but to stomp swiftly away with a childish petulance that did not become a lady. Leaving her family behind, she slipped into the shadows of the great pillars that lined the throne room and made her way down a short corridor until she was outside in the crisp night air.

She let out a troubled sigh, wishing now that she had brought a goblet of wine with her. Ryna walked to the edge of the stone parapet and looked down at the splendor of King’s Landing in fall of the leaf. The color marking the trees was apparent even at nightfall and the sea was glittering in the moonlight just past the city’s edge. The sight made her feel both reverence and panic in equal measure, with a mounting desire to climb atop her dragon and take flight away.

Why should a princess of Valyrian blood be constrained to laws of man when she had the power to tame a dragon? She should be free to do as she longed to - to wed whom she desired, and not be forced to play along to such formal vulgarities, duty or not.

Ryna was so deep in thought that the nearby sound of a clearing throat startled her back to awareness. She turned sharply and could just barely make out the figure of a man leaning against the massive stone bricks of the castle wall behind her. Then her eyes caught the blinding billow of moonlit tresses and she knew it must be her uncle, Daemon, for no other Targaryen males yet had his height.

Daemon had returned from exile a year ago to attend to the funeral of his wife, Laena Velaryon, who had died in childbirth. Although to be more technically accurate, her dragon Vhagar had incinerated her once the baby would not come out. The end result was the same; Daemon widowed once again.

She had been closer with her uncle in the past, back before Rhaenyra’s wedding to Laenor, but her uncle had made himself scarce as of late. He spent much of his time away from King’s Landing, presumably finishing up his business in Pentos or simply behaving restlessly as Daemon was wont to do. Often she had observed his comings and goings from a distance by the sight and screech of Caraxes in the sky outside her window.

Daemon stepped forth from the shadows and approached her, yet halted at a pace’s length, his eyes roving up and down her form in keen appraisal.

He leaned in closely, his eyes of violet hooded as he whispered in a velvety, ardent tone, “My you’ve grown, niece.” His closeness and the heat of his gaze caused her cheeks to flush, and she could not help but feel a flutter in her chest.

For a moment, Ryna just stood there incredulously, unable to think of how to respond. He had never shown any interest in her before, no matter how much she had desired it. Daemon had only ever had eyes for Rhaenyra it seemed, and Ryna had always remained a child in his eyes. She had honestly forgotten those long lost unrequited desires until his simple greeting brought them all rushing back like a wave breaking hard as the tide comes in.

“Uncle,” she acknowledged him, yet scarce a word could she find in answer to his bold suggestion.

“Such beauty should never be sullied with a frown,” he continued, his demeanor charming without effort as he brushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Tell Uncle what is troubling you.”

His inquiry proved to be somewhat of a balm to her tensions, providing a welcome transition into a topic she could put words to.

“Father has given me ultimatum to choose a husband lest he choose one for me,” she pouted, her lips pursing and her eyes sullen.

“Surely it cannot be so grim, sweetling,” he reassured her smoothly and she now saw he was holding a silver chalice adorned with the the three-headed dragon, likely filled with wine. “I imagine you’d have your pick of many fine and wealthy lords.”

“I’m afraid the selection is quite lacking,” Ryna scoffed gently, feeling a fondness stir as she recalled the old pet name he’d given her in many years past. It had been some time since she had heard him utter the word, but the fact that it sounded so well when spoken by him did not escape her notice.

Daemon quickly turned her around by the shoulder, then with a firm yet gentle hand placed against the small of her back, he led her towards the balustrade. His hand remained steadfast even as they halted, and Ryna shivered involuntarily at the feel of his fingers tracing the fabric of her gown with a tender and possessive touch.

“Let me guess,” he relished with sardonic glee. “Some old and fat oaf of a lord… No doubt a widower with a dozen children?”

“That and much worse,” she scowled thinking of all of the potential suitors that had approached her father for her hand. “A Lannister so full of himself that is makes my skin crawl to think of his paws upon me.”

An easy laugh escaped Daemon’s mouth and she thought with a wry smile that many must share her disgust for the lions.

“Ah, Lannisters. What a bunch of cunts,” he chuckled condescendingly, stealing a wanton glance down her bodice. “And the rest? Are there none suitable, niece?”

Ryna pondered the question, but could not think of a single man that had caught her attention. Except for Daemon of course, but that had never been a real option, especially after his transgressions with Rhaenyra some years back. Father had tried to keep it secret, but she’d crept into the throne room upon hearing his furious yelling and had heard the entire ordeal take place between the brothers.

Even still, she could not imagine marrying anyone of plain blood. In fact, it repulsed her to think that Father would ever marry a Hightower without an ounce of Valyrian heritage. And even though her brothers were technically half Targaryen, they were both young, and while Aemond seemed sweet, Aegon was a reprehensible human being.

The answer it seemed was simple after all. “No,” she replied curtly with a rueful sigh. “There are none who please me… But, I fear Father will not be thwarted this time. He will not permit me to celebrate my twentieth nameday without a husband.”

She glanced over at her uncle and took in the almost ethereal way his pale skin glowed in the moonlight. He hadn’t changed at all, like an ageless god from the legends she’d so loved as a girl. His hair swayed against his shoulder in the slight breeze as he took a sip from his cup.

“Ah yes, sweetling, It would seem your father has you in quite the bind,” he said matching her somber tone. “No doubt he believes that time is running short. That you must fulfill your duty to the family and start producing heirs before you get much older.”

“He has been patient with me. Rhaenyra shirked her duty at first, but still acquiesced to marry at seven and ten years, but I… Well, they will be calling me an old maid soon.” She hung her head down, feeling ashamed for the way she’d behaved towards her father. He had meant well for her after all, and Ryna had done nothing but rebuke him as reward for years of lax freedom.

Daemon removed his hand from her back, sliding it gently up her arm until it came to rest below her chin. He tipped her jaw up to meet his face and she was met with a kind smile.

“Do not ever lower your head, sweetling. You are a dragon,” he said warmly, letting go so that he could sit against the stone wall beneath the balustrade. “Now, perhaps we can solve this little problem.. What would make a suitor worthy of your hand in marriage?”

She felt a hot wave of embarrassment rise within her, for she knew well the answer that rested upon her tongue, yet dared not speak the words aloud. Surely, Father would never let her have him even if she begged on her knees. Even so, Ryna didn’t see the point in lying completely. She would be honest about the qualities she sought in a partner, even if not being direct about the person whom she had in mind.

“It is important to me that my offspring remain pure. I do not wish to mix with those who are laden to the ground. That doesn’t leave me with many options,” she spoke softly, her head tilting up towards her uncle as she finished.

There was an intrigued sparkle in Daemon’s eyes as he comprehended her words and a smile wove its way across his face. “A dragon’s clutch should remain undiluted and pure, I agree. The blood of Old Valyria is powerful and should be preserved.” He hummed in approval as he wrapped his free hand around her waist and pulled her a touch closer. She gasped softly, unaccustomed to being so close to him.

“Tell me, little dragon. Have you never considered your uncle as a match before?” Daemon’s words cut like his sword, Dark Sister, through the cool night air.

Ryna’s lips parted as if to speak, unsure of how to proceed. He had taken the bait she’d unintentionally laid out and given he suggested it himself, the prince must be partial to the idea. But, Daemon was an enigma and she found it difficult to gage his intentions at all times.

“I have,” she said concisely. “It is the only obvious choice when it comes to such aims, but… It is… complicated.”

She saw his eyes flare, brow rising in challenge as he gripped more tightly around her waist. He placed his chalice down on the stone and drew her even closer to him. His knee wedged between her skirts to rest between her legs and her breast was now pressing indecently against his chest. It was not a position she was familiar to enduring. Ryna knew she should pull away, but Daemon had lulled her into compliance like a Dragonkeeper.

“Oh? And why is it so complicated, sweetling?” he asked with a smug grin and mock concern as he looked down at her.

Her uncle’s words snapped her out of it. How could he feign ignorance to the current situation?

“After your,” she began but found her mouth grow exceptionally dry after only two words. She turned her head to the side and brought her hand to her lips, clearing her throat before she continued. “After your exploits with Rhaenyra, Uncle… I doubt Father would consider letting us wed.”

Daemon’s gaze darkened with the mention of Rhaenyra. “Ah yes, that little indiscretion.” He said with an air of indifference that turned into an irritated smirk. “What do you know of it?”

“I overheard the two of you in the Great Hall that day. Father’s booming voice drew me in and then I stayed once I saw you lying on the floor with guards on either side. I was worried for you, but then I heard Father’s words. That you had taken Rhaenyra’s purity in some brothel… And you did not deny it.” The memory was not a fond one for Ryna. She could remember the inebriated state he’d been in as he asked her father for Rhaenyra’s hand in marriage as a result of their transgression.

“No, I did not deny it. And I did not confirm it either,” his voice was harder than usual, sterner as though upset by her knowledge of what transpired that day. “In all truth, I didn’t do much. I merely took her to a decent establishment to show her the reality of life outside the castle.”

“If you did not sully her virture, then why would you not refute such slanderous claims made against you, Uncle? Why accept exile for it… Again?” she asked furrowing her eyebrows, her hands with a mind of their own coming to rest on his shoulders.

He chuffed like a dragon, the only aspect missing was perhaps smoke escaping from his nostrils. “Why would I deny it? What would be the point?” his words were gruff. “What could I have said to convince your father that Rhaenyra was still untouched? Was I supposed to prostrate myself before him as a loyal dog to prove it?”

“You were already at his feet. Why not tell him the truth? Unless you hoped only to make him believe you besmirched her honor, just so you might wed her and recover your claim to the throne,” there was a certain amount of hurt in her voice as well as misgiving.

Ryna had never spoken to her uncle in this manner, or anyone so far her elder for that matter. But, part of her felt scorned, wronged for how much stock he had placed in Rhaenyra instead of her. She had to know what his true motivations had been and what he was capable of carrying out in order to get what he desired.

“You are treading on thin ice, little girl,” he voiced dangerously as his grip on her hips tightened. “How dare you make me out to be some incorrigible fiend. If anyone has been wronged in this whole… ordeal it has been me.”

His knee shifted a bit higher between her legs as he pulled her hips forward onto his lap, his thigh pressed firmly against her center. She whined faintly with the force of it, even through the layers of her skirts it made her core throb with unknown want.

“Iksos bona skoros ao pendagon hen issa?” he resumed in a more measured tone, his voice lower now. Is that what you think of me?- “That I only wanted Rhaenyra for the throne?”

His hands slid up her back, pulling her flush against him. Ryna’s lips pressed against the leather of his collar as he whispered in her ear, “Or do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

Was she so transparent? The very thought of him reading her so accurately made her feel about as obvious as the sun is bright. Despite Daemon’s embarrassing insinuation, it was impossible to think whilst being held in such close proximity to him. She attempted to regain her composure, but his hot breath against her ear and the way he dug into her heat with his knee was driving her mad.

“And what if I was?” she finally blurted out. “You never once glanced my way, not like you did her. I do not wish to be second best even to my own husband.” Ryna tried to make distance, attempting to push away from his chest.

Daemon wouldn’t allow it. His grip was strong and possessive, making it clear that he was not willing to let her go just yet.

“Who said you would be second best?” his words spilled out gravely, sweet, yet viscous as they fell from his lips. “Have you so easily forgotten how I used to dote on you? How I called you my little sweetling? Do you not remember how I would let you ride with me on Caraxes before you claimed your own beast?”

Ryna was taken aback by his perception of the past, not realizing that her uncle had remembered her so fondly. Perhaps she had spent too much time dwelling on inconsequential matters. She peered up at Daemon as he held her forearms tightly in front of his chest. The matter of Rhaenyra was still of some concern, but clearly she was mistaken about a great deal.

“Yes, Uncle, I do recall. And that is what made my envy all the more dire when you attempted to pursue my sister, barely noticing me as I tried to bid you welcome home. I felt you had forsaken me in favor of her.” She didn’t feel obligated to mention how desperately lonely she had felt when he was sent away once again, nor the deep sense of heartache she had experienced upon hearing about his wedding to Laena.

Dameon’s grip on her lessened and the softness now present in his features made her feel a little more relaxed. His hands caressed up her back once more as he sat down on the stone parapet and brought her fully onto his lap. Ryna’s dress protested, the skirts fighting as he pulled her knees forward to straddle him. It was an obscene, intimate position for a young maiden, but she couldn’t help be reminded of better times when she found great comfort in that same lap.

“Your envy?” he mused almost sympathetically. “Have you been pining away for me all of this time, sweetling?”

“No,” she answered abruptly, feeling the hot sting of mortification as he continued to reveal the inner yearnings of her heart.

He let out a deep, hearty chuckle as he brought a hand to her face. Long fingers traced the outline of her cheek before wrapping around her chin. She had forgotten the contentment of his affections even though the way she recieved them had been altered now that she was grown.

“No?” he echoed with mock disbelief.” He gently gripped her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look at only him as he spoke harshly. “Do not attempt to deceive me, niece. You could never tell-tale when you were young, and you still lack the talent.”

Daemon’s hand released her chin, sliding it down to rest against the base of her throat. “You forget I can see right through you… I know what you’re really thinking.”

“What am I thinking then?” Her voice was not haughty, but tinged with awe as his rakish wiles seduced her into calm once more.

“You’re thinking…” he paused, bringing his hand to brush a strand of hair from her face before caressing her cheek. “You’re thinking that you would welcome my touch further. You’d welcome my affections. My attention.”

His hand slipped further down, sliding along the neckline of her bodice he drew a finger against the top of her breast. “You’d welcome more than that. You want so much more than that. No matter how you pretend otherwise.”

Ryna’s breath stuttered out disjointedly, her chest heaving not just from his capricious words, but the unfamiliar touch of his hand at the swell of her breast. It was not at all unpleasant, but it was unseemly. The sounds of the banquet carried on from inside, but nobody had disturbed their solitude yet. She would venture an allowance, just this once.

“And what do you want, Uncle?” Ryna gazed at him, entranced at being the object of his focus after having been starved of it for so long.

As Daemon looked into her eyes, his expression darkened with what appeared to be lust and longing. His palm lowered over the curve of her breast, cupping her soft mound gently as he leaned his forehead against hers. A low whimper struck against Ryna’s closed mouth as his fingers grazed lightly down her bust, traveling over her ribcage and then rounding to her hips.

“Nyke jaelagon ao, jorrāelagon mēre,” he purred deeply. I want you, dear one- His lips brushed against hers as though trying to lure them open. “I’ve always wanted you, but thought it too wicked, even for the likes of me, to tarnish you with my degeneracy.”

His hands slid around to the small of her back, pulling her closer with a satisfied grunt. “But, now that I know you’ve been hungering for me, sweetling, I’m beginning to think… that you’ve always been mine. That I’ve wasted so much time hiding from the truth.”

She could feel the heat of his breath upon her face, coaxing her so enticingly into his thrall. Her lips parted to release a quiet breath, but before the air had fully escaped her mouth, Daemon sealed them with a kiss. Even though she had never kissed a man, she was consumed by his fiery passion. She closed her eyes, her fingers wrapping around his back as she whispered hushed, sultry mewls against his lips.

His tongue swept her lower lip, teasing at her mouth until she yielded to him and allowed entrance. The kiss was urgent and demanding, filled with untold desire she’d only read about in old tales of Valyrian mythology. One of Daemon’s hands roamed to the exposed skin at her right knee, bunching the fabric up higher and groaning as his fingers felt the bare skin of her thighs. His lips tasted of Westerosi strongwine and spices, his tongue plundering her mouth as though it were an indulgent ambrosia all its own.

“I should stop before I go too far, sweetling,” he groaned, tearing his mouth away as he regarded her. “I don’t want to ruin you out here in the open… Or at least I do not wish to get caught doing so.” A wicked smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, but the yearning was still present in his eyes.

Ryna fussed at the loss of his sweet kiss, an aching throb now coursing throughout her entire core. Lost in the affections she’d always wanted, she could not possibly think to stop now.

“No, please,” she pleaded without meaning to. The words were barely a soft gasp against his neck as her lips found the pulse of his throat and pressed a gentle kiss to it.

Daemon chuckled at her protestations, leaning his forehead against hers again. It was a simple gesture he had always used in the past to ease her distress, although there was an entirely new meaning to it now, it still made her feel at peace in much the same way.

“What will people say if they see us?” he whispered with feigned anxiety, his hot breath skimming against her dampened lips. “A wicked prince spoiling a young innocent maiden with his turpitude. What sort of debauchery is this?”

Her uncle’s words were laced with a sense of mockery, but she knew he spoke true. She sighed and kissed him once more, making sure to keep it brief lest she become unable to refrain from continuing. Ryna slipped off his lap, feeling her senses slowly return to her. She glanced at the glowing light coming from the hall and exhaled with relief when there was nobody present to see their misconduct.

She smoothed her skirts so that they were not so unkempt and tucked away any loose strands of hair back against her scalp. Daemon took his time in rising from his seat on the parapet, adjusting the front of his trousers slightly as he did so.

“You should return to the party,” his voice was rough with lust and did not sound pleased by the prospect. “At least for now we should keep up appearances. For now…”

“And what of our earlier conversation?” she asked almost demurely, with a submissive tone she was not frequently used to employing. “What of Father’s ultimatum?”

Daemon took a few steps forward, crowding into her as he rested his hands firmly at her waist. “I won’t suffer any suitor but myself to claim you,” he hissed possessively. “Especially not some timid lordling whose ineptitude would bring your heart naught but bitterness, my sweetling.”

Ryna couldn’t help but smile with the ornery way he insisted no other man should wed her, but it would still be difficult to convince Father to allow it.

“How shall we persuade my father that you are worthy than, Uncle?” she peered up at him, her fingers gently clutching the sleeves of his doublet.

“Worthy,” Daemon said with a scoff. “I have the blood of Old Valyria. I am the Prince of the City. I am a dragon, little niece.” He let his hands slide around to her back, gripping her hips greedily. With a swift tug, he yanked her flush against his chest and whispered quietly in her ear. “Name another who is more worthy?”

Gods, he was too good at this. With barely his low trill in her ear, Ryna’s knees felt weak.

“I do not question your value, Daemon. There is no better match in my eyes,” she placed her small hands on his chest and pushed him back so she might look upon him face to face. “But I fear Father will think the worst of your intentions.”

He let out a gruff chuckle at that, a knowing smile spreading wickedly as he tilted his head. “Intentions?” he mused with thick sarcasm. “Yes, how horrible it would be to bed, wed, and impregnate his sweet innocent darling daughter. I’m sure the thought of the latter will be a dagger to his heart.”

“I am speaking in all earnestness, Uncle,” she ruffled, her lower lip pouting out at his jest. “He will think you wish to claim the throne by way of wedding me.”

Daemon chuffed, clearly amused by her petulant scolding. “So, my brother thinks me a scheming opportunist, does he?” With a shrug he dismissed the notion, yet added, “Well, he isn’t wrong.”

A wolfish smirk pulled at his lips as he leaned his head down to her ear once more. “Although, if the throne comes to me as a result of seeding your belly with my babe, my sweet niece, then I certainly won’t complain.”

“You are awful…” she scoffed with disbelief, making space between them again. “How can you not take this seriously? I don’t want you to be sent away again. You know you should renounce any claim to the throne.” Her pale lilac eyes grew wide, peering at him with thinly veiled worry and beginning to gleam as tears threatened to come.

He clenched his jaw at the mention of relinquishing the Iron Throne. “Daor. Nyke jāhor daor,” he growled. No. I will not.- “Do not ask me to lie down like a whipped dog. And do not bring tears to your eyes in an attempt to soften me.” Daemon’s eyes remained cold as they narrowed at her, the fondness all but gone from his voice as he continued.

“I have spent my entire life living to the expectations of others. I will follow the path I know I am destined for.” He gripped her chin roughly, forcing her to look up at him and meet his gaze. “I will claim what is mine by right, and you will be a part of it whether you wish it or not, little niece.”

Ryna attempted to speak, but he stopped her by placing a single finger over her lips.

“You have made it clear that you are mine. You will do as I say. You will wed me and stand at my side when I ascend to the throne. Those are the only outcomes I will accept,” he ordered sternly. “And to ensure it, I will have to use any means necessary. If that includes ruining your innocence to ensure you do not wed another… So be it.”

There was a palpable tension in the air between them. She wished to have the sweet man she had shared her first kiss with back and not the tyrant that stood before her. But, Ryna understood his ambitions, just as everyone in their family did. She knew she had touched upon a sensitive subject, perhaps too insistently, and now regretted digging into a wound that ran exceptionally deep.

