#sometimes i wonder if my mother is disappointed in the things i do with my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherienymphe · 7 months

Text

House of Balloons

Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: It was storming the night he told you that no man in Outer Banks will ever love you like he does

warnings: Dub-Con, stepcest, loss of virginity, jealousy, underage drinking, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

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You should’ve guessed that things weren’t right the night your brother punched your very first boyfriend in the face.

Your anger over his actions was only trumped by your embarrassment. The other unsuspecting teenager had been completely blindsided, falling out cold on the floor of the party while you had been temporarily frozen with shock. No matter what excuse Topper gave that night—words slurring and pupils blown—you hadn’t wanted to hear it. Your humiliation and confusion and irritation had made you shut him out completely, only made worse by your fears coming true when you were swiftly dumped two days later.

“He was too old for you, anyway,” was his only comment on the situation.

You’d been fourteen then, and your boyfriend was the same age as him.

Your dating life after that was sparse to say the least, hardly anyone wanting to go near the girl with the overprotective brother. Nonexistent wasn’t the right word to use. After all, you still took the odd brave guy or two up on their offers, skipping class and sneaking out of your room just to have something like the same experiences your friends were having. It worked for a time.

Until they decided they wanted something with less effort and trouble, and you supposed you couldn’t blame them.

“If you’d actually been honest with me, I could’ve long told you those guys were assholes and not to waste your time.”

That was what Topper told you the night you’d finally decided to confide in him, his expression lacking anger…but only holding disappointment. You didn’t know why that bothered you more than him being mad. Maybe it was because you looked up to Topper in ways that should’ve been reserved for your father. The day he married Topper’s mother, it was like you became less in his eyes, the older man finally gaining the son he always wanted.

Topper could be a suffocating dick sometimes, but the way he cared about you was comforting.

“What did you expect from me when you literally ran my first boyfriend off?” you wondered with a roll of your eyes, applying your blush. “Sue me for wanting to have the life you did.”

You could see the blond lounged along your bed in the reflection of your mirror, his blue gaze briefly lifting from the phone in his hand. He watched you sift through the myriad of lip glosses in your drawer before finally speaking.

“Yeah, I remember him. He was an asshole who with a preference for ‘fresh meat’, an asshole I explicitly told to stay away from you,” he told you.

You paused at that, catching his gaze in the mirror, and the corner of his lips twitched when you sighed.

“You could’ve told me that,” you mumbled. “You just kept saying that he was an asshole who didn’t deserve me. Surely, you knew that was like catnip to a high school freshman, right?”

You threw him a look.

“I blamed you for months when he broke up with me.”

Topper only shrugged.

“I knew you’d thank me one day,” he smugly replied, and you bit your tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction even though the damage was done. “Besides, I did what any good brother should do—look out for you until you’re old enough to make your own choices.”

Done with your makeup, you merely pursed your lips, staring at him through the mirror as he scrolled on his phone. The longer the silence stretched, that was when Topper finally lifted his gaze again, and you scoffed the moment his eyes met yours.

“You’re trying to pretend like you’re still not a controlling asshole, and it’s actually upsetting,” you huffed, standing. “Like I didn’t see your eyebrow twitch the other night when I told your mother I had a date.”

Before you could grab the dress at the foot of your bed, Topper beat you to it. You watched him run a hand through his blond strands, making his way to your closet as your words hung in the air.

“That’s because you don’t have the best taste in guys,” you heard him throw over his shoulder.

He was in your closet, and the sound of shuffling fabric and moving hangers reached your ears. When he came back out, there was an entirely different dress hanging off of his hand, and you could only eye it as he neared you. He slowly held it out to you, blue gaze boring into your own.

“Your graduation dress looks better on you,” was his only comment.

You eyed it again, silently—and reluctantly—agreeing. You were slow to take it, met with the very smirk you didn’t want to see, and Topper’s voice carried into the bathroom as you shut the door behind you.

“Still, you’re eighteen, now, and I have to let you do what you want,” you rolled your eyes at his remark. “Even if what you want are lower-class Pogues who can’t even afford to take you on a proper date.”

Your dress wasn’t even zipped all the way when you swung the door open, face pinched as you glared at the other man. Topper was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom, and the lack of humor on his face told you that wasn’t a joke. You told yourself that this wasn’t surprising, very much aware of how classist your brother could be, but it didn’t do anything to lessen your anger.

“Could you be any more of a snob? His family doesn’t have a vacation house and a two-car garage, so now he’s low class?” you scoffed.

Topper tilted his head at you, an expression on his face that begged you to be serious.

“He’s not even picking you up. You’re meeting him at the beach. You call it romantic, I call it cheap and lazy,” he elaborated, straightening and invading your personal space.

You clenched your teeth when he reached out to gently touch your arms, forcing you to turn around without a word. One of his hands lightly touched your hip, holding the dress in place while his other pulled on the zipper. You could feel his cool breath against your neck, and you were unsurprised when another nagging comment met your ears.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be the asshole you think I am if you actually picked men worthy of your time,” he whispered.

When you looked at him over your shoulder, Topper merely shrugged, his expression telling you that he wasn’t happy about it, but he wasn’t going to stop you. Again, there was that disappointment flitting across his features, and it unfortunately had you second guessing things. Some part of you knew that Topper was right, but his quick dismissal of your potential boyfriend made your stubbornness rear its ugly head.

“Don’t wait up for me,” was all you told him as you grabbed your purse.

The only response you got was a slight snort, but Topper said nothing otherwise, both of you knowing that despite what you requested, he was absolutely going to.

The night Topper kissed you, you were drunk out of your mind.

That potential boyfriend became an official boyfriend who turned out to be a piece of shit. Your breakup coincided with some silly party your parents were throwing, Topper being your only age mate on the whole property, so it was only natural that you found yourselves on the back deck that connected to his bedroom. It was dimly lit and hidden away from any curious gazes that might be in the yard below.

“Can you just…not say I told you so?” you mumbled, finger tapping against the glass in your hand. “It’s bad enough that I told the whole family to account for him being here tonight.”

When Topper reached over to steal your drink, fingers grazing yours as he did, you let him.

“You know that’s not my thing,” he said, voice low. “Besides, it’s not like it’d do any good.”

You couldn’t hold in your soft chuckle, louder laughs in the yard overpowering yours, but theirs lacked your bitterness.

You didn’t even know why this breakup bothered you so much. The whole relationship lasted a month, but that did nothing to soften the blow. You’d dived head first into the relationship—as you always did—and so those thirty days just felt like ninety in your mind. You’d been hopeful, excited, and you recalled something a friend said once…about so much of the relationship happening in your head.

You were reluctant to admit that she’d been right.

Not unlike before, you’d made up so much of his personality. You’d given him attributes and an entire personality that didn’t align with reality, and that was why you felt blindsided. Looking back, there was nothing about him that told you he was a patient and loving and understanding guy, so was it really a shock when broke up with you? It’d been a month, and you weren’t ready to have sex with him, and so he responded in a way that guys like him usually did.

Anyone could’ve seen that coming, and yet…

“What’s wrong with me?”

You almost didn’t realize you’d said that, the words coming out in a small whisper before you could swallow them down. You liked to think it was the alcohol talking, but you knew that the brown liquor you’d snuck away was only just making you more honest. You were entertaining thoughts you normally preferred to ignore and shove down.

“Hey…”

Topper’s tone told you that he’d heard you loud and clear, and you only shook your head when his hand gently touched your arm.

“I mean…” you shrugged, throwing a hand out. “Am I not good enough to actually get to know?”

Topper said your name, and you heard him sit the drink down.

“If I don’t put out, am I just…not worth the effort?”

His voice was firmer this time when he said your name, and you hadn’t realized that he moved closer until his hands were on your arms and making you face him. There was a frown on his face as he eyed you, that blue gaze of his tracing your features.

“Stop letting these assholes get to you,” he told you. “You’re better than every single one of them.”

His advice was easier said than done, and so you didn’t respond, only frowning back at him before your eyes fell to the wood, tracing the lines in it.

“You have to say that, Topper,” you sighed. “It doesn’t exactly hit the same coming from you.”

