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cheynovak · 3 months

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When we were young - Part 2

Ben (Soldier Boy) Harrison x F/Reader Y/N

Contains/warnings: 18+, Smut, angst, fluff, hurt, Childhood/ family trauma, puberty, losing virginity, time jump ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language

Words: 5500

Part 2 out of 3

*Does not follow the boys storyline – Set in a time period where Ben was not yet a supe. Since we don’t know his last name, I came up with Harrison for this story.*

Y/N is a young girl who works with her mother as a maid in the household of Mr. Harrison and his son Ben. Since Ben was mostly in boarding school and Y/N till this summer in a normal school, they didn’t know each other very well.

This summer it all changed, Y/N had to help her mother financially and Mr. Harrison was so kind to let her work with her mom in his house. That’s when she met Ben, his son who was only a year older than her.

Soon the kids became best friends... but is that all there is? Friendship?

Ben got home yesterday, he got kicked out of boarding school and since he was almost an adult it was difficult for his father to find a school that was willing to take him in. He talked to me about Ben every night.

Asking me what I thought about him being so disobedient, it was hard for me to answer that, since I saw only the pain and suffering. But I stayed polite like my mom thought me, said I can’t interfere in those matters or gave him a soft smile.

This morning Ben walked in the kitchen while I was washing the dishes from breakfast, but the second he saw me, he turned around. I couldn’t stand this anymore and ran after him. ”Ben, Ben, Ben!”

He stopped in his tracks. ”What?” he asked not looking at me.”What’s wrong?” I asked. I saw his foot tapping the floor. He was either nervous or furious. “Did I do something wrong?” I could feel the tears prickling behind my eyes.

“No.” He answered sharp. “Then what is it?” I pushed. He didn’t answer and walked upstairs. Mr. Harrison saw how his son reacted. ”Benjamin! When a woman asks you something you answer!” He turned to me “See what I mean, I send that boy to the best schools and still he has no manners, don’t take it personally Y/N.”

He placed his hand on my shoulder, it was weird, he never touched me before, and unlike the touch was supposed to feel, secure a token of care, it felt cold. I smiled politely but the second he walked in a room I ran upstairs.

As I rushed upstairs, frustration and confusion bubbling within me, I found Ben in his room. Without hesitation, I demanded to know why he had been ignoring me this past year. His reaction was unexpected and defensive, his eyes avoiding mine as he refused to give me a straight answer.

"Ben, why have you been avoiding me?" I pressed, my voice tinged with hurt. He shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting with something on his desk. When I asked if it was because of a new girlfriend, his reaction was sudden and sharp.

He snapped at me, his tone cutting through the air with an edge of anger. "Don't be so demanding of my attention, Y/N," he retorted, his voice tinged with frustration. "I have other things going on in my life than to write fucking letters!"

"Beside it seems that my dad gives you all the attention you need!" His father? I had no idea what he meant by that. "Y-your dad? He has been kind since my mom died Ben, that's it."

"Good for you princess, I'm glad he at least gave a shit about one of us when their mother died!"

His words stung, leaving me speechless and wounded. The sudden change in his demeanour baffled me, and I struggled to comprehend why he was pushing me away like this. Had our friendship meant so little to him after all?

Tears welled up in my eyes as I stood there, grappling with a mixture of emotions, hurt, confusion, and a growing sense of betrayal. I had always thought Ben and I could talk about anything, share our worries and joys without fear of judgment or rejection.

But now, faced with his cold dismissal, I felt a rift forming between us. His unwillingness to explain himself left me with more questions than answers, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted irreparably in our friendship.

"I-I refuse to believe that is the only reason why you are so hard on me. We barely talk when your home, you never write to me anymore, you don't even look me in the eyes."

As I stood there, hurt and bewildered by Ben's sudden distance and defensive reaction, I couldn't hold back the pain that was welling up inside me. "Ben, I miss my best friend," I pleaded, my voice wavering with emotion. "You used to tell me everything, and I would never judge you."

His response was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. "I can't tell you everything, Y/N," he snapped, his frustration palpable. "Not anymore." His words struck me like a blow. I couldn't understand why he was shutting me out, why he had suddenly become so guarded.

The distance between us felt like a chasm widening with each passing moment, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing the closeness we had once shared. I left his room tears now streaming down my cheeks.

After an hour I heard a soft knock on my door. The door opened slightly and I saw his perfect green eyes looking at me. “Can I come in?” " Only if you talk to me.” He did so I asked again. “What's going on?"

He hesitated, his expression conflicted. For a moment, I thought he might relent, might open up to me like he used to. But then, with a bitter edge to his voice, he uttered words that shattered my heart.

"I had sex..." he confessed, "With who? Do you have a new girl?" I asked clearly upset. “With a prostitute... multiple prostitutes... and eh girlfriends... over the last year.” his voice laced with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability.

He must have seen the shock on my face. "There, see I can't tell you everything. But now you know like you wanted, and you're disgusted with me. "

I was stunned into silence, the weight of his confession sinking in. Shock, disbelief, and a sense of loss washed over me in waves. I struggled to find words, to make sense of the revelation and the rift it had created between us.

Ben's words echoed in my mind, a painful reminder of how much had changed between us. His words hung in the air, heavy with finality and a bitter sense of resignation. As he voiced his belief that it was best not to be friends anymore, a wave of numbness washed over me.

Masking the hurt and confusion that threatened to overwhelm. I tried to brush off his confession, to pretend like it was nothing,” What, why not? B-because you had intercourse. T-that's ok, that’s eh, fine I don’t care.”

But Ben saw right through my facade. His gaze bore into mine, searching for a connection that felt increasingly elusive. "We've both grown up and changed," Ben continued, his voice tinged with sadness. "Maybe it's time to accept that things aren't the same anymore."

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, our friendship, once a cornerstone of my life, was slipping away. I wanted to argue, to plead with him to reconsider, but the words caught in my throat.

The truth was painfully clear: we had drifted apart. The innocence of childhood had given way to the complexities of adolescence. With a heavy heart, I nodded slowly, unable to summon the strength to fight against the inevitable.

"I understand," I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible. "I guess... maybe you're right." Ben's expression softened briefly, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

The next few days my teary eyes did not go unnoticed by Mr. Harrison. Concern etched his face as he approached me, his instincts urging him to rush to his son to teach him a lesson. But before he could, I stopped him gently, my voice wavering.

"It's not Ben's fault," I managed, trying to compose myself. Mr. Harrison, sensing my turmoil, pulled me in a comforting embrace. His arms provided a momentary refuge from the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Confusion mingled with gratitude as I accepted the unexpected gesture of solace. The warmth of his care offered a fleeting sense of security amidst the uncertainty of my friendship with Ben.

But for the moment his tenderness towards me felt like a warm welcome to ease my pain, so I placed my head against his shoulder. When I closed my eyes I could pretend it was Ben who held me instead of this stone cold man.

Ben’s POV:

As Ben stood at the top of the stairs, watching his father comfort her in a gesture that stirred a tumult of emotions within him, he felt a confusing mix of anger, upset, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Seeing her in his father's embrace, seeking solace that Ben himself couldn't provide, knowing his father he never did anything without meaning.

Seeing how his hand caressed her back, how she melted away in his embrace, her head against his shoulder and her eyes closed.

Turning away abruptly, Ben retreated to the solitude of the night. The cool breeze of the garden offered clarity. Trying to understand why he gave her so much warmth.

And then it hit him, she is nice, sweet, caring, honest and beautiful. Just like his mother was. His father must have seen something in her that remembers him of her. Especially now since Y/N no longer looked like a young girl but morphed into a woman.

Under the soft glow of the moon, he wandered aimlessly, trying to make sense of the turmoil within him. He passed by Y/N's window, noticing her lights still on and the faint movements inside the room.

Curiosity and a longing he couldn't quite define drew him closer, despite the inner conflict raging within him. Standing outside her window, hidden in the shadows of a tree, Ben observed Y/N. She appeared changing her clothes, her expression unreadable as she moved around in the room.

Ben stood there, frozen, his imagination no longer able to hold back, he longed to be with her, wanting to see what was under those new clothes his father had bought her. Wanting to feel her skin underneath his fingertips, to explore the new curves she developed during this year.

Curious if making love with Y/N would feel the same, no it had to be different, better. He’d make sure she felt satisfied. While his mind played tricks on him, while he watched the shadow of her move around.

For a moment, he hesitated, unsure of whether to announce his presence or slip away unnoticed. The sight of Y/N, illuminated by the gentle glow of her lamp, tugged at Ben's heartstrings.

A part of him yearned to reach out, yet, another part hesitated, weighed down by pride and unresolved emotions. In the quiet of the night, beneath the watchful stars, Ben wrestled with his conflicted feelings. He knew deep down that he couldn't let their friendship slip away without a fight.

As Ben stood outside Y/N's door, his heart pounding with a mix of nerves and determination, he took a deep breath before knocking softly. Moments later, Y/N opened the door, a hint of surprise crossing her face as she hastily covered herself while wearing a new nightgown, the fabric rich and unfamiliar to Ben.

His eyes widened in shock at the sight of her. The nightgown, another gift from his father, draped over Y/N's figure, transforming her from the familiar young girl he had known into a vision of maturity and elegance. Showing more of her skin of her than he had ever seen before.

The realization hit him like a wave, Y/N was no longer the girl he once saw as his childhood friend; she had grown into a woman before his eyes. Y/N hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let him in, a silent invitation that spoke volumes.

Ben entered tentatively, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words and the weight of recent events. "I... I'm sorry," Ben murmured, his voice tinged with regret as he struggled to find the right words.

"For everything. For pushing you away, for not being there when you needed me. I mean, your mother died, a-and I turned into an asshole. Blaming you for my fathers mistakes. I should have been glad he at least tried to show compassion for you."

His apology hung in the air, filled with the sincerity of someone who had come to terms with his mistakes.

Y/N's POV

He met my gaze, searching for forgiveness and hoping against hope that their friendship could be salvaged despite the rift that had formed between us. After a long moment, I finally nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"I appreciate that, Ben," I replied softly, my voice carrying a mix of understanding and relief. "I missed you." Ben's heart soared at her words, a flicker of hope igniting within him. "I missed you too, Y/N," he admitted earnestly, the weight of their shared history flooding back.

"Can we... can we try to fix things? Start over?" I hesitated briefly before nodding again, but I couldn’t hold back a smile. As I settled onto the bed, the familiar comfort of our shared space enveloped us, easing some of the tension that lingered between us.

As Ben and I started to talk and laugh like we used to, the inner child came back up. Ben mocked his father’s sense of fashion, draping a satin robe with flowers over his shoulders, while he danced to the and talked about all the bars he had been at night, while I giggled and watch him from my bed.

After a short silence, I couldn’t help but to wonder, so I asked.

“How was it... your first time?” my question hung in the air, delicate yet laden with curiosity and a desire for openness. Ben hesitated, his gaze shifting momentarily as he grappled with the vulnerability of the topic.

He knew me well enough to sense my sincerity, my genuine interest in understanding his experiences, despite the awkwardness of the subject. He took a seat next to me on the bed. "It was..." Ben started slowly, his voice low and hesitant.

"It was strange, honestly. I wasn't expecting it to happen, not like that." He glanced at me, gauging my reaction carefully. There was no judgment from me, only a quiet patience and acceptance that encouraged him to continue.

"It wasn't what I thought it would be," he admitted, his words tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and relief at being able to share his thoughts with me. "I felt... I don't know, like I was just going through the motions. It didn't feel right but then again, it's a really, really addicted feeling."

I nodded empathetically, listening to every word, my expression softening with understanding. "I'm sorry it wasn't what you hoped for," I murmured sincerely sighed, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders as he opened up to me. My compassion and non-judgmental demeanour offered him a sense of relief he hadn't realized he needed.

As I listened to Ben describe his longing for a meaningful connection filled with love and passion, my heart raced with a mixture of emotions. His words echoed my own desires, resonating deeply within me, and for a moment, I dared to hope that perhaps we shared more than just friendship.

"You wanted love and passion," I murmured softly, searching his eyes for confirmation. "Like... like something real." Ben nodded, his expression vulnerable as he spoke. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "I wanted it to be... special, you know? Not just a quick fuck in a bar with a hooker."

But then, Ben's next words tempered my excitement, casting a shadow of doubt over our shared moment of connection. "But I don't think that is posibble," he continued, his voice tinged with resignation.

"The girl I want... she probably doesn't want me, not after all my mistakes." Confusion and disappointment warred within me as I processed his confession. Was he talking about someone else, or could it be... me?

I wanted to ask, to seek clarity in his words, but fear held me back. Fear of ruining the fragile balance we had just found, fear of discovering that I might not be the one he longed for after all. "Why do you say that?" I finally managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Uncertainty coloured my words, a mix of hope and trepidation clouding my thoughts. Ben sighed, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting mine again. "I don't know," he admitted softly.

"I guess... I'm just not sure if she sees me the way I see her. "His vulnerability touched me deeply, and I struggled to find the right words to ease his doubts. "Maybe she does," I offered tentatively, my heart pounding with the weight of unspoken feelings.

"Maybe she's just waiting for you to tell her how you feel." Ben's lips curved into a small, rueful smile. "Maybe," he murmured, his tone laced with uncertainty. "But what if she doesn't? What if I ruin everything?"

I shook my head gently, reaching out to grasp his hand in mine. "You won't know unless you try," I replied earnestly, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. "And... and if she's worth it, she'll understand."

He stayed quiet for a while, making it very clear to me he wasn’t talking about me, so to ease the awkward situation I ask him.

"What is she like?" curiosity tinged with a growing sense of unease. Ben's expression softened, a small smile playing on his lips as he began to describe her. "Well," he started slowly, his voice gentle yet filled with conviction, "she's kind, caring, always there when I need her. She's smart, funny, and she has this way of making everything better just by being around."

As Ben spoke, my heart skipped a beat. "She's beautiful," Ben continued softly, his gaze lingering on mine. "Not just on the outside, but inside too. She has this... this warmth about her that draws people in."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing with conflicting emotions. Beautiful, of course... why did I even thought it was me. "Is that... how she makes you feel?" I ventured, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid yet desperate yet trying to be a good friend.

Ben's eyes softened further, a fondness shining through as he met my gaze with sincerity. "She makes me feel alive," he confessed quietly. "Happy, understood, like I can be myself without fear of judgment. She's... she's everything to me." ��

Silence hung between us, heavy with unspoken words and the raw intensity of our shared revelation. "She sounds... amazing." I smile shyly. Without a word, Ben moved closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “You are.”