Most distressing of all, was that she believed his purpose to be true, even though the thought of what lengths he might have to go to achieve it sometimes haunted her. Now, he might not even trust that she had any faith in him or his calling at all.

“I am grieved,” she replied with a quiet whisper. “I did not mean to say that you should not seek the throne, Uncle, but use it as pretense so that Father lets his guard down. He knows you want it and he does not wish you to have it.”

The truth of it was that between Rhaenyra’s bastards and the Hightower half-blood mongrels, the pairing she’d make together with Daemon would have the strongest claim to the throne. If something were to happen to Rhaenyra, the throne would pass to Ryna, but the realm was still not wont to have even a Targaryen Queen rule over it. If she wed Daemon though, then there would be no question of a higher authority. She had no desire to rule and would pass it to her uncle gladly.

His grip on her chin faltered, the anger leaving his voice and replaced by a tired sigh. “My sweetling, you know not how difficult it has been for me to restrain myself for all these years. You have grown more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” He spoke low and deliberate as he gently brushed along the line of her jaw. “It was a challenge unto itself, not to ravish you the moment you became a woman, but I was certain your father would geld me for it.”

She could not help but laugh at his admission, although Father had certainly not opted to castrate her uncle for his supposed transgression with Rhaenyra.

“You laugh but only I know how it felt to resist you day after day, year after year,” he growled, voice husky with need. “I was tempted on so many occassions to claim you as my own, to steal you away to Dragonstone and keep you there.”

He leaned closer, burying his nose in her platinum tresses and inhaling deeply of her scent. “And now you’ve left yourself vulnerable, sweetling. Now that I know you want me as much as I desire you… There is nothing that can keep me away.”

“Not even the King,” he added with a huff, his lips moving to trail the smooth skin along her neckline.

She was not sure how to reply to such conviction, especially when it concerned her father. Ryna did not wish ill of him, but then she was sure Daemon would not hurt his own brother. Well, mostly certain at least.

Daemon must have sensed her hesitation, for he murmured softly against her temple. “Let me handle your father, my sweet little niece… Just focus on being my good girl, alright?” His grip was firm, but tender on her shoulders as he pushed himself away from her. “Now, you must head back, before anyone comes. I wouldn’t be surprised if Viserys hasn’t had the servants upturning the keep for you by now,” he chuckled wryly and pressed a kiss against her forehead before disengaging from her completely.

As he released her, Ryna suddenly felt an unbearable emptiness. His lips left her skin feeling warm and wanting more, but he was already taking steps away from her, retrieving his chalice from the surface of the parapet. The tone of his voice told her he would brook no disagreement in this and she knew it would be for the best that she return.

“Return to the celebration, sweetling,” he said with his back to her as he looked out over the city. “And do not worry your pretty little mind of all this. I will take care of your father. You have my word.”

Ryna had so wished to ask him if he would dance with her this evening, but soon realized something as she turned and headed back inside. That once they were wed there would be a week-long celebration and she would have as many chances to dance with her uncle as she liked.

She paused for a moment as she stood in the flickering shadows of the hallway that led back to the Great Hall. Ryna had seen it clear as day when she was only but ten and two years old. She did not understand what it meant, but had spent weeks combing the library for information trying to understand it with no answers to be found.

She’d had a strange daydream or perhaps a vision. In it, Ryna had seen a beautiful young woman with flowing silver-gold hair standing beside her uncle Daemon as he sat upon the Iron Throne.

It had befuddled her for years until finally she began to mature, her skinny, tomboyish body blossoming outwards like the petals of a flower. And, one day she looked in her hand mirror and realized that the woman she’d seen, was none other than herself.

It did naught but break her heart when she then found out that his affections, nay his ambitions, laid with Rhaenyra. And, she’d forced herself to tuck that long lost song of what might come to pass away, when she heard Laena gave birth to twins. Ryna locked it all tightly, somewhere she might never think of it again.

And yet now, it might all be coming to pass regardless. She didn’t know whether she should be excited or aghast at what might happen in the coming months.

She stepped into the Great Hall and was pleased to see that most every guest had imbibed much of her father’s generosity since her departure. Nobody seemed to take notice of her as she walked through the crowd aside from Ser Criston Cole who eyed her wearily. She cared little for the man, thinking him a miscreant since observing him beat a man to death at Rhaenyra’s wedding. Ryna wondered how it was he still held such an esteemed post regardless.

Heading right up to the King’s table, she was not surprised to see that most everyone had abandoned her father as they always tended to do once a banquet got underway. He sat alone in his chair without a soul to even pour his wine. Ryna lamented how lonely he appeared. The most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms and here he sat deep in his drink and completely alone.

Father’s eyes brightened as he saw her, a slur in his voice, “Daughter! I was wondering where you ran off to. Come and pour your father another.”

“Do you think it wise, Father?” she asked with a playful tone, knowing he would not be denied despite her pestering.

“Your King demands it, girl,” he jested with a smile and she obediently filled his cup.

“I’m sorry, Father,” she apologized, her voice demure and meek in an attempt to show him the deference he deserved, not just as her King, but as her forebear.

He waved a hand, scoffing as though it mattered not. “I should bid you apology, my child. For suggesting you dance with that Lannister fellow. He is truly insufferable.” Father’s eyes grew wide with joy as he let out a boisterous laugh and she could not help but join in the royal ribbing of Jason Lannister.

“But you still must choose a husband, Ryna,” he said somberly, the mirth still poking at the edge of his words.

“I know,” she replied with a smile, trying to show her appreciation for the years of independence he’d allowed her. “I will perform my duty for you and the realm, Father.”

“That’s my good girl. Disobedience never suited you,” he took a long swig from his ornate chalice. “Besides, I have all that I can handle of that with Rhaenyra,” he quipped with a chuckle and quick raise of his brow. “Now leave me, child. I have wont to pass swiftly from drink to slumber tonight.”

“Good evening, Father,” she bowed her head to him slightly and turned to give him the space he desired.

She glanced around the hall looking for a certain blond uncle, but did not catch sight of him. Perhaps he was being cautious by not being seen together with her in front of the masses gathered for the celebration. It was an intelligent idea that she thought she would abide by as well for now. After all, she’d had enough excitement for one night.

Ryna nodded at several lords and ladies she know of, but barely knew as she retired from the banquet hall. The path to her chambers was quiet and uneventful and after minimal effort undressing, she soon found herself comfortably lying in her bed, ensconced in plush blankets.

Thoughts swirled of the moments she’d shared with Daemon on the balcony. Ryna could still taste him upon her lips and feel his hands upon her body. As though attempting to reprise the memory, she ran her fingers gently over her breast in much the same way he had. It was too much to bear. She clenched her thighs together and turned harshly on her side with a squeal of flustered arousal.

She tried to clear her mind of lustful thoughts and peered out the window at the high moon. Would Daemon be able to convince Father that he would be a worthy suitor? Truly there was no better man in terms of Valyrian descent, but her father had been so angry with her uncle, so many times over the years. She worried he might not be able to let it go.

Given all that had occurred and the pressing marital matters at hand, she’d thought it might be difficult to sleep, but surprisingly it found her quickly.

Notes: This was the longest chapter I have ever written! I could not stop - a woman possessed!

So, I know this is not entirely necessary, but I thought I would write up a little post-chapter introduction to explain some of the setting I’ve chosen for this story.. And why I decided to make these choices.

I wanted the OC to be young, but not too young as it wouldn’t make sense that she would remain unmarried if allowed to get too old. I also did not want such a huge gap of time to pass after Rhaenyra and Laenor’s wedding. Ten years is such a huge amount of time, and I wanted the OC to have been within a comparable age to Rhaenyra when she last sees Daemon.

Now, with that in mind, the timeline of the show is also very confusing when you compare it against the timelines on the wiki, which is based on lore. There is an understanding of an approximate amount of time that has gone by on the show, but even when using those estimations, the years don’t come close to the dates on the wiki. I know I shouldn’t focus on such trivial matters, but it did in fact bother me while planning my own outline. I decided that I would base it more loosely off the official lore dates of events and ages of characters, and not the show's. This is something you may or may not notice, but it is worth mentioning. Any changes made are not necessarily for lack of being informed about it, they are just conscious changes.

One glaring issue is the birth of Rhaenyra’s first three children.. All of which are born in pretty quick succession, 115 AC, 116, AC and then 117 AC. That means that technically, this fic should be starting in 117 AC.. Only 4 years after the events of Rhaenyra’s wedding to Laenor (114AC). And Baela and Rhaena were born in 116 AC, which certainly causes some difficulty in lining these dates up with the show. Laena dies in 120 AC and yet her children look much older than 4 and the same can be said for Rhaenyra’s as well.

So, I’ve decided after much deliberation, that Joffrey’s birth will take place in 119AC instead of 117AC, meaning that instead of 10 years, only about 5 years have passed since the wedding. And Laena’s death will be moved to 118AC, 2 years earlier than in the lore, and much earlier in the show. I think if you add the time skips together.. That the (10 years later) jump that occurs ends up being about 126AC which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, except for the fact that they’re likely trying to line things up for the Dance of the Dragons, but the timing still feels off.

I also wanted to say that I had several starting points in mind for this story, but this was the one I just happened to like the most in terms of the timeline and how close it is to Viserys’ death and all the major events that take place afterwards! So please enjoy, and I do hope I can capture the tone and feel of the show and characters without stepping on my own feet too much. I have never attempted to write a story in this time period or style, so I guess we’ll see how it goes. Expect some growing pains until I’m more practiced and do not judge me too harshly.

Another thing worth mentioning is that I wrote the first chapter in a rather obsessive flurry that lasted most of one day and all of a night. Suffice it to say, it slipped my mind to add in the High Valyrian, given how much I had my hands full with grasping a more Shakespearean take on English. I will likely add placeholder Valyrian in, so that it does not hold me up too much as I write. When finished, I’ll take the time to research how to make it more accurate. So don’t worry too much if you do happen to know High Valyrian and find any glaring errors.

But! Please DO tell me what you thought! Also.. Yes, there will be a lot more. This is planned to be a rather big story... Read Chapter 2 here.

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lot-of-nothing · 9 months ago

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Entwined (Ch. 6)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Protective Mel <3

Warnings: Smut, flirting, arguments, and working through internalized homophobia

Author’s Note: THIS TOOK SO LONG OH MYGOD. @icannolongercountmyfandoms is the one you can thank for a new chapter bc she LITERALLY threatened me with BODILY HARM /j

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5

A soft knock on your office door drew your attention from your desktop monitor to the sweet face of Melissa Schemmenti. You had been ordering parts on a vehicle currently in your shop when her presence delightfully interrupted your work.

Leaning back in your desk chair, you rest your hands on your thighs as you look her over. She wore leather pants and a form fitting top that only reminded you that it had been weeks since you last fooled around with the beautiful redhead. You spoke with a smirk, your eyes obviously wandering to admire her entire body, “What do I owe the pleasure of having Ms. Schemmenti in my office?”

Mel adored the way you stared, allowing the door to shut behind her as she inched deeper into the office. Her eyes scanned the walls littered with articles about the auto shop that had been in business for decades - opened by your great-uncle in the 70s. She murmured her reply without looking at you, “Just thought I’d drop by...”

“I saw you less than 12 hours ago. I can’t believe you miss me already.” Your eyes were glued to her ass as she turned her back to you.

Melissa kept her back to you as she spoke, slowly walking the perimeter of the office to skim the framed headlines. She returned the playful banter with a monotone, “I’m just here to make sure you are doin’ your job and not just daydreamin’ about me all day.”

“I have time for both.” You tease, earning a sideways glance and eye roll from the redhead.

When she was done touring the office, she perched herself at the edge of your desk. Your response was to move your office chair closer while simultaneously leaning backwards, stretching out to allow Melissa’s eyes to skim over you.

“Enjoying the view?” You asked.

“I am.” Her arms folded over her chest as a mischievous smirk grew on her lips. Mel’s eyes flickered from your shoulders, over your chest, allowing her eyes to linger before drifting back to your face, “I’ve never seen you in your work clothes.”

You give a shrug, teasing her, “That happens when you don’t call before 8pm.”

Your comment had more bite than you intended, but Melissa didn’t seem to take it too personally. She brushed her hair over her shoulder before placing both of her hands on the arms of your chair and looming over you, “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

Rather than meet her intense green hues, you admired her cleavage with no effort to conceal your desires. “What do you have in mind?” Melissa’s demeanor changed with a playful laugh. You could’ve sworn you felt her purring as her face drifted closer to yours. Her nose and lips brushed against yours before she scantily pulled away, “A little weekend getaway. You, me, and a cheap, little hotel right on the beach in Atlantic City.”

You cocked your head with a shit eating grin across your face, “Are you asking me on a date?”

Her response contained no hesitation or nervousness. Rather she seemed incredibly satisfied with herself, “I am.”

“Then say it.” Your demeanor was entirely too confident for Melissa’s liking, and you could tell this was the case as her brows narrowed as she stared you down. Her stubborn nature had her fall silent, searching your face to see how serious you were. You confirmed your serious intentions as you returned her intimidating gaze, “Go on.”

The redhead glared for a few seconds longer before straightening her back and softening her features, “Will you go on a date with me?”

“Why, I thought you would never ask.” To reward Mel for her behavior, you rose from your chair, pressing a brief kiss to her lips that threatened to cause Melissa’s cheeks to flush red.

—

“What in the hell is this?” A voice and a banging on the window to your office caused Melissa to jump from your lap to prevent anyone from seeing how cozied up you had been with one another.

With a wave of frustration now coursing through your veins, you rose from your chair and strode to the door, opening it to face a disgruntled customer. He pushed a piece of paper stained with the vaguely familiar markings of the autoshop printer into your face. You quickly pushed away his hand and failed to provide his aggression with kind customer service, “It looks like a receipt.”

He pointed at the receipt, raving about the additional charges tacked onto the original cost of fixing his vehicle, “What the hell are all of these extra charges? You said it was gonna cost $300 and now you’re charging me over $500!”

You only shrugged at his frustrations, leaning away from him as he threatened your bubble of personal space once again as you tried to explain the additional charges. You hadn’t noticed Melissa lingering in the doorway behind you, silently fuming at the way the customer was speaking to you, “We told you when you dropped it off that you gotta pick it up within 24 hours or else we charge ya’ for parking. You left the Buick here for over a week, man. We aren’t a public parking lot. We need the space for other customers.”

“Where’s your fuckin’ manager?”

“I am the fuckin’ manager.”

You returning his energy wasn’t something he took kindly. He waded up the bill and tossed it aside before pushing his finger into your chest, “If you think for a goddamn minute I will be paying this bill, you have another thing comin’. I don’t need some bitch robbing me of my hard earned money.” The second he touched you, Melissa rounded your side and came to stand between you and the man. Her hands were balled into fists and perched on her hips as she stared defiantly up at the man who stood two feet taller than her. You glanced down and noticed gripped in one of her hands was a baseball bat you kept tucked behind your desk, “Is there a problem here?”

The man gave a tired sigh, waving a hand in Melissa’s face. Little did he know that his waving hand was akin to the red flag waving in the face of a raging bull, “Get lost, red. It’s none of your business.”

With one swift movement she lifted the bat, allowing it to slide in her hand so she gripped the barrell, shortening it enough that she could poke him in the chest with it. You watched her lean back and forth as she threatened him - a genetic trait of Schemmenti’s as they threatened people. “The second you decided to start with the name callin’ it became my problem. I suggest you pay up before your car ends up with more problems than what you came in with.”

He made the worst possible decision as he placed his hands on his knees, speaking to Melissa as if he were talking to a child. “Stay the hell out of this. This is between me and your girlfriend.”

Melissa stared him down for a fraction of a second before snapping. She allowed the bat to slide back down in her hand so she could grip the handle and lift the aluminum bat above her head, ready to strike. You were lucky you had your eyes glued to her rather than the unwelcome customer so you had the time to loop one arm around her waist while the other raised to grip the barrel of the bat.

“No, no, no, no!” You scolded, tugging her back towards the office while some of the boys working in the shop intervened.

Mel barely gave up a fight against you, rather she stared down her new mortal enemy with a vitriol you had yet to see on her face before. When she was finally in the office, you released her while tearing the bat from her grasp lest she have any ideas about slipping past you to exact her revenge.

Knowing she was now trapped in your office, she began pacing back and forth with a rage you could feel radiating off her. You leaned against the door, watching her traverse your office like a caged wildcat which only made you smile. With a lighthearted tone, you tried to calm her, “Easy, tiger.”

Melissa whipped around to face you, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she was clearly unhappy with your decision to prevent her from teaching that guy a lesson. She stared up at you with a defiance that you found incredibly endearing, and what was even more endearing was the way she continued fighting for you, “He can’t just talk to you like that!”

“Don’t give it too much thought. I deal with guys like that all the time.” You calmly brush off the encounter, remembering countless situations wherein things escalated much further and you were called far worse. Leaving the bat by the door, you approach the seething woman with a serenity that cooled her boiling anger.

The redhead refused to respond to you and her eyes studied the calendar on the wall to avoid meeting your own. She folded her arms over chest and you watched her demeanor shift from simmering anger to pouty eyes begging for your attention.

Taking her face in your hands, you lift her face towards you and press a kiss to her forehead before wrapping her into a tight hug, “I promise you. It’s okay.”

You drop your phone down onto the bed when Melissa walks out only wearing an oversized sweatshirt. The bagginess of the clothing hid everything and you were ready to help her out of it as quickly as she put it on. You gestured for her to come to your side of the bed, “Just when I think you can’t get more gorgeous, you walk out looking like that.”

Melissa crawled into bed with you, straddling your lap for a moment to give you hope before sliding off to land on her side of the bed, “I have work in the morning. I don’t need any of your funny business. ”

You ‘tsked’ her response and pulled away the covers so she wouldn’t be able to hide. You rapidly maneuvered so you would be on your knees before her so your hands could guide her thighs open. She was smirking as she put up no fight against your efforts. She even lifted her sweatshirt to reveal more of herself to you; that move alone told you she wasn’t truly opposed to your ‘funny business’.

Settling onto your stomach, you lean your cheek against her thigh, staring intently at her panties, “Funny business? There is nothing funny about this...”

“Mm… Prove it.” A manicured hand wove into your hair, drawing your face closer to her heat. Her back arched involuntarily and caused her hips to shift downwards closer to your mouth.

“Happily.” You murmured, hooking your fingers around the waistband of her underwear and pulling them down her legs the best you could. They were at her knees when you lowered your face to her cunt once again. As a professional in pleasuring Melissa, you skillfully wound your arms around her thighs before using your fingers to spread her cunt open for your tongue to go to work.

You felt Melissa’s thighs squeeze your head for a moment as she worked to remove her underwear without trying to impact your ability to give head. The feeling of her legs around her head drove you insane. You tried to let her know how much you craved her as your hands shifted back to her thighs so you could feel your fingers compress into her soft flesh.

Melissa relaxed back into the bed, completely melting into your touch. Her hands rose above her head to grip the bed frame - a silent way of giving you complete control.

She was already sleepy from your lovemaking from nearly an hour ago, so this time Mel was far less energetic and performative. It was mesmerizing watching her head softly turn back and forth while soft breathy moans escaped her mouth. This was exactly what made Melissa so addicting for you.

You watched her crane her neck so she could press her face into her pillow to catch the fabric between her teeth. In response, you swirl your tongue around her clit before giving her clit a hard suck. She gave a strained and exhausted growl that faded into a quiet whine - her quietness all centered around preventing her roommate from hearing.

You attempted to move your mouth away to give her reprieve, but her hips lifted off the mattress to impede too much separation.

Part of you wondered how far you could push Melissa. To satiate your curiosity, you gently scraped your teeth against her clit, earning a hiss then a whiney moan. You were clearly pushing your luck with how much she could handle. When you continued with your teasing licks, your eyes flickered back up to her face to enjoy the view. Her chest was heaving and her bottom lip jutted out into a pathetic pout as her hips began grinding against your tongue as she sought out an orgasm.

For a split second you considered confessing your love to Melissa like you did all those years ago, but you kept yourself from doing so. She needed to come to you. Instead you opted to pay her a compliment instead, “You’re so good for me, pretty girl…”

Your heart fluttered as you watched a smile spread across her face. She then attempted to silence a rumble deep in her throat and hide her simper, but it was fruitless as the compliments continued falling off your lips. You breathily mumbled about her hips and thighs, briefly pausing to stroke your tongue up and down her drippy cunt, and continued your mad ramblings about how beautiful you found her to be.

In your moments of desperation, your words had caused Melissa’s face to grow hot from embarrassment. It was easy accepting compliments when the moment lacked the vulnerability of sex and nudity, but when your face was buried between her legs the flattering remarks felt all too real. She tried to brush them aside, only to have them linger at the outskirts of her mind.