You heard him release a heavy sigh too, his hands coming up to frame your face. When you were forced to look at him again, there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t name. Topper’s blond hair wasn’t in its normal neat state, the light strands kissing his forehead as he ran his gaze over your face. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and so you were relieved when he voiced his thoughts.

“I’m saying it because it’s true…because I don’t actually have to say anything,” he continued, an edge to his voice. “I don’t have to tell you that I think you’re an insecure little girl who dates losers because you don’t have your father’s approval.”

You flinched at that, frown deepening.

“I don’t have to tell you that it pisses me off that you just don’t learn,” he bit out, and you hated how much his words stung.

…because they were true.

“You go after these guys who shouldn’t even have the confidence to approach you, and what kills me is that every time they break your heart, you go out prepared to repeat the process-.”

“Jesus, Topper!” you slapped one of his hands away. “What the hell?”

You sat up straight, tearfully glowering at him. The other guy didn’t look all that sorry, and you angrily wiped your face with a scoff.

“Is this your idea of comforting me?” you choked out.

The blond briefly looked away, and he at least had the sense to have some shame, a sheepish glint passing through his eyes. You watched him swallow, jaw clenching as he seemed to be choosing his next words carefully.

“You could just do so much better,” he finally said, tone thick with disappointment. “…and you choose not to.”

You bristled at his words.

“Let you tell it, no guy is good enough for me, so you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t take your critique to heart,” you spat.

“No guy is good enough for you.”

Topper wasn’t looking at you, but instead was staring straight ahead, one arm resting on a bent knee. The sounds of the party still provided some background noise, but you weren’t focused on that. You were more focused on the tightness in your brother’s jaw, a coldness in his blue eyes that wasn’t unfamiliar to you. Of all his friends, Topper was considered the nice one—the respectable one—but you were probably one of the few people who knew just how nasty he could be.

It was something that only one other person was able to bring out in him.

So…you didn’t know why you said it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

You were trying to get under his skin…but you didn’t know that you were already there.

“Maybe I am…”

Topper’s tone was even, devoid of all humor, and he slowly turned to look at you.

His response took you by surprise, and your lips parted, prepared to jokingly tell him to shut up when his expression gave you pause. There was no mirthful twinkle in his eye, not even a mocking or condescending glint that told you he was playing along and trying to bother you just as much.

Topper was serious.

“Maybe I am jealous,” he continued, shifting to fully face you, now. “So, now what?”

You frowned at him, blinking a few times as your mouth opened and closed. You were all too aware of your heart in your chest…among other things. Like the fact that you two were alone and Topper was really close, and you’d had way too much to drink. The party downstairs felt so far away, and you briefly squeezed your eyes shut.

No, you and Topper didn’t share blood, but this revelation you were slowly coming to terms with unsettled you beyond belief. Topper couldn’t be jealous…not of your exes…because that implied that… You shook your head, looking away and having the strong urge to lie down.

“Do you know what it’s like? To know you give asshole after asshole a chance, and there’s nothing I can do about it?”

“Yeah, because-!”

“I know what I am, Y/N,” he cut you off. “You don’t have to remind me.”

He bitterly mumbled that last part, and you finally looked at him again.

“Topper…you can’t be jealous of my exes,” you slowly told him, the words coming out in a whisper like you were afraid to say it out loud.

You were all too aware of just how close he’d gotten, and it was hard to focus on anything else. You wanted to leave—needed to leave—but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You watched his blue eyes flit over your face, studying you and drinking you in, and you sharply inhaled when you saw his hand lifting out of the corner of your eye.

“Well, that’s too bad,” he quietly responded, hand coming up to take hold of your jaw.

You pushed against his arm—and chest—but the blond wouldn’t budge, and a bout of panic took hold of you.

“Topper-!”

The rest of your words were swallowed and forgotten, his lips moving against yours in a kiss. It—in combination with the alcohol—made your head spin, and you gasped against his lips. He took the opportunity to taste the inside of your mouth, moving closer and pressing his chest to yours. One hand against his chest and one against his arm didn’t deter him, and you jumped when an arm tightly snaked around your waist.

You were practically forced into Topper’s lap, and the more he kissed you, the more you forgot about the party downstairs.

The alcohol made it hard to focus on what was important, your brain getting distracted and becoming preoccupied with the taste of alcohol on his tongue. You were hyperaware of his hand pressing into your waist and the way his other hand was so warm against your jaw, his thumb tracing patterns into your skin. The ministrations had your body heating up, and although you knew why you needed to stop, you couldn’t work your limbs to try harder to.

Your head fell back when Topper’s lips traveled to your throat, and he let your face go, fingers dancing down your frame.

When they found comfort on your thigh, your dress riding up in the commotion, you shuddered. They felt so hot against your skin, and the heat traveled all the way to your stomach, settling deeply there. Without thinking, you parted your thighs a bit, and you felt Topper hum against your throat. The sound was soon followed by his hand disappearing between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips closer.

You were shocked at how easy it was for him to push a finger into you. It dragged a breathy yelp from your lips, your hand coming up to grab onto his shoulder when he added another. You spread your legs more, hips lifting, and you heard Topper curse as he sank his fingers into you. You couldn’t stop moaning, the alcohol making you lose all sense of caution, so you weren’t shocked when he kissed you again.

“Topper,” you gasped against his mouth.

It was wrong, and you remembered why it was wrong…but you couldn’t stop. Before where you’d been trying to push him away, you were now pulling him closer, lifting your hips to meet every curve of his fingers and toes curling against the wood of the balcony. You were dripping around him, now, something that would’ve embarrassed you had you been in your right mind, but at the moment, you only wanted to come.

When you did, he let your waist go to cover your mouth.

You couldn’t stop murmuring and mewling into the palm of his hand, his other hand still pushing fingers into you and circling your bundle of nerves with his thumb. Stars danced in your vision, and you felt the blond lean in and press kisses against your throat and collarbone. You were still trembling when you started to frown, all too aware of his fingers inside of you as you wondered what you’d just done.

You ignored the heat of familiar gazes as you grabbed your things, wanting to be literally anywhere else.

Hitting a few balls with Rafe turned into hitting a few with Kelce and Rafe and then eventually Topper and Kelce and Rafe. The arrival of your brother had triggered a drastic mood shift, and as much as you’d tried to hide it, you didn’t think you were doing a good job. Especially once the gathering was moved inside to get something to eat. Unable to pretend anymore, you feigned an illness.

“Y/N, at least let me drive you…”

“I’d rather walk,” you told Topper, avoiding his eye and declining his offer.

There was no doubt in your mind that the other two picked up on the tension, confirmed when Rafe’s voice carried as you exited the building.

“Geez,” he’d exhaled. “What’s going on with you two?”

The question still lingered in your mind all the way back home.

What’s going on with you two… How loaded that answer was, and you yourself couldn’t even convey it fully. Memories of the party had plagued your mind for weeks, now, and despite how you should feel about it, you were learning that it wasn’t so simple. Your stomach flipped for multiple reasons as you recalled the feeling of Topper’s hands on you.

The entire ordeal was beyond dubious, your head in the toilet later that night only proof of how much you’d had to drink. Finding out that your brother thought of you in ways a brother shouldn’t should’ve gone in a whole other direction. The lack of blood relation did little to lessen your uneasiness and guilt, chest aching uncomfortably at the memory of his fingers inside of you.

Your parents were married, had been for eight years, now.

You were well and fully settled in as a family unit at this point…and yet…

That did nothing to lessen the heat deep in your gut when you thought about Topper kissing you and touching you in ways no one ever had before. It was something that kept you up at night, and on particularly bad nights, you found your own hand drifting between your legs to try and replicate the same feelings he’d pulled from you under the cover of darkness while your parents had been none the wiser.

To say that things were awkward and messed up was an understatement.

You were angry with him…but you couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was a source of great conflict for you, and unsure of how to act around the one person you’d trusted the most, you simply opted with ignoring him and avoiding him as best as you could. Not only was this noticeable to any and everyone you knew—your combined presence a normality—but it also pissed Topper off.

Very much.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

Those were the words that greeted you a few days later as you washed dishes. His mother was out, and your father was upstairs in his study, and despite the fact that you very much wanted to do what he said you couldn’t, you acknowledged him, anyway.

“I can try…”

When he said your name, it was softly spoken, but you weren’t oblivious to the edge in his voice.