I felt my heart pounding, a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation coursing through me. He leaned in, and before I could fully process what was happening, his lips met mine in a gentle, tentative kiss.

The world seemed to stand still in that moment. The warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, and the electricity that passed between us all combined into a sensation that was both overwhelming and incredibly right.

It was as if everything we had ever shared, every moment of our friendship, had been leading up to this. For a second, I was too stunned to react, but then I melted into the kiss, my arms wrapping around him instinctively, pulling him closer.

Ben's hands gently cupped my face, holding me close as the kiss deepened, filled with emotions we had both kept hidden for so long. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," Ben whispered, his voice husky with emotion.

I opened my eyes, staring into his perfect green ones. Instinctively I pulled him closed, asking for another kiss, but he held back."Y/N I need to tell you something." I looked confused. "I eh, enlisted in the army, I'm leaving tomorrow."

My heart dropped, just when he confessed his love for me, like I dreamed of since I was a kid, just when I had him back after a year of silence and heartbreaks and now I'm losing him again.

But all I could do was nod and pull him closer, no longer wanting to waste our time talking, but needing to feel him closer. Ben answers me with a heart stopping kiss filled with passion I didn’t even knew excited.

As our lips were locked on each other’s, his hands started to wander over my nightgown. His hand wandered gently over my back, a shiver of excitement coursed through me. His touch was tentative, yet it sent waves of warmth and anticipation throughout my body.

The intimacy of the moment was electric, charged with a mixture of newfound desire and the deep bond we shared. His fingers traced light patterns along my spine, and I felt myself leaning closer, drawn to him in a way that felt both thrilling and natural.

Each brush of his hand seemed to ignite a spark, heightening the intensity of our connection. His lips moved to my neck. "Ben," I whispered breathless, my voice trembling with a mix of excitement and nervousness. I could feel his breath against my skin, his presence overwhelming in the most wonderful way.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, his eyes searching mine for reassurance. I nodded, a smile tugging at my lips. "Yes," I replied, my heart racing. With that simple affirmation, the barriers between us seemed to dissolve entirely.

Ben's hand continued its gentle exploration, his touch growing bolder as our mutual desire became more evident. The sensation was exhilarating, a heady mix of anticipation and the deep emotional connection we had built over the years.

As we held each other close, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us in this intimate, shared moment. His hands were gentle yet assured, exploring the curve of my back and the line of my waist.

I found myself leaning into him, craving more of the sensations he was awakening within me. Our breathing became synchronized, heavy with unspoken emotions and a shared desire that had finally found its voice.

The movements became more fluid, more natural, as we let ourselves get lost in the moment. I could feel Ben's heartbeat against my chest as he cover my body with his, his breath rapid and strong, mirroring my own. "Y/N," Ben whispered, his voice husky with emotion.

"Tell me when to stop." His words hung in the air, a mix of desire and concern. My heart raced, the excitement of the moment making my pulse quicken. I looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings mirrored in his gaze.

"I trust you, Ben," I whispered back, my voice trembling slightly. "But I'll tell you if I need to." Ben nodded, his expression softening with understanding and respect. He leaned in, capturing my lips in another kiss that was both tender and passionate.

His hands continued their exploration, moving over my breasts, kneading over the very light fabric. a soft shaky breath left my lips. "Is this okay?" Ben asked softly, pulling back slightly to look into my eyes. "Yes," I replied, my voice filled with sincerity. "More than okay."

As Ben's lips moved to my neck once more, a soft moan escaped my lips, unbidden and filled with the raw intensity of the moment. His kisses were gentle yet electrifying, each touch sending waves of sensation through my body.

I tilted my head slightly, giving him better access, my fingers tangling in his hair. Wanting to pull him closer.

The warmth of his touch and the intoxicating feeling of his lips on my skin. I felt his hands trace a path along my sides, his touch both tender and filled with a growing sense of urgency.

Each kiss, each caress, seemed to feed a fire. “Oh Ben," I moaned, my voice breathless and filled with a mix of desire and nervous anticipation. He paused, lifting his head to meet my gaze, his eyes dark with emotion.

"Too much?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. I shook my head slightly, a small smile tugging at my lips. "No," I replied softly. "It's perfect. Don't stop." A smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

As Ben’s hand travelled down my waist to my thighs, a mix of excitement and uncertainty washed over me. I instinctively held him back, my fingers gripping his wrist gently.

Ben paused immediately, looking up at me with concern and respect in his eyes. "I'm sorry, it's ok. " I mumbled before letting go of his wrist. “Are you sure, I can stop if you want.” he asked again, very softly, his voice filled with genuine care and hesitation.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. I could see the need and longing in his eyes, a reflection of my own desires. After a moment's contemplation, I nodded, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

“I’m sure,” I whispered, letting go of his wrist and allowing his hand to continue its journey. Ben’s touch was gentle and patient, his fingers tracing a path down to my thighs. He moved slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, ensuring I was comfortable and at ease with every step.

As Ben's hand moved between my legs, a surge of raw need coursed through me. His fingers brushed against me before he moved the fabric of my panties aside I gasped softly, the sensation both overwhelming and deeply intimate.

I gripped his biceps as I felt him moving slowly inside me. Unable to understand the feeling that washed over me. I only knew I needed more of this. "Y/N," Ben whispered, his voice husky with desire. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions I was experiencing. Instead, I reached out, pulling him closer, my fingers tangling in his hair. "Yes," I breathed, my voice trembling. "I need you like this."

With that admission, something shifted between us. Ben's touch grew bolder, more assured, as he responded to my need with a fervour that matched my own. His fingers moved with a skilful precision, eliciting soft moans from my lips as he explored this new and intimate territory.

As the sensations intensified, I felt myself reaching a feeling I had never experienced before. My body responded instinctively to Ben's touch, arching towards him, seeking more of the pleasure he was giving me.

The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming, but it was also the most exhilarating experience of my life. "Ben," I gasped, my voice filled with a mix of urgency and gratitude. He looked at me, his eyes dark with emotion, and I knew he knew how I felt.

"I'm here," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my heightened senses. "I've got you, let go, it's ok." As Ben continued to move between my legs, I surrendered to the sensations, allowing myself to be completely and utterly present in this shared experience.

My first orgasm felt out of this world, not really understanding what happened to me, but loving the fact Ben shared it with me.

Ben’s POV

As I felt Y/N's body respond to my touch, her soft moans and whispered breaths filling the room, I was overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Her need mirrored my own, a raw and unspoken desire that had been building for years.

"Ben," she gasped, her voice filled with urgency and something deeper, an invitation, a plea for more. I looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. Instead, I found a reflection of my own longing, her gaze filled with trust and a need that matched my own.

"Are you sure?" I asked, my voice husky with emotion, my heart pounding in my chest. Her nod was small but resolute, her eyes never leaving mine. "Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling but firm.

"I want all of you, tonight." The weight of her words hit me like a tidal wave, a mix of exhilaration and responsibility. I wanted nothing more than to give her everything she asked for, to make this moment as perfect as possible.

I leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both passionate and filled with the depth of my feelings for her. As our kiss deepened, my hands moved over her body, exploring every curve and contour.

Her responses, the way she arched towards me, the soft sounds she made, only fuelled my desire. I wanted to memorize every detail, to etch this moment into my memory forever. Her eyes shone with emotion, and she pulled me closer, her fingers tangling in my hair.

With a sense of reverence, I began to undress her, my movements slow and deliberate, wanting to save every moment. She did the same, her hands trembling slightly as she helped remove my clothes.

The vulnerability of the moment was palpable, but it was also incredibly beautiful. When we were finally skin to skin, I paused, taking in the sight of her, the way the soft light played over her body, highlighting every curve.

She was breathtaking, and I felt a surge of gratitude and awe that this incredible person wanted me as much as I wanted her. "You're beautiful," I whispered, my voice filled with awe.

She blushed, a shy smile playing at her lips, and in that moment, I knew there was no going back. As I deepened out, the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and a deep, abiding connection that went beyond the physical.

Every movement, every touch, was filled with love and a sense of unity that I had never experienced before. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of us, she felt differently than my pervious experiences, better, softer, warmer.

And as we moved together, I could feel Y/N's body responding to every touch, every kiss, the tension building in her with each passing moment.

Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps, and her fingers gripped my shoulders, her nails digging in just slightly as the intensity of the moment grew. "Ben," she moaned, her voice trembling with a mix of urgency and need. I could see the anticipation in her eyes, a beautiful blend of vulnerability and desire.

I kissed her deeply, feeling the connection between us strengthen, our movements becoming more synchronized, more fluid. When she reached her peak again, it was like watching a wave crest and crash, her entire body tensing for a moment before releasing in a shuddering, blissful wave of pleasure.

Her back arched, pressing her body against mine, and a soft, breathless moan escaped her lips, a sound filled with pure ecstasy. Her eyes closed, her lips parted as she rode the waves of her climax, her fingers tightening their grip on my shoulders.

I could feel the tremors running through her, the way her body pulsed with each surge of pleasure, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed. As the intensity of her orgasm began to subside, her body relaxed, melting into mine.

Her breaths came in soft, uneven gasps, and she opened her eyes to look at me, a radiant smile playing at her lips. "That was..." she began, her voice trailing off, unable to find the words to describe the overwhelming sensation. "Good" I replied softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, my heart swelling with love and admiration for her.

"I felt it too." Ben rolled beside her, but she knew he wasn't satisfied like she was, not yet. His eyes didn't have the same spark she had, instinctively she straddled him. Ben saw her fully naked body on top of him, admiring her while she moved.

Her hands pressed down on his chest while she moved. His hands helped her, guiding her. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he surrendered to the intense sensations coursing through him. When he finally reached his peak, it was a release of pent-up passion and love.

He felt a wave of euphoria wash over him, his body trembling with the intensity of his climax.

It wasn't just physical pleasure; it was a deep emotional connection with Y/N that heightened the experience to a profound level. He held her in his arms, He pressed kisses to her forehead.

Many years later

As Ben stood in the vault he had in his room at Vought, he was reading an old diary, with a handwriting he could recognise out of a thousand different ones.

“I never felt more alive than that night. Ben and I made love, real love. He made me a woman that night. I will never stop loving him. I knew he would leave in the morning, but our connection was made, built to survive anything. Even the war.”

His lips trembled moving to the last page of the journal.

“Ben was supposed to come home today, home from war. I guess his plans got delayed. He believes this will make his dad proud, I wished he was satisfied with the idea of me being proud of him for who he is.

But I accepted it, knowing he will return, and we can finally start our life together outside of the shadows of this cold house like we talked about that night while he held me in his arms.

He hasn’t written as much as he used to, but I know he is working hard and I'm proud! I just hope he’ll be home soon, so I can hold him in my arms all night.”

He could see how the rest of the journal was empty, ripped out. But he didn’t need to read to know what followed.

He never returned home to her. He failed her.

“What are you reading?” Ben rolled his eyes, sighing, hearing that woman’s voice. He turned to Countess. “None of your business.” He answered putting the diary back with the other artefacts he placed there. But Crimson Countess didn’t give up so easily.

“Come on babe, show me?” When she wanted to reach for the journal, he grabbed her wrist hurtful tight. “What part of not your business don’t you understand?” Ben growled. “If you ever touch any of this stuff, I'll fucking kill you, understood?”

All she could do was nod. “Now, why are you here?” She looked in his eyes seeing nothing but blank hatred, knowing this only made him more dangerous, “Edgar, he’s waiting for you to start the meeting.”

With a low growl he left the safe and walked with her to the conference room. While walking down the hall he couldn’t help but feel that part of him, part of his being, and his heart was locked away.

Locked away in that safe, together with what little he had left of Y/N.

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#jensen ackles #fanfic #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #soldier boy #the boys #fluff #implied smut #x y/n smut #the boys smut #the boys soldier boy #smut #when we were young

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nobodyfamousposts · 5 months

Note

How would Littlebug react to characters like Doofenshmirtz? Or Jack Fenton?

(In Doofenschmirtz's living room...)

(Doofenschmirtz and Littlebug are having tea.)

Doofenschmirtz: …all that to say, I am kind of off the market for an arch nemesis, though I do appreciate the offer! But I promised Perry the Platypus that I wouldn't take on another arch nemesis and then I promised my daughter, Vanessa, that I would stop my acts of villainy after she made me see that it wasn't actually healthy or what I really wanted in life. And now I'm helping out at OWCA, supporting my daughter, and sharing my non-evil inventions meant to help the world instead of trying to settle petty grudges. So I am sorry, but I hope we can still be occasional rivals or maybe allies?

Littlebug: (Confused)

Littlebug: (Looks down at List)

Littlebug: (Looks up at Doofenschmirtz and points to name on the List)

Doofenschmirtz: (Looks at the name) Oh! I see where the mixup is! I'm Dr. Doofenschmirtz! Mr. Doofenschmirtz is actually my father!

Littlebug: (Tilts head)

Doofenschmirtz: Well you see, a lot of my villainy has been related to my backstory…backstories. You see, back when I was…

(15 Minutes later.)

Doofenschmirtz: (Still going)

Littlebug: (Eye twitching)

Doofenschmirtz: And then there was the time I was shamed for not jumping off the high diving board and—wait, where are you going?

Littlebug: (Leaves)

Doofenschmirtz: Okay! Well feel free to drop by again sometime! What a strange girl.

(Suddenly, Perry the Platypus bursts in.)

Doofenschmirtz: Perry the Platypus! I'm not evil anymore! What are you doing coming in through my window?

Perry: (Chitters and pulls up a screen showing Littlebug)

Doffenschmirtz: Oh, the little living doll thing. Yes, she just left.

Perry: (Looks around warily and chitters)

Doof: What? No! She was perfectly nice!

Perry: (Gestures to Doof)

Doof: Oh, it turned out she actually wasn't looking for me, she was looking for my father.

Perry: (Worried)

Doof: What? What harm could she do?

TV Announcer: This just in! An attack in Gimmelshtump as an elderly citizen is being dangled from a rope off the condemned diving board at the old community pool.

Doof: (Eyes widen) …oh.

-----------------------

(In another universe, in the Fenton household...)

Jack: (Going to the kitchen when he sees a piece of fudge on the floor) Floor fudge!

(As he picks up the fudge, he notices another piece on the floor and proceeds to pick that up as well.)

(Then he notices another piece.)

(And another.)

(He follows the trail of fudge all the way into the basement and leading to the Fenton Stockades.)

Jack: And that's the last piece! (Picks up the piece inside the Fenton Stockades)

(The door slams shut on him, trapping him in the Fenton Stockades.)