As you refocused your attention on her clit with the addition of two fingers gently inching deeper into her pussy, Melissa was struggling to escape the thoughts of your feelings towards her. She despised how light it made her feel. She hated that she felt herself being drawn closer to orgasm from the adoration she felt from you.

Her fierce independence was battling the all-consuming craving to feel desired.

While you were not privy to her inner turmoil, you only worked harder to bring her pleasure. Your fingers gently curled within her, stroking that special spot you discovered during your youth. A coil tightened within Melissa, her hand shooting down to grip your spare wrist to steady herself.

You chose to lose yourself in giving head once again. Her breasts gently shook with each light shift of her body - a mesmerizing sight. You were lapping and kissing at her clit softly as you hoped to draw out this experience as much as possible. However, Melissa was unable to take anymore as an orgasm washed over her and her back swiftly lifted off the bed and quickly arched back into the mattress, pushing her hips to your mouth.

You slowed down the movements of your tongue, but you didn’t stop entirely. You wanted to slowly bring her down from her peak (and selfishly you wanted you to continue enjoying the feeling of her thighs clamped down on the sides of your head). When her back finally relaxed against the mattress, you slipped your hand from her cunt to reluctantly help guide her thighs into a resting position. You gave her thighs a couple of gentle bites, encouraging to ease up on you, “Come on, pretty girl…”

Melissa whimpered as her legs shakily parted, nervous you would attempt to continue regardless of her exhaustion. You only nuzzled her thighs, slowly smothering them with kisses in a way that gave Melissa butterflies.

She was quick to try and move herself out of such a vulnerable position. “Let’s get cleaned up. I’m already way up past my bedtime.” Melissa gave your arm a pat, encouraging you to get up as she shifted her hips to the left as if she were attempting to move off the bed.

You rolled off the redhead and sat up, taking that as her subtle hint for you to head home. After following Melissa to the bathroom and using the sink to wash your face and hands, you began gathering your clothes to make your exit. This only confused the redhead as she pulled back the comforter for both sides of the bed as she expected you to join her, “Whered’ya think your goin’?”

“Oh…” Your eyes widened and you began removing your sweatpants that you just put on. You undressed and joined the redhead in bed, earning a satisfied hum from her.

When you were settled on your back, Melissa was on her side facing away from you. She found a way to make physical contact with you by backing up in bed so her back was pressed to your side. She shifted in bed for a few moments as she tried to find a comfortable position, and after she did she mumbled sleepily, “Be warned. I wake up at 6.”

You started your sentence mid-yawn, “That’s a shocker.”

She had one final quip for you as sleep threatened to overtake her, “I don’t just wake up looking this beautiful.”

With a chuckle, you gave her ass a pat, mumbling out your final few words before allowing yourself to enjoy some silence before you fell asleep, “I doubt that…”

You woke up the next morning with Melissa already off to work, but when you checked your phone you had a message from Mel waiting for you.

Melissa: Couldn’t bear to wake you up. You should have told me you were that cute when you slept. I would’ve let you stay sooner.

Y/N: I don’t believe that for a second.

Y/N: Don’t worry. I’m getting ready right now and I’ll be out soon.

You quickly sent the second message as you didn’t want to seem too over confident nor did you want to overstay your welcome.

Melissa: No rush. There is lunch for you in the fridge. I marked the tupperware.

You grinned at your phone like a lovestruck idiot. Quickly you threw on your clothes and wandered down to the kitchen to see what Melissa had left for you in the fridge. Sitting on the top shelf was undoubtedly a tupperware full of her insanely good spaghetti with a bright pink sticky note stuck to the top marked with your name and a little heart.

Y/N: Thank you! Will I see you later?

Melissa: Open house tonight. See you Saturday?

Melissa: I’ll let you take me to dinner.

The thought of waiting two days to see Melissa next was brutal, but you would take what you got as rarely did she ever make plans with you in advance.

Y/N: Let me? What an honor.

Melissa: Believe me. I know.

You were smiling at your phone through the rest of the day as Melissa texted you about little things happening at school. Sometimes the stories she told you about Abbott were hard to believe.

Her attention made you feel lovesick as you were constantly checking your phone, smiling at the thought of her getting into shenanigans and doing her terrible impressions for her work friends. The thought of going on a weekend getaway with her was only sounding better and better.

Link to Chapter 7

Taglist: Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore, @jeridandridge @petty-femme27, @darkcolorphantom, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @cosmichymns

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #toxic relationship? kinda #little bit of smut <3

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julibf · 3 months ago

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JON WAS PROMISED TO SANSA PART 2

Ok, now lets go to the books chapters. Again, we are trying this theory that Jon Snow may be the Prince that was Promised to Sansa.

People may think that I am crazy but if you re read the books all over again, paying attention to a small detail, you may start believing this theory too. As I was reading the books again, I started noticing that every single time Sansa’s receives a marriage proposal, the next chapter that follows is a JON SNOW chapter. I know that this theory has been talked about several times and we all believe the chapters to be a big foreshadow of Jon and Sansa romance, but what if the idea of the chapters is to tell the reader that Jon and Sansa ALREADY have a betrothal? what if the author is trying to tells us that those two characters are already promised to each other?????

That would be a twist!!!!!!

Right from the beginning we have King Robert arriving at Winterfell and visiting Lyanna Stark tomb in the crypts, there he offers a marriage alliance between House Baratheon and House Stark, with the marriage of Sansa and his son Joffrey Baratheon. This is the only chapter that Sansa will receive a marriage proposal not directly, in this chapter is Ned Stark that receives the proposal since Sansa is only 11 years old in the beginning of the story and her father is her guardian, after that, since Sansa will lose her parents and protectors, the proposals will happen directly to her.

A GAME OF THRONES CHAPTER 4 AND 5

Chapter 4, Eddard I

"Come south with me, and I'll teach you how to laugh again," the king promised. "You helped me win this damnable throne, now help me hold it. We were meant to rule together. If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it is not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and your Sansa shall join our houses, as Lyanna and I might once have done." This offer did surprise him. "Sansa is only eleven." Robert waved an impatient hand. "Old enough for betrothal. The marriage can wait a few years." The king smiled. "Now stand up and say yes, curse you." "Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Your Grace," Ned answered. He hesitated. "These honors are all so unexpected. May I have some time to consider? I need to tell my wife …""Yes, yes, of course, tell Catelyn, sleep on it if you must." The king reached down, clasped Ned by the hand, and pulled him roughly to his feet. "Just don't keep me waiting too long. I am not the most patient of men."…… For a moment Eddard Stark was filled with a terrible sense of foreboding. This was his place, here in the north. He looked at the stone figures all around them, breathed deep in the chill silence of the crypt. He could feel the eyes of the dead. They were all listening, he knew. And winter was coming.

What if the dead were watching Ned break his promise made to his sister and are sensing the Doom of House Stark?? This proposal is immediately followed by Jon Snow first chapter in the books.

Followed by JON I

BTW, in this chapter we have Jon getting completely drunk in the feast. Word in the castle have traveled and everyone knows Sansa has been betrothed to Joffrey. I always assumed that Jon was so upset in the feast, not because he was seating far way from the rest of the family, but because he heard of the news of the betrothal between Sansa and Prince Joffrey.

He had sated his curiosity about the visitors when they made their entrance. The procession had passed not a foot from the place he had been given on the bench, and Jon had gotten a good long look at them all…… His half sisters escorted the royal princes. Arya was paired with plump young Tommen, whose white-blond hair was longer than hers. Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was twelve, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon's vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sister's hair and his mother's deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall.

Jon is jealous, again, in a first glance we may think that he is jealous because he is a bastard and can not be part of such important ceremony, but what if he is jealous because he can not be sited right next to Sansa???A few moments later, Benjen Stark comes to talk to Jon and that’s when Jon ask Benjen to go to the wall and take the Black…

A STORM OF SWORDS CHAPTERS 6 AND 7

Now those two chapters are quite interesting, because both are surrounded by SONGS, in Sansa’s chapters, we have the singer singing THE BEAR AND THE MAIDEN FAIR while Sansa is being introduced to the leader of House Tyrell, Lady Olenna also know as the QUEEN OF THORNS, while in Jon’s chapters, we have a singer playing The Dornishman's Wife while Jon is introduced to the leader of the Freefolk, Mance Rayder THE KING BEYOND THE WALL (who just happens to be the singer) Sansa is taken to meet the Tyrells by Ser Loras, someone she clearly desires, Jon is taken by Ygritte, someone who desires him. In both chapters Jon and Sansa are asked to tell the truth and their lives are in danger, Sansa feels like if she tells the truth and the information falls into the Lannisters ears she could be punished and killed and Jon knows that if Mance doesn’t believe what he says, his life is at risk. Sansa tells the truth, Jon lies.

In the end of this chapter Sansa receives a marriage proposal by the Tyrells, while on Jon chapter, Bael the Bard is mentioned in relation to Jon’s sisters. Once again, by the end of the chapter Sansa will receive a marriage proposal followed by a Jon Snow chapter.

Sansa I

The Tyrells invite Sansa for supper and during the meeting they make a marriage proposal to Sansa, while the dinner is happening the musicians play the song THE BEAR AND THE MAIDEN FAIR very loud. George really want you to notice this song in this chapter. You may as well wonder where this song comes from, and it seems that Ser Duncan The Tall first heard this song at the Ashford Tourney (yes, that same Tourney that foreshadows the marriage between Sansa and a Targaryen prince)

"I want you to tell me the truth about this royal boy," said Lady Olenna abruptly. "This Joffrey." Sansa's fingers tightened round her spoon. The truth? I can't. Don't ask it, please, I can't. "I . . . I . . . I . . ." " The old woman turned back to Sansa. "Are you frightened, child? No need for that, we're only women here. Tell me the truth, no harm will come to you." "My father always told the truth." Sansa spoke quietly, but even so, it was hard to get the words out. "Lord Eddard, yes, he had that reputation, but they named him traitor and took his head off even so." The old woman's eyes bore into her, sharp and bright as the points of swords. "Joffrey," Sansa said. "Joffrey did that. He promised me he would be merciful, and cut my father's head off. He said that was mercy, and he took me up on the walls and made me look at it. The head. He wanted me to weep, but . . ." She stopped abruptly, and covered her mouth. I've said too much, oh gods be good, they'll know, they'll hear, someone will tell on me. "Go on." It was Margaery who urged. Joffrey's own queen-to-be. Sansa did not know how much she had heard."I can't." What if she tells him, what if she tells? He'll kill me for certain then, or give me to Ser Ilyn. "I never meant . . . my father was a traitor, my brother as well, I have the traitor's blood, please, don't make me say more.""Calm yourself, child," the Queen of Thorns commanded. "She's terrified, Grandmother, just look at her."

That’s when Lady Olenna calls for a Song to cover up the conversation between them.

Sansa felt as though her heart had lodged in her throat. The Queen of Thorns was so close she could smell the old woman's sour breath. Her gaunt thin fingers were pinching her wrist. To her other side, Margaery was listening as well. A shiver went through her. "A monster," she whispered, so tremulously she could scarcely hear her own voice. "Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher's boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He's evil and cruel, my lady, it's so. And the queen as well." Lady Olenna Tyrell and her granddaughter exchanged a look. "Ah," said the old woman, "that's a pity."

Finally, the Tyrells, once they have their truth about Joffrey, move to their next goal. The marriage alliance.

Lady Olenna frowned. "I see no need to give him a choice. Of course, he has no hint of our true purpose." "HE SMELLED THE SCENT ON THE SUMMER AIR!" Sansa wrinkled her brow. "Our true purpose, my lady?" "HE SNIFFED AND ROARED AND SMELLED IT THERE! HONEY ON THE SUMMER AIR!" "To see you safely wed, child," the old woman said, as Butterbumps bellowed out the old, old song, "to my grandson."(A Storm of Swords - Sansa I)

Next chapter of the book is JON I

In this chapter Jon is brought before Mance Rayder, since Rattleshirt doesn’t trust him. In the King’s tent, Jon mistakes Styr for Mance Rayder. But it is the gray-haired man playing the lute who is the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Rattleshirt reveals his misgivings about Jon to the king, but Mance wishes to speak with Jon alone.

The tent was hot and smoky. Baskets of burning peat stood in all four corners, filling the air with a dim reddish light. More skins carpeted the ground. Jon felt utterly alone as he stood there in his blacks, awaiting the pleasure of the turncloak who called himself King-beyond-the-Wall. When his eyes had adjusted to the smoky red gloom, he saw six people, none of whom paid him any mind. A dark young man and a pretty blonde woman were sharing a horn of mead. A pregnant woman stood over a brazier cooking a brace of hens, while a grey-haired man in a tattered cloak of black and red sat crosslegged on a pillow, playing a lute and singing: The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun, and her kisses were warmer than spring. But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel, and its kiss was a terrible thing.

If the show is correct, Jon is Dornish, since he was born in the Tower of Joy and if he marries Sansa she would literally be the Dornishman’s wife. I also like how the song compares the woman to the sun, which brings back to Jon thinking of Sansa as radiant.

While Jon and Mance continue to talk, the King beyond the wall tells Jon that he remembers him from his visits of Winterfell, he tells Jon that he was also present at the Feast for King Robert that happened at the beginning of the novel, that’s when Jon mentions Bael the Bard back to Jon Snow story!!!

" The night your father feasted Robert, I sat in the back of his hall on a bench with the other freeriders, listening to Orland of Oldtown play the high harp and sing of dead kings beneath the sea. I betook of your lord father's meat and mead, had a look at Kingslayer and Imp . . . and made passing note of Lord Eddard's children and the wolf pups that ran at their heels." "Bael the Bard," said Jon, remembering the tale that Ygritte had told him in the Frostfangs, the night he'd almost killed her. "Would that I were. I will not deny that Bael's exploit inspired mine own . . . but I did not steal either of your sisters that I recall. Bael wrote his own songs, and lived them. I only sing the songs that better men have made. More mead?"

Now this is the first time in the story, that the idea of one of the Stark sisters be stolen by a freefolk is introduced. Not only George brings back Bael to Jon’s chapter, he starts to associate the story with Jon’s sisters. Based on the end of the tv show, Jon will be the King beyond the Wall, who and Sansa will be the last Stark maiden in Winterfell.

By the end, just like Sansa, Jon is asked to tell the truth. Mance Rayder ask Jon why he deserted the Nights Watch. Of course, we all know that opposite of Sansa, Jon doesn’t tell the truth, he lies to Mance about being resentful of the Starks.

"He gestured at the board between them, the broken bread and chicken bones. "Here you are the guest, and safe from harm at my hands . . . this night, at least. So tell me truly, Jon Snow. Are you a craven who turned your cloak from fear, or is there another reason that brings you to my tent?" Guest right or no, Jon Snow knew he walked on rotten ice here. One false step and he might plunge through, into water cold enough to stop his heart. Weigh every word before you speak it, he told himself. He took a long draught of mead to buy time for his answer. When he set the horn aside he said, "Tell me why you turned your cloak, and I'll tell you why I turned mine." …….. "And did you see where I was seated, Mance?" He leaned forward. "Did you see where they put the bastard?" Mance Rayder looked at Jon's face for a long moment. "I think we had best find you a new cloak," the king said, holding out his hand.

A STORM OF SWORDS CHAPTERS 68 AND 69

SANSA VI

Now we have Sansa arriving at the Vale, scaping from Kings Landing. She arrives at the Vale with the help of Littlefinger. As soon as she is introduced to Lady Lysa she receives a marriage proposal to marry her cousin Lord Robert Arryn. The proposal doesn’t bring much joy to Sansa that laments that marrying for love may never happen to her.

Lysa waved a hand negligently. "Not for many years. You are too young to be a mother. One day you shall want children, though. Just as you will want to marry." "I . . . I am married, my lady." "Yes, but soon a widow. Be glad the Imp preferred his whores. It would not be fitting for my son to take that dwarf's leavings, but as he never touched you . . . How would you like to marry your cousin, the Lord Robert?" The thought made Sansa weary. All she knew of Robert Arryn was that he was a little boy, and sickly. It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love.

NEXT CHAPTER????? Once again, JON SNOW!!!

I knew it the moment I saw this line next to jon’s chapter that George was planning this marriage. That’s why I never believe that Jon and Sansa would have a political marriage, this union would be for love.

A STORM OF SWORDS CHAPTER 79 AND 80

Now, on this one, their roles are inverted. Now is Jon who will receive a marriage proposal and of course, it will be followed by a Sansa chapter. Again, it's like the author is trying to tell us that those two are already promised to each other and can not accept anyone else.

JON XII

We start the chapter with Jon practicing sword fighting with Iron Emmet and he can not stop thinking about King Stannis Baratheon offer to legitimize him and make Jon not only a Stark but also the Lord of Winterfell. During his practice with Emmet he remembers another fighting practice many years ago at Winterfell….

Every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; Snow and Stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of Winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see. They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwyne." That morning he called it first. "I'm Lord of Winterfell!" he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell." I thought I had forgotten that. Jon could taste blood in his mouth, from the blow he'd taken. (A Storm of Swords - Jon XII)

Jon thinks of rebuilding Winterfell, just like Sansa in the next chapter will literally rebuilt the castle in the snow.

Lord of Winterfell. I could be the Lord of Winterfell. My father's heir….. It was short walk to the bathhouse, where he took a cold plunge to wash the sweat off and soaked in a hot stone tub. The warmth took some of the ache from his muscles and made him think of Winterfell's muddy pools, steaming and bubbling in the godswood. Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins.

A interesting detail is that, the offer to be legitimized by Stannis comes with a demand. Jon needs to marry Val. Stannis wants the union of a Stark with a wildling princess, to unite the Freefolk with the North (but what if in the end we get a Wildling King marrying a Stark Queen?)

"Good," King Stannis said, "for the surest way to seal a new alliance is with a marriage. I mean to wed my Lord of Winterfell to this wildling princess." Perhaps Jon had ridden with the free folk too long; he could not help but laugh. "Your Grace," he said, "captive or no, if you think you can just give Val to me, I fear you have a deal to learn about wildling women. Whoever weds her had best be prepared to climb in her tower window and carry her off at swordpoint . . ." (A Storm of Swords - Jon XI)

Ygritte wanted me to be a wildling. Stannis wants me to be the Lord of Winterfell. But what do I want? The sun crept down the sky to dip behind the Wall where it curved through the western hills. Jon watched as that towering expanse of ice took on the reds and pinks of sunset. Would I sooner be hanged for a turncloak by Lord Janos, or forswear my vows, marry Val, and become the Lord of Winterfell? It seemed an easy choice when he thought of it in those terms . . . though if Ygritte had still been alive, it might have been even easier. Val was a stranger to him. She was not hard on the eyes, certainly, and she had been sister to Mance Rayder's queen, but still . . . I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

Jon is now thinking as a wildling and realizing that he needs to steal Val if he wants the marriage to be valid. Which is why I have no doubt that he is stealing Sansa in the end of the books, this storyline is foreshadow in his chapters numerous of times. But the marriage with Val doesn’t make Jon very happy, he doesn’t love her and hardly know her. Just like Sansa, Jon would like to marry someone he loves, and not have a marriage just for a political alliance. But the truth is that he does longs for a family, for Winterfell, he dreams to one day be a true Stark.

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre's. He had a weirwood's eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one. And he alone of all the direwolves was white. Six pups they'd found in the late summer snows, him and Robb; five that were grey and black and brown, for the five Starks, and one white, as white as Snow. He had his answer then.

Finally Ghost comes back to Jon and he has his answer right there. The wolf brings back the memory when they all found the puppies. Jon belongs to the old Gods like his wolf and he cant turn his back to his old golds. I always assumed Bran sent Ghost to help Jon make his decision.

As he walked toward the armory, Jon chanced to look up and saw Val standing in her tower window. I'm sorry, he thought. I'm not the man to steal you out of there.

So we this chapter Jon Snow was forced to make a decision and turn down not only Winterffell but also the marriage alliance with Val, the wildling princess. He decides he wont be the one stealing her, but he did show a desire for love, family and Winterfell. Next Chapter we are going to have Sansa being “kissed by the Snow” and those kisses are going to rekindle her childhood dreams….

SANSA VII

She had last seen snow the day she'd left Winterfell. That was a lighter fall than this, she remembered. Robb had melting flakes in his hair when he hugged me, and the snowball Arya tried to make kept coming apart in her hands. It hurt to remember how happy she had been that morning. Hullen had helped her mount, and she'd ridden out with the snowflakes swirling around her, off to see the great wide world. I thought my song was beginning that day, but it was almost done….. Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover's kisses, and melted on her cheeks. …. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.