“Can we talk for a sec…” he suggested. “I mean, like, a real conversation.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you-.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” he breathed, his hand coming up to rest on your arm. “You have a lot to say to me, and I don’t care if you just want to curse me out because you’ve never held back before.”

Roughly dropping a plate back into the water, you took a deep breath. Facing Topper, you really looked at him for the first time in weeks. You hated that despite the circumstances of what happened that night, he looked different to you…less like a brother… Such a thought made you briefly close your eyes, and when you opened them again, you were angry again.

“What is wrong with you?” you breathlessly wondered.

Your tone had his jaw clenching, and you watched him look away. You didn’t pull your gaze away as he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, and when he looked at you again, you were surprised to find a hint of anger in his blue eyes.

“You’re treating me like…like I’m some kind of pervert,” he whispered.

Your heart did clench at that, and you couldn’t pretend to ignore how that accusation made you feel. You were closer to Topper than you were to anyone else, and despite your anger, you still loved him—cared about him. No, you didn’t think that, but the circumstances of that night—and the circumstances surrounding this entire situation—were messing with your head.

“…and instead of like the guy who has always cared about you.”

You swallowed.

“I fucked up that night,” he admitted to you. “I messed up, and I can see that it’s freaked you out, and I’m sorry.”

Your eyes burned at his apology, and even though some part of you wanted something else just as much, you knew that an apology was what you should want more than anything. That night had to be a one-off thing, something to never be repeated. If you wanted to keep your sanity and have things go back to normal, you had to forget about it, and you had to convince Topper to do the same.

“Topper, we can’t…we can’t do anything like that ever again,” you whispered, and you watched his face even out. “I can’t tell you how to feel…”

The blond nodded, swiping his tongue between his lips.

“…but I’m telling you that I need things to go back to normal…”

Topper’s shoulders sagged at that, and you struggled to swallow.

“You’re the one person that I can talk to about almost anything…and the one person I know I can count on, and… I’m feeling really unsure about that, right now, and I don’t like that, and it’s scary…”

You trailed off when Topper wrapped his arms around you, gently shushing you.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly apologized again. “I’m sorry, and you’re right.”

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, and you shuddered when his lips grazed your skin as he spoke.

“I was being a selfish asshole that night,” he whispered. “Obviously this can’t be anything else.”

His hands moved up and down your back in soothing gestures, and while it was reminiscent of something he always did to calm you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wonder about what other meaning it might’ve always had. Telling yourself that Topper cared more about what you wanted instead of chasing the high of an alcohol fueled night, you hugged him back, accepting his apology.

It was storming the night you lost your virginity to your stepbrother.

The loud rain and harsh winds and booming thunder all seemed to work together to drown out the sounds of your breathless moans and surprised gasps. Topper’s forearms were pressed into the pillow on either side of your head as he snapped his hips against yours, the mix of pain and pleasure jumbling your brain. With the power out, the only source of light came from the occasional flash of lightning.

A late-night conversation had dwindled down into nothing the longer the night dragged on. Dozing off at his side wasn’t abnormal, your descent into fatigue made all the more quicker when accompanied by the sound of rain hitting the window. Despite your brief rough patch after that night, you and Topper started treating each other like you always had. It wasn’t without difficulty. After all, there were nights where you still woke up with the memory of his lips touching yours, but it was easy enough to ignore…

Waking up to the feel of an arm around your waist and a hardness against your thigh was not.

You feigned sleep, unsure of what to do or how to proceed and even unsure if Topper was awake and wholly aware. The wind knocked the shutters against the window, and the room was briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning. The thunder and rain were all you could hear, even deaf to your own breathing, but especially Topper’s. However, when you turned your head, you learned that the blond was very much awake.

You didn’t have time to properly gather your thoughts about the kiss, Topper pulling you against him and rolling on top of you before you could. Your mind had been going a mile a minute to make sense of what was happening, and by the time you did, it was too late—his bare chest was pressing against yours and his arms were caging you in.

“Oh my God,” you’d breathed the moment he pushed his cock into you.

The words had escaped from both the shock and the pain, repeating them as you also registered the way your stomach flipped.

“It’s okay,” he whispered in the darkness, a miracle that you could hear him. “You’re okay.”

Were you?

“Topper,” you’d murmured, your tone making your thoughts clear.

“I fucking love you,” was his defense. “Don’t you get that?”

He remained still inside of you for some time, both of you quietly going back and forth.

“We can’t do this,” you’d hissed.

“You saying we can’t isn’t the same as you saying you don’t want to…”

It was the truth, and you weren’t going to lie, but you could only manage to shake your head.

When he started to move, you gasped, somehow getting used to the feel of him in the time you argued. Feeling him pull out before pushing his way back into you had your back arching, absentmindedly lifting your hips. Every reason as to why you shouldn’t do this became less and less important the longer he fucked you. Your nails clawed at his skin, and Topper hissed at the feeling.

He nipped at your neck, teeth gently pulling at the skin while he plunged his cock into you. You felt so full and so stretched in a way that your fingers—nor his—could compare to. All that was left of the pain was a dull ache, even that becoming overshadowed by the pleasure his thrusts brought to you. You were thankful for the storm, sure you wouldn’t even be able to keep quiet if you tried.

“None of those assholes loved you,” he panted against your lips, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck. “None of them will ever love you like I do.”

Your fingers pressed into his arm and back, breath hitching at a particularly hard thrust.

When he kissed you, just like that night, you kissed him back. Only this time, you weren’t drunk. You were perfectly sober, and you moaned against his lips at the feel of his cock sinking into you. This was the wettest you’d ever been, dripping around him and making a mess of his sheets, no doubt. His hair was damp with sweat, the soft strands pressing against your forehead, and his skin fared no better. Your hands slid over him with ease, a thin layer of sweat coating both of your frames.

Topper was still fucking you when the thunder stopped, and the rain slackened. It was still dark, but you found yourself biting your lip in an effort to not give yourselves away. You found it difficult, the blonde’s cock hitting something inside of you that made you shudder and clench down onto him. When his hands trailed down to grab onto your waist, his fingers dug into your skin as he lifted your hips for you.

You could just make him out in the darkness, his gaze holding yours as you held onto him and fluttered around his cock. You could feel him push himself to his knees, and you dazedly reached down to cover his hands with your own. He stroked something inside of you that pushed you closer and closer to the edge, and the moment you fell over, you sank your teeth into your lip so hard that you tasted blood.

Your vision momentarily went completely dark, only able to focus on the feel of you tightening around Topper. You took note of his hands on your waist, your hands on his, the movement of the bed and the soft rain outside. As your breathing slowed, you also noticed the sloppiness of his thrusts, and your vision refocused just as the blond pulled out.

His sigh reached your ears as he came onto your stomach.

Aside from the rain, the only sound in the room was that of your soft and labored breathing. You were equally awed and shocked, almost feeling like you’d just had an out of body experience. You were trembling, but not just because you were cold, and sensing this, Topper wrapped his arms around you.

“Topper…”

Your tone was unsure, too many emotions fighting for dominance as you marinated in the aftermath of what just happened. His chest was to your back—heart still racing—and his only response was a quiet ‘tomorrow’. The hand that wasn’t resting on your stomach found a home on the front of your throat, and Topper softly repeated himself when he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

#dark!topper thornton #dark!topper thornton x reader #topper thornton #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton fanfiction #obx #outer banks #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction

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bumblesimagines · 2 months

Note

we never should have crossed that line.

keep this between us.

Alicent Hightower

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, spoilers for season 2 especially episode 6, slightly suggestive content? not rlly, mentions of an arranged marriage, all my homies hate Jasper Wylde even if he has 29 children!!

I'm obsessed with this woman

Servants, guards, and courtiers were swift to step out of the Dowager Queen's way as she strode down the hall, her earrings swaying and tapping against her with each quick step. She made a beeline directly for the bedchambers of Lord (Y/N) and offered the guard posted outside a nod when he opened one of the doors for her, bowing his head deeply in respect before shutting the door behind her with an echoing thud.

Alicent inhaled deeply through her nose, her laced fingers pulling apart as she swept her gaze over the room before settling her full attention on (Y/N) and Grand Maester Orwyle. She swallowed, greeting Grand Maester Orwyle with a polite smile as the older man bowed and collected some papers in his hand, turning to the lord and bowing as well before he left the room. Alicent waited for the thud of the doors to shut again before dropping the smile.