Jack: HEY! Who's there?! Let me out!

Littlebug: (Nods resolutely and marks Jack Fenton's name off The List and starts to leave the Lab)

Voice: Ahem?

Littlebug: (Turns)

(Danny is standing there.)

Danny: You're not another ghost sent by Vlad to kill my dad, are you?

Littlebug: (Shakes her head and shows him her Bad Dad List)

Danny: Why is my dad on this list?!

Littlebug: (Gestures to the Fenton Stockades with a flat look)

Danny: Okay, I know that looks bad. But he's a good dad, really!

Littlebug: (Frown)

Danny: Look, I know he's fought me, but that's only because he doesn't know I'm half-ghost. And the times he found out, he was pretty supportive. I mean, there were situations going on at the time, so we didn't really get to talk it out, but he still seemed to care about me. Even in an alternate reality where I accidentally erased my existence.

Littlebug: (Uncertain)

Danny: If you want to look for bad dads, you should see Vlad Masters. He keeps wanting to kill my dad, marry my mom, and make me his son like some sort of twisted setup of Hamlet.

Littlebug: (Eyes widen)

Danny: So yeah, there are already enough plots against my dad, so I'd really appreciate if you—wait, where are you going?

Littlebug: (Holds up The List, now with Jack Fenton scribbled out and "Vlad Masters" written in on it)

Danny: ....you know what? Have fun.

(They leave.)

...

Jack: Hello? Anyone?

#ml crack #ml crossover #multi crossover #littlebug #dolls au #bad dad hunt #no one is safe #though she does at least recognize levels of badness #and certain persons take priority #yes Jack gets out eventually

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emilykaldwen · 4 months

Text

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Seventeen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Author's Note: We've got Rhaenyra POV! We've got Aemond POV! We've got a surprise in the end! Thank you for all the support and patience. You're all getting this chapter early since I'm out of town for the weekend! Enjoy!

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my love to @vampire-exgirlfriend for her love and support and holding my hand through this chapter that just kept kicking my fucking ass. If you need more Aemond content, you must read, They Say I killed You (Haunt Me Then)! Now complete! (epilogue going up soon!)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Parrying the Daggers Thrown At Us

Rhaenyra receives a letter. Aemond cannot find peace until he gets a taste of it.

Grandfather is still ill, much like we saw him last but he prefers his wheel chaired more oft than not…

Things have been tense, understandably so, but Queen Alicent has been cordial and has made sure we are comfortable and have what we need…

Aegon and Aemond keep their distance, perhaps so they can glare all the better…

I do not know how to make amends for what happened…

…and they say Aemond is taken by his pains at times, darkening his room as his head aches from his wound…

I should make amends, it is right…

What do you think I should do?...

Heleana has been the warmest…

…we danced together at the feast and she was quite happy to do so. It is nice spending time with her…

Aegon is happy around Lady Abrogail and she laughs freely with him. He is not like how he used to be as much with her…

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased to see how well she is treated…

Many houses were represented at Aegon’s nameday…

Most seemed to wonder if Aegon would have been named heir and displace you but none came to pass…

…they will inherit Harrenhal. I can see the wisdom in it as Luke will have Driftmark one day, but I think of Joffrey and Aegitsos and my uncles who do not have lands and holds to occupy them…

I love you much, Muñus, I hope you are well and that I will see you soon…

Rhaenyra ran her fingers over her son’s careful script, her mouth twitching in fondness amidst her worry of her zēapos. His letter was long, too much for a raven’s wings and she started from the beginning once she had read it through once. Twice. Her ribs ached as if Jace had been carved out of her to go on this journey and she shook her head, trying to let the feeling flit away on the breeze. Her eldest had a temper, much as she did in her youth, much as his father had, in the ways that drew her in. Time stole away much, and her own bouts of temper had cooled with each broken toy, each yelling fight, each ‘he pulled my hair!’ and ‘He pushed me and won’t share!’

The sounds of swords clanged in the yard and her gaze flitted from her son’s letter - pages crinkled in her grasp - to the courtyard below where Daemon was testing the new recruits to the Dragonstone guard. His silver hair was twisted back from his face in braids as he preferred, something about war and mindset and always be prepared.

He called something towards Joff and Aegitsos as the knight before him panted, having been bested against her husband.

Baela had not written, that much she knew, though Jace had said that she had found a friend in Helaena after a tense standoff. Rhaenyra had found the mention of it surprising, for her little sister, in the times she’d been around her, had been a quiet thing, eyes large in her face, gaze flitting to everyone and no one.

Helaena has been the warmest…

Helaena was not yet married. The match with Aegon had never come to pass.

The invitation lay on the table before her next to the plate of lemon cake she liked for her morning meal on days such as this.

The wedding of Prince Aegon of House Targaryen and Lady Abrogail Strong of Harrenhal…

In five moons, the spectacle would be held in the Riverlands. In five moons, the realm would look upon her brother once more, peacocked and pulled out, as Daemon sneered, by Otto Hightower to show him off as a contender, to put pressure on her father to change his mind. Her father had nearly twenty years to change his mind and still, he had not. Not even in her absence, cowardly as it sometimes felt to retreat and lick her wounds, had her father’s support of the claim and her family seemed to waver. Try as the Hightowers might to scream and spread slanders that would call for bloodshed, her father still would not be swayed. It was the sense of satisfaction that she had felt when he came to her defense in that shadowed hall those years ago, the heated of curl in it that no matter what, there could be no question as to his choice.

He had chosen her.

Even as the feeling waned over time to give over to those moments where she doubted, all the times he had failed to reign his wife in with her abuses and vitriol, the words her son had sent her bolstered her.

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased…

Harwin’s little sister, big blue eyes and red curls bound in braids, peeking curiously over the edge of Lucerys’ cradle next to Jace because ‘She asked if she could see the baby and give him this,’ Harwin had said, as the little girl presented her attempts at embroidering a little dragon on a pillow. Little Abrogail, half Harwin’s, half Alicent’s. She had tried to bring the girl to Dragonstone with them. Would she not be happier away from the court politics with her brother and the quiet? Lord Lyonel had given her a surprised, then hard look, and Rhaenyra had felt chastened in a way her own father had never been able to evoke within her.

“I will keep my daughter with me, and should I send her away, it will be back to her home, at Harrenhal, with her brother.”

Grief washed through her like the crashing of the waves on the rocky shore below and she felt her own jagged edges inside of her. Lyonel Strong had been the best of them, putting the realm first, always by her side at every council meeting she attended, encouraging her, even as his face grew graver with each brunette curled boy she bore.

Violet eyes swept across the parchment again. A servant in the camp had tried to attack the girl, Jace said. Crept into her tent, assuming she would have been alone. Inquiries were being made, but as far as anyone could see, the man had just been a baseborn servant - blending in like no other. Rhaenyra pursed her lips and looked down at the training yard once more, fingers drumming along the stone ledge of the terrace.

She wondered how wrapped around Lady Abrogail’s finger her half-brother might be… and how opportune this moment was.

Alicent’s eldest was marrying and taking a seat in the Riverlands. It was not the bold choice that Rhaenyra had thought would happen. Surely one of the many Lannister girls, or one of the Baratheons - a great house who would be invested in their own daughter becoming queen would have made more sense.

Harrenhal, for the wealth and lands that it had, did not command armies the way the Stormlands did. It did not have endless coffers the way Casterly Rock boasted of. It was a moody fortress on the edge of the God’s Eye, surrounded by lush farmland and woods that were dark and deep and felt that you were somewhere fanciful, somewhere that didn’t hold dragons nor thrones, nothing except for a warm hand wrapped around her own.

The clashing and screaming of steel in the yard below pulled Rhaenyra from her thoughts, and away from the path of her sorrows and regrets. Turning her back to the sight below, she reached for her own parchment and quill, pushing aside the letter from Lord Celtigar.

Lady Abrogail… Good tidings on news of your approaching nuptials…

Aemond pursed his lips, his gaze rising from the book before him, a study on the Conqueror’s approach to the first Dornish war,to squint across the barrel room near the top of the tower that held the library in the Holdfast. He drummed his fingers upon the scarred wooden table, a fingertip running along the crescent burn from the time Abby had accidentally knocked over a candle while they were reading about Harren the Black.

He exhaled slowly, the way the Braavosi manuals advised and looked back at his book.

It had been weeks since his brother’s festivities, and the chill of the end of the growing season had crept in. It was not cold by northern standards, but the air cooled, the rains rolled in for the next several months, and angry storms fell over them from the Narrow Sea, their winds piercing and frightening, as if they were dragons themselves in the winds that the Storm God rode, threatening to tear apart the Red Keep brick by brick.

Helaena’s nameday had passed with quiet fanfare, the lingering lords of the realm who had not left parading their sons in front of his maiden sister. As if any of them were worthy of a dragonrider, someone as clever and kind as Helaena.

It had been complicated over the past weeks since the talk in the garden, and Aemond still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. What had been most surprising had been the strange sense of release when his sister let him go, leaving him to sit in the rain before Visenya’s statue, her words ringing in his ears.

‘I would burn Dorne for you… but I do not want to leave behind a world of ash and bone.’

How desperate Helaena had looked, angry and frightened and full of hope as she begged not to have a husband, but a brother back. ‘How else am I supposed to protect her?' he had wondered. How else could he offer his sister protection and security if it wasn’t to marry her, to tie her to him so that she would never have to fear, never have to doubt her acceptance and those who loved her?

Aegon had not wanted to marry her. She was weird, he’d sneered. How miserable Helaena would be, how miserable they both would have been. Aemond had done the right thing. He’d stepped up, he had gotten Mother and The Tower to break the betrothal. Even if they had not promised him and Helaena to one another, that was alright, it would simply be a matter of time.

He had Vhagar. There could be no further doubt that he was truly a Valyrian. There could be no more doubt as to his place in the world. All that was left was his sister.

Guilt gnawed deep in his stomach, shame twisting around his throat when the thought filtered through. Helaena was not a bauble he needed to collect to prove something. Collecting her was not protecting her. Collecting her was not about her, but for him, and it was this knowledge that he had thought about constantly.

His sister deserved more than being a broodmare, to be a pawn in the games. The forced distance the last few weeks had given him, after Helaena pushed him from the proverbial nest, had left him unsettled and snappish.

The loud thud of a book hitting the stone floor reverberated through the room. A heavy tome, judging from the heft of the sound, followed by a soft giggling, a deeper snickering sound chasing after it before they muffled and fell quiet.

He knew, with the utmost certainty, why it had fallen quiet.

Ever since the betrothal, the grip on his best friend had been slipping. Oh, him and Abrogail were an unlikely pair, but few appreciated books and history as his cousin did. While digging in the dirt and helping Helaena catalog her collection had been fulfilling, there was something joyous in being able to have someone who understood the quiet and sanctity of the library, and who loved books and reading and learning as he did. Lyonel Strong had always indulged his questions when was young - far more enthralling than Mellos and Orwyle were, and he had fostered that curiosity in his daughter.

‘All she’s going to care about is making babies with Aegon!’ Helaena had cried, frustrated and angry when they’d been alone after the fight in the brothel.

There was a soft cry, and Aemond scowled at his book before his chair scraped across the stone floor and he strode purposefully towards the source of the sound. The histories of the Riverlands were there - not just observational books, but the census, the trade information, things used by the small council’s not-quite-so-small army of clerks and counters and lawmakers. The section of the library that Abby had frequented since the announcement and that he had helped her with.

“Not here,” came the whispered whine, laced with laughter. Aemond rolled his eye as he turned the corner of the aisle. It was shadowed somewhat this far down, The strategically polished silver angled to bounce the light around so as not to pose a fire risk among the precious books, although the day was gray and cloudy and the light reflected was that of a lamp. Abby was pressed against the bookshelves, the blue and silver brocade of her skirts rucked up with her stockings on display, her legs at present, wrapped around his stupid brother’s waist. One arm was stretched out to grab onto the bookshelf behind her, and the fallen book that had been in its place was still on the ground. Aegon’s face was buried into her chest, or maybe her throat?

He was half-blind, after all, sometimes details could be mercifully missed. Or ignored.

“This,” Aemond said, his voice even and dripping with every ounce of annoyance and betrayal he felt, “is the library, not a brothel.”

Aemond’s fists clenched at the disrespect both of them displayed to a place they knew was important to him. At the announcement of his presence, Abby squeaked, Aegon’s arms tightening around her as she scrambled to lower herself without sending them both toppling. He held his arms folded behind his back, his hand scraping along his elbow as the pair of them got themselves in order and he shook his head when Aegon looked at him, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Abby had turned to straighten her gown.

“Are you really going to act like this?” Aegon said, for it was barely a question. “We weren’t in front of you and your book. You were the one seeking us out.”

“Because you both weren’t as quiet as you thought you were,” Aemond snapped. “It was distracting.”

A lazy smirk crossed across his brother’s flushed face and he wanted to punch him square in his stupid nose. Let him kiss his future wife with his face bashed in. “Well, my lady is distracting-.” There was a soft sound as Abby smacked Aegon’s shoulder, cutting him off with an exaggerated ow, the flinch was nowhere near the violent response that inhabited his brother when it was their mother doing the hitting. She peered around Aegon’s shoulder, her mouth just as swollen, her cheeks just as flushed and her features apologetic.

“We’re sorry, Aemond. Things just got out of hand. I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t you apologize,” Aegon interrupted her this time, a fierce look on his face.

“No, actually,” Aemond cut in, taking a step forward, using the few inches he now had on his brother to straighten his shoulders. “She’s right. Thank you, Abby, for apologizing. Are you upset that she has to apologize for you, since your self-awareness is worse than a billy goat ramming his head into things?”

Aegon’s mouth gaped in offense, his flush deepening. There was a bruise along his neck that was going to be difficult to hide. The glib nature of his eldest brother was a trial at the best of times, but this? “You know this isn’t your place to run about as you please. Shall I just unlock my doors, let you roll around in my sheets and over my personal things while you’re at it?”

“It’s the fucking library, Aemond. It doesn’t belong to you-”

Abby let out a startled cry as Aemond’s fist shot out, but as much as he would love to punch his brother, he shoved him instead, feeling the crackling of frustration, the rumble of Vhagar in his chest. “Because it’s all yours, is that it? You mewling fucking kitten. This isn’t just my library, it’s hers too, but you don’t fucking care about anything that means something to anyone else if it gets in the way of what your limp cock wants.”