Sigh, I will never get over this little foreshadow. The poetry, the romantism, the idea of dreams. This little paragraph will always be one of my favorites written lines in this entire novel. The idea that a new lover can enchant Sansa and bring back all her childhood dreams after all the pain and sorrow that she went through. And again, the dream involves Winterfell….

When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of grey. Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me.

And then she goes to work, once she starts playing with the snow she wonders what she would like to build…

The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs, a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood.

For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. Some things were hard to remember, but most came back to her easily, as if she had been there only yesterday. The Library Tower, with thesteep stonework stair twisting about its exterior. The gatehouse, two huge bulwarks, the arched gate between them, crenellations all along the top . . .

Again, in the past chapter we had Jon dreaming on rebuilding Winterfell, having a family, marrying for love. In the follow chapter we have Sansa literally rebulding Winterfell with the help of “Snow”. She longs for her old days, the days of her childhood. This for me was always one of the strongest foreshadows of their romance and future.

So thats it. I can not wait to see more chapters in the future, if we ever get to see THE WINDS OF WINTER. Some may ask, but what about Sansa marriage to Tyrion???? well, that was not a proposal, Sansa was just forced into that marriage, just like Jon was forced into consummating his relationship with Ygritte. I shall write about Jon and Sansa parallels in the future too, it's insane how similar their storylines are.

#jon x sansa #jonsa #sansa stark #jon and sansa #jonsa is endgame #actually jonsa

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spuffybaby · 3 months ago

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Time to Heal (7)

chapter links: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

“Spike?”

He'd been almost awake already, but it was Dawn shouting from downstairs that really dragged him up from his half-sleep, blinking a few times before realising the thick curtains were drawn despite the light outside. He was still getting used to sleeping at night again. Buffy had gotten up, but he heard footsteps downstairs, figuring she wasn't far.

“Spike!”

He pushed the covers aside and slid into his boots before making his way down the stairs, now slightly concerned. “Niblet?”

“There you are,” she said as she walked past, giving him a quick glance, then shoving a pile of books into her backpack, had him recognise the back of the one he'd read a couple of nights before.

“Somethin' wrong?”

“Oh, no. Buffy just told me to check if you were awake,” she shrugged. “She's in the kitchen.”

Spike sighed. “Nice. Ever so gentle, aren't you?”

She gave him a bittersweet smile. “See ya.”

“Have a good day,” he mumbled before heading to the kitchen. Buffy's shirt had ridden up to expose her lower back as she was reaching for something on the top shelf of the cupboard and he couldn't resist, crossing the kitchen and placing his palm on her bare skin just above her jeans, his other hand reaching and grabbing the box of cereal she hadn't been able to get.

Buffy had heard him, though been unprepared for the sudden closeness, nonetheless relaxing into his touch as she sank back onto her feet and turned into him to face him. “I would've got it,” she mumbled, blinking, she looked up and was met with his gaze instantly, the intensity weakening her.

“I got you,” he smirked, placing the box on the counter top to have his hand free and brush her hair from her forehead.

“U-Um-” The mischief in his eyes reminded her so much of a version of him that was long gone, but she couldn't help but be fond of what remained, the spark now playful, soft. Before she managed to form a coherent sentence, or word even, he'd dipped his head to kiss her and she wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively, once again on her tiptoes, kissing him back with equally as much need, wondering more with every passing second if she really could resist him and take things slow. Where she'd felt drawn to him and the harsh distraction he'd offered her beyond control before he'd got his soul, it was nothing to how she felt now. She'd allowed herself to be in love with him and admit it, and it meant there was nothing holding her back. Apart from wanting to do things right, and accepting that he did, too. Though the way he kissed her, similarly to how he had the night before, it didn't suggest any control. At least not over himself. Of her, he was in full control, making her whine softly as her lips parted for him and she welcomed the taste of him. “Oh, god...”

He chuckled, his fingers brushing through her hair as he drew back just slightly to let her catch her breath. “Good morning.”

Buffy laughed shakily, not having quite regained control of her breathing. “You're not making this easy,” she mumbled.

“Me?” He stepped back, tutting. “What about those jeans, pet?” Opening the fridge, he took out one of the bags of blood, ripping it open with his teeth, then pouring it into one of the clean mugs by the sink.

“What about them?” Buffy pouted innocently.

Spike turned to look over his shoulder. “You know what you're doin'. I mean, I'm guessing we've both not had any since-”

“Us?” She shook her head. “No.”

He gave her a small smile. “Well, who can blame us then, eh? Pretty much a part of... us.”

It was Spike, and the way he smiled without taking his eyes off hers made her more nervous than it ever had before. He may have believed he didn't deserve her, or found it hard to trust her when she said she loved him, but he knew he was irresistible. “So, where does that leave us?”

His smile turned into a larger grin. “Oh, I don't know,” he teased, taking a sip from his mug and quickly licking his lips, savouring the taste. He knew she was struggling to compose herself, but he knew he wasn't safe either, that she could flip things around on him any second. And win. “Anything you'd like me to do, pet?” He tilted his head, his eyes never leaving hers, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

They both jumped when the telephone started ringing.

“Good god,” she muttered, taking a shaky breath before turning and picking up the receiver.

Spike watched her, heard few words from her, finishing his blood, then taking a bowl and some milk out for her breakfast.

“Okay. Bye. See you soon.”

“Who was that?” he asked, hoping it didn't matter, hoping she'd have her breakfast, then decide she wanted him for dessert. Christ, he wanted her. Thinking she'd asked him if he did seemed mad to him.

“Giles. I've been meaning to go and teach some of the new Slayers, well, those that are not so new now and ready to advance. I'm supposed to leave today.”

He nodded slowly. “Right,” he said. “How long will you be gone?”

“It shouldn't be for more than a week or so,” she said, balancing the ratio of cereal and milk before starting to eat. “But...” She swallowed. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to come with me and help. They can learn from both our fighting styles. You know, like... old times. That's why I asked Dawn to make sure you were up.”

“So this is... the Council?”

She batted her lashes at him.

“Buffy.”

“Yes,” she caved. “But with Giles there and them owing me and you, most of all, it'll be alright. You're a hero and don't you forget it.”

“That's not how any of those suits are gonna see it, is it?”

“If they don't, they can try and find another Slayer to teach them my flawless methods.” She smiled triumphantly when she caught the corner of his mouth twitch.

“You know I'll go for one reason only.”

She leaned forward over the kitchen island. “Yeah,” she grinned. “To watch me fight in these jeans. I've got a nice leather set lined up too. And don't even get me started on what's underneath.”

“Fighting in your knickers?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just you.”

“Pet...” He warned. “Dangerous territory.”

She flashed him another grin, then moved her empty bowl to the side to push herself up onto the kitchen island on her knees to meet him.

With one swift move, he'd pulled her forward, her legs dangling from the edge on either side of his body as he closed the space between them, keeping her there with just the lust in his eyes. Things seemed so simple, maybe they didn't need to be slow. Maybe they together were what made it right.

“So when have we got to go?” he asked, his voice merely a hint, his forehead pressed to hers.

“Like right now?” she confessed. “I was just waiting for that call.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, his jaw tensing. “And you thought you'd get me all worked up for the occasion?”

She looked back at him guiltily. “Gotta give you something to look forward to, baby.”

#buffy #spike #spike btvs #buffy summers #buffy the vampire slayer #spuffy #spuffy fic #spuffy fanfic #post sunnydale #alternate plot #buffy x spike #btvs #time to heal

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lunaroseblake · 2 months ago

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Adrenaline - Chapter 4 'Explanations And Answers'

Summary: Xavier struggles and Zayne learns why you missed your date.

“Clear!” They watched as your body spasmed from the shock that coursed through you, trying to restart your damaged heart. Paramedics working quickly and efficiently, listening as the constant beep of the heart monitor continued whilst one went back to performing CPR, the defibrillator monitoring if there was any output and letting them know when another shock would be needed.

With both you having sent out a backup call and Xavier having sent out his distress signal two black armoured trucks had turned up each carrying five high levelled hunters, Jenna and Tara in one of them. Though when they arrived prepared for a fight, all they found were fragments of smashed protocores, two men covered in blood and paramedics already at work on your damaged body. Tara had gasped when she’d got out of the vehicle and saw you, tears brimming in her eyes as she immediately ran over to offer her aid. As the paramedics had arrived before the hunters did, they had enlisted a couple of them as well as Tara to help with you, giving them bags of fluid and blood to hold above you and asking a couple of them to stand by Rafayel so he wouldn’t intervene.

As soon as Jenna saw the state of you, saw the amount of blood that had pooled around you staining the street, she had radioed in for air assistance to be able to get you to Akso hospital sooner. Turning to Xavier she could tell he was upset, his eyes had never left you since they’d arrived “What happe-” She began before being abruptly cut off “Where were you?” His voice was quiet but firm, filled with anger “Why did it take so long for you to get here?” Finally he tore his gaze away to stare accusingly at her, his deep blue eyes boring in to hers.

It momentarily took her aback as she’d never seen him like this before “There was more than one attack” She stated, trying to keep her voice calm “You two seemed like you got the worse out of the two and thankfully managed to clear civilians away. The other area wasn’t so lucky. By the time the hunters had arrived, two civilians had been killed and others injured. Someone had been around trying to break the flux stabilisers and succeeded with two of them, allowing this.” She gestured around them with her hands “We have people already looking in to finding the culprit. So, I shall try again. What happened?”

She watched as anger sparked in his eyes at hearing someone had wanted to cause this on purpose, that you were now in the state you were because of someones foolish actions. “Xavier” She placed a hand on his arm “I know you’re upset but Y/N is getting the best possible care at the moment” She saw the anger fade, replaced by despair as he glanced back to you. Another shout of ‘clear,’ another shock administered, but the continual flatline of the monitor made his hope dwindle that little bit more. His shoulders slumped slightly and he let out a long staggered sigh before he began explaining.

“It took us a while to find the source, at first it was just a Luminivore, stronger than normal but we could have managed. Y/N cleared the civilians away, making sure they wouldn’t get harmed. Then another one appeared. I drew their attention until Y/N got back but she was being followed, there were maybe 5? 6 Knaves? I don’t quite remember but there was a wanderer I’d never seen before, a monster of a thing.” As he spoke his hands clenched in to fists remembering it, his knuckles turning white before he felt warmth seep between his fingers. He’d completely forgotten about the shard clutched in his hands, he’d grabbed one of the ones next to your body when he’d stood to flag down the paramedics, knowing that he’d destroyed the protocore but they could perhaps gain some insight from whatever this was made of.

He lifted his hand, uncurling his fingers from the razor sharp edges that had dug in to his flesh before wiping it on his uniform, he didn’t care about getting blood on it, it was already smeared with yours so what was a little more? He held it out for Jenna to take who placed it in to an evidence bag before waiting for him to continue “It was covered with those, was able to produce them in a matter of seconds.” He nodded in the direction of Rafayel who had sunk to his knees between the two hunters that were watching him, tears still streaking his face. “It started going for him, “Y/N gave chase as I took down the other Luminivore and then it just stopped, as though it had baited her to follow and then… And then…” He paused, struggling to continue as he closed his eyes against the memories still fresh in his mind, trying to block out the awful sounds of your bones breaking “I couldn’t stop it…” He murmured as a single tear slipped past his resolve before he hastily wiped it away, trying to compose himself.

Jenna nodded silently as she’d listened, it was quite clear what had happened next and she didn’t need him to delve any further in to the details. The thrumming of helicopter blades slicing through the air was getting closer, though his ears were still hyper focused on the noise of the heart monitor, the constant beeeeeep finally breaking it’s continuous tone as your heart began to beat once more making his head snap up, watching the medics try to get you more stable again.

Rafayel had gotten to his feet now at hearing your heart start again and Xavier could hear the barrage of questions he directed at the medics “Is she going to be okay? Where will you take her? Can I go with you?” Rather than answer him, the hunters gently persuaded him to move away so you could be treated without interference and they needed to move anyway as the helicopter overhead began its descent. Other hunters moved to shield your body, holding up a blanket between them as the force of the wind from the blades above began whipping up various items around it.

Jenna shielded her eyes from the wind before glancing towards Xavier “You should get your wounds seen to as well, I’ll drive us to the hospital” He nodded at that, the sting of his hand more prominent as it continued to bleed. The cut above his eyebrow had stopped bleeding for the most part but he knew that it would need stitches, a headache beginning to set in from both the blow to his head and the emotional rollercoaster he’d been on. Focusing more on himself for the first time since the fight began he felt the way his muscles burned from the intense activity and could feel the dull ache of new bruises beginning to form underneath his clothes.

Running his uninjured hand through his hair he sighed as he gestured to Rafayel “We should probably take him with us as well, otherwise he’ll just make a scene” He stated tiredly, letting his gaze fall on you one more time at as you were carefully bundled on to the awaiting helicopter before he started walking to one of the trucks.

————

Zayne ignored the looks that came his way and the pitying eyes of the waitstaff at seeing that he was still alone, thinking that his date had obviously stood him up. Looking at his watch it told him that he’d been waiting for 45 minutes now and there was still no sign of you, your phone still going to voicemail whenever he tried and messages still left unread. A gnawing sense of worry filled him, sinking slowly in to the pit of his stomach as each second ticked away. With his dignity still mainly in tact, not that he really cared he gathered his things and stood up, going to settle the bill for the untouched wine and adding a little extra for the waste of a table.

It was dark when he went outside, the inky blue clouds above slowly moving along giving way to freckles of twinkling lights spattered across the sky. The temperature had dropped considerably as he put his blazer on, it didn’t usually affect him too much as his evol was ice but an involuntary shiver still made it’s way down his spine making him frown. Picking his way back towards his car, a million scenarios raced through his mind as to what could have happened to make you miss this date, especially since as you had seemed excited about it just hours prior. His anxiety was getting the better of him, were you just saying that for his benefit? Did you not want to be with him anymore and this was the first step of you trying to distance yourself from him? No. He gripped his car keys tighter and shook his head trying to rid that awful little voice in his mind making accusatory claims towards you. He knew you better than that, if there was an issue you would have come to him about it and you would have talked through it together. Something else had happened, the knot in his stomach tightening at a thought he was trying desperately to avoid delving in to.

That you were injured. That you were injured and alone and no one was coming to help you. He released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, his heart aching as that thought consumed him, little ice crystals were beginning to form along his fingers as he made it to his car, getting in quickly he leaned back against the soft black leather of the seat as he tried to rein his emotions back in check to stop his evol from getting out of control. He clung on to a sliver of solace in that he hadn’t been contacted by anyone else to let him know that you were injured or missing so tried to convince himself that you’d what? Fallen asleep after work and slept through all his messages and phone calls? Perhaps your phone had been on silent? He knew he was reaching but it managed to calm his rapidly beating heart to a more steadying degree.

Just as he started to turn his key in the ignition with the intention of driving to your home, his phone began ringing. He’d never moved so fast in his life as he grabbed his phone, a surge of relief flooding through him at the prospect that It would be you on the call screen, only to flip his phone over and have the relief suffocate and fizzle out in a near instant to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. The hospitals number lit up the screen and he hesitated before sliding the green accept button “Dr. Zayne?” A female voice on the other end spoke and he recognised her as one of the receptionists to the ER.

“Speaking” He replied, having collected himself now, letting his professional manner kick in as he awaited to be delivered with bad news. “Doctor, a major incident has been declared signalling for a code red. All available specialists, doctors and nurses have been asked to come in if they are able to do so. We’re expecting up to two dozen casualties. A few of them have major injuries and there’s one patient who’s critical, currently receiving emergency treatment before being airlifted in.” He tensed, his fingers squeezing around his phone at the news “I’m on my way” Was all he said before hanging up and quickly getting up the news on his phone to see what had happened.

Being a very new and developing news article there wasn’t too much for him to read up on other than there had been two separate wanderer attacks, the one in more of the centre of the city being the one that had sustained the largest amount of casualties. The second one he saw had been near the outskirts of the city towards the coast which stated that only three people had been involved.

Throwing his phone in to the passenger seat he started the ignition and quickly pulled out of the parking space, praying that one of the casualties wasn’t you. The drive only took him ten minutes, the roads being relatively quiet after the news of the attacks. It was plenty of time for him to get in to the right mindset for treating patients to the best of his capabilities and by the time he’d changed in to his uniform and stepped through to the trauma unit he was fully focused, calm in the sea of organised chaos around him.

The head of the department filled him in on the varying severity of injuries. Around 60% of them were minor, meaning cuts or lacerations that needed stitching, sprains and bruising. Then there were a few people with bone breaks, their pained cries filling the bays as either legs or arms were straightened back in to position ready to be put in splints or casts, a couple potentially needing surgery and then some casualties with more severe wounds. However the man had led him to an empty bay where other doctors and nurses were waiting and Zayne spotted Greyson standing by with them. They’d been called in to deal with the patient who was being airlifted to them as he began to brief them on what they knew so far “The patient is a female in her late 20’s, had to be resuscitated and intubated on scene due to severe internal and external haemorrhaging. Suspected pneumothorax, clavicle break and multiple rib fractures also possible cardiac injury. ETA is two minutes”

Greyson whistled lowly hearing the list “And that’s without the scans” He murmured before clapping his hands together “Right everyone we need to be on our A game, I want blood on standby, CT and MRI ready to go” He glanced at Zayne who was struggling to breathe. Zayne had seen all the patients in the ER and none of them had been you which meant one of two things, one, you had nothing to do with this whatsoever and he was working himself up over nothing or two, you were currently being flown to them in a life threatening condition. Greyson moved to stand next to him “Zayne, if anyone is going to save this patient then it’s you” He paused, noticing Zayne’s abnormal persona “Are you alright?” Zayne closed his eyes, deep breath in one, two, three deep breath out one, two, three opening his eyes he saw Greyson was looking at him concerned “I’m fine” He said, standing a little straighter and letting his icy resolve take over.

If it was you then he needed to save you no matter what and if it wasn’t then it’d just be another patient he’d do everything he could for. “ETA one minute!” A nurse called out to them. The helicopter had landed, whoever it may be was being wheeled down to them. Zayne glanced around at the staff before him “Is everybody ready?” He asked, his voice authoritative earning him nods from his colleagues. He needed to keep calm, keep himself composed no matter what. He turned to the doors when they opened, a stretcher being rushed forward accompanied by two advanced paramedics and two nurses. One of the advanced paramedics began retelling the other medical team of their notes and what had transpired, filling anything else in that had happened on route.

Zayne froze when he saw you. He’d tried to prepare himself for the worst, let his rational doctor side take charge but in the end he was only human. He felt his resolve slip and he tried frantically to keep ahold of it as he stared at your marred chest. Blood was everywhere, it dripped on to the floor as nurses moved you from the stretcher on to the bed and began connecting you up to various machines, the alarms beginning to ding and screech nearly immediately with alerts to problems. You were so pale, the veins beneath your skin a vibrant blue contrast snaking beneath the visible areas of skin that weren’t t smeared with scarlet.

“BP is crashing! We need to get to surgery now! Zayne!” Greyson shouted. He snapped out of it then, beginning to order the other doctors and nurses on their next course of action “Get the anaesthetist to surgery now, our main priority is to stop the bleeding, find out where it’s coming from. When she’s more stable we can order the scans.” He looked towards your pale face, promising to himself that he would help you, determined to make sure that you’d live as he turned and began to make his way to the operating theatre.

#lads zayne #lads x reader #lads #lnds #love and deepspace #xavier x mc #xavier love and deepspace #lads xavier #xavier x reader #lnds zayne #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #eventual smut #romance #angst with a happy ending #drama

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matttgirlies · 9 months ago

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Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - none i dont think

y/nn = your nickname for anyone confused🩷

Chapter 4

It was already Christmas 1959, and I had no idea what to get Matt. I walked through the crowded streets of Wiesbaden, windowshopping, trying to get ideas. Picking out gifts for the family had always been easy, since we always knew exactly what was wanted or needed; in fact, we often made our gifts for one another. On this occasion my father gave me thirty-five dollars to spend on Matt, and it seemed a vast amount to me when I set out on this freezing cold day. I was slapped with the reality when I noticed a beautiful hand-made cigar box with porcelain outlining and a decorative design. Matt, a cigar smoker, would have loved it. But after the shopkeeper told me the price, 650 Deutsche marks or $155, all I walked out with was my expensive taste.

It was snowing heavily and I hurried into another shop, this one full of bright toys, including a solidly built toy German train that I could imagine Matt instantly setting up in his living room. But the train cost 2,000 Deutsche marks.