"I was rather disappointed when I heard the Prince Regent had removed you from the Small Council, Your Grace. You were one of the few I could listen to without having the overwhelming desire to bash my head against the table." (Y/N) spoke bluntly, as he always did, his gaze more focused on reading the letter in hand to pay her any actual mind. Alicent almost sighed at that; noblemen and their blatant disrespect.

"Exceptionally kind words for a man such as yourself, Lord (Y/N)," Alicent said and he chuckled quietly. "I came here after hearing of the saddening news of Lord Wylde's injury; such a taxing thing he remained abed during this morrow's meeting."

"As I told the Council this morning, such is the burden of growing older, Your Grace." Lord (Y/N) responded, crumbling the letter in hand and tossing it aside to tumble along the table. He leaned back in his chair and finally met her unwavering stare, his eyes icy and indifferent. "I'm certain you know how.. clumsy older men can be, Your Grace."

Alicent hummed softly in vague agreement, her fingers beginning to toy with the rings adorning her knuckles. "Yes, though it is a rather curious thing he so violently fell down the stairs not long after his proposition during my last meeting, no? I noticed it vexed you for him to speak on our behalf."

"I'm sure we can agree either of us hardly need a fool offering a betrothal at our age. You've done your duty of wife and mother to the late King Viserys and I've done my husband duties to my late wife. I may need a son, yes, but I am quite content with my daughter for the time being. She's certainly more of a man than Jasper Wylde is at just the mere age of five."

Alicent nearly winced at the mention of his daughter. She saw her often, mostly racing about in the gardens with a poor maid or two rushing after her to catch her before she could hurt herself. It stung, occasionally, to look upon the young girl. She reminded her all too well of Rhaenyra in her youth with her energy and commanding demeanor, eager to act like a boy instead of a proper lady. Sometimes it hurt to watch her with (Y/N) and wonder what her life would've been like if her own father had treated her with such care, if he'd indulged her desires and encouraged her to do what she wished instead of choosing for her.

Clearing her throat, she nodded. "Yes, we are in agreement. Although, opposing it as strongly as you did was... unnecessary." Alicent said, slightly lifting the skirt of her dress as she stepped down the two steps before her and walked further into the room, releasing her dress and feeling it skim along the floor.

"If I recall, you strongly opposed it as well, did you not, Your Grace?" (Y/N) questioned and rose from his chair, the scraping of it being pushed back echoing through the room. He tilted his head at her, the papers and letters scattered across the table forgotten in favor of watching her. "Why does it bother you so?"

Her eyes jumped away, unable to admit to herself that her pride had been wounded. She was still young and beautiful, her body naturally slim despite bearing four pregnancies nearly back-to-back, something desired by many women. She'd been the Queen once, still technically was despite Helaena's ascension due to her marriage. But (Y/N), widowed and in need of an heir, brushed away the very idea of them marrying as if it brought insult to him and his house. Her memory flickered back to a specific night but she pushed it away as quickly as she'd recalled.

"Most men without a proper heir would leap at the opportunity to wed a lady of age, especially if said lady is from one of the Great Houses. I had assumed, upon hearing his proposal, that you might have... agreed." Alicent's eyes darted back when (Y/N) strode closer to her, the toying of her rings momentarily stopping as they looked upon each other. "Though, I... I am sure you would much prefer to find a wife on your own. I know you and the late Lady (L/N) were good friends before marriage. I'm certain there are plenty of other ladies you must have in mind."

"Is that all, Your Grace?" (Y/N) asked gently, his fingers brushing some of her auburn hair over her shoulder. She swallowed again, the fiddling of her rings returning. "Are you certain it has... little to do with the very fact we shared a bed once?"

Heat rushed to her face and she swatted at his hand when his lips curled in amusement, an embarrassed scowl forming on her face. "We never should have crossed that line. It was.. improper."

The memories rushed forward against her wishes, filling her mind with the memory of him. It was all still vivid in her head, so vivid she could feel the ghost of his touch along her body and the taste of wine on his tongue after a discussion shared over some wine. She hadn't meant for things to escalate but she'd been so overwhelmed with everything occurring at once that she hadn't been able to stop herself before kissing him that night. The tingling feeling at the reminder he'd been more than pleased to tug her on his lap and soothe her worries away filled her veins.

"You swore we'd keep this between us." Alicent reminded him as she spun around to face away from him, unable to look him in the eyes as she folded her arms over her stomach and stared forward. A soft, surprised puff of air left her when his chest pressed against her back, his arms wrapping loosely around her waist. "Do not touch me." She demanded half-heartedly but made no attempt to step out of his hold.

"Was Wylde a simple excuse for you to visit my room and release your frustrations over a bruised ego?" (Y/N) asked quietly, a shiver running down her spine when he brushed his lips over the side of her neck. "I'm certain you no I'm no stranger to taking care of those who insult or challenge me, Your Grace. I'd be more than happy to extend the service to you. There are.. plenty of fools who believe themselves more important than the Dowager Queen."

Alicent's lips pressed together, her head tilting to look at him. "You'd do that for me?" Her voice came out soft and her eyes nearly fluttered shut when their lips brushed.

"Of course, Your Grace."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon x y/n #house of the dragon x male reader #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x male reader #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower x male reader #alicent hightower x you #alicent hightower x y/n

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dianawinchester03 · 6 months

Text

Prologue - Enter Y/N

Series Masterlist

Y/N's POV

I straighten out my shirt,sighing as I watch the corpse ignite into flames in-front of my eyes.

Salt and Burn. Check. The chilly air in the cemetery engulfs my body, I warm my hands over the burning corpse, rubbing my hands together to gather the heat.

Internally rolling my eyes, I pick up my duffle bag and make my way towards my bike. My pride and joy. Quinn's a Harley-Davidson VRSC. I named her after my favorite DC Comic book character, Harley Quinn. Original huh?

Breaking me out of my thoughts I hear my phone ring. Fishing my phone out of my pocket as I lean against Quinn. Rolling my eyes, I answer roughly after seeing the contact.

"I'm alive, f/n" I say hastily. I could practically hear the frown crease on my fathers face with the way I answer. Don't get me wrong, I love the man but boy can he be a pain. "I'm glad to hear you're okay baby....how're things" He asks.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth answering "Everything is fine, I just finished a quick salt and burn of an old pastor who had been terrorizing atheists" I chuckle ironically at the fact. Like father like daughter, my dad chuckles over the phone. "Wonderful, I knew you'd do well on your own" He says lightly.

"Is that so?" I say sarcastically. "Aren't you the same one who said, and I quote, 'Don't come back if you go out there on your own, don't call, don't text, pretend I'm dead' " I mock his rugged voice as I quote his words to me two years ago bitterly. Granted he's called me every so often since our falling out but I haven't dared called him.

Flashback

September 2003

"Daddy I'm 20 years old! I can hunt in my own. I've been doing it since I've been in diapers!" I yell frustrated at my father. "You better watch your tone with me! Who the fuck do you think you're yelling at!?" He screams back at me causing me to flinch.

"You're not ready! I know the shit that's out there in the world and I'd prefer if you and I do it together. There is no reason we can't hunt together!" He yells in my face, causing me to flinch in habit.

"Your obsession with finding the thing that killed mom is the reason I can't work with you" I say harshly. The look on his face alone, scared the crap outta me. When I was younger, anything he said would scare me. I'd listen to him and follow his orders like a good little soldier but I'm sick of it.

Two decades of this crap, it was bound to happen. My mother died in my nursery when I was six months old. Pinned to the ceiling just like Sam's mom, only a couple months after Mary died, my mom died.

Mom and Dad were childhood friends with Sam and Dean's mom. They bonded through all of them coming from families of hunters. Basically my parents were childhood sweethearts which honestly touches my heart.

After knocking back a few, dad could tell the story of when he fell in love with mom a million times. He loved her with everything. I always wondered if I'd have something like that. Frankly, I don't believe love like that exists anymore.

My mother was also a psychic, a powerful one too. She basically had these abilities like seeing into the past/present/future, moving objects with her mind, summoning/binding ghosts and reading minds. Psychics develop their abilities by 18. She could even communicate with the dead.