“Aemond, truly, we’re sorry - Aegon, no!” Abby’s voice was lost in Aegon’s growl as his brother came back with another shove, sending him back a few steps. Aemond laughed, a hint of a sound like the thin scrape of wind whistling through a crack. Yes, yes let the idiot push him around. Let him continue to pull his friend away from him, from him and Helaena both. His gaze darted briefly to the redhead, blue eyes wide as she pressed herself back against the shelves, before meeting his brother’s lighter gaze.

“You are a glib fucking fool, Aegon,” Aemond said lowly, his mouth curling as he readied for a fight, needing to expend the burn of flame inside of him. “I don’t care what the pair of you do, I’ll say nothing should Mother hear of it, but-” he stepped forward and shoved Aegon hard into the bookstack. The ancient wood creaked and groaned, but the stacks were bolted to the floor to prevent them from topping. A few books fell from the force of Aegon’s frame smacking into it. “Stay the hell out of my library.”

He did not look over his shoulder, even as Abby called his name, apology rife in her tone. He strode through the halls, calling for his horse to be saddled while he went to angrily pull on his riding leathers. The left side of his temple ached as it was wont to do when his face was full of tension. Helaena would make him tea, protect him in the quiet, but that was not meant to be today. The last he saw, his sister was in the gardens with Jacaerys.

How he ached to wring the stupid bastard’s neck.

How bright he seemed to make Helaena laugh.

How betrayed Aemond felt by it all.

Why hadn’t Helaena said anything? Why hadn’t she told him that she didn’t want to be married? Why had she just let him wander around like a puppy and now left the fool?

‘But hadn’t she told you?’ a little voice drifted through Aemond’s mind and he paused in the lacing of his leathers. Had she not told him by pursuing that fool Warren Fossoway, and the time that he had spied her kissing him - for he had seen Helaena push the squire behind the carved dragon pillar by the gardens.

‘But she would let me kiss her, she would kiss me, and she’d touch me and I her and-’ The flurry of thoughts ached as he pulled on his boots.

It would not hurt as much if it was anyone but Jacaerys.

The ride to the beach beneath the shadow of the Red Keep was a blur. The rock outcropping of Aegon’s High Hill was a craggy, sheer thing, but the beach below was one that Vhagar enjoyed sunning herself, a guard dog laying at the foot of the bed in a way. Her head lifted as Aemond approached, lowing in greeting and shaking sand from her scales. The tension in Aemond’s chest began to ease at the sight of her, and he approached, patting a gloved hand along her scarred neck, scratching along a vicious scar she must have received in Dorne. There were no words exchanged, not the way Aegon chattered with Sunfyre. Aemond’s bond with Vhagar was one of feeling, of such deep understanding that no words needed to spill from him. In no time, he scaled her great bulk and yelled out the command to fly, which his dragon responded with her own, what he assumed was excited, call in return.

Vhagar landed on the cliffs on the western side of Massey’s Hook, the bay below dotted with smaller fishing boats this far out from King’s Landing and away from the bustle of the capital. Rage and grief, anger and fear were a tempest in his gut and he rankled at the call of Moondancer as his cousin circled above them.

If Baela wanted this fight, then he would meet her, unflinching. Let her see what dragons were made of. They did not all reside on Dragonstone.

“Laodijes peldios!” Baela howled at him, her voice a sharp shout on the breeze, her face twisted and ugly with fury, fists at her side as she readied herself to hit him should he get within reach.

Aemond glared at her, the distance between them shrunk now to an arm length. Vhagar was a great shadow behind him and he could feel the sulfuric heat of her breath as she exhaled buffeting at his back. Moondancer was a little ways away, shrieking fearfully and Aemond could not tell if the dragon reflected her rider’s mood, or her fear of Vhagar.

“You’re a fucking fool. Daemon Targaryen is your father, your mother a Velaryon, and you still don’t realize that a dragon cannot be stolen.”

“You had no fucking right!” Baela snarled. “Vhagar was for Rhaena to claim-”

“If Vhagar had not wanted me, she would have eaten me and you damn well know it.” Aemond cut her off, watching her jaw click shut with a curl of satisfaction. “Vhagar chose me, not your sister. What? You want to kill me to give her another chance at claiming her? Is that what you’re here? To finish the job that you all started?”

“Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?” Balea cried, and this time, there was a choked quality to her rage. Aemond’s eye widened slightly and he leaned back from her, a curl of uncertainty that he despised. His words had been harsh, full of the anger that he had felt simmering these past years. Aemond shrugged it off. He had earned his harshness in this. He’d been the one attacked, the band of them setting upon him simply because he chose to claim his right as a Valyrian prince.

‘Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?’

Aemond ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned back on his foot, watching Baela gasp for air amidst her choking sobs, and turn from him to look out to the bay, towards Driftmark and High Tide.

He remembered his mother’s cries, her rage, her such careful and elegant control snapping as her voice cracked in the silence of the Hall of Nine.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“Why did Moondancer choose you?” Aemond asked. “Why did Moondancer choose you, and my egg never hatched?” Baela did not look at him but he could see the way her shoulders tensed. “Why didn’t you go find the guards? Why did you come, thinking a thief had stolen a dragon and Jacaerys brought his blade? Why did they give me a pig, pretending they had found me a dragon as they both had their own? Why did they do nothing but terrorize me with that fact for our childhoods?”

Aegon had done it too, gone in on the fun, drunk on being the eldest. It had lessened considerably in the wake of Rhaenyra leaving the capital, even if his brother sought other ways to tease him - he’d never again mentioned his lack of dragon.

Aegon had come to him in his sick bed, his curls shorn, red eyed and puffy faced, tears on his cheeks, had knelt at his bedside and vowed to him.

“We protect our own and I did not protect you. I do not care if you’ve claimed Vhagar, for I was not there for you when you needed me. It will never happen again. I will protect you. I will be by your side.”

Aemond had sometimes wondered how much of the words were his brother’s own, but he had known, with certainty, that the feelings were genuine. His brother was an idiot, and they butted heads, but his brother loved him in his own way, and for as angry as Aegon could make him, he loved him too. In his own way.

He might admit that on his deathbed, unlike Aegon, who would only need to be in the depths of his cups and into the sad and tearful mourning edge.

“What do you know, Baela?” Aemond said, his voice even, coldness creeping along the edges. “Of fighting and scraping for everything that is owed to you?” He forcefully bit his tongue, copper exploding in his mouth as he broke skin, to keep from pressing further at the loss of her birth right to Driftmark for Rhaenyra’s folly.

“A prince has to scrape for all that is owed to him.” It was rhetorical, biting, and Aemond snorted, taking a step forward, his own gaze looking out at the water.

“You may have been an idiot child, but don’t play me for a fool.” It was impossible not to see how little Viserys thought of his second family, and he had seen it plainly on Jacaerys’ face, the surprise in witnessing it. “I’m sure your father relishes every word you send to him. His little spy.”

Baela’s lip curled in a snarl and she stalked closer. Aemond stayed where he was, watching her with a narrowed eye as Vhagar let out a low growl behind him. She did not move, did not lift her head, but her nostrils flared and Aemond felt the heat of her breath swirl around him. Baela’s eyes widened, and she paused, the indigo of them shining with tears.

He turned his head slightly to look at Vhagar. “Ȳgha iksi,” he reassured her, feeling Vhagar’s displeasure seeping through him, her warning and the remembered rage from those years ago when she could not protect him or take away his pain. He reached for her snout, pressing his hand to the scar above her left nostril, rubbing against it. He turned his back to his cousin and brought his other hand up, feeling the anger hot as coals, hot as dragonfire in his chest. Vhagar was full of tension. He could feel it. Would she feel that way if it wasn’t him? If she was not so worried for him, would she recognize the girl behind him as the child that Laena Velaryon surely brought to her, as Aemond would have brought his own child? Had his grandfather, Baelon, brought his sons to this dragon before them?

The silence filled the air around them, the wind thick with tension. Aemond pressed his forehead to Vhagar, took strength from her, squeezed his eye shut and ignored the pain that lanced through his head and pulsed behind his scar.

The sob behind him was soft, and Moondancer’s cry was mournful.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“I did not mean to tarnish your mother’s memory,” Aemond finally spoke, his voice carrying as he looked, blind side towards Baela. “It was not done to hurt you, or to take something from you. It was… It was my only chance. And it’s something I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand. I am… I am sorry about the loss of your mother. I did not have the opportunity to give you my condolences then, but I can give them to you now.”

The sound Baela made was strangled. Aemond turned to look at her. Baela was stiff beneath her red and black riding leathers, the metal rings in her hair tinkling as the wind tugged at her braids. He recalled the mourning child she had been sitting by her twin and Jace, the vicious yell she’d let out when she punched him in the nose that night, the howls and scream of pain. He felt Vhagar twitch and groan beneath his touch, another warning and he hushed her again, stroking her snout. He watched her gaze go towards Moondancer, who was crying fitfully, grounded still, her aquamarine wings more green against the lush grass of the clifftop.

“Do you want to pet her?”

Baela stared at him, the hostile lines to her face instantly slacking in surprise. “Skoro syt?” Her voice was small and wary, even as her eyes were wide with grief.

“My condolences,” Aemond repeated, and he found the words genuine. It was not Baela, nor her sister, or even his bastard nephews that rankled him. Oh, he wanted his revenge, He wanted what was due, but more of the blame lay with his eldest sister and their father. Of that, Aemond was secure in. He would gladly feed them both to Vhagar, to take an eye as payment for his mother.

His cousin shifted on her booted feet before whatever compelled her brought her forward. Aemond shifted, beckoning her to take her place by his side as he murmured words to Vhagar. Baela had taken her glove off, her slim, tanned hand reaching tentatively up before resting along the scar on Vhagar’s nostril.

They stood there for how long, Aemond was not sure, quietly beside one another as Baela grieved for the mother at the bottom of the Narrow Sea, and his own grief at what was taken from him.

“Do not mourn me, mother…”

‘But mourn the boy dead on Driftmark.’

It was not lightness or peace that settled over Aemond when he and his cousin parted later. He was not certain how much time had passed, only that after she had sobbed, they sat there in a strange, companionable silence eating hunks of bread and cheese and apple that Baela cut with a wicked blade. She did not give him thanks, she did not say anything, but Aemond took the offering of shared food as her own gesture of whatever truce was settled between them. The exchanged curt nods before parting, Baela northeast and away from the city to what Aemond assumed was High Tide and her grandmother and twin, while he circled back towards the city.

Aemond was not certain of the feeling he held except that it felt like he had scratched something out on a list, or deposited a burden that he was trying to carry with all his other, more cumbersome burdens. It was a closed door. That was enough for Aemond, and there was a part of him that wanted to march to his sisters and tell them that he had made nice, to have Abby’s warm smile proud with him, and Helaena’s little clap and promptly being the receiver of her latest mountain spider that Uncle Rodrik had brought her.

Instead, after entering the inner courtyard of the Red Keep and handing off his horse to one of the stablehands, he made his way to the gardens and to his own preferred solitude when the library - so recently desecrated - was not an option. No, Aemond needed air, he needed the statue of Visenya to look down upon him. There, where Helaena had snipped the strings and released him from the vow he had made, the goal that held him that was more about him than it truly was about her.

Where his sister had set him free, and he loved her all the more for it.

The problem, he found, upon striding down the paved path and through the dripping ivy, was that his garden was not, in fact, as empty as he hoped. Wylla Karstark was kneeled in front of a bush of hyacinths, carefully cutting the purple blooms and placing them in a basket beside her. She was clad in a dove gray dress, the black fabric of her kirtle beneath poking out through slashes along her shoulders and puffed at her elbows. Her fox features were pinched in concentration and Aemond watched her for a moment, silent as she had clearly not heard his approach.

Wylla Karstark was an unknown. She was pretty enough, with a long nose and sharp jaw, gray eyes that flashed when she was annoyed, which was the majority of the time. She had a rather frustrating talent of being able to look down at him even as she had to arch her neck, for she was as petite as Abby was. Their joint misfortune, just like Aegon’s. She was also well read, their conversation at the feast turning from a mutual annoyance to discussing the book of poetry that he had seen her reading, which itself had turned into a rather long and in depth conversation on the Valyrian poet, Praxilla, whose work had survived by the grace of her living the life of leisure in Lys when the Doom happened. Wylla and his elder brother unknowingly shared a fondness for drinking songs penned by the scribe, although Aemond was smart enough to know he shouldn’t bring that up.

Not until he needed to.

“It is polite to speak when coming upon someone, Your Grace,” Wylla’s northern burr was arch as she focused on her task. “I would curtsy, but you can see I’m already on my knees.”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed at the turn of her words, and he was not certain if she understood how they could be taken. He decided that she didn’t, for she did not turn to look at him, seemingly unbothered. All for the best, he supposed, for Aemond did not think he could meet her gaze should she be facing him.

“Why are you cutting my flowers?”

“Your flowers, Your Grace?” Wylla laughed, a sharp, lilting sort of sound and he wondered if that’s what she sounded like when she sang. Did she sing? He had not asked her. “These flowers belong to Queen Visenya, for it is her garden, is it not?”

“It is my garden,” he pushed back, frowning at the back of her head, the mass of thick, twisted black braids kept in place with a woven, pearl hair net with wicked looking, pearl tipped hair pins to keep the heaviness of it in place. He flexed his hands, wiping them on his riding leathers as he approached. There were other flowers in her basket, like wisteria and some of the roses from the main garden. He sat, bending his one leg to rest an arm on while the other reached in.

Up close, he could see the red flush to her pale cheeks. He did not recall them looking so red when he saw her the day before, outside of the bit of sun all the girls had gotten during the sun.

Her smack was quick, the sound of flesh stinging flesh loud and he immediately pulled back with a hiss and a glare. “How dare-”

“Those aren’t for you,” Wylla said forcefully, the gray eyes of her bright in her face as she finally looked at him. “They’re for Lady Abrogail.”

Aemond had killed a man for the fox-faced woman before him without hesitation, and the knowledge of it settled in him still, generally buried over the past few weeks because he had no idea what to do about it. They’d been attacked in the night, and Wylla Karstark had shoved a knife between the man’s ribs without hesitation. So tall, Wylla Karstark seemed, so loud, filling up the spaces she was in without holding herself back, that he had so often forgotten how small she was.

Until she was there, in front of him, those gray eyes like the storm ridden ocean.

Aemond held her gaze, reaching back into the basket to pluck one of the deep purple, nearly blue anemones that she had gathered, twirling it idly between his long fingers before reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. Wylla was still beside him, her red painted mouth parted slightly, so he could see the flash of her white teeth behind it. Her cheeks deepend in their red to match the paint on her lips and Aemon hummed.