Heading home in the dark, on the verge of tears, I spotted a music store, where a pair of bongo drums inlaid with gleaming brass were displayed in the window. They were forty dollars, but the clerk took mercy on me and sold them for thirty-five. As I headed home I was beset by a thousand doubts, convinced that the drums were the least romantic of gifts.

I must have asked Nate Doe and David Jones twenty times if they thought the drums were appropriate. “Oh sure,” Nate said. “Anything you give him, he’ll like.” I still wasn’t convinced.

On the night we exchanged gifts, Matt emerged from his dad’s room and drew me to one corner of the living room, where he handed me a small wrapped box, in it, a delicate gold watch with a diamond set on the lid and a ring with a pearl bracketed by two diamonds.

I had never owned anything so beautiful, nor had any smile ever warmed me as Matt’s did then. “I’ll cherish these forever,” I told him, and he made me put them on right away and took me around to show everyone.

I waited as long as possible to give Matt my present. Laughing, he said, “Bongos! Just what I always wanted!” Matt could see that I didn’t believe him; he was better at giving than receiving. “Charlie,” he persisted, “didn’t I need some bongos?”

Motioning for me to sit next to him at the piano, he started playing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” with such emotion that I couldn’t look up for fear he’d see I was crying. When at last I couldn’t resist meeting his eyes, I saw that he too was holding back tears.

It was not until many days later that I discovered a whole closet full of bongo drums, mine not included, in the basement. The fact that my white elephants had not been throw into the closet but instead were prominently displayed beside his guitar made me love him all the more.

As the days passed I began to dread the day of Matt’s departure. By January he was already packing, and each night I spent with him became more precious than the one before.

Then, just as the weather turned freezing cold, Matt was sent out on field maneuvers for ten days, and if there was anything Matt hated, it was having to sleep outside on the frozen ground.

The morning after he left, it began to snow and by afternoon it was a blizzard. As Michelle and I were driving home from school with my mother, I turned on the radio, just in time to hear a late-breaking news bulletin.

“Sorry to interrupt, folks, but it was just reported that Corporal Matt Sturniolo has been rushed from field maneuvers to a hospital in Frankfurt, suffering from an acute attack of tonsillitis. Matt, if you’re listening, we all hope you get well real soon.”

Frantic with worry, I called the hospital, hoping to learn more about his condition. To my surprise, when the operator heard my name she put me right through, saying Corporal Sturniolo had left word to do so if I called.

“I’m a sick man, Little One,” Matt rasped. “I need you by my side. If it’s okay with your folks, I’ll send David for you right now.”

Of course my parents gave me permission to go to the hospital, and an hour later I entered his room, just as the nurse was leaving. Matt was propped up in bed with a thermometer in his mouth, surrounded by dozens of floral arrangements.

The moment the nurse was gone, Matt took the thermometer out of his mouth, lit a match, and carefully held it under the thermometer. Then he stuck the thermometer back in his mouth and slumped down on the bed just as the door opened and the nurse returned, carrying in even more flowers.

Smiling warmly to her famous patient, she took the thermometer out of Matt’s mouth, looked at it, and gasped, “A hundred and three. Why, Matt, you’re really sick. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here at least a week.”

Matt nodded mutely as the nurse fluffed up his pillows, filled his water glass, and left the room. Then he burst out laughing, jumped out of bed, and took me in his arms.

He despised maneuvers, and since the weather was so bad and everyone was so worried about his voice, his answer was tonsillitis. Already susceptible to catching colds, Matt learned to dramatize his sickness with a little flick of a match.

It was March 1, 1960, the night before Matt was to leave Germany to return to the States.

We were lying on his bed, our arms around each other. I was in a state of complete despair.

“Oh, Matt,” I said, “I just wish there were some way you could take me with you. I can’t stand the thought of life without you. I love you so much.”

I began sobbing, my anguish overcoming my control.

“Shhh, Baby,” Matt whispered. “Try to calm down. There’s nothing we can do.”

“I’m just afraid you’ll forget me the moment you land,” I cried.

He smiled and kissed me gently. “I’m not going to forget you, y/nn. I’ve never felt this way about another girl. I love you.”

“You do?” I was stunned. Matt had said that I was special before, but he’d never said that he loved me. I wanted so badly to believe him, but I was frightened of getting hurt. I’d read some of Nicole’s letters, and I was sure Matt was on his way back to her open arms.

Holding me close, he said, “I’m torn with the feelings I have for you. I don’t know what to do. Maybe being away will help me understand what I really feel.”

That night our lovemaking took on a new urgency. Would I ever see him again, be in his arms the way I had been nearly every night for the past six months? I missed him already. I could not bear the thought of the night ending and our saying goodbye for what I thought would be the last time. I wept and wept until my body ached with pain.

For the last time I begged him to finally have sex with me. It would have been so easy for him. I was young, vulnerable, desperately in love, and he could have taken complete advantage of me. But he quietly said, “No. Someday we will, y/n, but not now. You’re just too young.”

I lay awake all that night and early the next morning I was back at 18 Hauptstrasse, lost in the midst of a large group of people milling about the living room. They were waiting to say goodbye to Matt, who was upstairs finishing his last-minute packing. Knowing that I alone would be accompanying him to the airport gave me little comfort.

When Matt came downstairs, he laughed and joked with everyone there. Finally, after saying his last goodbye, Matt turned to me. “Okay, Little One, it’s time to go.”

I nodded glumly and followed him out the door. Oblivious to the drizzling rain, hundreds of fans were waiting outside. When they saw Matt they went crazy, begging him to sign autographs. When he finished he jumped into the waiting car and pulled me in behind him. As the door slammed, the driver accelerated and we sped toward the airport.

We rode for a long while in silence, both of us lost in thought. Matt was gazing out the window, frowning over the falling rain. “I know it’s not going to be easy for you to go back to being a schoolgirl again after being with me, y/nn, but you’ve got to. I don’t want you to be sitting around moping after I leave, Little One.”

I started to protest, but he silenced me. “Try to have a good time, write to me every chance you get. I’ll look forward to your letters. Get pink stationery. Address them to Nate. That way I’ll know they’re from you. I want you to promise me you’ll stay the way you are. Untouched, as I left you.”

“I will,” I promised.

“I’ll look for you from the top of the ramp. I don’t want to see a sad face. Give me a little smile. I’ll take that with me.”

Then, handing me his combat jacket and the sergeant’s stripes he’d recently been

awarded, he said, “I want you to have these. It shows you belong to me.” After that, he held me tight.

As we approached the airport, the cheers of the waiting crowds grew louder. We drove as close to the runway as possible, then Matt turned to me and said, “This is it, Baby.”

We got out as cameras flashed, reporters shouted, and screaming fans pressed toward us. Matt held my hand and walked across the runway apron until the guard, who was there to escort Matt to the plane, stopped me from going further.

Matt gave me a brief hug and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll call you when I get home, Baby, promise.”

I nodded, but before I could answer, we were pulled apart as the crowd rushed in. I was swept away by hundreds of fans, pushing and pulling, trying to get to him. I cried, “Matt!” but he never heard me.

He ran up the boarding steps. Then he turned and waved to the crowd, his eyes searching for me. I waved frantically, as did hundreds of other fans, yet he found me, and for one more brief moment, our eyes locked. Then he disappeared. Just like that.

My parents came to the airport to drive me back to Wiesbaden. During the long ride I was silent.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - sad chapter 😪 (sorry its shorter than ones before)🎀

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturn #matthew sturniolo #Spotify

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sweeter-innocence-fics · 9 months ago

Text

Click My Heels But I Am Stuck Here - Chapter One

Pairing: Rolan x Tav

Work Summary:

Rolan is battered, beaten and exhausted. After everything he's been through to get to Baldur's Gate, he still has no reprieve from violence and prejudice.

But wouldn’t it just be so sweet to fuck his master’s pretty little wife?

AU where Tav is Lorroakan's wife.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Epilogue

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1710

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist info

Notes:

I was trying to write the next chapter of my fic Learn to Love Again but I literally couldn't do anything else until I'd started writing this.

Warnings for infidelity, arranged marriage, abuse, implied sexual assault, violence, anti-tiefling racism, and Lorroakan

---

The doors to Sorcerous Sundries were heavy. They would be hard enough to close on a good day, but today, when Rolan’s ribs felt as though they were screaming at him, it was taking all his energy to shift them.

Would that he had the energy to cast telekinesis, but his magic was also drained. Lorroakan had foisted a lot of menial magical tasks on him today, and he needed a long rest before he could think about casting anything more than a cantrip right now.

The doors had almost closed when he heard a cry of “Wait!” It stopped him in his tracks because he recognised the voice.

An arm shoved its way through the narrow gap left by the door and then his master’s wife wiggled through the opening, undoing some of his hard work in the process. She was clutching her bag to her chest.

“Thank you,” she said, “I didn’t want to have to walk all the way back to the upper city.”

It wouldn’t be the first time. A few tendays ago, she’d gone for an impromptu lower city shopping spree, and made it back to the shop ten minutes after he’d locked the doors. When she’d turned up on the doorstep of the tower, in fine spirits but looking rather sweaty and tired, Lorroakan had taken it out on Rolan’s skull.

He had waited until his wife had gone off for a bath, and then he’d cornered his apprentice, hissed something about forcing the lady of the tower to walk several miles alone at dusk, and slammed his head into the wall.

Even as his vision whited out, he had to bite his tongue. He had long since learnt that excuses and arguments meant more beatings, so as much as he wanted to point out that it wasn’t his fault that Lorroakan’s wife was late, he kept it to himself.

All of this to say, as she scooted past him into the shop, it took all of his energy not to glower at her. The sweet, flowery scent of her perfume assaulted his nostrils. The bag she was holding moved, and Rolan realised that it wasn’t a bag at all, but a fluffy, white cat.

So surprised was he that he said, “Where did you get that?” and then cursed himself immediately. If Lorroakan heard him talking to his wife without all the requisite, snivelling titles he’d bestowed upon her, he’d surely have wrung his neck.

“He was wandering around the lower city,” she said, shifting her grip on the cat. She was holding it like a baby, and it seemed perfectly content, curled up in her arms and purring loudly.

Rolan nodded jerkily, uncertain what to say to that. He was sure Lorroakan wouldn’t be pleased about his wife bringing an animal home, but of course, she wasn’t the one who would see the consequences of his displeasure. She scratched the creature behind its ears and then headed off towards the portal that led to the tower.

With the last of his strength, Rolan slammed the door shut and locked it.

By the time he made it through the portal back to the tower, he could hear raised voices.

“I can’t just leave him, he thinks I’m his mother!”

“Tavya, you cannot just bring any mangy old stray to Ramazith’s tower! We’re already full up on strays!”

At the sound of his master’s voice, Rolan instinctively drew back into the shadows to try and evade his notice. The two of them were out of sight. From the sounds of it, they were on one of the upper balconies.

“Strays?” She sounded slightly affronted. “The tower is hardly full. And it’s magic. Can’t you just make more rooms?”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT! You have no idea what kind of diseases-”

“I live here too!” Tavya snapped back at her husband. “But if you’d rather, I can take Myshka and go and stay with my father.”

Lorroakan scoffed. “He’d send you right back to me.”

Rolan edged forward until the couple were in view. Tavya was still clutching the cat to her chest, and Lorroakan’s face was almost as red as his hair.

“Well, perhaps I’ll get myself a room at the Elfsong then. I’m sure my old friends will be happy to-”

Lorroakan hurled his goblet at the wall, effectively silencing his wife. Red wine splashed over the one of the bookcases. Rolan winced. Lorroakan had evidently been drinking even before this conversation had started.

To Rolan’s surprise, his master took a few steadying breaths. Lorroakan had never given him that courtesy.

“Fine,” he said, sounding slightly calmer. “You can keep the wretched beast. Just keep him away from me.”

“Fine,” said Tavya. “I’m going to get started on dinner.”

Lorroakan didn’t move as his wife swept off down the corridor. Rolan realised too late that he should’ve taken the opportunity while they were distracted to sneak off, but he had been too engrossed by their conversation to do so. His master’s gaze fell upon him and he watched his face twist into an unpleasant smile.

“Enjoying yourself, boy?” he snarled. “You like listening in on my conversations with my wife?”

“I wasn’t-” Rolan started, but Lorroakan raised a hand, silencing him.

“Come here.”

Rolan’s knees were trembling but he knew better than to argue. He didn’t make eye contact as he climbed the stairs and approached his master, but he could see that Lorroakan was still smiling.

As soon as he was in range, Lorroakan slapped him. Rolan barely even flinched. As punishments went, it was fairly mild. He stepped into Rolan’s space, breathing heavily. Rolan fought the urge to back away.

“If I ever catch you spying on me and my wife again, you’ll get a lot worse,” he spat.

Rolan just nodded. It would be futile to say that the room Lorroakan and his wife had been arguing was hardly private. Rolan would’ve had no choice but to pass them to get to his room. His master grabbed his jaw suddenly, unexpectedly.

“Answer me when I’m talking to you, boy,” he hissed.

“Yes, master Lorroakan.”

He shoved him away. Rolan’s back hit the edge of the balcony and his ribs protested fiercely.

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Rolan didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried off down the corridor towards his room. As he rounded the corner, he almost collided with Tavya.

“Sorry. My lady,” he said, clearing his throat. The motion made his ribs ache, and he instinctively brought his hand up to cradle them. Tavya looked up at him, a flash of concern in her big, dark eyes. She had finally put down the cat, and her dark blue dress was covered in patches of white fur.

“Rolan, are you alright?” she asked, and he felt a spike of rage.

Of course not, and it’s your fault.

“Yes, my lady, thank you.” He rushed past her before she could stop him, and scurried off to his room with his tail between his legs, feeling more pathetic than he had in months.

Lorroakan’s rage he could handle. He had gotten used to it in the months he’d been here. But what he couldn’t abide was the pity in Tavya’s eyes. It made him want to punch something.

Since his bedroom door didn’t have a lock, he used the last dregs of his magic to cast arcane lock and then threw himself down on his mattress. Lorroakan hadn’t even seen fit to provide him with a bedframe.

He was breathing hard. He needed to relieve his frustration somehow, and there was only thing he could think to do right now.

Clumsily, he removed his robe and then unbuttoned his trousers. He hadn’t jerked off in a tenday or more, so it only took a few strokes before his cock was approaching full hardness.

His mind went to Tavya. Infuriating she may have been, but she was also undeniably beautiful. The daughter of a patriar, she had noble features, and long dark curls that fell almost to her waist when she let it, though it was usually braided back.

She also had the small, rounded ears of a human, which Rolan couldn’t deny intrigued him. He’d never been with a human before. She was petite and delicate, but with womanly curves that were hard to ignore.

And wouldn’t it just be so sweet to fuck his master’s pretty little wife?

He imagined the pleasurable moans she’d make as he drove into her from behind, forcing her face down into the mattress with one hand. Would she beg him to let her cum?

Had she ever had a tiefling? Or would his ridged cock hit places inside her that she’d never even known existed before? He was well-endowed, but had no idea how that compared with his master.

He thought about her on her knees. Maybe she’d let him shove his cock in his mouth and fuck her throat until her eyes were watering. She behaved like such a brat, and her husband indulged her, but not Rolan. No, she would service him and let him use her for his own pleasure, like his own personal little fucktoy. Then perhaps he’d pull out and spill his seed all over her pretty face and tits, painting her as his own.

His hand on his cock sped up. He pictured her spread out beneath him, his tail curled around her ankle to keep her legs apart, his cock pressed against the entrance of her cunt. He imagined the sensation of her stretching around him, squeezing his cock to try and mimic the feeling.

Oh, Rolan, you’re so big.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear her voice.

Take me, I’m yours.

Cum splattered all over his hand and stomach. For a moment, he lay there, just listening to the sounds of his own breathing. Then the regret began setting in.

First of all, he regretted not fully removing his clothes. He wiped his hand on his already soiled robe and began to clean himself up.

He tried not to feel guilty about fantasising about Lorroakan’s wife. Gods knew that his master deserved it. But Tavya didn’t.

Gods he was pathetic.

Next Chapter

#bg3 fic #rolan x tav #rolan bg3 x tav #rolan x female tav #rolan x oc

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edupunkn00b · 3 months ago

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Just Like Magic, Chapter 5: Hide

Prev - Hide - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

From Chapter 4: Flee

"I…" Logan's eyes danced. "I felt it. I felt yours, as well. It… they were warm?" He pressed his lips together, brow furrowed. "A different warm than mine, I…" Logan peered closely back at him. "Why did you frown, then?" Janus looked up at the stars then out toward the eastern mountains, tracing the still-glowing paths of their magic. "Sometimes our luminaria take directions we don't expect." He gave Logan's hand a little squeeze and nodded. "We'll see what morning brings. For now, let's build a fire and try to rest."

Despite the bright starlight peeking through the barren canopy overhead, the forest remained dark, its long shadows providing the creatures of the woods plenty of places to hide. Shivering as he peered past the dark branches, Logan supposed he and Janus were now among them. Thankfully, Janus’ spell had silenced the crashes and vengeful cries of the the town, of his neighbors, as they broke into his house, hunting him and the Mage he hosted.

The last thing he’d heard had been Cass’ outraged shout when he discovered his home empty. It was just as well he could barely see Janus in front of him. Anything that might make it more difficult to be found was a gift.

Bodies splintered more easily than wood.

Janus moved slowly, though, favoring his left side, and his breathing seemed heavier, though they’d both long since stopped panting from their frantic race through the woods. Too dark to make out anything staining his cloak, Logan was still more certain than ever that Cassian’s blade had hit his new teacher. The blade meant for him.

At the mention of a fire, Logan edged closer. “How can I help?” The hand on his shoulder was mostly steady and he felt more than saw Janus nod.

“Would you gather some of the dry wood a little further in? There should be less frost once you get some distance from the water. Take only what’s already fallen, and remain on this side of the stream,” he instructed. Logan began to turn but before he could step away, Janus grasped his sleeve, drawing him back. “I am curious,” he said. “You lived so close to this forest.” He gestured broadly in the darkness. “We’ve passed an enormous amount of firewood strewn about. You'd said you’d run out of wood. Why did you never collect more here?”

Logan looked down, the toe of his boot digging a bit into the leaf litter at their feet. “I… I suppose caution won over warmth. Superstition, perhaps. There—” he shuddered when an owl screeched in the distance. “I was taught demons lived in the forest. No-one goes here. Not this deep, at least.”

“Hm,” Janus hummed and squeezed his shoulder. “I suppose ‘no-one’ is no longer true. We’re here, after all.”

There was humor in his teacher’s voice, warming Logan despite the lingering strain. “We are,” he said and drew his blanket tighter around himself. He hugged his spellbook close. He’d never had much, but now that blanket, the clothes he wore, and his book were all he had. He shivered again.

“Gather some wood for us,” Janus said again and Logan nodded, shifting the spellbook to one arm. It was heavy. Not impossibly heavy to lift, but certainly heavier than he could comfortably carry with one arm. He curled his arm around it, hefting it up onto his hip like one might a child.

Experimentally, he crouched to pick up a twig at his feet. The book tipped to one side, and he barely caught it.

“May I help you?” Janus stopped his own work gathering stones and arranging them into a circle. He'd been working, chanting under his breath as he placed each stone.

“I…” Logan stroked the spine of his spellbook. It buzzed under his touch and his fingers closed tight on the worn leather. “I… I am unsure how to… manage,” he finished at last, throat tightening at the obvious solution. He would need to leave it behind.

Head tilted, Janus looked up at him for a long moment. Logan couldn’t quite make out his expression and an icy knot twisted in his belly as he waited for Janus to tell him to give him the book.

“You could use my satchel,” he said instead, wincing as he ducked under the braided strap and offered it up to him.

“But it’s…” Even in the dark, the soft leather bulged in places, the satchel filled with the necessities of his travel. Logan swallowed hard. He wasn’t even sure how far Janus had come to find him. He hadn’t gotten to ask before Cassian and his friends appeared. “It’s full of your belongings. Your…”

He’d watched Janus make tea, pulling little bits and bobs from the depths of his bag. The satchel sent vibrations out into the air around it. Logan could only imagine what it might feel like to touch.

“If you are concerned it will be too heavy to manage, I assure you,” he said with a smile as he rose and pressed the strap into Logan’s hand. His fingers closed around it automatically. Soft and warm, the braid held his hand as much as he held it. “Its enchantments make it easy to carry.”

“I—I mean…” Janus was right. He lifted the bag and crossed the strap over his shoulder to carry it the way Janus had. Absently, he stroked the thick leather as he tucked his spellbook inside, marveling at the way it seemed to float with the movement, buoyant like the air was water. Forcing his eyes from the bag, he looked back at Janus. He leaned on his staff but still Logan caught a glimmer of a smile around the edges of his mouth. “It’s yours,” Logan pushed out.