She and my dad hunted together after meeting and settled down in Lawrence, deciding to have a family. Giving it up for the apple pie life. Honestly sometimes I think my dad's disappointed at the fact that I'm not like my mother.

"So you don't care about your mother then?" He says back to me coldly, rage dripping from his voice. "I never said that dad! I just can't deal with you every single goddamn day breathing down my neck. I love you so much daddy but shit! I can't take this anymore" Tears prick at my eyes as I pick up my helmet and army green duffel bag. I throw on my leather jacket and head for the front door.

Jumping on my bike, before I could put on my helmet I hear his yell from the safehouse. "Listen to me and listen to me good Y/N L/N. Don't come back if you go out there on your own, don't call, don't text, pretend I'm dead". My heart jumped out of my chest, my helmet clutched to my side. Angrily I wipe my tears away from my cheeks "Fine". With that I snap my helmet on and make my way out of the driveway and into the night.

Present Time

September 2005

My father sighs heavily over the phone because of my habit to hold a grudge. I was surprised last year when he called me for my birthday to say the least. Since then, he's called me every so often. "Listen baby, I didn't call to argue. I just wanted to make sure you're okay"

"I'm fine dad, look I've gotta go. I'm hungry and tired. Okay? We'll talk whenever" Without letting him say another word, I hang up. You might think I'm being harsh but if you've lived a day in the life of my childhood, you'd be just as angry as me right now.

I straddle my bike, placing my helmet on my head. The roar of the engine fills the quiet cemetery, revving the engine I make my way towards a local dive bar to pick up some grub and hit the hay.

________________________________

"Say your prayers little one,

Don't forget my son,

To include everyoneeee"

I jump awake hearing the beginning guitar riff and first couple lyrics of "Enter Sandman" by Metallica from my phone. Without looking at the contact I click decline, turning over to see the handsome naked man next to me. I slightly jump before realizing he's the guy I met at the bar. I'm not one for constant one night stands but sometimes I need a release. Especially after that call with my dad. I groan from the pounding pain in my head. Great, I'm gonna get a bitch of a hangover.

Sighing I check the time. 3:33 am. Who the fuck would call me at this hour? It's a bit creepy no? I put my phone back onto the nightstand and wrap my arms around my mystery man, resting my head on his chest. Mark? Mike? Im not sure. He stirs a bit but eventually falls back asleep. As if on cue my phone rings again.

I let out an exhaustrated groan before turning over and answering my phone. "Whoever the fuck this is. you better have a damn good reason to be calling me at this ungodly hour because I am *this* close to reaching into this phone and going all terminator on your ass!" I whisper yell angrily into my phone while I hastily put on my flannel, buttoning it up and slipping on my panties as I was still naked.

The deep humorous chuckle that I, all too well recognize echo in my ear. "Sorry princess, didn't mean to interrupt your night. I've been trying to call you for weeks and couldn't get a hold onto ya" My heart flutters at the sound of Dean's voice, he's one of my best friends. He's always called me "princess" and I've always called him "charming". His brother Sam and me have always been closer, being the same age and all. Me and Sam shared a stronger bond.

Where as Dean and me....there was never a Dean and me I guess. He's sees me as a little sister but while growing up I had a slight crush on him. I always reminded myself that he'd never see me like that so I just discarded it. One thing for sure, he's always protected me when necessary. Same with Sam, he's like a brother to me.

Growing up Dean teased me and Sam all the time, joking calling me his little girlfriend. Saying we'll get married and all that crap. But me and Sam came to the conclusion that we are just friends. Hell. We're basically siblings.

It's kinda bothered me knowing I had a crush on Dean but that died down when I hit my teens and puberty. We all grew up together going from motel to motel to Bobby's house to motel over and over. Our dads were hunting partners, my dad would leave me with Sam and Dean.

Dean always in charge of course, John made sure to enforce that. I tried my best to help Dean out because no kid should have that much responsibility but he'd always say "I've got it" or "It's okay y/n/n, just go play with Sammy". I love those boys with all my heart.

Last I'd seen Dean for my 21st last year, he took me out and I quote he wanted to be "the first person to see me take my first legal drink".

I turn around to see Mark/Mike stirring in his sleep again, grabbing pack of cigarettes and lighter I walk towards the door and unlock it, stepping outside the sleazy motel room. I respond to Dean "Jesus Christ Dean, it's 3 am" I roll my eyes as I flick my lighter, putting one of the cigarettes to my lips, lighting it and taking a puff.

"Like I said, been trying to reach ya but you're basically a ghost" He says ironically. "Sorry man, I've been trying to avoid pops" I say, taking another drag. "Yeah I actually called him to get a hold onto you, told me you hung up on him. Kinda cold not gonna lie" Dean says lightly chuckling and it all clicks into place, that's why my dad called me.

"Shit, my bad. How have you been? You alright?" I ask worried, leaning against the door of my room. I just know he has that shit eating signature grin on his face when he hears my tone. "Awww is the Princess worried about me" He teases. "You better watch that tone before I hang up on you too" I mock threaten, teasing him back, trying to fight the smile on my face.

I take a drag from my cigarette that's nearly done as he dramatically gasps "You wouldn't dare" He say's melodramatically like an old lady in a soap opera and I laugh "Try me, Winchester" I chuckle as we share a laugh. "It's good to hear from you, Charming. What's the problem though? I know it has to be serious for you to call me at this hour" I queried, waiting for an answer.

"It's Dad, Y/N. He's gone on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days" He says, his voice somber. "He went on a case and hasn't updated you? That's strange" I say as I out my cigarette on the door still, now leaning against the railings over the ground floor of the motel.

"I'm on my way to California. I'm gonna grab Sammy from Stanford and head over to Jericho. That's where dad was working his case. You wanna tag along?" He asks hopefully. Without hesitation I say "I'm in Phoenix, just finished a milk run. If I leave as soon as sunrise I can make it for probably the next morning with a few pit stops"

"Great! I'll see you soon princess" He says flirtatiously. "Yeah yeah whatever Charming" I say chuckling "Wait did you say you're gonna grab Sammy? Have you guys talked since...." I ask cautiously. "Nah we haven't, but I'm hoping to change that. Have you?" He asks now sounding a little down. Truth is, I've talked to Sam a couple well times since he left for Stanford a couple years ago. I supported his decision to leave hunting and live a normal life. It's all we've ever talked about as kids.

He's updated me on his life at Stanford, he's got a girlfriend now. Jessica Moore, boy is she gorgeous. My little Sammy is all grown up. Ignoring the fact he's a couple months older than me and never lets me live it down but that's besides the point. He's happy and I feel bad that Dean has to go get him, but his dad is missing. They always butted heads but if it were me I'd wanna know. He needs to know.

"Yeah a couple times..." I say softly. "He misses you Dean" I add, trying to reassure Dean, knowing him he's probably overthinking going to see Sam. Dean sighs heavily before saying "I do too. I miss you as well you nutcase" I smile at this before replying "I miss you too you asshat. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow" He says and with that I hang up. I walk back into my motel room to see Mark/Mike still asleep on the bed. I gather my things, tossing them into my duffel bag. After taking a shower I wait a couple hours for sunrise so I can leave.

Right as I'm about to pick up my helmet Mark/Mike wakes up, causing me to freeze. "Didn't take you for a dine and dash type" he says chuckling. I laugh as well "I'll take that as a compliment, I'm actually on my way out to meet a friend. It's important"

"That's cool, it was nice meeting you Y/N" he says nicely before laying back on the bed "You too Mark" I say back smiling, his face drops "It's Max". Crap.

Authors Note

HOLY SHIT! I'm so excited I can't. If you haven't noticed this is my first fanfiction, not my first book. The others I've deleted because they were embarrassing and I wrote them when I was 12 lol.

This book however, I plan on sticking to it. I've been contemplating doing a series rewrite on Supernatural for monthssss. Honestly I've read so much and there are plots I loved but also hated in some. So I decided to add a bit of a twist on mine.

I really hope whoever decided to read this that you like the plot I'm going with and I'm sure you've noticed that y/n is a little cold towards her father. I'm gonna be honest, I'm writing based off my my experience with my dad.