Abby had been understandably shaken. Knowing her as long as he did, even with the smiles affixed to her face, he knew the signs as intimately as he understood Helaena’s or Aegon’s, or his own mother’s. Wylla Karstark was a mystery. She had been quiet, from what he had seen, but the wedding preparations had taken up much time with the girls, as well as her brother finally leaving the capital earlier that week.

He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking, before he met her gaze. “Are you alright?”

Her inhale was loud. It trembled and she pressed her red lips together, her throat bobbing with a swallow and looked back at the flowers but did not move to cut anymore. Aemond did not push her, but only waited.

“Yes? No? Strangely yes,” she finally whispered. “I think that’s what bothers me more.”

“That bastard came in with intent to harm,” Aemond said. “If you didn’t kill him, someone else would have. You were incredibly brave.” None knew where he’d come from. The assailant had been clad in the same red garb as the rest of the servants. A baseborn man. Waters or Storm, Aemond couldn’t remember, much like he had no memory of the man’s face before he stared down at it, red and wheezing before he killed him.

“At least it wasn’t Aegon,” Wylla whispered, her eyes wide, drawing his attention back to her. “What would have that turned into - him sneaking in for them to slobber all over each other. Me thinking he was an attacker and-”

The snort of laughter that escaped Aemond at the idea of it all could not be held back. He bent his head, gasping for air as his shoulders shook and it was only a moment before Wylla’s own peel of laughter joined his. It had been some weeks since he’d laughed, in the wake of what happened at the hunt drying up what little humor he’d indulged in. There was an infectious quality to Wylla Karstark’s amusement that he found comforting. Aemond looked at her, her face flushed from her laughter, and he leaned in, kissing her.

The laughter abruptly stopped, her mouth soft against his, still from her clear surprise. She tasted like oranges. Abby must have indulged in the sweet and sour orange cakes they had at the feast. Wylla did not respond, but she didn’t move away either and Aemond took that as acceptance, and he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, thumb swiping softly against the apple of it. Kisses with Helaena had been different - always expected, always ready, with her initiating many of them. The one time he’d kissed Abby, when they were little and Jace had dared him to, did not count. The both of them had made faces, vowing to never do it again.

Kissing Wylla, though? He never wanted to stop, especially not when she reached up, the clippers making a soft thump along the grass to wrap around the end of the braid slung over his shoulder. She tugged it gently and Aemond broke away, blinking and gasping. “What?” he asked. “Should I have not done that?”

“Oh, you should have,” she reassured him, breathless and red faced. She licked her lips and looked at her fingers still wound around his braid, toying with the leather tie. “I was just reminded of something someone told me once.”

He cocked his head, mouth pursed. “What was it?”

The smile that cut across Wylla’s face was amused, the scar along the top of her lip giving a mischievous bend to her small, red mouth. “It was about how dragons purr when you pull their hair.”

Whatever thought started to coalesce about her late night conversation with his sisters was pushed right out when her lips found his.

I would love to hear your thoughts! Even if it's just a keyboard smash! Reblog to spread a story around so others may find it! I would love to hear your theories! What did you love? What are you looking forward to? Happy to have you here as always <3

[Next Chapter]

#hotd tag #house of the dragon #hotd fic #hotd oc #fyeahgotoc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #oc: abrogail strong #aegon x abby #abrogon #otp: do not go far from me #man tagging is so annoying #my fics

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imightgetbetter · 6 months

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living this life with you

hiiiiiii. long time no see. not promising that i'm back back but i'm definitely in the market of doing some writing again and getting back into the swing of things. this is a fun little smutty thing about the day matty and the missus decided they were going to try to have a lil baba. i have crazy baby fever lately so i figure this would probably hold me over until i'm ready to actually have a child of my own lol but anyways! let me know what you think and maybe send in some ideas for me to write if you'd like <33 love you all i think of you often

Carly and Adam’s son is placed in your lap, happily chewing on an ice pop and cooing every few seconds at the taste. Adam and Matty are talking about something for the upcoming album, a plan for when they’ll begin recording and beginning the process for the next roll out. Matty smiles over at you, his hair growing in luscious curls, begging to be ran through your fingers. You can’t take your eyes off of him, off the way he looks so happy just being with his friends, off the way he looks so healthy, so full of life. He looks the best he’s looked in years, you’d say, and it’s making it impossible to keep your eyes – and hands – off of him.

“Come here, baba,” Matty says, bringing the baby onto his lap and giving him kisses across his cheeks and neck, earning a fit of laughter from the baby’s mouth. “You are so lucky he looks like Carly.”

“Ha ha,” Adam scoffs, shaking his head, grabbing his beer and taking a pull from the pint glass. “What about you two? When are you going to pop one out? Add another member to the band.”

“Don’t start,” Matty warns, shaking his head. “Your father is going to get me in trouble, Little Hann.”

Carly looks at you quizzically, a frown passing over her features as you shake your head, not wanting to get into this conversation here, in front of your friends. You and Matty have argued about this multiple times over the last week alone, a brewing debate and you knew that if you got into it today, it would be even worse. You were reaching your breaking point with this conversation, and you really can’t bear to do this in front of people you know so well.

“Carly, do you want to step inside with me? I could use another soda.”

“Sure, love.” Carly presses a kiss to her son’s head and grabs her glass and walks with you into the kitchen. She follows you in quietly and leans against the counter. “So, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Ugh,” you sigh, grabbing ice and setting your glass on the counter with a clunk. “Matty is avoiding the baby conversation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every time I bring it up, he tells me that we’re not ready or that he doesn’t want to have the conversation, right now. It’s like he’s totally changed his mind about having kids and won’t bother telling me. I’m getting really frustrated by it. I’m not getting any younger! I’m ready to do it, now, you know? He’s home and we’ve got some time and who knows how long it’ll take, and I’m just frustrated.”

“I’m sure he’s just nervous, babe! It’s a big deal, you know. Maybe he wanted to have extra time just the two of you. I mean, he is quite selfish with you. Maybe he just doesn’t want to share you.”

“I suppose,” you hum, swirling your soda around in your glass. “I want a baby, though. Badly, Carly.”

Carly giggles, “I remember those days. The baby fever was crazy.”

“I feel like I’m insane. Like, I want to climb Matty like a tree, twenty hours of the day. If he’s around, I feel like I need to attack him. It’s great for him, and for me, obviously. I just, Carly, I want to have a little Matty baby.”

“Talk to him! I know that if you talk to him about this, like really talk about it, he’ll be on board. I mean, it’s you and Matty. It would be ridiculous if after everything you two have been through you couldn’t talk this out. Look at him with the babe, too. Of course, he’ll want one with you.”

“I suppose so,” you say with a sigh, looking out through the glass doors and admiring him from afar, the baby on his lap, the falling curls in his face, the way his voice immediately shifts to talk to the baby. It’s everything you want and you’re sure that Matty would be right beside you.

Matty stands up from his chair and takes the babe with him, Adam following closely behind. “Darling, I think we need to steal him.”

“I am not letting you take my son, Matthew,” Carly laughs, shaking her head and reaching out for her son, who babbles happily and reaches back for his mumma. Matty hums, wrapping his hand around your waist and kissing your temple, humming against you as he sets his hips behind yours. “You two could have one though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Matty laughs, kissing your cheek and grabbing his keys from the counter. “We should get going. Adam, I’ll text you about the studio time this week.”

You look at him with confusion, pursing your lips together and shrugging your shoulders as Carly gives you a questioning look. Matty grabs your hand and pulls you out, immediately grabbing your face and kissing you, hard, on their front steps. His mouth is heavy on yours, his tongue gliding against yours, his hands moving down your body and cupping your ass in his hands.

“Hm,” you hum, pulling back with a giggle, your mind glossed over with his touch. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Hann got me thinking,” he hums against your lips, biting at your bottom lip as he pulls you in closer, your body pressed tightly against his.

“Thinking about?”

“I think I want one.”

“One what?”

“I think I’m ready, you know, for us to have a baby.”

You blink twice, pulling your face away from his and staring at him in awe. “You’re not joking, right?” You set your hands on his chest, pushing your bodies away slightly, just to get enough space to know if he’s speaking in the heat of the moment or if he’s serious. “Don’t, I mean, if you’re not serious, I don’t want to get into another argument about this.”

“No, darling. I want it. I want a baby with you,” Matty hums, leaning in closer and pressing his mouth just beneath your ear, kissing the soft spot on your neck sweetly, seductively whispering, “I want to make a baby with you.”

“Take me home. Take me home, right now.”

Matty laughs loudly, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the car, his hand pulling you into his chest once more to kiss you, your heart pounding so heavily in your chest, you’re sure he can feel it.

“My heart is beating so loud I can feel it in my ears,” Matty chuckles, closing the door behind him and waiting for you to settle into your side of the car.

“Mine, too,” you hum, closing your eyes to soak in the moment. “What made you change your mind?”

“Change my mind?”

His eyes don’t meet yours, but you can see the way his eyebrows quirk together in confusion. “About having a baby. You’ve been avoiding the topic every time I’ve brought it up the last few weeks.”

Matty rubs his hand over his stubbled cheeks, sighing and turning to face you. “Honestly?”

“Always want you to tell me honestly.”

Matty hums for a moment, “I’m scared.” The light turns green, and he turns back to the road and reaches to grab your thigh. “I have been working so hard at being a good husband and being a good friend and being a good artist in the last year. I am not sure I am cut out to be a good father. I love the babies we’re around. I love babies. And, by God, YN, I love you. More than anything. I want to do everything with you. I just can’t help but worry that things won’t be the same. We won’t have time for each other the way we do, now. I don’t want you to feel like we lose our relationship when we become parents. It’s just, it’s a bit scary.”

“My love,” you sigh, reaching across the console and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Matty, why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“You seem so ready, darling. I didn’t want you to feel like I’m not ready. I am, I just, I’m nervous.”

“It’s okay to be nervous, baby.” You wait until Matty’s parked the car to unbuckle your seatbelt and reach over to grab his cheeks, coaxing him to look at you as you smile, your eyes wet with realization and pure, unconditional love for this man who has always done everything according to your timeline and your wants. “I’m nervous, I have no idea what we’re going to do, but it’s you. You and me. And there’s nothing I want more than to live a life where we can make something from how much we love each other. All the rest of it? We can figure that out. All that matter is that I love you. Unconditionally and forever.”

Matty looks at you softly, his eyes melting into your stare as he tilts his head and captures your lips in his, kissing you deeply. “Let’s go inside,” he mumbles against your lips. “Let’s go practice.”

You smirk against him, quickly following his lead as he clambers out of the car, unlocking the front door and taking your hand, pulling you inside after him. He takes your cheeks in his hands and kisses you, his tongue sliding along your bottom lip, teasing you, his hands reaching your back and ghosting across your skin, smacking your backside as you stumble backwards towards your bedroom, a fit of giggles and laughter following your steps.

It's hurried, the undressing as you stare at each other across the room, the way Matty shuts the door behind him and pulls his shirt over his head while you struggle to unbutton your shorts under his stare. He cocks his head to the side, laughing when you shake your head and mumble, shut up, and instead of helping you, he nudges you back against the bed and falls on top of you. It’s silly, to be nervous and excited like it’s your first time together all these years later, but there’s an element of newness to it that neither of you can really touch on, can really place. Matty lays beside you, letting you lead the way with his mouth on yours, easing into this. He wants to go slow, to take his time.

His hand ghosts along your stomach, teasing at your thighs, dragging his fingers along your wetness just enough to make you squirm beneath him. His fingers press against you, sliding across your most sensitive points until he hears a wantoned moan leave your lips, your kiss becoming deeper, more passionate, his hands working in circles on the nerves settled between your thighs. The sensations of it all are too much, the kiss, the pressure, the delicious pleasure moving through you, your body reacts so intimately, so happily to him. It’s like you were made to be in his arms.

“You are so sexy,” he grunts against your lips, kissing your harder as his fingers dip into your heat. You moan into his mouth, your eyes rolling back as every ounce of pleasure rolls through you, your body beginning to shake under his touch. “Come on, baby. I want it, please.” Your body instantly reacts, your climax washing over you uncontrollably as you kiss him.

“Get over here,” you laugh breathlessly, pulling him on top of you, your mouth meeting his easily as he leans down to kiss you. “I love you. Endlessly.”

“I love you more, darling.” His words echo through you as he slides into you, his moan etched deep into your soul as he begins to rock his hips against you, your thighs hitched as high as they’ll go, and your bodies connected ever so intimately. It’s so special, you think, to share this intimacy with the person your soul loves so deeply, so furiously. There will never be another person that feels the way you do about this man, about his love.

And you kiss him, so passionately, so fiercely, that you nearly lose yourself in the moment. All that matters is him and you and that fact that from today on, you are going to love him with the intention of being life partners, being parents. You’re going to experience a connection that only you will share with him, that only you will know. You will be bonded forever, permanently, in a person that is an expression of how much you love him.

“I love living life with you, Matty,” you say, clutching him close and blinking back tears. It’s something you’ve always thought, but never felt compelled to say until right now.

He kisses you, a kiss that could only mean, I feel the same, and you know that this is only the beginning.

#love it if we made it series #matty healy #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy smut #matty healy fanfiction

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my-brain-soup · 1 month

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I've Never Seen Luka, But Jon Kent Has

Basically I've never watched Luka but I read a fanfic where Jon gets the teen titans to watch it (parallels are drawn between Luca and Alberto and Jon and Damian) so now I will be watching it and writing the thoughts I have during it

No I will not give context and spoiler warning ig

Love the music during the studio logos

We love a superstitious king, I mean, I have a feeling he has a point

IF THEY HIT HIM IMMA BE SO PISSED

Awww, he's such a polite little guy

Luca is a farm boy!!! I love my little Jon Kent varient :)

I, too, would risk my life for shiny object

I, too, do the murder

OMG THEIR SO JON AND DAMIAN BUT LIKE BEING HUMAN IS BEING A VIGILANTE AND ITS THE SAME AS THEIR START BASICALLY I LOVE THEM

HE EVEN HAS THE SUPERMAN CURL

Dami would say he invented walking

And pretend he's not proud of Jon

THEYRE SO CUTESY

Bruno? Or Bruce...o... you get the idea

Sorry, they have Luca grab Alberto like that and expect me not to see them as the most adorable little guy love story? Their so crushing on each other

"You're so lucky your dad lets you do what you want," cue Superman's comment about Bruce getting hit on the head all the time

NO WAY THEIR SENDING HIM TO (basically) BOARDING SCHOOL TO KEEP HIM AWAY FROM THE "bad influence" THAT IS ALBERTO

Yes! Grandma, my queen!