Janus laughed. “I trust you, Logan,” he said, nodding before returning to his work.

Logan stood with leaden feet and watched Janus continue to prepare the fire circle. Without the bag, Janus’ stilted movements and the way he favored one side was all the more apparent. Guilt burned and bubbled in his chest, bursting out in a hurried whisper.

“I saw you fall.” Logan sucked in a breath when Janus looked up, expression unreadable. “Die, that is. In—in the tea?”

He nodded. “I suspected.”

“If I’d…” Logan bit his lip. “If I’d told you what I’d seen.” He twisted the strap between his fingers, the soft leather warm against his cold fingers. “If I’d actually said it, would it have happened?”

Sitting back, Janus brushed his hands together and seemed to consider the question. “I suppose that’s possible. Tell me…” Janus began, conversationally, as though he was about to ask his favorite color. “Did you want me to die?”

“No!” Logan shouted before snapping his jaw shut. He blew out a slow breath and shook his head. “No, of course not. You’re my only—The first since…” Voice breaking, he tried again. “No,” he said at last.

“Then it wouldn’t have happened simply because you’d spoken it.”

“I didn’t want my mother to die, either.”

Holding tight to his staff, Janus pushed up to his feet, starlight dusting his small, stiff smile. “Then your words did not cause her death.”

“I want to believe you, but…” Logan hung his head. He should’ve been honest with Janus from the start. It was all going to come out now, but… He sighed but Janus spoke before he could.

“That hadn’t been the first time you saw something horrible.”

Eyes wide, Logan looked up and shook his head. “Nor the last.”

“Logan, hear me. Your magic needs your will…” Janus spoke so gently, it was a struggle not to believe. He reached out and cupped his cheek, turning his face to meet his eyes.

It was only then Logan felt the tears pouring down.

Fishing through the folds of his cloak, Janus produced a soft cloth of a matching tulip yellow and dried Logan’s face as he spoke. “While will and words alone cannot create everything you need…” He cupped Logan’s hand in his own and tapped the scarred fingertips, the evidence of his failure with the pyrocasting spell. “You cannot speak into existence that which you do not want. Magic won’t work that way.”

Logan clung to his hand. The touch burned but he only held tighter. Janus let him hold on for a long time until Logan’s shivering worsened.

“You need to warm up, and we both need rest,” he said, squeezing his fingers gently before releasing his grip and crouching to set one last stone in the fire circle.

“Y—yes, of course,” he nodded and moved toward a jumble of branches to find the driest he could manage. He picked up a few spindly branches, light and free of frost. “Janus?” he said, turning back to look over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Janus chuckled, dry as the branches in Logan’s arms. “We’re going to cast this together.”

#Just Like Magic #sanders sides #ts logan #ts janus #mage!Janus #logan sanders #janus sanders #sasi #sanders sides fanfiction #magical au #cw injury #additional tags are spoilers #you know how Star Wars is all sci-fi spacey and actually takes place a long time ago?#yeah

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chelseachilly · 2 years ago

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king of my heart - pt 12

hold on to the memories they will hold on to you and i will hold on to you

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: it’s euro time baby!!! warnings: some smut at the end :) word count: 4k

a/n: hi!! this chapter was so fun to write, maybe my favourite so far?? i hope you guys like it, please let me know what you think! there’s only one more left after this <3

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benchilwell

liked by masonmount, jackgrealish and others

benchilwell Back at it! Feeling fit and thrilled to be back in time for the end of the season 💙

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yourusername Looking fit, that’s for sure 😍😍😍

benchilwell Hahah thanks gorgeous 😏

chillyfan1 living for them flirting on insta

After a long and arduous journey, the day finally comes that Ben is able to step foot on the pitch at Stamford Bridge again.

It feels like a lifetime since you’ve seen him play, and you couldn’t be more excited. You’re seated in a box with Kai’s girlfriend Sophia, anxiously awaiting kickoff.

You know how hard Ben has trained for this moment and that he’s been cleared by a team of doctors and physios who are at the top of their field, but you can’t help but feel incredibly nervous as you see him emerge from the tunnel with the rest of the team.

“Hey, he’ll be fine,” Sophia says reassuringly, patting your arm. “I know it’s nerve-wracking the first time back, but he’s ready for this.”

You nod, forcing a smile despite the anxiety still lodged in your chest, which you suspect won’t go away until the final whistle is blown.

It’s a tough match against Arsenal today, and only the second last of the season. You know how crucial today’s game is for securing their spot in the top 4, and as a Chelsea fan, you’re incredibly nervous about the outcome.

It’s 1-1 at halftime, and continues to be until late in the second half.

Your fists are clenched tightly as you see the Arsenal striker on the breakaway, sprinting toward the goal. A few of the Chelsea players are trying to catch up to him, but Ben is the fastest, making a successful challenge and passing the ball back to a teammate as the crowd roars.

Your panic begins to dwindle as the game finishes up and Ben continues to play with the level of skill and talent that he possessed before his injury. He’s back - really, truly, finally back to playing the game he loves.

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The week that the England squad is set to be announced for the Euros, you can tell how nervous Ben is.

He’s proven himself to have made a spectacular recovery in the last two Premier League games of the season, but it remains to be seen whether that was soon enough for him to have caught Gareth Southgate’s attention.

You’re incredibly anxious, too, as you wait for any news. This is what he’s been working toward his whole career, his whole life. To play for England on that scale, to finally get the chance to show the world what he is capable of, is everything he’s ever wanted. It’s the reason he’s fought so hard this year, through all the pain and setbacks.

As a result, you’ve both found a fun, helpful way to distract yourselves - having sex in every corner of your house, as often as possible. It began with you “christening” the home after you first officially moved in, which you knew didn’t make a lot of sense as Ben’s lived there the whole time you’ve been dating and you’ve already pretty much had sex in every room.

Then, it became a useful tool when Ben was getting particularly anxious about the call-up, which was becoming more and more often as the day drew closer. You’re also enjoying his return to full fitness for numerous reasons, including the fact that he’s now able to carry you upstairs and have his way with you like he used to, displaying a level of athleticism you had sorely missed.

This particular morning, you were having a lazy cuddle on the sofa watching Sky Sports, which inevitably led to the pundits discussing the possible England lineup and Ben pulling you into his lap to take his mind off it.

You’ve helped each other strip most of your clothes off - you in only your knickers and the t-shirt of Ben’s that you slept in, him in only his boxers - when his phone starts to ring.

“Shit, I’d better-“

“Yes, get it!” you exclaim, tearing yourself off him.

Ben would never normally take a call while you’re in the middle of such activities, but it’s a different scenario when he’s waiting to hear from the manager of the national team.

He scrambles around frantically looking for his phone, eventually finding it between the couch cushions.

“It’s Southgate,” Ben exhales as he looks at the Caller ID, and your eyes go wide.

“Answer it!”

Ben nods and gulps quickly before taking the call.

“Hello?”

Your heart is racing with anticipation and you briefly wish you had asked him to put it on speaker as Ben paces back and forth across the room, saying nothing except the odd “yes, sir,” giving you absolutely nothing to go off.

After a minute or two, Ben ends the call with a “thank you, I won’t let you down,” and your breath hitches. The moment he hangs up, he turns back to look at you with a slightly dazed expression.

“Did you-“ you begin to ask, and he just nods as a massive smile takes over his face.

“I got the call up,” Ben confirms, nodding his head. “I’m in the squad!”

You squeal with delight as you run across the room to him, throwing your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He catches you and holds you just as close, burying his face in your neck.

“You did it, baby,” you sigh with relief, your fingers digging in slightly to his bare shoulders. “Your hard work paid off. I’m so proud of you.”

He pulls back just enough to crash his lips down on yours in one of the most passionate kisses you’ve ever shared, his soft lips parting to slide his tongue into your mouth.

“Good thing we’re already dressed to celebrate,” you murmur teasingly, tightening your legs around him so you press against his hardened cock, making him moan against your mouth.

Within seconds, he has you laid out on the couch, climbing over you and smothering you with kisses as his hands work to remove the remaining clothing you have on.

The time leading up to the Euros seems to drag on forever.

You’re so incredibly happy and proud that Ben made the squad, and you wouldn’t have it any other way, but you underestimated how much you would miss him while he’s away at the training camp.

You’d gotten used to him being home all the time while he was injured, so you can’t help but suffer from a bit of separation anxiety while he’s gone, and you find yourself texting and calling him more often than you’re proud to admit.

It gets to the point that when Ben picks up the phone, you hear a chorus of “hi, Y/N!” on the other line before he’s even greeted you. It’s one thing being teased by Mason or James or even Jack, who you consider close friends, but you do feel a bit embarrassed to think of national heroes like Harry Kane or Marcus Rashford knowing you as Ben’s needy girlfriend.

Mostly, though, you’re just so excited to finally get to see Ben play at such a massive level, achieving his childhood dreams.

You obviously can’t miss an entire month of work to relocate to Germany, but you make travel plans and take vacation days to ensure that you see as many as possible. Every time you show up to a game and get to see Ben play his heart out for England, it’s all worth it.

As the weeks go on, England continues to succeed and Ben gets more and more playing time. He’s obviously proven himself as a force to be reckoned with, having come back even stronger from his injury, and it makes your heart swell with pride each time you see him come on - whether you’re watching on TV or in person.

When England makes it to the semi-final against Italy, there’s not a chance in hell that you’re missing it. You make the necessary arrangements at work and book flights for you and Charlotte before letting Ben know that you’ll be there.

You only get to see him for a few minutes when you fly in the morning or the match, as he’s deep in training mode for what may very well be one of the most important games of his career.

“You’re going to be amazing,” you tell him earnestly, cupping his face. “Whether the gaffer subs you on in the 89th minute or you’re on the starting lineup - which you should be - I am so proud of you.”

“Thanks, baby, you have no idea how much it means to have you here,” Ben says quietly, squeezing your waist. “I’ll see you after the game.”

He leaves you in his hotel room as he returns to the training pitch for warmups. You know his hopes aren’t high for much playing time in such an important game, but you’re still optimistic. He’s been just as good or better than the other left-back on the team, and he’s already got two assists and some impressive defensive plays to show for it.

Above all, you know he wants his team to win, however that is achieved. You just - a bit selfishly, maybe - want Ben to play a role in that win.

An hour before kick-off, you and Charlotte change into your Chilwell and Mount England NT shirts, respectively, and head down to the Alilianz Arena, home of Bayern Munich.

It’s definitely one of the most massive and electric sporting events you’ve ever been to, including some impressive games hosted at Wembley. The crowd is full of fans from all across Europe, and both English and Italian flags line the stands.

“Oh my god, did you look at the lineup?” Charlotte asks, glancing at her phone as you take your seats with some of the other girls.

You shake your head and she shoves her phone in your hand. Your eyes immediately scan down the list until you see “CHILWELL” in big bold font.

“Oh my god!” you practically shriek. “Ben’s starting!”

“That’s amazing, babe!” Sasha exclaims from beside you, grabbing your arm.

As kick-off approaches, you see the teams make their way out of the tunnel. Seeing Ben stand on the pitch as the national anthem plays, dressed in his England kit, fills you with unimaginable pride.

The next 90-odd minutes are some of the most intense and exhilarating of your life. You’re on the edge of your seat the entire time, jumping up when anything happens.

Kane scores first, followed by an immediate equalizer from Italy. At the end of the first half, the Italian side gets one more past Pickford, which appears to be offside but is ultimately ruled a goal.

At halftime, the mood in the English supporter section is somewhat grim, but you know they can turn this around. They need two goals to win this, and they have an incredibly strong team here.

You send Ben a quick text as Charlotte and Lauren run to grab you some cocktails to take the edge off.

You - 3:52PM Amazing start, babe. You got this second half 💪💕

When the game resumes, the team appears to have been reinvigorated during the break.

England starts strong, retaining possession well and creating some solid chances. You know it’s only a matter of time before they score and level the game.

Then, the most remarkable thing happens.

Ben is running toward the net with the ball, Italy’s defense lagging behind as they attempt to catch up with him. He’s running faster than you’ve ever seen him, obviously looking for an open teammate, and his eyes find Jack from across the pitch. He passes to him with incredible precision, despite the speed he was running at, but Jack doesn’t have a clear shot on goal.

In a split second decision, Jack passes the ball right back to Ben, who volleys it without a second thought.

There’s a brief moment of hesitation as you wait for confirmation of the goal, and then the crowd erupts with cheers.

You jump up in your seat, screaming at the top of your lungs along with thousands of other supporters. You’re pretty sure your boyfriend is the most beloved man in England at the moment, but the moment he realizes it’s a goal, he turns to where he knows you’re sitting and points right at you.

“And it appears Ben Chilwell is dedicating this goal, his first in a major international tournament and his first since returning from injury, to someone special in the England supporter section!” the commentator declares, making you blush as you feel so many eyes on you.

The game continues, and you’re unable to take your eyes off Ben as he continues to dominate on the pitch, their defense like an unbreakable barrier for the Italians.

In the final minutes, Saka scores with an assist from Declan, and the crowd goes wild once more. The final whistle blows, and you all jump up and cheer as England takes the win, advancing them to the final.

You feel like you’re buzzing off much more than the couple of drinks you’ve had as the stadium erupts with cheers and chants from the English fans, the players celebrating enthusiastically on the pitch.

You and the girls rush down to meet them in the changing room, and there’s already music blaring and champagne being sprayed everywhere as you enter. They have a week until the final, so they can let loose a bit tonight.

“Y/N!” Reece exclaims, the first person you see when you walk into the room. “We did it!”

“You did it!” you shout back over the noise, pulling him into a tight hug. “Have you seen-“

“He’s over there,” Reece says with a knowing smile, gesturing to the other side of the room, where Ben is posing for photos with Bukayo and Mason.

The moment Ben sees you, his already wide grin grows impossibly bigger. He drops his arms that were around his teammates and holds them open for you.

You don’t think about the many people watching you, or the fact that they’re all currently recording on their phones, or anything other than running into Ben’s arms and hugging him as tightly as possible.

When you reach him, he catches you and spins you around in the centre of the room, making you laugh into his neck as you squeeze him tight.

“That was incredible!” you say, your voice muffled by his skin as you leave a few kisses there. “That goal, Ben, I-you took my breath away. You’re amazing.”

Ben pulls back and cups your face in both hands, kissing you firmly. Your kiss him back just as fervently, trying to convey every emotion of the past two hours into one touch of your lips.

“Thank you,” are the first words out of Ben’s mouth when he pulls back, staring at you as if you had gone out there and scored all three goals yourself. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you, babe. Seriously.”

You meet his wide, slightly watery eyes, getting lost in them just like you do for hours on end when you lay in bed together, or for a brief moment each time you meet his gaze from across a crowded room.

There were so many times over the past year that you saw nothing but pain in those beautiful blue eyes of his, and all you wanted was to fast forward to this moment - this perfect, glorious moment - when he would be healed and back to achieving his biggest dreams.

Every time you woke up in the middle of the night to find him in pain, clutching his knee, making your heart shatter in a million pieces; every argument you had over what was best for him; every game that he had to watch from the sidelines.

Every setback, every gruelling physio session, every time he wanted to quit but didn’t.

It all led to this - him making a massive impact, securing his team’s place in the Euro final and giving them the chance to make history.

“Baby, why are you crying?” Ben asks softly, and you snap out of your train of thought to find him caressing your face and wiping away the tears that have started falling from your cheeks.

“I’m just so proud of you,” you choke out, smiling through your tears. “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you for believing in me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, followed by a few more to your cheeks and lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you breathe, pulling him into another tight hug - partly because you want to feel his warmth all around you again, and partly so you can hide your tears in his shoulder. You’ve had enough of being totally emotionally vulnerable in front of thirty other people for one night.

A couple of hours later, you’re still partying with everyone at a club near your hotel, celebrating the win while also ensuring the boys drink enough water and don’t get too out of control. You know Southgate will be thanking you for that tomorrow when they show up to training with hopefully not too much of a hangover.

Ben is definitely feeling a buzz after just a few drinks, though, especially after having not really drank at all since they’ve been in Germany. He’s even touchier than usual, constantly keeping an arm around you or his hand in yours as you walk around chatting with his teammates and their girlfriends.

Eventually, you two end up in the corner of a booth squished between Jack Grealish and James Maddison, watching with amusement as Mason and Declan attempt Wonderwall on karaoke.

Everyone is laughing and documenting it, but Ben is fairly focused on you in his lap, his thumb stroking the exposed skin between your shirt - with his name on the back, which is definitely getting him going - and your jeans.

He’s pressing kisses to your neck every once in a while, sending shivers up your spine and making you wonder how obvious it would be if you two disappeared to the bathroom for a few minutes.

“Oi, look who went viral,” Madders chuckles, sliding his phone over to you and Ben.

You’re not sure who posted it first, but the video of you leaping into Ben’s arms in the changing room seems to have gained millions of views already.

“Oh, god,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Our families are gonna see me making out with you.”

“Worth it,” Ben laughs, kissing your shoulder. “It’s a cute video, to be fair.”

You giggle as Ben begins to trail his kisses up your neck, not hesitating to show you affection even amongst all his teammates. You love seeing him in this great of a mood, riding on the high of his performance today, which earned him his first Player of the Match award for England.

“Have I told you how proud I am of you?” you murmur in his ear, pressing your lips to his temple.

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned it,” Ben jokes, squeezing your thigh - you’ve probably told him about ten times since you left the stadium, not to mention the thousands of times you’ve repeated the words to him throughout his recovery.

“Well, then,” you smirk, shifting your weight on his lap so that you run against his crotch just enough to drive him crazy. “Want me to show you?”

Ben’s eyes darken as they look into yours, seeing just how serious you are. It’s almost comical how quickly he shoves Madders out of the way so the two of you can escape the booth.

“Going to celebrate the win, Chilly?” Jack asks teasingly, slinging his arm around Sasha as he sips his beer.

“Yes, we are,” you say smugly, taking Ben’s hand in yours. “We’ll see you all at breakfast. Maybe.”

The guys all laugh at your unusually brazen comments, but Ben just tugs on your hand like an impatient child, clearly ready to go back to your room.

“Night, boys,” Ben says, already looking toward the door, and you laugh as you’re dragged along with him.

Within fifteen minutes, you’re making out in the elevator on the way up to your room, and within twenty, all of your clothes are off and you’re riding him on the king-sized bed as he moans into your mouth.

“So good,” Ben groans, his fingers digging into your hips as they roll over his. “Fuck, baby, you’re so amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” you sigh, pushing down on his shoulders for leverage as you try to thrust him deeper inside you. “You’re so good, Ben. So strong. You feel so good inside me.”

He grips your hips even tighter and thrusts upward into you, making you cry out in pleasure as he increases the speed and intensity.

You knew it would be good, but this is one of the best times you’ve ever had - and you and Ben have had some great ones. Every touch feels like an electric shock to your system, every kiss is like a drug, and every pump inside you makes you feel like you’re ascending to another plane of existence.

“I love you,” Ben groans, and you can feel him getting close as you approach your own climax.

“I love y-oh!”

You cry out in pleasure as you crumple over him in your release, your body relaxing against his.

Ben holds you close for a moment, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as you ride out the orgasm, still joined together.

“You good, love?” he asks in a breathy whisper.

He waits for your nod of consent before moving you onto your sides carefully and thrusting into you a few more times. He moans into the crook of your neck as he comes, finally collapsing against the mattress.

You lay there, both breathing heavily, for a moment before meeting each other’s eyes. A wide smile spreads across Ben’s face as he looks at you, sheer adoration in his eyes despite the fact that you’re sure you look like a mess right now, your hair tangled and your makeup smudged.

“That was the best thing that happened to me today, and the bar was really fucking high,” Ben laughs, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you closer.

You laugh into his chest, nuzzling your nose against his warm and slightly sweaty skin, pressing a kiss there.

“I need a shower,” you mumble into his skin - after a few hours in a crowded football stadium, then in a locker room full of sweaty men, followed by a night club, you’re definitely in need of one.

“Me too,” Ben smiles, although he showered after the match. “Let’s go.”

Eager for more already, you don’t argue when he follows you into the shower.