I do plan on developing their relationship but in the later episodes/chapters. Whoever is reading I just want to say thank you for giving my book a chance and I do hope you like the plot I am going to use for y/n's story.

As I am bisexual, I've been thinking about making y/n bisexual also but I know there's a lot of straight girlies on Wattpad. So I'd like to know your opinion if I should add that fact. Also I know Harley-Davidson VRSC came out in 2006 but this is a fictional book so let's just pretend it came out in the 90s or something lol.

Side note.

Y/N- Your name

Y/N/N- your nickname

F/N - your father's name

M/N- your mother's name

Xoxo

#spn #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #sam and dean

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calaisreno · 4 months

Text

Sixth Sense

885 Words / Prompt: Intuition

Molly notices.

She’s not really a friend of John’s. They're friendly, but she never has much to say to him. He’s kind to her, and probably aware of how she felt about Sherlock.

As one of the few who knows Sherlock is alive, she has a terrible advantage over John Watson. Not the one she used to wish for.

They met in her lab, when Mike Stamford came looking for Sherlock, to introduce him to John. Well, nobody introduced her. Sherlock was fixated on her lipstick for some reason. She remembers John’s eyes on her, then turning to focus on Sherlock. That was the day she finally figured out that Sherlock wasn’t interested in her. In time, her crushing disappointment was lessened by the realisation that he was gay. It wouldn’t have mattered what shade of lipstick she wore or however many coffees she brought him; he would never look at her the way he looked at John.

At first she thought John was straight. After her blunder with Jim from IT (who turned out to be not only gay, but also a criminal) she consulted her friend Jasper, another gay man. “How can you tell?”

Asking this, she wasn’t thinking about Sherlock, or even Jim. What she was wondering about was John, who sometimes looked at Sherlock as if he’d hung the moon, but still dated ridiculous women.

Of course men have different taste in women, just as women prefer certain types of men. She was attracted to men like Sherlock— tall, pale, Byronic hair, blindingly intelligent. Men who entered rooms with a swirl, who spoke with voices that made her shiver. They were hard to find, and to expect such a man also to be kind, romantic, and not gay was apparently too much.

John dated women who were a bit out of reach. Taller women, confident women, the kind who didn’t need the right lipstick to be noticed. The kind who didn’t own three cats and spend the holidays with their ageing mother. These unobtainable women never lasted more than two dates. And he never seemed to mind.

John is not Molly’s type. She appreciates his abilities as a doctor. He has the right manner with Sherlock, a bit snarky, but not mean. He’s not tall, not gracefully slender. He has a temper. He’s blond and a bit sweary, good-looking in an average way, an ordinary bloke who goes out for pints with people like Greg Lestrade and Mike Stamford.

She’d barely noticed him that day in the lab. He’s a man who doesn’t stand out, who completely disappears in the shadow of a man like Sherlock.

John and she are that awkward thing: friends of friends. He would never introduce her as, my friend, Molly. It would be Sherlock’s friend, Molly. If he asked a favour of her, she would do it because Sherlock would appreciate it, not because she feels any obligation to John.

She doesn’t hate him, or wish anything bad on him. She might have felt jealous for a few days, simply because Sherlock never forgets John the way he forgets about her the minute she’s out of his sight.

She noticed him watching John, usually when he wasn’t looking. He looked sad. And she thought, I know what that feels like.

The memory of that look weighs on her, weeks after Sherlock’s funeral. A hard day, that was, sitting in a pew trying to fake sadness as she watched others grieve.

As she watched John grieve.

What does it mean that John Watson looks like he’s lost everything? She sees him at the hospital sometimes, his hooded gaze avoiding the eyes of others, his psychosomatic limp making him wince with pain.

She can’t say what it is that tells her. Maybe she’s just practiced for so long on other men that she’s developed a sixth sense about it.

John loved Sherlock— not just as a friend. And he’s probably just now realising that. She supposes that quite a few men dismiss those feelings of attraction. Jasper says, all men are gay, potentially. It’s just easier to stay in the closet.

There are various reasons for that, and she doesn’t want to speculate what John’s are, but she observes his grief, and knows regret is a large part of that.

Sherlock will be back, someday. He wasn’t very clear about when. Six months, maybe a year. But she thinks he’s being optimistic; he wants to come home to John, not leave him to grieve for years.

And by the time he does make it back, John will have found another woman. Blonde and pretty. Nothing like the dark beauties he used to date. But still, clever like Sherlock, a bit imperious and demanding. He will look at her the way Sherlock always looked at him, when he didn’t notice.

She could tell him. There’s only her promise to stop her from doing that. Could John keep the secret? Sherlock told her not knowing will keep him alive, that knowing would put him in danger.

She’s not in danger. Nobody thinks she mattered that much to Sherlock. Her feigned grief is taken as real, but everybody knows she’ll get over it. Just a crush.

As for John Watson, this might just kill him.

That’s a problem she could solve.

#mayprompts2024 #POV Molly Hooper #sixth sense

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fictionadventurer · 8 months

Text

When Emma stepped through the shining door in her palace's library, there was a blaze of light, a roar of wind, and then she landed on her hands and knees on the wooden floor of a suburban bedroom. She recognized the horse pictures on the wall, the stuffed animals on the bed, the yellow curtains fluttering in the window. She was smaller, thinner, lighter, and felt as though a world's weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

A woman's face appeared in the open doorway; every curl of her short hairstyle was familiar. "There you are, Emma!" she said cheerfully. "I've got your dressed washed for church tomorrow. Now come on downstairs. It's almost time for supper."

Behind Emma, the doorway had become an ordinary closet, cluttered with clothes and toys. The clock read twenty minutes past five. She'd been away only ten minutes.

A moment ago, she'd been the powerful queen of a vast realm whose rule had brought a golden age of prosperity and peace. Now she was twelve years old again, in her familiar old bedroom, safe with a mother that she hadn't seen in thirty years.

Emma wept for joy.

Emma's bookshelf contained one new volume--an exquisitely-bound brown leather book, with a tooled and embossed cover, containing a beautifully illustrated account of all the tales of Emma's reign. Her cousin Tessa--as good as a sister--was enchanted by it, and believed Emma without question when she told her that the stories were true.

"Don't you miss it?" Tessa asked, one night a few months after her return.

"Sometimes," Emma said. "But I'm glad to be home."

"You like it here?"

"Why not? We have chocolate here. And giraffes. And shooting stars. Our world is just as amazing as Athelor."

"In Athelor, you were a queen."

"Here, I'm not," Emma said. "Do you know how nice it is to wake up in the morning and do things that don't affect the fate of an entire nation?"

"But isn't it disappointing? In Athelor, you knew you were important."

"Who says I'm not important now?"

Emma told her mom about Athelor often. Mom thought Emma was just making up wonderful stories.

That was all right. Because the stories were wonderful.

After school, sometimes Mom would take Emma out for pizza. Emma would climb into a carriage that moved with a heart of fire, to a room bathed in enough light to make the night as bright as day, where she ate the cuisine of a far-off realm, and then rode home singing along with minstrels whose voices had been captured long ago and far away.

Emma always marveled that she lived in a world with such magic.

Emma grew. And matured. It came with different milestones here, and happened slower, but it had its share of struggles.

On nights when she felt small, helpless and afraid, she remembered that she'd once led a host of warriors--human, animal, and elfin--into battle with a horde of monsters and come out victorious.

She might not be in Athelor, but she was still a queen.

She could fill out a college application.

Emma was leaving the campus library with an armload of books when a sparrow spoke to her from a branch above her head. Emma looked up and saw at once it was an Athelorian sparrow.

"Iprit!" Emma cried. The sparrow had been the most devoted of the queen's messengers. "How glad I am to see you!"

"My queen," Iprit said, bowing her head. "I have found you at last."

"Is Athelor in danger?" Emma asked, suddenly fearful.

"She is well and at peace. Berna rules well in your stead."

"As I knew she would," Emma said with a smile. Emma had spent years choosing her successor. Her elfin advisor, though young, was bright and brave and loved Athelor with all her heart.

"But she rules as regent only. She would not take the crown until she knew what had become of you."

"Now you see that I am well," Emma said. "Alive and well and happy."

"Will you not come home to us, my queen?" Iprit asked. "The door stands open to you. Take up the crown and rule your people once more."