"We can do anything" I love this movie

MY FRIEND SMELLS AMAZING

God I don't know her name yet but I love her

JULIA OR HOWEVER YOU SAY IT

We're not telling you our secrets! Tells secrets immediately.

FROM EVERYTHING YOU LOVE?????

I love Alberto so muchhhhhh

I love Mr dad human

Oh they know SOO many fish

No way everyone, including an adult, just saw that bitch rob some kids and didn't do shit

He is a sad little catfish

Why are his parents actually crazy

Aww, Alberto doesn't want to lose his friend

Noooooooo

Luca just wants to learn, and Alberto just wants to feel loved :(

How is the gayest looking dude there being homophobic?

When your new father figue wants to kill your entire species

Alberto got mad when Julia touched Luca's hand...

Why does Luca's hair looks like a croissant

NO LUCA WTF

I WAS ALMOST ON YOUR SIDE

GOD WHAT THE HELL

YES, MR DAD HUMAN, I LOVE YOU PLEASE DONT KILL YOUR NEW SON

FUCK.

IM NOT CRYING.

Nooooo

Their fort :(

BESTIE NO

NO ALBERTO MY BABY NO

STOP PUSHING PEOPLE AWAY SO YOU DONT GET HURT. IT'S NOT GONNA WORK

God the organizer adult lady us such a bitch

Why is no one concerned that the scuba kid isn't coming up for air?

Aww, his little clap self tap in

It's totally about to rain

Well shit. Sometimes I hate when I'm right

WAIT WAS THAT ALBERTO

I TAKE IT BACK I LOVE WHEN IM RIGHT

FUCK

NO I TAKE IT BACK AGAIN

I love them so much!!!!

MR DAD HUMAN NO

MR DAD HUMAN YES

YAYYYY

KING

Is the mom the same person that voiced Aunt Cass in big hero 6?

YES LOVE ME THE OLD LADIES

BRO ITS SO ABOUT BEING GAY I LOVE THIS MOVIE

I decided it is a metaphor for older lgbtq people, feeling able to come out after younger generations have proved that times have changed, I love them

(They're sisters, so they're not together, but they can still be gay!)

BRO ALBERTO

THOSE LITTLE LOOKS

YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE

JULIA 100% KNOWS

About his crush, not just Luca going to school

AHHHH HES SO SWEET

YES, MR DAD HUMAN, YOU NEED EACH OTHER

Their in love, your honor

THEIR LITTLE HAND HOLDING THING I CANT

IM SO MENTALLY ILL FOR GAY FISH

IM CRYING AGAIN

AHHH, THEY RIGHT EACH OTHER LETTERS

ALBERTO LOOKS SO SMITTEN WHEN THEY'RE ON THE PHONE

ALBERTO GETS HIS KNIFE

DOES HE BECOME A LIFEGAURD???

I love this movie

So much

DAMIAN ALSO HAS A CAT AND JON ALSO HAS A DOG

Also, here is my formal apology, her name is spelled Giulia, my b

Alberto learns to carve wood, awww

Also, does Luca EVER get shoes?

I've decided I need an Alberto to become a tattoo artist future au, at least like on the side or for fun or sm

The dedication is adorable

Yes, I just watched all of the credits. What about it?

I was rewarded with an after credits scene, so fuck you.

I'm gonna watch all the deleted scenes now, I'm not gonna specify which one so have fun guessing

Haha, they called Alberto and Luca the main relationship

BOO STOP TRYING TO GIVE LUCA A CRUSH ON GIULIA

YES! CONFORMED LUCA A GIULIA ONLY PLATONIC

YES ALBERTO CHEER ON THE KRAKEN AGAINST THE HUNTER

Also, she was almost a photographer, like TIM DRAKE?!?!?

Don't worry, Luca, I'll ride in a barrel lit on fire down a hill with you

Awww, they were raised by a lobsterrr

BRING BACK CANNED SEA MONSTER FACTORY

OH SEA MONSTER CAN PASS BUT IF THEIR FOUND OUT THE CONSEQUENCES MIGHT BE REALKY DIRE??? SOUNDS KINDA GAY TO ME.

Oh, Jon is extremely charming

I love how they used different animation styles (in how they had the characters move) on land and in the water

PH THE TRANSFORMATION ISN'T CELEBRATED IN LUCAS FAMILY AND HE MAKES IT A CONSIOUS DEASITION TO CHANGE HIS THINKING FROM I SHOULDNT DO THIS TO I SHOULD EMBRASE THIS? SOUNDS KINDA GAY TO ME

Bro, not the first version where Alberto outs Luca to Giulia, eek

And finally, Ciao Alberto!

Aww, Luca wants to see to Portorosso!

THE GAY OLD LADY SISTERS ARE DEFINITELY CLOSE WITH ALBERTO, AND I LOVE IT FOR ALL OF THEM

He finally has people who care about him!!!

AWW ALBERTO JUST WANTS MR DAD HUMAN TO BE PROUD OF HIM

Alberto, you do NOT got this

DONT LIGHT THE BOAT ON FIRE

OH SHIT

Noooo!!! Don't leave!!!

YOU'RE NOT HIS EMPLOYEE, YOU'RE HIS SON

HE CALLED HIM DAD!!!

YAY HUGS

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

MY HEART

I CANT

I love Alberto being an artist (a bad one, for now, but still and artist)

Okay, that's it, Ciao :)

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abbysimsfun · 17 days

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 38 (Running Into Fate in San Myshuno?)

When Heather delivered her son to San Myshuno for time with his father a few weeks later, she decided to stay in town until Sunday to spend time with her loved ones. While visiting the Casbah Gallery so Kris could review a new art show, she found herself a third wheel to her loved up sister and brother-in-law.

Stepping into the muggy summer air, she spotted a familiar dog bounding toward her across the plaza.

She grinned as Gord jumped into her open arms, laughing as he happily tried to bowl her over. Conrad raced up behind his dog dressed casually in blue, which brought out his eyes.

"Sorry! He's been cooped up all day. I thought I could trust him without a leash but I should know better by now."

"Never apologize for a happy pet. I told you at the clinic, it's the best feeling in the world!"

Gord entertained himself sniffing around the plaza. "He's been in great shape since his check up, thanks to you."

Heather's cheeks flushed, disguised by the neon lights of the city. "There was nothing wrong with him when you came in. I just gave him a preventative shot and a wellness treat. And a bottle of shampoo."

"He knocked it right out of my hand when I gave him a bath later that night. Spilled all over the bathroom tiles." He groaned at the memory. "But hey, they've never been cleaner and now the tiles won't get fleas."

She laughed, searching for something to say that didn't make her sound like an idiot. "There go your dreams of running a flea circus!" Watcher, that wasn't it.

Conrad smiled. "What brings you to San Myshuno?"

She sighed, trying not to speak of Malcolm with too much venom in her voice. "My son's with his father this weekend and I'm spending time with some family in town," she explained.

"Sounds like cooler heads might be prevailing between you two," he said. "That's a good thing."

Heather raised an eyebrow. "Malcolm said someone convinced his family to let cooler heads prevail. You didn't..."

"My dad worked Landgraab security for decades," said Conrad. "He retired after Nancy took over the company from her father, but I used to know Malcolm pretty well when we were kids, before he left for boarding school. He's not the nicest guy in the world, but the Landgraabs love money and reputation too much to be completely unreasonable."

"Why get involved at all? I'm not saying I didn't need an advocate after what I did, but what do you owe me, really?"

"Nothing. But Landgraab Corp. was ready to spit you out and send you to prison for the hack, and when I saw you with your son, I...the Landgraabs lost more in pride than market share and I'd already been asked to deal with the case under the table."

Heather scoffed. "Nancy Landgraab doesn't like to do anything legally. I heard she stole the company from her father."

"It wasn't exactly like that. Chester Landgraab was getting older, and Nancy did what she did because he was too ill to realize he couldn't run the company anymore. My dad said he was close to gambling away the business to build a spaceport on Sixam!"

"Doing what?!"

"He wouldn't even say! My dad was ready for retirement and relieved when Nancy told him to collect his pension. Her father stayed in Ciudad Enamorada after the vote and she cleaned house. Even fired her own brother." Heather inhaled. No wonder Johnny hated his sister. "I don't mean to say that makes Landgraab Corp. a shining example of the right way to do business, but..."

"But thank you," she said. "It's no small thing what you did."

Conrad's cheeks flushed. "So, are you in town all weekend?"

"Until Sunday."

A nervous silence passed between them. Heather's gregarious younger sister, Holly, had been curiously spying from a distance, waiting for her husband to finish networking before she dragged him toward Heather and the handsome man in blue.

She greeted him with a wide smile. "Hi there! My name's Holly and this is my husband Kris. We were just wondering what you and my sister were talking about."

He greeted them respectfully. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Conrad, and I got to know your sister through a recent investigation. We were just getting caught up."

Holly's eyes bulged. "Is this him?!"

Heather blushed and Kris shook Conrad's hand. "My wife's just wondering if you're the detective who visited Heather about her recent felony."

Heather wanted to crawl into the sewers and hide from the creeping embarrassment, but Conrad couldn't pull his gaze. He smiled as she fiddled awkwardly with a ball of clay she'd grabbed from the gallery. "That would be the investigation, but the Landgraabs never charged anyone."

"Apparently, Conrad knew Malcolm when they were kids and convinced the Landgraabs not to press charges."

Holly looked at Conrad with an impressed grin. "Are you a cop or my sister's knight in shining armour?"

"Holly, don't," Heather pleaded, but she couldn't wipe the stupid grin from her face.

"Come out with us tomorrow night," Holly suggested, because she knew her unflirty sister needed a push. "A bunch of us are going to the Romance Festival. We were going to bring my sister along to try to find her a date, but I think she's already found one."

Conrad blushed, and Kris again stepped forward. "It's a bit over the top and everyone always gets too flirty on Sakura tea, but if you're not doing anything, the more the merrier."

Heather was afraid to speak, trying not to stare at his gorgeous blue eyes, but she wanted him to say yes.

"I'd love to." Conrad grinned, but they were interrupted when Gord sped across the plaza to chase a raccoon. "Damn, and he's off. Gotta go!" He called after her while trying to catch up with his dog. "I'll meet you at the festival tomorrow. Four o'clock?"

"Four's great. See you then!" Heather smiled to herself. She couldn't wipe the blush from her cheeks and turned to her sister and brother-in-law. "Let's go inside where there's air con. It's hot out here."

"He's so hot!" Holly cried. "No wonder you're sweating."

Heather worried she’d make the same mistakes again, afraid to trust her instincts. But at least she wouldn't be alone tomorrow, if it was horrible... ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #san myshuno

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nalyra-dreaming · 3 months

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I’m a long- time reader of the VC - read the first 4 books in 1994 at the ripe old age of 12 and then eagerly kept up after that. I did the message boards thing and the live journal thing as a teen and young adult. I’ve been in this fandom a long time, and it’s interesting to see how show-only viewers see things.

One thing I’ve enjoyed with the show are the little ripple effects of the changes they’ve made to the time period, and to some of the characters races, ages, and origins. For the most part I’m in love with how these changes enrich and expand the story, lending new thematic weight to different aspects of the story.

I am having trouble processing the implications of one change, though, and wonder at your thoughts. One impact of changing Claudia’s age and origins is that her death no longer truly feels inevitable or necessary. Claudia of the books is trapped in a five year old’s body with a five year old’s cognitive development. No matter how long she lives or what that changes within her, she can never be free and independent. I think the core tragedy of Claudia is this inevitability. She must die. Lestat and Louis fail her by extending her life and rendering her into this unnatural, helpless creature of unquenchable appetites. Her death is tragic but also a mercy. It makes sense when you consider the loss Claudia’s character was born from. I think Anne wrote her the way she did as a way of letting go of her daughter. She wrote a story where eternal life as a child was a misery to be released from. Claudia’s end is tragic but also merciful. I have a five year old son; I would not want such endless suffering for him.

But Claudia in the show absolutely can survive and find fulfillment and meaning. We see that with the glimpses of her short life with Madeline. Even if they eventually parted ways, she could absolutely continue on. The audience feels this even more acutely because both Bailey and Delaney look like grown women. It’s hard to suspend disbelief enough to see them as young enough to be doomed. This fundamentally changes what Claudia’s story means. It ripples onto all the other characters as well. The way we read them and their arcs and involvement is deeply impacted by the implications that Claudia didn’t have to die. It changes the nature of the tragedy, and though I think her character has provided interesting insights into womanhood and growing up, I don’t know that this thematic change benefits the overall story. Still processing it, but feeling rather divided. And I can feel the new, show-only fan discourse barreling towards us like a boulder speeding down a hill.

Hmmm. So I get what you mean (also high-fives you, I'm a handful of years ahead but also went through all the "old fandom" stuff.)

Claudia's tragedy ... is changed, true. But she is still failed. By everyone who was supposed to take care of her. Her mother died, her father failed her, her auntie, too. Her "adopted" fathers failed her, too, though not really for lack of trying, but for the simple reason that they used her - they wanted her as something to bind them together, and she simply could not be that. The other vampires fail her, both in malicious and also pitiful ways. Armand - as the leader of the Parisian coven - should have protected her, after she joined.

They all fail her. Because Louis and Lestat, and Armand (and Santiago and the coven)... use her.

And I feel that the tragedy of her life is made all the clearer here, because she never stood a chance.

She found her "x", she found a way out, on her own devices, despite everything.

But she is pulled back, and used again, for a mock trial, a mock purpose. (Another parallel to Lestat here, who is also used throughout the chronicles.)

I would not want book!Claudia's fate for my child either. I can understand why Anne had to change the original book fate (which was her getting away!) to the one we have now. I get it.

But the show added more possibility to Claudia's fate. More... opportunity. In theory.

But she was never able to really take that opportunity, because she was locked into her existence by them. Not only into a teenage body, but also into the vampiric existence.

As soon as she gets away... there are machinations to pull her back. Literally in s1. More subtle in s2.

She cannot get away... because others use her - again.

Personally, I find that even more bitter.

#Anonymous #ask nalyra #iwtv s2 #iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire s2 #amc interview with the vampire #iwtv claudia #claudia de lioncourt

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littlelegoman · 1 year

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LMK NINJAGO CROSS OVER, BUT IT'S JUST LLOYD AND MK SWITCHING PLACES FOR A WEEK

Tang (possibly Pigsy, too): Wow, that sounds like a lot to go through as a child. And you bodily became 18 when you were 12? I'm so sorry, they shouldn't have done that to you..