Regardless of what happens in the final, he’s your champion, and you’re going to treat him as such.

yourusername 📍 Germany

yourusername So proud of you @benchilwell 🥹❤️🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 It’s been a dream come true watching you play for England after everything you’ve overcome in the past year. No matter what happens on Saturday, you’ve accomplished something incredible here. You inspire me every day with your strength and your determination. I love you ❤️❤️❤️ #itscominghome

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benchilwell Thanks baby ❤️ couldn’t have done any of this without you. I love you!!!

charlottewright Y’all are too adorable I can’t take it!!!

kennedyalexa Fav couple 🥹

tagging: @xjval @majx00 @delicateearthquakellama @lunamelona @kenanlotus0 @madriiid @mountstars @ttzamara

a/n: please excuse my terrible attempts at photoshop at the end there 😭

next (and last!) chapter 💕

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell x y/n #ben chilwell imagine #chelsea fc imagine #komh

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oodlyenough · 10 months ago

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alright I'm finally playing turnabout succession and despite how many big reveals i'd already been spoiled for the case is still surprising me in parts and clearly going to be quite long so i thought i'd put some thoughts together now

I'm not-quite-finished the MASON system chapter so no spoilers plz

some general notes:

I knew Vera Misham existed but not really anything about her or her father so that whole first trial was fun

I can't believe the glass hand statue I've seen in fanart a million times is the world's least ergonomic nail polish bottle ?!?!? lmfaoo ... nothing like the feeling of sharp crystal fingertips digging into your palms while you apply a... clear topcoat ... okay

Ema popping up in court with a Kristoph impression just to fuck with Klavier is the funniest thing in the world I love her so much. #1 hater

extremely generous of the judicial system to let disbarred lawyer phoenix wright design and run the new thing lmfaoooo

god willing they'll give me a chance to say 'i've spent the last seven years building up an immunity to atroquinine'

troupe gramarye is fucked up man LMAO i mean i kind-of guessed but i didn't anticipate the levels of it and i think we've only scratched the surface so far

i knew the names 'zak gramarye' and 'shadi enigmar' from fandom and never in a million years would i have guessed which was the magician stage name and which was his birth certificate name

i'm not sure what i'm meant to be thinking of zak so far. they alternate a bit between him seeming to be at least something of a concerned father, popping back up to will stuff to trucy and wearing her locket etc ...and him being physically violent, abandoning her in the first place and scheming to ruin phoenix's life a second time for no reason. I was pretty sure the victim from 4-1 was trucy's dad, and at the time I wondered if his plan was to undermine Phoenix in order to take custody of Trucy again, but so far it seems like he was just ... being a dick? lmao. I dunno; case isn't over so presumably more of that will come to light

still a big fan of valant, he cracks me up idc if he shot that old man. the game is telling me there was friction bc he was in love with thalassa but it's too little too late when i've already decided he has a weird gay thing with zak and also canonically he is capable of impeccable thalassa drag, so

drew misham being like "i left my reclusive 12 year old alone with a strange adult to discuss crime. it's ok though bc she felt an immediate affinity for a man she describes as the devil and agrees to keep secrets for" sir what the fuck do you mean !!!!! rest in pieces honestly

actually when we hit the bit about 'well vera doesn't like many people but she liked him', i was like "she liked KRISTOPH???" and @nowwheresmynut was like "maybe it was one of the gramaryes since she's a stan" and i was like "oh that makes sense". but it doesn't. it was kristoph. Lmfao. child whisperer

the MASON system is so ??? lmao... why does my inventory carry over from past to present lmaooo. phoenix invented time travel (real) (not clickbait)

I was going to write a whole thing about the disbarment trial and the investigation portion but this post is already enormous so it might be its own thing. I have deeper thoughts about that stuff from like a... broader game/storytelling pov. I will say I knew there was a flashback trial but I did NOT know you got so many investigation portions as Phoenix what a nice surprise 😭😭😭 I miss him

#ace attorney #aa4 spoilers #oodly plays AA #turnabout succession

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tmnt-reticent · 10 months ago

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Since Reticent won the poll in the @tmnt-iteration-compeition , here’s Ret Chapter 10’s summary, chapter cover and first scene! It doesn’t have a title yet, i might have to ask @aaronymous999 or Starla for help with that after they betaread dbsjcbsjhcjd-

Summary: Frustrated with the rest of the team, Mikey decides to take their latest mission into his own hands. Donnie has to make a difficult decision regarding his youngest older brother.

“Dude, how the hell do you keep getting these?” Mikey questioned as he took yet another cog away from Klunk, shoving it into his sketchbook bin for safe-keeping along with the rest of Donnie's stuff the cat had stolen. He'd return it all to the softshell. Eventually.

The orange-clad teen stretched before popping himself back on the rug, beckoning Klunk over. The cat completely refused though, turning away from him. Damn. Iced out. He didn't know why she was so enticed by random pieces of metal. Although, the same could be said for his younger brother- no, no, he had to stop thinking about him. He'd just upset himself.

Donnie had been avoiding him recently. He didn't know why. He thought it was because of their confrontation the other night, but Donnie had been doing so long before that. Maybe he should start asking him to hang out again? That was what drew his brother back to him before. But at the same time, he didn't exactly feel like hanging around the softshell any time soon. He just didn't like being ignored. He only knew so many people, that was like, a fifth of his friend group gone in the blink of an eye. He'd at least like for them to be on ‘wave to each other across the room’ level for now-

“Michaelangelo! Hurry up, it's time to leave!”

Oh, right, the mission. He had more important stuff to think about right now.

The painted turtle grabbed his nunchucks, shoving them in his belt and then throwing on a hoodie before entering the living room. He was met with April and Casey, along with his brothers who were donning their own ‘disguises’. Raph's would've worked if his shell wasn't so….prominent, almost poking out of the fabric. But Donnie and Leo were practically a lost cause. Donnie was struggling to keep his bo hidden, refusing Leo's demands to cut a hole in his favorite hoodie to do so. Which made sense, that wouldn't exactly hide his bo. And Leo's sheathes weren't hidden whatsoever, the bottom of his hoodie barely covering the tips. He could already tell this was going to be great. But hey, maybe the person they were hunting down wouldn't mind being confronted by 4 mutant turtles who were clearly carrying weapons.

He had to do something about this.

“Heyyy Leo, uh, didn't know if you knew this but I think your disguises might be a little bit easier to see through than mine.” It was difficult not to refer to him using a nickname like ‘Nerdo’ but Mikey couldn't afford to get on the eldest's bad side right now.

The map turtle turned to him with narrowed eyes. “What are you getting at, Michelangelo?”

“I was just wondering if I could finally put my role to use? Y'know, as the face man? I figure I can get this Venus person to lead me to the Nexus and the rest of you can just follow us. It's way easier that way.” He knew this wouldn't convince Leo, nothing ever did, but-

“Fine. Whatever. But if you do anything, and I mean anything that puts the mission in jeopardy, I will be sending you back here. Got it?”

Mikey paused for a second. Leo? Letting him take the lead? He couldn't believe his non-existent ears. But, the painted turtle quickly got a hold of himself. “You got it! I'll be the best face man you've ever seen! No jeopardy here!”

“I'm already regretting this.” The tallest sighed. “But there's more important things to worry about than whatever you're going on about. Casey! April! I need to speak to you.”

The two humans turned towards him, but April spoke first. “Did we do something, or…?”

“No, no, I just… I don't think you should come.”

Casey's countenance dropped. “What? But like, all the information is on my phone-”

“Then send it to one of us, we’ll take care of it.” The blue-masked turtle responded. Weird that he said that as if he was one of the options.

“What is this even about, Leonardo?” Ouch. April rarely used full names. Although, Leo preferred it that way. Maybe he was pissing her off on purpose?

“Look, Casey is already a criminal, he doesn't need anymore charges-”

“But you're fine with us fighting the foot clan out in the-” April began to interject.

“And you shouldn't be getting involved in all this shady business in the first place. I was willing to let it slide for a while but I'm drawing the line at underground dog-fighting rings. You have a future to think about, April. We don't. You shouldn't throw everything away for us.”

“But we're already as deep into all this crap as you guys are! Heck, Casey has been doing this shit for ages! And you're just gonna tell us to screw off? For what? You couldn't do any of this without us!”

“It's for your own good, April-”

“How do you know? We're not just going to give into any stupid little demand you throw our way because it's ‘for our own good’!” Mikey didn't know bunny ears could look so aggressive but April had managed to surprise him.

As the arguing continued, the orange-clad turtle grew impatient. He just wanted to get this mission over with. Sure, going topside is nice, but the charm starts to wear off when you're only ever allowed up there for missions.

Although, maybe he could prove that he'd be fine up there on his own… and he did know where all the information for the mission was being kept…

It may not have been his god-given role, but Mikey started formulating a plan anyway. Who said Leo had to be the sole strategist? Well, Leo did, but that wasn't the point.

#tmnt reticent #tmnt #reticent #tmnt fan iteration #teenage mutant ninja turtles iteration #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt iteration #tmnt iteration competition

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jelixpo · 1 year ago

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I’m a huge fan of your comic and while I’m not a Bowser and Luigi shipper you’re definitely convincing me to be with this gut wrenching comic! I’m working on my own comic for a story I read on AO3 and I admire your dedication that you were able to stick through your own comic. I’ve been tempted to give up but the end results seeing it all together gets me motivated to continue! How were you able to stay motivated during this process? Did you have an outline before you drew it out or did you figure things out as you went along? If you don’t mind my asking on average how long did it take to complete each page/chapter? Sorry for all the questions! I love your work!

(Ps. Your comic was the first full Bowser Luigi relationship story I’ve read and introduced to the idea of the ship haha!)

Thank you so much! I'm glad you like my work.

For motivation, I mainly did exactly what you described. I envisioned the comic already completed and that imagined future was so tantalizing that even when I was at my wits-end with the comic, I couldn't give it up. As well, since I gained a bit of a following around the comic, knowing I had people relying on me to finish what I started was a huge motivator too.

At the beginning of the comic, I didn't have an outline. I'd say until chapter 4 I didn't have an outline, but after that, I started imagining one and then chapter 11 is when I actually sat down and wrote out the whole timeline in full. My advice is to NOT do that lol. You should start with the timeline, figure out how everything fits together, then start working on it. I kinda regret planning the comic the way I did cause I feel like I could've left more clues in the early chapters for events that happened near the end of the comic.

How long a chapter took me to make depended on the length of the chapter, my personal schedule, and my mental health. Generally speaking, chapters took me about 2-3 weeks to plan the dialogue, sketch the pages, line and colour them. I show that process here :)

#ask #anon

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kitseddie · 1 year ago

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This Must Be The Place

Chapter 7: Invisible String

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Part 8

(Eddie Munson X GN!Reader)

Summary: You get to know the kids a little better and Steve urges you to confront your feelings about Eddie.

W/C: 3.3K

Warnings: I use italics so much. So so much. I’m trying to stop but it’s in my blood.

A/N: It’s kind of filler but it’s also cute! There’s a lot of platonic Steve/Reader going on but don’t worry…you’ll see why…

Starcourt was a new development that was built about a year before you moved back to Hawkins. It was certainly a change of pace in the town, considering up until now you were lucky to find a strip mall. Huge would be an understatement, not really anything groundbreaking compared to most malls but certainly big given the territory. It was bright and loud and filled to the brim with families and teenagers enjoying their spring break. You would have loved to wander around to window-shop, and see the stores for yourself, but no. You were standing outside The Game Player with Steve and the kids. For the past two hours.

“Remind me why I agreed to this again?”. For a small store, you’d never seen a line so long. And you’d all been here since the mall opened.

“Oh, you didn’t want to spend your spring break standing in line for a stupid video game?”. Steve teased as you rolled your eyes and smirked, the kids all scoffing as you sighed.

“Did you guys completely ignore me earlier? Dracula is the first video game to ever have a 15 rating. And since some of us are late bloomers, we need adults and you’re the closest we got.” The kids had been raving about this new game since it was announced, it was so violent that they even pushed for an R Rating but ended up settling on 15.

Lucas was already 15 and Will had his birthday the month before, leaving you and Steve to be the ones buying Mike and Dustin’s copies. They were lucky that the security guards didn’t care enough to figure out that they were both standing in line, clearly waiting to buy a game they were too young to be playing.

When you drew closer to the door, Dustin quickly rummaged around his pockets and handed you some crumpled-up bills thanking you before he and Mike left to avoid suspicion. Steve shook his head, letting the kids go ahead and get their games. It was kinda sweet to see their goofy smiles as they wandered out with the game in their hands, excitedly talking about all the things they’d heard about it through the grapevine.

“After you.” Steve bowed as you giggled and headed inside, noticing all the teenagers losing their shit over some lame vampire game. Honestly, you were kinda curious to see what all the fuss was about, but with such high demand it was only one per customer and you were looking forward to seeing Dustin’s face when you handed him his copy. Steve buys Mike’s and you both head to the ice cream place, handing your copies to the boys.

“You’re the best!.” Dustin squealed as he squeezed you into a hug and you awkwardly hugged back, slowly moving him off you. Your eyes looked up at the ice cream place and you giggled at the silly sailor uniforms. “Hey Steve, Do you still get a discount at scoops? I think we should have a celebratory sundae”. Your neck almost snapped with how quickly you turned to face him, still get a discount?

“You’re kidding.” Steve held the bridge of his nose between his fingers and closed his eyes, hoping if he tried hard enough he could make himself disappear. The grin on your face couldn’t possibly be any wider, thinking about the endless amount of teasing that was in store.

“Unfortunately…Henderson is right. Robin and I used to sling ice cream before we started working at Family Video.” Oh, this was juicy. This was amazing.

“Stevie. I’m dying to know…” Your eyes looked over at the uniforms and you held your breath in excitement. “Did you have to wear the sailor’s hat?”. He sighed and stared back at you, embarrassed by how much you were loving this.

“Well…it was company policy.” You burst into laughter as he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, attempting to ignore you. Dustin joined in and told you all about his personal scooper and the awful shorts. It was almost impossible to hold back the tears as you tried to picture it. When he seemed to get a little tired from the teasing you pouted and gave him a hearty side hug.

“Aw Steve, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I think it’s really uh…noble of you to work a job like that. Certainly builds character.” He waved you off and you pecked his cheek and smirked at his grumpy face. The boys shared some stares that you chose not to dwell on and you went inside for some sundaes whilst they waited for the girls to join.

You’d spoken to Dustin more than the other kids, bonding over D&D, Lord of the rings and Star Wars. He hung around with Steve the most, meaning you saw him more than anyone else. But you wanted to get to know them all, they were friends with Robin and Eddie too and they all seemed pretty cool for their age. When Lucas and Mike started their own conversation, you noticed Will sitting quietly staring at his copy of Dracula. You moved closer to him and looked back at Steve, checking if it was a good time to approach him.

“I have to admit it does look pretty cool…”. Will’s big brown eyes widened as he lifted his head to look at you, he was tall. Looked a lot older than most of the kids, but he still was the youngest at heart. You could see it in his stare. “Your brother told me you guys used to play video games a lot when you were younger, what was it called…Cosmic something?”.

“Cosmic Ark.” He finished, feeling more comfortable at the mention of his older brother. You nodded with an ‘ahh’ as he bowed his head and then lifted it again. “There’s this arcade that we go to a lot, it has Dragon’s Lair and Pac-man and Max beat Dustin’s high score on Dig Dug it was crazy.” You beamed back at him, happy to see him open up to you. You still hadn’t spoken to Max. She was the most reserved out of all the group and you didn’t want to do anything to scare her off, so you were taking baby steps.

“Well, when Eddie and I were kids we would go to this little arcade near the trailer park and I would kick his ass at Star Raiders.” After that you fell into a lengthy conversation about video games, even Steve piped up and admitted he liked Donkey Kong Jr and would sometimes make the top 10 on the leaderboard whilst he waited for the kids to finish up.

Once the ice cream was eaten and the kids met up with Max and El, you waved them goodbye and had to find some time to kill until they needed a ride home. Steve had to do some errands for his parents and you just had to check out the new records at Sam Goody, so you parted ways and headed to your destinations. The collection was insane and you found one album you hadn’t had a chance to buy yet. You gasped to yourself holding Metallica's ‘Master of Puppets’ in your hands when a voice broke you out of your daze.

“Wow, see this is rare, finding someone in Hawkins who has good taste. Maybe you could give me some recommendations?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes, turning to face the guy behind you as you covered your mouth in shock. The tips of his ears and the apple of his cheeks blushed red as you burst out laughing.

“Were you…oh my god was that you flirting?”. His mouth opened but he struggled to make any sound. “Aw Eds, don't be embarrassed! Come on, I think it was sweet.” He covered his face and bowed his head, regretting his life choices in the middle of the record store.

“I didn't…I didn’t know it was you! Fuck, I’m never living this down am I?”. You chuckled and shook your head with a small smile, bringing him in for a big hug. He was adamant still trying to rid the redness from his cheeks, but sighed and hugged back before you dragged him to the metal section.

As you bowed your head he took a second to breathe you in, you looked so pretty when you were focused. When you lifted your head to look at him, he glanced back down at the vinyl and you admired him all the same. His ringed fingers skimmed through the albums until he smirked to himself, looking at Motörhead’s, Bomber. You looked over as he held it up with the sweetest smile and you felt an odd fuzzy feeling in your chest. It reminded you of Halloween 1979.

It was October 31st. You and Eddie had spent all night trick or treating and ended the night by teepeeing some of the rich kids' houses. With a firm high five and a hearty laugh, you both ride your bikes back to the trailer park where you found Uncle Wayne sitting outside Eddie’s having a smoke. His smile is wide, which wasn't uncommon when it came to you both but this particular night Wayne’s smile had some meaning behind it. You entered the trailer and headed towards Eddie’s room to sort through your candy bars when his uncle took a deep breath and smiled back at you.

“Happy birthday son”. He grinned, patting him on the back as he handed him the record. It was one of the first ones Eddie ever got. He’d had hundreds of cassettes that he made when he listened to the metal stations but nothing was like the real thing. Eddie’s eyes lit up as you both morphed your faces into pleading looks, he sighed and shook his head.

“Alright, fine. Just don’t play it too loud ya hear?”. Without a second thought, you rushed into Eddie’s room and bounced on this mattress in excitement. There blossomed his ever-growing collection of vinyl and tapes, it also happened to be the same year that Corroded Coffin performed at the middle school talent show.

You plucked it from his hands as he furrowed his eyebrows as you pleasantly skipped to the counter with it and the new Metallica record. Almost immediately after you placed the money on the counter, he leaned over your shoulder and slapped his hand on top. “And what do you think you’re doing?”. He gave you a look of warning as he slowly pulled some money from his pocket and handed it to the worker behind the register. He gave her a charming smile and a wink and started to walk off with the bag before you barrelled towards him.

“Not funny Munson! I actually wanted those records.” You huffed as you sighed to yourself, you didn't know what game he was playing but you didn't like it. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of the mall, and you backed straight into him. When you got your bearings you noticed him resting on one knee and bowing to you, holding the bag of vinyl as if it were an ancient sword.

“Your majesty”. You widen your eyes in shock, trying to not seem phased by the public gesture. Before anyone else could look at you, your hand grabbed the bag and you sighed looking down at the grinning metalhead.

“Your offerings have pleased the crown.” You muttered, using your arm to mimic a knighting as he bowed his head and thanked you as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He rose to his feet and you felt yourself shrink as he towered over you, his eyes met yours as you looked back at each other and he opened his mouth to speak.

“Oh, there you are!”. Steve shouted from across the way, he quickly caught up with you before glancing over at Eddie. “Oh, Munson. Didn’t know you were around. Hey, how come you weren't waiting in line for that stupid game with us?”. He grinned and opened his black metal lunchbox, waving around his copy.

“Because I know a guy”. You gasped and immediately gripped it from his hands to look over it, as much shit as you were talking this morning you actually wanted to see it for yourself. “Alright grabby, we can play it later. Stop hogging it.” He pulled it from your grubby hands as you groaned in protest and Steve grinned smugly watching you go back and forth.

“Little shits need a ride to the arcade, I thought maybe we could stop by the diner again?”. Eddie’s face dropped slightly at the mention of the diner, he wished it didn't bother him but it still gave him this nasty feeling in his chest. You brought Eddie into a hug and whispered in his ear.

“Don’t you dare start that game without me.” You threatened as you could feel him smirk, holding you against him. He chuckled back, his breath tickling your ear as he spoke.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart”. He whispered back as you started to grin like a fool. You waved goodbye as you and Steve headed to the parking lot and piled into your cars.

—

Steve rode with Mike, Will and El and you drove Max, Lucas and Dustin. Max and Lucas were pretty cute, as much as she pretended that she didn’t care you could tell that she was crazy about her little boyfriend. This however was extremely unbearable for Dustin, who sat in the front passenger seat without even asking. But it was okay you didn’t mind, you started up the car as metal blasted from the speakers and everyone yelled at you to shut it off.