For a moment, Emma's heart yearned for it. Athelor called to her, a bright, beautiful dream, a wondrous adventure.

A gust of wind swirled in the branches over her head, sending a crimson shower of leaves down upon her. She gazed out across the campus, at a world she loved. She thought of her mother, Tessa, her classmates, her studies, her friendships, and the future she was building here.

Where was her duty? Here or Athelor?

Another wind came, gentle yet brisk, and Emma knew it for the wind that had taken her to Athelor and brought her home. It lifted her spirits and cleared her mind so she could hear the voice that had never led her wrong in her years as queen.

Emma met Iprit's gaze. "Berna may take up the crown with my blessing. I have done what I must for Athelor. Another world needs me now."

Iprit bowed in a bird-like way, spreading out one wing. "As you wish, my queen. But what shall I tell the scribes? How ends the reign of Queen Emma the Wise?"

"As all good stories should," Emma said. She shifted her voice into the melodic cadence of the best of the palace storytellers. "After many years of good and faithful service, the queen found her way home, where she lived happily all the rest of her days."

#adventures in writing #anyway i'm still annoyed that all portal fantasy takes seem to assume the kids hate coming back to our world #and/or have families that assume they're insane #i just wanted one kid who could see the good sides of both worlds #so this happened #i considered making it a bullet point list but realized i could turn it into a flash-fictiony thing with only a little more work

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da-rulah · 3 months

Text

Heads Will Roll - A RHRN Inspired Short

*MAJOR RITE HERE RITE NOW SPOILERS AHEAD*

Do not read on if you don’t want to be spoiled. It’s literally the biggest spoiler in the movie, and I am giving you plenty of warning. Seriously. If you read on and get spoiled, don’t come crying to me in my ask box. I am warning you.

A/N: This is my own continuation of the ending of the movie. An alternate ending, if you will... It includes spoilers from the final scene, arguably one of the biggest spoilers, and continues from there. Yell at me in my ask box if you want, but this was fun to write...

Rating: Mature Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, panic attacks

S P O I L E R S A H E A D

The empire is now built.

And he’s so proud of himself. It’s been a long road, he’s worked hard; even cut down people who got in his way... But he’s here now, and despite the sudden passing of his mother, he can’t help the rising feeling of accomplishment – nay, smugness that sits in his chest.

Of course, his mother stands beside him now as a spectre, joining his father on the spiritual plane that seemingly only he can see into. He wonders why that is sometimes, but it’s a minor detail and one he’s grateful for. At least this way, his mother hasn’t truly left his side. But he does wish his damned father would.

“We seem to have remodelled here,” Copia remarks as they stand in the hallway of the Ministry; all those months of touring, he wasn’t aware of the changes. He likes them, more to his taste. It’s as if they were made with his ascension in the ranks in mind. He must thank Saltarian for that later. “Good, good...”

“Well, I’m not in charge anymore,” Sister Imperator sighs dramatically, a little bitter than she can’t continue her role from beyond the grave. But it is what it is, and she’s sure her son is going to do a good job in her place.

“No, you are not,” Copia gleefully quips, clicking his shiny new shoes together to assert his power.

“I hope that this new guy doesn’t disappoint like you did,” his father, Papa Nihil grumbles beside him. Copia’s shoulders sag in annoyance, his eyes rolling as he turns to Nihil.

“Really?” As if he hasn’t been the most successful Papa to date, selling more records, larger tours and spreading the unholy word further than his predecessors – but most importantly, escaping with his life... “Go necro-charge yourself,” he jabs, his polite way of telling his father to piss off and reminding him that he is in fact dead, and has no authority anymore.

“Oh shut up!”

“You shut up,” Copia retorts somewhat childishly, a petty little argument starting.

“The two of you, just stop it. This is done! Just stop it...” Copia raised his hands in surrender, turning back to the doors in front of them.

“Old habits; they die hard,” Nihil grumbles.

“Old guys in habits die harder...” Sister comments, pressing her lips together in a tight line as her brow furrows. Copia looks back to his father guiltily, his gaze turning to the tiled floor in front of him. Yeah, didn’t he know it...

But he couldn’t allow himself to think about that just now. If there was anything he had learned in recent months, it was to not dwell on the past. No matter how dark, no matter what he had done... And he had done some bad things.

Images of blood-stained hands flashed through his mind, the noises of anguished screams, the silence that had followed... He couldn’t let that haunt him anymore.

He shook his head of the thoughts, straightening his new expensive suit jacket. The jewels that hung from it rattled against his chest, and he straightened his back to give an air of importance and authority, ready for what was to come.

“Oh look, here he comes...” Sister Imperator clasps her hands together, wringing them nervously as she hears the footsteps approaching on the other side of the door. Copia lifts his chin, waiting, trying not to show his own nervousness to see the figure approaching, a shadow on the other side of the stained glass doors. The light filters through, turning the end of the hall red which does nothing to quell the anxiety.

As the new head of the Clergy, he would have thought somebody would have told him who was to be Papa. Frankly, he thought it would be his decision. But the choice had been made long before Sister’s death, and without her knowledge also. It had Saltarian written all over it. He liked to... mess with people.

The hall fell silent as the shadow figure stood proudly behind the glass. A mitre already sat atop his head, which now he thought about it, was unusual. There had been no ceremony, nor reveal yet. This guy must have some balls to don the Papal robes so soon.

The shadow reached for the door handles on their side, the knobs squeaking as they turned agonisingly slowly. Copia had to swallow the lump in his throat, reminding himself to stand tall and proud. He was Frater Imperator now. He was in charge.

The doors swung open, and there he stood, a sickly smirk on his face.

Copia audibly whimpered, losing his balance and stumbling backwards. The panic set in quickly, his chest heaving with heavy breaths that couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs no matter how quickly they tried. He managed to regain his footing quickly at least, eyes wide and jaw dragging along the floor while his head swam.

Beside him, his mother’s hand slapped to her mouth, somehow making a noise despite her no longer being a physical being. Even Nihil was stunned into silence, his brow furrowed with deep lines of confusion.

Copia had never been so terrified in all his life. Somehow, he thought his demise would have been a kinder end to his own reign than this.

The new Papa looked nowhere else but at Copia, his eyes glaring at him as if lasers would shoot from his pupils. That smirk still sat on his face; a face that was painted with crisp black and white.

As he stepped forward, Copia resisted the urge to run. It was all he wanted to do but when it came down to it, his fight or flight response had withered into the third hidden option; freeze.

Papa walked slowly, deliberately, his gaze never wavering. Copia couldn’t help but stare straight back but he couldn’t meet his eyes... Not after what he’d done. Even when Papa came to a halt a few feet from him.

“Buonasera, fratello gemello...(Good evening, twin brother...)” The smugness in his voice reflected how Copia had felt moments before. But now? That had dissipated. Nothing but terror remained. “I look forward to working with you, eh?”

Copia couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even look in his eyes...

Instead, his stare was focussed on the garish, ugly, deep red scar that ran in a clean line around his neck...

How could he not have seen this? So many signs he had ignored... Wilfully ignorant to all of this. Perhaps he had been living in denial, brushing any and every small clue aside so his own guilt would not get the better of him, and he could forget what he'd done.

The scratch marks on the inside of his final resting place, the mortician who swore his foot had twitched in the morgue... It was Saltarian who insisted the movie be called ‘Rite Here, Rite Now’; his song. Even the music video served as foreshadowing, literally enacting his spirit rising from the dead...

Copia felt like a fool. Had he not been so wilfully blind, maybe he would have seen it. Maybe he could have stopped it.

But no, now he was staring directly at the result of the most evil deed he had ever committed; murdering his own twin brother. He could only hope he didn’t remember...

“Terzo, what a... surprise...” Imperator stuttered beside Copia. Clearly, she had also been kept in the dark on this one...

Terzo finally tore his gaze from Copia, instead smirking down at his mother who had too been instrumental in his untimely end.

“Buona sera mamma, (Good evening mother,)” he greeted, sickly sweet and filled with patronisation. “You look well,” he joked. You know, because she was dead...

“S-so do you,” she smiled, her lip twitching. Terzo opened his arms to hug her, and with hesitation, she followed suit.