Lloyd: Well-- it was to save the city--

Tang: What did that city ever do for you? I mean, your whole life is just one tragedy after another; your mother abandons you, your father is locked away, you get sent to a boarding school to make you evil and you still get bullied there. You're manipulated multiple times by adults, and sure, you tried to do that once to them, but you were a child. They were adults. That's not fair.

Lloyd: It was destiny, I had to because of the prophesy...

Tang: No, you had a choice. You didn't have to do all that, and even if you wanted to, you could've waited till you were mature enough to understand the severity of it. Your uncle trains you-- actually, he forcibly takes you, which legally would happen anyways as your only relative, but the law was never involved, not to mention you were under the impression you'd be hurt.

Tang: It's not your fault either. You were coerced into it. The prophesy never said when you had to defeat your father, right?

Lloyd: Well, I don't entirely remember....

Tang: You needed an adult who wasn't going to use you, and you never got that. You never got a childhood, and that's terrible. I'm so upset that this happened to you because no kid deserves this. I'm not completely okay with MK being the Monkie Kid; I mean, look at all the danger it's put him through - but at least he was an adult, old enough to make his own conscious choice.

Lloyd: I...

Lloyd: Thanks, mom.

Tang: It's no pro-- wait what?

MK: And you have elemental powers?! Oh, that's so cool! I don't have any of those, really. I mean, I can do a lot of things that the Monkey King can do, but I don't think controlling elements was one of them.

Zane: It is awesome, of course, but we have years of years of unpacked trauma.

MK: Same!! :D

Red Son: Your father... was okay with you becoming a hero?

Lloyd: He wasn't the best, but it's not completely his fault. The whole venom and oni thing really messed him up. He knew what he was, and he... deep down, he wanted a safe world for me, and fhst meant a world without him.

Red Son:.... I see.

Lloyd: So, uh, you want to be like your father?

Red Son: Well, of course I do! I'm not some a simple-minded peasant like Noodle Boy or Dragon Girl! My father's legacy is one to behold with pride.

Lloyd:... but?

Red Son, sighing: but my father barely recognizes my greatness; and Noodle Boy and his peasant friends do....

MK: Why is... why.. (MK, trying to talk about Garmadon)

Wu: Ah... My brother and I share Oni and Dragon blood... when he was bitten by The Great Devourer, it caused his blood to turn cold.

MK: Does that mean you can become evil too?

Wu, caught off guard: Oh. I..

Wu, sighing: Yes. That is a possibility. I trained my students the best way I knew how... I.. admit I wasn't the best

MK, smiling brightly: HAHA, yeah, you weren't!

Wu, offended:

MK: Wait-- you ABANDONED your son to an evil school?!

Misako: I-- I did.

MK: Why not send him to a normal school?! Or with Mister Wu?! If you knew he was gonna beat up his dad, wouldn't it have helped if he grew up with morals???

Lloyd: I mean no offense, Sun Wukong, but I don't know why MK still likes you.

Wukong: Honestly, I don't either

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slyther-bi · 1 year

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I'm back with my happy snape family au 😊

◇

5yr old Severus: Can we go out to get icecream?

Eileen: Did you ask your father?

Severus: He said no.

Eileen: Then why did you ask me?

Severus: He's not the boss of you.

Eileen, internally: It's a trap, it's a trap, it's a trap.

◇

Teen Severus: Protip is you do not feel good about yourself after eating tomato sauce on iceberg lettuce.

Tobias: What's wrong with you??

Severus: I literally JUST said I ate tomato sauce on iceberg lettuce?? Pay attention.

Eileen: No, he means other than that.

Severus: Ohhhhhh.

Severus: I haven't slept in 4 days.

◇

Teen Severus: *gets a text* Oh! It’s my parents.

Teen Lily, excitedly: Did they get me the stuff?

Severus: Yeah, they says they got you the clown costume, the power drill, and 12 gallons of blood.

Lily: Wow! Where’d they find 12 gallons of fake blood?

Severus: You wanted fake blood?

Lily:

Severus: I’ll go call my parents.

◇

Tobias: Why would you give a knife to our 12 yr old son?!

Eileen, shrugging: He felt unsafe.

Tobias: Now I feel unsafe!

Eileen: I’m sorry…

Eileen: Would you like a knife?

◇

*The Snape Family using a Ouija board*

Tobias: Tell us… Is there a spirit in this house?

Spirit, through the board: YES.

Eileen: Great! Rent is due on the first of the month.

Severus: Oh, and movie night is on Friday if you want to hang out.

Spirit: WAIT, WHAT—

◇

Tobias: Okay, how do I look? Be honest.

Eileen: There’s no critic more honest than our 5yr old son!

5yr old Severus: Bad.

◇

Teen Severus: Mom, in your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

Eileen, turning to Tobias: How tall are you?

◇

Tobias, talking to an 11yr old Severus on his first day at Hogwarts: Well Severus, whenever I’m about to do something, I think ‘would your mother do that?’ and if she would, I do not do that thing.

11yr old Severus: …

Eileen, from behind Tobias: He's not wrong though

◇

Tobias: What do we say when making bread?

10yr old Severus, glumly: That's the dough rising.

Tobias: And what do we NOT say?

Eileen, sadly: That's the yeast fucking.

◇

Eileen: I dropped our son!

Tobias: Eileen, what the fuck!

◇

Eileen: I told your father that his ears turn red when he lie.

Severus: Do they?

Eileen: No.

Severus: Then why did you tell him that?

Eileen: Because I can do this.

Eileen: Hey Tobias! Do you love us?

Tobias, with his hands over his ears: No.

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heart4reigns · 1 year

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OPERATION: TOGETHER, roman reigns and cody rhodes (i).

next chapter →

warnings: cigarettes, curse words, fighting, alcohol

tags: love triangles, powerful girlboss (y/n), breakups, paul being a dad to the bloodline, triple h being a father-figure to you, inaccurate events and descriptions

"COME on, (y/n)." you shook your head in disagreement. "no, jey. i'm not going to lunch with you. i know damn well you're just gonna set me up again with your stupid fucking cousin." he immediately stood up from his seat. "i- i am not setting you up! it's just the three of us like usual. you, me, jimmy, and solo... trust me!" "and i know that you're lying." another plan failed. you walked out of the room, still having jey following you like a lost dog.

"please?" he asked. "jey, i'm sorry," you paused for a second, facing him. "i get it that you're trying to make things alright for us. but, we're done..." you continued. "i'm sorry as well, because i just hate seeing my favorite people not speaking to each other." you sighed in frustration. "that doesn't mean we can stop being friends, you know i'm still your number one girl." your sentence put a smile on his face. "love you, (y/n). you're like a sister to me." "love you too, listen, i gotta bounce. have a meeting in like 10."

you were alone inside the board office, waiting for your fellow colleagues to arrive. "booking suggestion for..." your heart dropped when you read the sentence. "roman reigns against cody rhodes." you continued your sentence. being the co-creative director for both smackdown (your ex boyfriend's brand) and raw meant that you could never escape him. you groaned in despair, putting down your papers. "morning, (y/n)." you looked up and saw your boss. "morning, paul."

the board meeting bored the shit out of you. you already knew what was going on. your mind was somewhere else; on the beach with your ex boyfriend, smiling together as you felt the breeze tingling on your skin. "ms. (l/n)?" your short daydream was cut-off by one of your colleagues. "sorry, you were saying?"

"i wanted to know your opinions on the booking." you hesitated a bit to come up with an answer. "i've had this conversation with ms. (l/n) before, she finds it brilliant." the retired wrestler backed you up. "thank you." you mouthed to him. he gave you a small nod, continuing the meeting. "so it's settled then, it leads up to wrestlemania next year." you signed the papers.

with the contract being signed, you knew that you were going to meet your ex boyfriend for work purposes. the thought of that made you want to throw up. the meeting ended, everyone was packing up their papers. except for you, you stayed behind, not wanting to leave work yet. "(y/n), you're not done?" paul (or triple h, depends on what you saw him as that day; a boss or a talent) asked. "i still need to sort some papers for the upcoming matches." you said, not looking up from your paperwork.

he saw your devastated expression. "i guess i'll stay a bit with you, son." it was a long-running joke that you were his 'son'. "thanks, dad." you rolled your eyes. "is it the reigns thingy again?" you nodded at him, being completely vulnerable. "it's okay to let your feelings get in the way. but you have to know your position, at your age? co-creative director? you're what my kids call, a 'girlboss'." you chuckled at his statement.

"okay, you got me there. let’s do this.”

needless to say, you spent the day trying to finish all your paperwork before showtime. “right, you’ll be okay with raw? i’ll take over smackdown this week, i can’t go tonight because i have dinner with externals. don’t forget to tell cody to come to the office!” you nodded at his sentence, waving goodbye to him. you went to the parking lot and quickly drove to the arena for monday night raw. you had 15 minutes to spare before the briefing, so you took your time to light a cigarette.

you missed the times where you were nicotine-free. you also missed having a passenger princess aka your ex boyfriend. the two of you broke up almost 3 months ago. some said it was a ‘mutual breakup’, but to you–it felt like he broke up with you. the reason? time. you didn’t have time for him and he didn’t have time for you. although you still yearned his touch and his voice, you couldn’t do anything about it. some also said that you’ve changed, into this ‘cold bitch from upstairs’ persona.

truth be told you were just going through it. you have never loved anyone as much as you loved him. it was hard for you to return as your usual self. not to mention, you were also close to his cousins (who were trying to get you back together). jey, jimmy, and solo–you wouldn’t trade the world for your friendship with them. they also kept you updated with roman’s life (without him knowing). you felt in peace knowing that he was happy.

the two of you met during a company party and you fell in love at the first sight. he was gentle, a people’s person, and funny. maybe you drank too much that night to end up in his arms, but it was all worth it. the more you saw each other, the more attracted you were to him. you just wished that you spared more time for him, but like the realist person you were–people come and go. it was a matter of time for you to let him go.

everyone bowed their head as you walked the hallway. people were intimidated by your power. being co-creative meant that you were practically in charge of everything. you didn’t really meddle with raw a lot, it was usually paul who took care of the monday night screen-time. but he had other things to do, so raw was a breath of fresh air for you.

you also grew comfortable being in control of smackdown, as that was your ex boyfriend’s brand. but maybe paul thought you needed a change. “shit, she’s here tonight?” you heard several whispers from the crew. “then we can’t have any technical difficulties or she might fire you.” the whispers continued. you didn’t mind being this ‘bitch from upstairs’ if it meant that people wouldn’t treat you like shit anymore.

“camera 6, go higher.” you spoke to the earpiece. “got it boss.” the crew replied. “and… rolling in 3, 2, 1. cue the music.” you continued. “welcome everyone to monday night raw!” the announcer said as the crowd went wild. “i trust you from here, i’m gonna see the talents.” the staffs nodded. “if anyone fucks up, they’ll be seeing me after this show.” your tone gave the crew goosebumps.

the talent locker room was filled with superstars messing around and getting ready for their showtime. you monitored them from outside, not wanting to invade any of their privacy. “(y/n)?” you looked up and saw becky. “god, it’s been a long time since i’ve seen you here, girl!” she hugged you. “hey becks.” you returned the gesture. “what are you doing here? where’s paul? never mind, i take it back. i’d rather see you here!” the two of you chatted for a bit, before her screen-time.

“you’re up in 5.” you reminded her. “okay miss bitch from upstairs.” you rolled your eyes at her comment. “shut up.” she chuckled in response. “see you, (y/n)! wish me luck!” with that, she left you alone in the hallways with your papers full of rundown and cue cards. the earpiece started to go off, “ms. (l/n), rhodes is here.” “right.” he didn’t have any fights today, only delivering his promo.

you knocked on the locker room door. “it’s unlocked!” you opened it, seeing cody with his duffle bag. “cody,” you paused for a second. “oh, ms. (l/n)!” he flashed you a smile. “how many times do i need to tell you to call me (y/n)? i’m younger than you.” cody’s smile didn’t fade at all. “you might be younger than me but you have a higher position, of course i’ll be polite ma’am.” he was probably one of the few talents that weren’t intimidated by your presence.

“what can i do for you today, (y/n)?” he took of his hoodie, revealing his white shirt. “the board, or just paul and i, wanted to tell you that you are wanted in the office. when are you free?” you asked. “i thought you were asking me on a date, (y/n).” cody snickered. you knew he was a huge flirt, but it was all just for fun and jokes. “i’m serious.” you stated. “i’m free next wednesday. what’s up by the way?” he asked. “we… have a contract for you and roman.” cody instantly stopped doing what he was doing and faced you.

pitiful looks came from him. “damn, (y/n). must’ve been hard dealing with heartbreak and still seeing the person who broke your heart almost every week.” you clenched your fist. “you don’t know anything about me, rhodes.” your tone was laced with venom. his gaze softened. “okay, i’m sorry. that was on me, (y/n).” he apologized, trying to diffuse the situation. “is that all? because i’m gonna strip down to my undies, unless you want to stay.” why the fuck is this guy not afraid of me? you thought. “i’ll text you the details tomorrow.”

the night ended with a blast. you were tired but still had to meet with the guards. “i want everyone out of the building by 3.” you were briefing the security guards. they all nodded in unison. “i’m trusting you with this, dongmin.” you stared at the head-guard. “and i won’t let you down, ms. (l/n).” you nodded at him and went to the parking lot, looking for your car keys. your attention diverted to a certain black-haired man leaning on his car. jesus, give me a fucking break, you thought.

the two of you immediately made eye-contact. “(y/n)!” he greeted you, as if nothing was wrong. “what the fuck are you doing here, roman?” your question caught him off guard. “i- i’m here to pick up seth. we’re getting dinner tonight.” he hesitated. “what are you doing here? i thought you were on smackdown-duty.” you scoffed at him. “you know i’m in control of both brands? i don’t need to explain myself to you, roman.”

silence filled the air. “you want to come and eat with seth and i? like old times?” you wanted to cry at his sentence. how could he act like nothing ever happened between us, you thought. “i can’t.” and to your luck, you heard footsteps coming behind you. “(y/n), (y/n)! you dropped your car keys in my locker room earlier! oh.” it was cody, with his fucking duffle bag again. the blond awkwardly stood in the middle of you two, not knowing what to do. “thanks cody.” you muttered, taking you keys. “what do you say, dinner?” roman continued.

“i can’t, i have plans with cody.” before cody could respond, you shoved him into the passenger seat. you blinked at him, signaling that he needed to comply with you. “so you and him?” you shook your head. “no, mind your own business.” you started your car and drove off, not wanting to interact anymore with him. cody was left puzzled as he just went to the parking lot to deliver your keys but he ended up in your passenger seat.