“Relax! Relax! I’ll turn it down but I’m not shutting it off…it’s a good song.” His eyes glanced over you, thinking back to when Eddie gave him a ride home from D&D. The same song blasting from his speakers, it was silly how much you were alike. He was wondering how long it would take for you to figure out how perfect you are for each other, or until he had to pull a parent trap on you.

“So you kids got any crazy spring break plans? Other than playing your thrilling new video game.” Your fingers subconsciously tapped against the steering wheel, almost a perfect mimic of Eddie as Dustin shook his head with a smirk.

“Well when we were biking through the woods we saw this amazing treehouse and we thought maybe we could build one ourselves. We just need like…a lot of materials…and muscle.” A smile graced your face as you had plan.

“Oh my god, I have an absolutely genius idea! Wayne helped me and Eddie build a treehouse when we were younger, it’s still up in the woods by the trailer park! It needs a little TLC but I think with some teamwork we can fix her up real nice”. Everyone seemed super excited and thankful and you spent the rest of the ride talking about the plans for what it was going to look like and what kinda cool things it would have inside.

Before you could draw up the blueprints you drove into the arcade parking lot and let the kids wander inside. They all said their thank yous and continued to discuss their new D.I.Y project, whilst Steve signalled for you to tail him to the diner and you happily obliged. It had quickly become a regular hang-out spot for you both and the food was to die for. Which was kind of ironic considering it was so bad for your cholesterol that dying at the hands of it wasn’t that unlikely.

“So…are we gonna talk about Eddie?”. Steve wasted no time cutting to the chase.

“So...are you gonna finish that?”. You quizzed back, making intense eye contact with his crinkle-cut fries. The last batch of crinkle-cut fries in the diner, it so happens. He sighed and moved his food away from you, using it as leverage.

“You’re dodging the question.” He moaned, rolling his eyes as you seemed more interested in his lunch than you did in what he had to say.

“And you’re hogging the fries.” You pawed at the basket under his arm as he moved it further away from you. His eyes looked like a warning, as you slumped your shoulders like a little kid.

“Share with me and I’ll share with you, capisce?”. You groaned at his stern face, resting your back against the booth.

“I should never have shown you The Godfather”. You muttered under your breath, eyeing his fries and weighing your options. With another glance you met his eyes and felt that sincerity, they silently told you “this is a safe place” and you believed that.

Fuck, there wasn’t any getting out of this.

“We’re just making up for lost time.” You muttered, his head lifting to look back at you. His eyes burnt into your soul as you felt a little swarm of anxiety in your gut. “I just…I like things the way they are. I don’t understand why everyone is so obsessed with us. We’re just two adults who care for each other and enjoy each other's company. Why does it always have to be more than that?.” Steve’s eyes dotted around the room as he sighed to himself.

“So you don’t want it to be more than that?”. It was a simple question, but enough to shut you up. “I’ll take those fries now.” You pulled at his basket and started to dig in, filling your mouth with food so you wouldn’t be held responsible for not answering his question. And he cared about you, he really thought that talking would help but you were stubborn. So he dropped it, but not without swearing to himself that he would get you to talk. Sooner or later.

“Miss Byers is having a sort of get-together for Jonathan’s birthday. Him and Argyle are coming back from Cali and they’re staying for a few days. I think it would be cool for you to meet her and Eddie will be there too…” It was a sweet suggestion but you were still so new to the friend group, Jonathan was cool but you didn’t know him super well. Steve sensed your anxiety and shook his head, trying to get you to relax. “It’s not anything crazy, and you don’t have to feel pressured. I just thought it could kinda be like an initiation into the group.” Your smile grew wide as you struggled to contain the fuzzy feeling in your heart.

“Stevie. I’ve been here for a month and you already want me to be part of your group?”. He shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world and you let out a small sigh. “Yeah Harrington, I’ll come to your party”. He pumped his fist in the air with excitement as you chuckled at how ridiculous he looked.

“I think this calls for a celebration.” Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a quarter and slid it into the jukebox, flicking through the songs until he found the perfect one. He landed on Chic’s, Good Times mimicking a bad disco dance as you laughed and covered your face in embarrassment, he started moving out of his seat as you considered bolting for the door. “You better dance with me or I’ll start singing.” You knew by the look he gave you he was not kidding, you quickly ran over to him and he chuckled and grabbed your hand spinning you under his arm.

“Asshole.” You muttered with a grin as he stuck out his tongue and you did the same back, watching him let go of your hands busting out some more disco moves. God, he was a dork and a terrible dancer, but he was also a really cool guy and you were glad you got to call him your friend.

Taglist: @honey-eyed-munson

Comment if you wanna be added to the Taglist!

#eddie munson #stranger things #reader insert #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic

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twig-tea · 11 months ago

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SHIPPER TAG GAME

Tagged by @lurkingshan and @stuffnonsenseandotherthings to dig into the vault. Friends, I have been Perpetually Online since 1995, when that meant I had to haunt my school library computer at lunchtime, so this is going to be for the fellow Olds. Sorry in advance for the HP mentions.

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore?

Have I let any ships go? Hmm. I'll go with Mulder/Scully from X-Files. Watching now, they should definitely not end up together lol

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

Sailor Mercury/Sailor Jupiter from Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon. I. Was. Obsessed. This ship hit me like a ton of bricks in I want to say 6th or 7th grade.

I watched the show as it aired with English dubs, found out the episodes we got were censored, immediately fell into my completionist ways, went to the Asian mall (it was literally pan-Asian with stuff from Japan, China, Taiwain, Korea, etc.) and got definitely not official VCDs with Mandarin subtitles, and would sit with friends who spoke Mandarin and had them translate the subs to English for me (I say this like I forced them, but they offered because they were my friends and they also felt passionately about people seeing the uncensored show). I then learned how to Internet and would trawl for fanpages of the manga (it would take 20 minutes to load an image at the time, so rather than full scanlations I'd get walls of text describing what happened with maybe a single panel illustration). Uranus and Neptune were fantastic, but I already had Ami and Makoto aka Mercury and Jupiter long before I got to the Uranus/Neptune episodes (or the Sailor Stars manga arc).

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple?

Definitely Sailor Moon fanfic was the first fic I read. It was an easy step from finding fan summaries of the chapters not yet out in English > finding fan sites with fanfic on them, back before we had archives or even decent search engines and you had to just find the sites you needed through links from other sites. It was like a whole new world of possibilities opening up. The first real fanfic community I was in was Harry Potter.

In terms of first fic I wrote, I am not a writer; I've only ever written a small handful of not worth mentioning ficlets featuring the Kirk/Spock ship (Star Trek TOS).

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fanart over?

Oh it was likely Serena/Tuxedo Mask from Sailor Moon and it was in person, because I had friends who got me into anime and manga early and they were artists who drew a lot of fanart.

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse?

Friends, I had a Livejournal. It was impossible not to get into ship discourse.

6. Did you used to have any no-otp or have it currently?

I am going to echo @stuffnonsenseandotherthings and @lurkingshan and say I was dead-set against Hermione as a ship with any of the men in Harry Potter (Hermione/Luna or Hermione/Ginny, though, we could talk), and I also really disliked Draco/Ron. I also am not here for Spock/McCoy (Star Trek), and I don't really enjoy Stucky (as in Captain America/Winter Soldier or Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes from Marvel).

OH and can I be a hater on main for a second? The first couple that I remember hating as a thing was probably Jo and Professor Bhaer from Little Women; I was SO MAD they married in the end. I felt very validated years later when I read that the author Lousia May Alcott was forced by her publisher to marry Jo off and made up the couple out of spite.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

The last fic I read was a Word of Honour modern AU pairing Wen Ke Xing/Zhou Zishu in which they rescued stray kittens.

SInce I started this, I've also read a One Piece Luffy/Zoro fic (and that's not even my favourite ship--I've been a Zoro/Sanji girlie since the early 2000s! I'm weak for banter.)

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

I have so many. SO many. Truly. I don't even know where to start with this question! I follow several AO3 tags and fanfic writers that I get regular fic updates from. Most of my OTPs are either canon (from queer/BL/GL media) or the most popular ship (I feel very lucky that my taste is so basic). There is no one couple I love the most. Just going to throw a dart at the board: From BL, the one I come back to a lot is Hira/Kiyoi in Utsukushii Kare, because their dynamic is so intense.

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Hmm. That's what fandom is for, so not really? I usually get more annoyed when people do get together that I wish had stayed platonic (never forgiving Pacific Rim for that kiss, it was so unnecessary). And I'm extremely mad about censorship, i.e. couples that DID get together but we didn't get to see it for whatever reason (see e.g. Uranus and Neptune from Sailor Moon Sailor Stars; Chinese danmei novel live-action adaptations). Otherwise there are lots of these but I just read the fanfic and recover. I'll say I'm still annoyed Buffy didn't get to have with Faith what she had with Spike though. Their chemistry was off the charts.

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

This is such a hard question. I came around a little on Lan Xichen/Jiang Cheng from MDZS/the Untamed, though it's still not my fave (it's a soft no not a hard no). I'll also give you an oldie: Andie McPhee and Pacey from Dawson's Creek. I hated Andie's character back in the day but now I like her character but really dislike how she was used in the show, which isn't the same thing. And I actually really liked how she and Pacey worked together.

I'll also give you a BL one: Kurosawa and Haruta in Ossan's Love. Ossan's Love s1 & 3 it was clear they were not OTP so that's a bit irrelevant anyway, but it's much less clear in s2 (the AU season) and the first time I watched it I wasn't sure how I felt about the way that season ended as much as I loved the season as a whole. I like it more every time I rewatch.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

LOL I am with everyone else on the Brian/Justin train but since that's been said twice I'll go with something else. I was a big Harry/Draco shipper back in the day, which would now probably get me cancelled for shipping someone with his bully (though a significant part of the fun of that ship was about how Draco was such an ineffectual bully...but I digress), in addition to of course how the author's transphobia ruined the whole thing for all of us (fanfic doesn't make her any money, so I don't have a problem continuing to read it in theory, but it's left a sour note over my experience and makes any engagement in that fandom less fun).

12. What was your favorite crack ship?

I was one of those foolish people obsessed with Hawkeye/Coulson before we'd even seen them face-to-face or knew almost anything about MCU Clint Barton. I still read fanfic of that ship even though it's been fully jossed and makes no sense at all anymore. Ok one more, I really love the very small Breakfast Club fandom shipping Brian/John and Claire/Allison. I've read the few fics on AO3 for the queer pair ghost ships in that show multiple times.

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics of?

Of all time, I've probably read the most Kirk/Spock fanfic. But that's due to the length of time I've been into the ship, the amount of time it's existed, and its popularity. I still read Kirk/Spock regularly.

14. What most of your ships usually have in common?

Honestly most can be boiled down to grumpy/sunshine pairs in which both are very competent in specific ways and both are hiding crippling self esteem issues behind their grumpy or sunshine-ness, and have strong but differing moral codes that they each respect in one another (and is usually where the feelings start). Banter is a must. I am admittedly also here for height difference in my ships. Double-plus bonus for terrible communicators who learn to understand one another's particular communication quirks.

Perfect encapsulation of this dynamic is Danny/Steve from Hawaii Five-0 (listen that show was copaganda trash but the fanfic was fun as hell).

15. What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

Power dynamics that remain unaddressed as part of the story. Hate to love that isn't earned over time. When the relationship makes each other worse rather than better. When they never learn to trust one another. When one of them is in it as part of a savior complex and that doesn't get challenged or worked through. When only one of them has a personality. There's very little that I'd say is a hard no in terms of dynamics or setup for me, but it has to be handled well, and sometimes I don't have the energy to give something the benefit of the doubt.

tagging: @respectthepetty @wen-kexing-apologist @so-much-yet-to-learn @ginnymoonbeam @bengiyo with as always no pressure, plus anyone who sees this who wants to fill it out, consider yourself tagged and let me know so I can see it!

#tag game #thank you for tagging me #i am not tagging all of these shows lol #typed so that i can stop thinking it #I keep sitting on this because I think I'll think of others and will regret not including them but man it's just tumblr

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yolowritter · 9 months ago

Text

A Case of Ladybug Luck Chapter 4

Hello there everyone, and welcome back to Hell! Holy Nooroo it's been so long since I posted abt this AU. Mostly because I'm busy actually writing it and 300k words are apparently nowhere near enough to finish what I started a year ago! Anyway, I'm just going to do a speedrun of posting these early chapters because I want to get to the good stuff already! Believe me, it's worth! So, from now on I won't have a note at the beggining of this, just the snippet and chapter link, kay? Cool! Asks are open btw if anyone wants to chat about ACOLL! Enjoy my suffering!

Nathalie was curled up on the couch, definitely asleep. She looked pale, the same way Marinette would pale when she was worried about him. Like she’d literally been worried sick. His father was sitting in an armchair beside her, reading a book. Gabriel didn’t notice his approach. One of them had wheeled out a TV from the guest rooms down the hall, and it was tuned in on…the news? TVI, it looked like, and they were on an add break. Adrien took a deep breath to steady himself, to throw the image of his seething father almost breaking the dinner table with his fist, right out of his mind.

Gabriel glanced at the screen, stared at the advertisement, something about a new hair product, and went back to his book. It had a full black cover, Adrien noted as he approached. Gabriel heard his footsteps, used a bookmark to not lose the page he was on, and shut the book, placing it next to him on the chair. For a moment, Adrien saw the title. “The Illusion of Living.” Wow. Macabre, much?

“G-good morning father.”, Adrien tried as a greeting. This…was weird. He wasn’t used to seeing his father relax…or at all, to be honest. He looked uninterested, indifferent. Gabriel glanced at the TV, saw the news hadn’t come on yet, and turned to face his son.

“Ah, Adrien. Did you sleep well?”, he asked, seeming genuinely curious. Oddly, Adrien noticed his father wasn’t wearing his tie clip. The empty white spot where it should be drew his eye, but Adrien reigned himself in and nodded an affirmative.

“Yes. But…father, I don’t mean to disrespect you but…don’t I have a photoshoot today? Two hours ago?”, he asked, hesitant.

Gabriel’s expression shifted from his calm. Like a porcelain mask, the façade cracked, and for a single second Adrien thought he saw guilt and sadness in his father’s eyes. He looked so…forlorn. Defeated, even. Guilty.

He nodded, seeing that his father wasn’t going to say anything else. Adrien glanced at Nathalie, concerned. His father’s assistant, always a stern but constant presence…looked so frail. She looked like mom- like she desperately needed the rest. Gabriel sighed when he caught him staring.

“Nathalie is fine, son. She’s just tired. We had an…interesting morning.” A morning that nearly cost Gabriel his sanity, and some pocket change to top things off. Some 50.000 thousand euros to ensure the silence of the hospital staff and discharge him as soon as he was stable. He was fine, really. The problem wasn’t physical. Dizziness overcame him, suddenly. Emilie had said the same thing, once.

Adrien nodded again, not knowing what else to do. “I…Am I free for the day, then?”, he asked his father.

Gabriel didn’t even pretend to consider it. “Yes, free for the week. I’ve cancelled all your lessons and photoshoots. You’re…welcome to stay home, if you’d like. I’ve delegated my own duties for today, so if you require anything…please come talk to me.”, he said, sounding like the words struggled to leave his mouth.

“Adrien, remember. You are my son. I am your father. It’s my responsibility to make sure you are well. I will be there when you need me.”, Gabriel tried, testing the words. They sounded…right, this time. An odd sense of numbness washed over him again, and he turned back to the television. “You should go to your room, sleep some more. It’s been a long week for you, I’m sure.”, he added as an afterthought, his tone monotonous and dry. Almost robotic.

“…Right. I- I’ll go and lay down, then. Good morning, father.”

Gabriel blinked, as if the time was news to him. Right, the night was over. It was a new day, now. He didn’t feel like it. He barely felt like anything at all. “Of course, son. Now go.”, he insisted, eyes glued to the final, fading advertisement, before the screen switched to Nadja Chamack. Adrien obeyed and began to ascend the stairs again, and Gabriel unmuted the broadcast.

“Welcome back, Paris. As I said before, there have been no further news on the case. Poor weather conditions lasted all throughout the night, and police have had no luck finding any trace of…”

Adrien stopped in his tracks, midway up the staircase. He breathed deeply. “Father…did something happen?”, he asked hesitantly. Something had to have happened. This…couldn’t all be because of Lila, could it?

Gabriel’s eyes seemed to glance back at him, even though his head didn’t move an inch.

“We’re standing by for news on any new developments, and are hoping for the best. Please wait for more information.”

“Not to me. I’m fine.”, he said coldly, the air of indifference returning to his tone.

Adrien hoped it wouldn’t be followed by another outburst. He hung his head, and obeyed his father’s order, going back to his room. Maybe he could mess around with his piano? Last they’d met, Luka had given him some inspiration for a song. Hadn’t he said something about…masks? Adrien would have to text him, see if he remembered.

Plagg was there when Adrien opened the door, hovering over his unlocked phone. He looked…sad. Making a face of realization the same way Adrien would do when he could guess that more photoshoots would be added to his schedule. Like an inevitability had just come true. The kwami spun to face him when he came in, but Plagg’s face betrayed nothing of what Adrien had just seen.

“Hey kit! Morning! Wow, good thing your pops let us sleep in today huh? Say, I’m full of energy! How about we go for a run, huh? Get your muscles going?”, Plagg said, looking frantic and desperately pretending to be happy and excited. Adrien knew a thing or two about playing pretend.

Plagg never lied to him. Not unless something was very wrong, not after the Sandman incident. He’d promised. Plagg hadn’t lied to him since. Adrien let the worry he felt for Plagg show on his face. Words weren’t needed between them sometimes, and he didn’t think he should say what he could show. Plagg tried to keep his smile up. Adrien saw him strain himself, the widening of his eyes to look restless, the same expression he’d make when he got bored of flying around his room.

Adrien stared at him. Plagg stared back, a pleading look to please pretend he was oblivious, go along with it. After a moment, the Kwami faltered, and his mask broke.

“K-kid.”, he tried to speak, voice cracking as if his throat had been hit by a Cataclysm. “Do me a favor.”, Plagg begged him. Adrien had already opened his mouth to agree when his phone rang. “Don’t answer that. Please.”, Plagg insisted.

Adrien checked the caller ID. It was Nino. He shot Plagg a look. The cell rang again. Adrien ignored it to swipe down on the screen and check his notifications. 37 missed calls from Nino. 2096 unread messages. Half of those from Alya. What the fuck? The ringing seemed to get louder. Plagg’s whiskers dropped, his face fell.

Adrien reached out a hand to pet him, to offer comfort for whatever was wrong, but Plagg retracted. “Kit…I’m so sorry.”, he offered meekly, and flew up to his spot, curling up in a ball. Adrien thought he heard him sobbing. He picked up the phone, worried and confused. Why was his father acting like that? Why was Plagg acting like that?

Nino’s voice sounded horrible. Like he’d been crying. “A-Adrien?”, he asked, stuttering in near disbelief. “Thank fuck, are you okay? No, sorry, stupid question. How are you…holding up, dude?”

Okay, now Adrien knew something was very, very wrong. He tried to mask his fears with confusion. “Nino? What happened? I just woke up, are you okay?”, Adrien asked with genuine concern, trying not to panic. He’d kept himself together while fighting supervillains, he could get through one conversation without letting his worries eat him up.

Nino sobbed on the other end. Went silent. Adrien heard Alya’s voice, just barely, as if they’d moved the phone away from them.

“Nino…do we tell him?”, she asked, sounding frightened.

Nino failed to hold back a sob. “Babe…we have to.”

Nino moved the phone closer. “Uh…dude. You might want to check the news…”, he said awkwardly. Adrien was downright panicked now. He didn’t respond to Nino, he rushed back downstairs to his father, to the broadcast. What was happening? Why were his friends walking on eggshells around him? Had he done something? Did Lila do something?

“Please hold on, we’ve just received a statement from Officer Raincomprix. Stand by for-”

Gabriel had the book in his lap, reading calmly. Miss Chamack’s voice didn’t seem to bother him. She paused mid-sentence, and moved off screen.

She came back into frame, looking like she was about to cry. Her professionalism was in shambles, Adrien saw the way her face twitched with silent tears, holding back the urge to sob.

“I- I regret to inform everyone that we’ve received official word from the Parisian Police Department. Marinette Dupain Cheng has been confirmed dead. It was ruled a suicide.”

#miraculous ladybug #ao3 fanfic #a case of ladybug luck #marinette dupain cheng #it's peak angst #a *lot* of angst #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste #marinette f*cking died #for real this time #i swear #once again i cringe at my old chapters #i've gotten so much better #i swear on Nooroo himself #mental unhealth #when is it not #adrien agreste needs a hug #he gets it from the local terrorist #hope you enjoy

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