“great timing, i didn’t bring my car. thank you for driving me back to the hotel, (y/n)! you owe me something, i helped you!” “cody, for this once, please just shut up.”

roman was left speechless by your actions. he was also surprised that you’d let anyone in your passenger seat. the man felt his heart ached for a second. what was going on between you and cody? he thought.

a/n: GODDD I’M SO EXCITED FOR THIS SERIESSSS LET’S FUCKING GOOOO!

#roman reigns #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x reader #the usos #wwe #wwe imagines #paul heyman #wrestling #cody rhodes #jey uso #jimmy uso #seth rollins #becky lynch #brock lesnar #triple h #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes imagine

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mrsparrasblog · 6 months

Text

Highscool AU CoD Pt1

1 September 1990

Pt2

SIMON'S POV

"Your son will never be anything proper if he keeps going to that snob school," my father screamed at my mother as usual. It wasn’t like I wanted to go to that damn boarding school anyway; I didn't want to leave Tommy alone with my dad.

"He's got a full ride scholarship. Do you know how much money we're saving?" No costs for food for me, no hockey equipment, nothing; it was all paid for just so I could play hockey at this damn school.

"He's still with all these trust fund brats. These kids grow up with a silver spoon in their lives, he gets messed up and thinks he can study and do other crap."

"Jim, fuck off. Your son is going to be a hockey player, for fuck's sake."

I left the kitchen, walking back to my room, packing the last things I needed before taking the train to Exeter. The uniform mom bought me was two sizes too big. She said I would fit into it soon, but it wouldn't help my case that no one in this school wanted to talk to the scholarship boy. I just wanted to go to a normal school in Manchester, hang out with my mates, watch football with them, and not do hockey. I didn't want to become a professional ice hockey player, but I also didn’t want to disappoint mom, so hockey it is.

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The train would leave in 10 minutes. My family and I already stood at the rail.

"I'm going to write you, Tommy, and I'll come back most weekends." Tommy clung to my legs, desperate for me not to leave again like last time. I knew dad would probably beat Tommy up again for being so emotional.

"Dad."

"Son."

We only nodded at each other, and then mom hugged me tight, not wanting to let go of me. I walked inside the train, searching for an empty compartment. Hopefully, there was no one from my school on this train. I needed this time to prepare myself for the hell I would endure for the next year.

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I arrived at Exeter. The bus took me to my home for the next year: Northbridge Academy.

Around the gate stood all sorts of cars. Most students got driven here instead of taking the train like I did. Their cars would make dad fuss again about how posh this place is. Ferraris, Porsches, and Bugattis were the cars of the poorer students. They would probably laugh about Dad's Honda Civic.

My stomach growled. I knew it wouldn’t get food until the evening today in the mess hall. It was like a sort of ritual welcoming the first years, introducing them, mostly telling what their parents did for a living and which sport they would do in this school. I remembered last year when I was introduced: "Simon Riley. Mom's a nurse, and Dad's unemployed. He will join the ice hockey team."

At that point, I knew I would get bullied after hearing all the things about the other students in my year. There was one scholarship boy too, Johnny. I thought we would be friends, but because of him being the goalie of our football team, everyone loved him despite his parents only being farmers. Of course, he befriended Kyle, the most popular guy around. He was filthy rich and posh. The girls all fancied him. He played as a striker, and rumors said that he would, after graduating his A levels, play for Arsenal.

"Sod off, Riley. Go back to where you belong, mud," Tiffany said as she spat on me. Tiffany was the most popular girl, but rather than Kyle, she wasn’t nice. She was mean and hated my guts, always telling me their family worked hard to achieve this place at Northbridge Academy, while I got it gifted. So she made me deserve it in other ways by bullying me with her little girls squad. But who cared?

A giant approached me, giving me a handkerchief and speaking in the most broken English I've ever heard. "Are you okay, little one?"

"Yes, it's okay, mate." He only nodded and went away.

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I sat back in my class and listened to Ms. Lawson, our class teacher, telling us all about this year's classes.

"Let me introduce you to a new girl in the class. Come on, Ms. König," she smiled at a girl who shyly walked in front of the whole class with a batch of red velvet cookies in her hand.

She is incredibly beautiful, but she is a trust fund baby like everyone else. I could already see it; she wore a Chanel bow wrapped inside her blonde curly hair. She was taller than me by several inches; she was at least 5'3" while I only reached 4'11". But I'll be tall like my Dad someday, hopefully. She was a bit different than the other rich girls, though.

She wasn’t as skinny as them; she was a bit chubby. I never saw the problem in being chubby, but my classmates always made fun of chubby girls. Poor girl won't survive a second in this hell. The teacher told us that her Dad was the founder and CEO of Kortac. I didn’t know what this was, but judging by the way my classmates gasped, she must be filthy rich.

"Hello, I'm Elisabeth. Um, I moved to Cardiff with my brother and my mom. I was born in Vienna, Austria. I do ballet, gymnastics, and I like to bake," she smiled.

"Well, we see that she likes baking," Tiffany whispered to Laurie, both of the girls giggling.

"You should probably be nice to her, Tiff. Mom told me about Kortac," Jilian said, and Tiffany nodded. I didn’t know what Kortac was, but it sounded like something not good.

Elisabeth walked towards the back of the class, sitting at the table next to me. What just happened? She smiled at me, reaching out with her hands towards me. It took two minutes till I grabbed it and shook it. "I'm Simon."

"I'm Elisabeth. Do you want a cookie?" She smiled and almost stuffed the red velvet cookie in my mouth. It was delicious, like an explosion in my mouth. This was so nice from her; she probably didn’t know that it would be her social ruin being friends with me. Slow fantasies about having a friend in this school crept up inside my head. It was unrealistic, but a nice thought; even if she was a girl, better than nothing, right? She was nice, and her cookies were good.

"Thank you for the cookies."

"I'll always feed everyone."

"You should never feed a stray dog," I joked. If she only knew her cookie was the first thing I ate in two days.

"Hm, but I like collecting stray dogs," she laughed. A friend. I had a friend. I couldn’t mess this up.

The girls' squad approached us; they probably would humiliate me, and then she starts to laugh at me.

"König? You should probably reconsider your taste in friends; this mutt here is on a scholarship basis here." God, how I hated Tiffany.

"Oh, I think I'll have great taste in friends. I mean, I'm not friends with you," Elisabeth smiled. She looked so sweet, and now she was protecting me in front of Tiffany. My new friend was a feisty one.

"He is poor, don’t you understand?" Tiffany scoffed, disgusted.

"What do your parents do, Tiffany?" and for a second, I was afraid she is now influenced by the 5'5 tall skinny Louis Vuitton-wearing cunt.

"My father is a plastic surgeon, and my mother is a lawyer," Tiffany chimed proudly, only earning a laugh from Elisabeth.

"This explains why you can only afford Louis Vuitton. So, Tiffany, my Dad is richer four times than your family, so I'm more than rich enough for Simon and me together. So please leave before I punch your smug face." Her eyelashes fluttered, and a mischievous grin spread across her face. While Tiffany walked away furious, earning us the glances of Kyle's squad.

"Sorry about that. I'm normally nicer; I just don’t like bullies."

"Don’t apologize; that was bloody brilliant."

"So, Simon, which sport do you do?"

"Ice hockey."

"Wow, I loved ice skating as a kid."

"Why ballet then and not figure skating?" I asked her, curious. She would make a great figure skater; she walks so elegantly and doesn’t slop.

"School provides only partner figure skating, and I'm a bit too heavy for that," I didn’t want to agree with her; I would probably struggle picking her up. But I couldn’t even carry 25 pounds. Coach told me I need to work on my strength this month, before I could react and try to say something nice, something weird happened.

"Awright, I'm John Mactavish, mah loue," John never associated with me, and now he comes to my table to speak with my new friend.

"I'm sorry, John; my English, I don’t understand you," she looks at him with apologetic puppy eyes.

"Ah, sorry, I'm Scottish, but if you’d like some tutoring, I'd be available, Ellie?"

“Don’t listen to MacTavish; he almost failed English last year,” I remarked snarky. Normally, I tried to down my sarcasm at this school, make myself as small as possible, but alone, her laugh was worth making myself noticeable.

"Shut up, mate, you're destroying my chances with Ellie."

"I hate nicknames," she grumbled.

"We'll see about that, Bonnie."

"Elisabeth, not Bonnie."

Sure, here's the corrected version:

"You're funny, hen," he laughed before walking away.

"Is everyone so intense here?"

"Yes."

"You don’t talk much, do you?"

"Not really."

"So, I think we will have a great friendship," she smiled at me, and maybe this year won't be hell after all.

"How come you can call me 'Si' but don’t allow nicknames?"

"Because I'm pretty and funny, Si," she pointed her tongue at me playfully.

"Pretty, yes, funny, no, Lizzie," she blushed as I called her pretty; the pink on her cheeks looked cute. Wait, what am I thinking?

"Really, Lizzie?"

"Yes, Lizzie."

After the feast and for the first time in this school not sitting alone eating, I went to the male dorms. Last year, I shared my dorm with a bunch of older guys from the team; this year, I got new dorm partners. I walked into dorm 13B and read the paper on top of it.

Garrick - Perfect. Kyle the jock was in the room.

MacTavish - Even worse than Kyle.

Riley

Volkov

König- Wait, isn’t that Lizzy's last name? But she is a girl, right? She looked like a girl, at least.

Price - He once punched a bully in the face, so he was nice, I guess.

I walked inside the room, seeing that everyone was already unpacking their stuff in the bunk.

Kyle's corner was full of his football trophy and posters of Arsenal London; he took the most place in the closet he shared with Johnny. Of course, he was one of the wealthiest kids in this school; his parents owned several newspapers, shops, and his mother was the heiress of British Petroleum.

Johnny's corner was messy, the wall full of little doodles. I never knew he'd like to draw so much; most of his normal clothes were full of paint stains. It kinda made him more sympathetic.

Nik and Price shared a bunk, like I'd thought; their side was full of posters from Nirvana, Guns N' Roses, and Metallica. Nik's father was the CEO of Aeroflot, so the little plane model didn’t surprise me. John's parents were a curse; his father was on the way to becoming the Prime Minister of England, making the press watch every move of him.

I decorated my room with some ice hockey posters and a picture of me and Tommy; I needed to write him a letter, or else he thinks I've forgotten him. The door opened, and the nice giant from earlier walked inside; this must have been Lizzy's brother and my bunkmate now.

"Hallo," he said awkwardly, ducking his head under the frame. He must be over 6ft tall; I wondered how old he is.

"That's König, mates. He isn’t very good with his English, so fuck off if you complain about his accent," Price commanded; he was like his dad, a natural leader.

"Man, how tall are you?" Johnny asked, curious and, of course, he didn’t know any social clues, idiot.

"1.88 meters."

"That's 6'2" Nikolai explained, knowing the metric system because of his Russian heritage.

I just closed my eyes, ignoring the banter of my roommates, finally falling asleep in that uncomfortable bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night by a cry from under me; that's awkward. I never knew how to react in this situation, especially if a 6'2" guy cries.

"Shh, Elli, es ist nur ein Traum. Ich passe auf dich auf. Sie finden dich nicht; du bist sicher, okay?" (It's just a dream; I'll protect you. They won't find you; you're safe.) It wasn’t his cry; it was Lizzy's. That made it only worse; I didn’t know if I could say or do anything, so I only listened to her sobs, like the weak boy I was. Dad was right; I am useless. I have a friend for one day, but when she is upset, I'm hiding in my bed, listening to her cry like a bloody coward.

The next morning, I went to the mess hall, sitting down next to Lizzie. I had a table now; I was finally inside of it.

"Ach du scheiße—what are you eating?"

"Uh, beans with toast and hash browns."

"That's disgusting," she sniffed.

"Did you even try it?"

"No."

"So why do you think it's disgusting?"

"It looks funky, and breakfast should be a hot roll with some homemade jam or maybe a butter pretzel."

"That sounds German."

"Austrian."

"So why are you eating cereal then?"

"They looked funny," she gestured at her fruit loops and smiled at the bright colors, giving me the spoon so I could taste it. It was an unfamiliar gesture, and she kinda behaved differently than the other rich girls; she behaved carelessly.

"Aye, scoot over, Simon," Johnny sat down at our table with his tray full of sausages and eggs, taking Kyle with him. Both sat down next to us; I felt like I was stuck in a parallel universe.

It got even worse when König, Nik, and John joined the table, making our table completely full. I didn’t like the new size of our friend group. Yesterday, I had only Lizzie, and now I'm stuck with five blokes.

"I'm John Price, by the way," he took Lizzie's hand and gave her a handkiss, making her blush and giggle, while König gave him a death glare. "No touching my sister."

"So, König, which football club do you like?" Kyle asked.

"FC Bayern München, you?" the giant answered.

"Arsenal will play for it someday," Kyle said proudly.

"Manchester United."

"Aye, Celtic FC."

"Of course, a Scottish club," I muttered.

"They're great."

"Tottenham Hotspur," John said proudly, and everyone besides Lizzie started to laugh.

"Mate, no, that's embarrassing."

"Shut it, Garrick."

"If I play for Arsenal, I'll beat Tottenham every day."

"You sure will," John rolled his eyes.

"Elli? Do you fancy a club?"

"I don’t like football."

"What the fuck?" everyone shouted at once.

"It's not hard; it's boring. Try gymnastics or ballet; that's a real sport, and not something where you whine because someone crossed you, stealing your ball," Johnny's and Kyle's faces fell down; how dare she insult their precious sport. It was actually funny how she had all her opinions and was never afraid to spit them out.

"You can come and watch my next rugby game; that's a real sport," John winked at her.

"No flirting with my sister, no touching my sister, no dating my sister until 18," König looked at John with his intimidating facial expression, ready to tower over all of us.

"Eighteen is a bit too early. Oh no, I never date at all; I'll grow old with a bunch of kittens," she smiled while fiddling with her bow in her hand.

"That's a loss for me, hen," poor Johnny will probably get beaten up by the end of the year if he doesn’t stop flirting.

"Why is your bow not in your hair, Lizzie?"

"Tiffany made fun of it, and she was right; it's childish."

"Du liebst deine Schleife?" (You love your bow?) Without a word, I stood up and took her bow and placed it on top of her head. This bow was probably more worth than my mom's paycheck, but still. She is my friend, so I need to be there for her like she protected me yesterday.

"Tiffany is a cunt; you want that bow, you wear that bow." The table agreed with my comment and enjoyed their food.

"What's your next subject, Si?"

"Chemistry."

"Me too," she said and grabbed my hand, pulling me with her to the next class.

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