“Oh, wait...I forgot,” he stopped, lowering his arms and leaning towards her with a shit eating grin on his face, “sei morto ora (you are dead now).”

He took a step back, clearing his throat and turning back to Copia. “So, here we go again, eh?”

“I-I suppose...” Copia choked out, still in shock.

Copia and Terzo had always had a difficult relationship... Terzo was older by mere minutes, and when they had been born, Nihil had given his son the next title in line, only to give the second, smaller, weaker twin a name to match; Copy. Copia had always been treated as the weaker, the lesser of the two by their father. Their mother, however, had pitied Copia from the start and sided with him wherever she could. It had fuelled so much competition, so much resentment that it led to Terzo’s own end...

To say their relationship was fraught was a severe understatement.

“You boys... will have to learn to work together,” Sister Imperator warned, watching warily as the tension between the brothers built.

“Oh, sí, we can work together, can’t we fratellino?” Terzo slapped his brother’s arm in fake encouragement.

“S-sí, of course...”

“Molto bene! (Very good!) I promise, best behaviour. Even little Cardi here will learn to work alongside me,” Terzo leaned forward, staring menacingly into Copia’s eyes with the smug smirk from before and getting into his personal space in a display of defiance.

“Or heads will roll...”

#ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band #the band ghost fanfic #ghost #rite here rite now #rite here right now spoilers #ghovie #ghovie spoilers #rhrn #rhrn spoilers #cardinal copia #papa emeritus IV #frater imperator #copia

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violetasteracademic · 1 month

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What does it take for regifted jewelry to be romantic?

Rambling crap post that will literally only make sense of you have seen the movie The Family Stone but let's do it.

Sometimes I genuinely try to understand other ships. I actually really mean that, in a deeply authentic and non sarcastic way. If this shipwar wasn't so nasty, I'd engage with other people the way I do with my real, human, offline friends- some of whom are E/lucien's and G/wynriels. They are genuinely wonderful people who are not chronically online like we are (and we are, there's no point throwing that around as an insult) and they don't actually care that much. They are just going off vibes - but would be absolutely disgusted to see the violent misogyny and bullying that takes place here. We enjoy talking to each other about the ships, even when we don't agree.

Typically, when I am trying to understand something, I seek out more of it. I've asked my friends for fated mate book recommendations that match E/Lucien's story (meeting your mate, then genuinely falling for another person that is absolutely right for you in every way except for the fact that he is not your mate, and somehow the plot leads to falling in love with your mate that you don't like anyways because fate is always right and never makes mistakes, even if everyone is questioning it because you have feelings for someone else) and I haven't been able to find anything. The closest I can get is meeting your mate when you are possibly already in love/engaged/what have you to someone else and then you find out that person you are already with is actually the worst (aka Graysen) and then you wind up falling in love naturally and authentically with your mate. This is what makes it work. The person who isn't your mate showing his true colors and realizing you were wrong about them.

I think this is why Azriel's character has been rewritten to create a moment of the male Elain is actually into showing his true colors. Otherwise, her moving on to her mate that she isn't interested in just because the guy she likes rejected her literally doesn't make any sense. It can't be political machinations and the threat of violence and exterior motives and interference keeping Azriel and Elain apart. It has to be Azriel's personality and personhood, or the fated mates typical structure that I assume everyone is basing their thought process on falls apart.

I've actually been wracking my brain for years to find a piece of art or story that represents a piece of jewelry being regifted symbolizing the transference of a relationship and I FINALLY realized- my favorite holiday movie- The Family Stone! My God, the movie is literally named for the piece of jewelry, his mother's ring.

Finally having a piece to work with and pick apart allowed me to understand what elements are required to really pull off "regifting" to show that the gift is symbolically landing where it needs to go in a moving and romantic way.

1: The jewelry must not have been picked out and purchased for a specific woman, with deep and thoughtful insights as to why the man saw this piece of jewelry and thought of the woman he loves. In The Family Stone, the ring is an heirloom. It is no one's ring but his mother's. And the journey of this stone landing on the hand of the woman that is right for Emmet is deep, complicated, and heart breaking.

This is not the case for Azriel, who saw the rose necklace (very widely agreed to symbolically represent Elain on all sides) and saw something that the full depth and color was revealed when held to the light, a thing of secret, lovely beauty. And he knew it was meant for Elain. My God. Jfc. That's poetry.

2: The original recipient of the gift must actively show displeasure or disappointment in the jewelry- further revealing that this is the wrong woman.

In The Family Stone, Meredith (Sarah Jessica Parker), the "first" and "wrong" woman sees the ring on her little sister Julie's finger (Claire Danes) and while there is some drama (the ring symbolically gets stuck on Julie's finger lolol) Meredith looks at the ring and hilariously goes- "That's it?" because the diamond is so small. She doesn't like it. She wouldn't want to wear it. Meanwhile Julie was stunned. She lost her breath over its beauty and was overwhelmed.

Elain was also stunned and breathless at how beautiful her gift was. She wants to wear it immediately, and she wants him to put it on her. The act of this beautiful, thoughtful gift emboldens Elain to do something she has never done before: Blatant, unrestricted touching. Even while the man she is supposed to be with, the man whose gifts do disappoint her, sleeps upstairs. So the classic holiday romance trope of one gift is right and one gift is wrong is already playing out. From Elain's perspective, the woman who will demand a say in who she chooses and is the only confirmed FMC, she's been getting disappointing gifts from her mate for years. When she finally sees a gift that steals the air from her lungs and lights up her eyes, a gift she wants to wear and use immediately after years of lukewarm responses to the man she is "meant" to be with, it's romantic as fuck. Unless you don't like her and don't want her with Azriel, in which case it isn't romantic to you personally. However, personal opinion on Elain doesn't actually change the fact that after years of many of us already assuming Az and Elain were into each other, they had an extremely classic holiday romance reveal.

4: The act of changing your mind about who will receive this gift, in order for it to be romantic, must be an act of hope. An act of joy and dreams and revelation. Realizing that there is more out there for you, and after years of playing it safe, of trying to make it work for the wrong reasons with the wrong woman, you are ready to be brave and break your character patterns to act on that dream of happiness.

Near the climax of The Family Stone, we discover that Emmet's mother, the keeper of this ring, has had her breast cancer return. It is already clear she is not going to make it this time.

We learn that Emmet has been acting out of trauma, grief, and loss. He cannot wrap his mind around the thought of getting married without his mother being there. In a heart breaking scene, Sybil finally gives Emmet the ring she has been refusing the entire movie and lets him know it is his decision. But she also frees him from the horrible pressure he has placed on himself to get married while she is still alive. She wishes passion, joy, and happiness for him. She helps him cope with the loss of her, helps him heal the wound and burdens he carries of trying to be the Perfect Son and do everything right. All she wants for him is happiness and love. But ultimately, the decision is his.

In a rush of hope and healing, Emmet asks Julie to try the ring on. He wants to see it on her. It is a culmination. It is powerful, emotional, and restorative. In this story of brothers and sisters coping with the loss of their mother and trying to find their personal happiness, they all wind up together in the end. Meredith winds up telling Emmet she can't marry him, before he even reveals he decided not to ask her, because they both knew it wasn't right. It was so clear that they weren't in love with each other, but just trying to fit this ideal picture for reasons that had nothing to do with love. Still, Meredith isn't a villain, and winds up falling in love with his brother. The next year, everyone but Sybil gathers as a family, the first Christmas without her. The grief is palpable, but so is the love. The image of Sybil smiling at her gathered family through last year's gifted photograph of her ends the movie.

Azriel's regifting of Elaine's necklace was not a culmination. It was not an act of hope, it was not Azriel releasing Elain because he realized his love for her was not genuine and there was real and true happiness to be found in G/wyn. He did not even care to give it to her directly. He gave it to Clotho, who absolutely read the vibes and noted his sadness. He didn't even care if it wound up with Gwyn or literally any other priestess. He needed to relieve himself of the necklace because of the pain of not being able to be with Elain, just like Cassian yeeted his first Solstice gift to Nesta into the Sidra after her rejection. Regifted or getting rid of gifts as an act of pain is not romance. It is not even symbolic of a change. It only reflects a man who is hurting because he has nowhere to channel his love and longing.

What I find odd is that most people do agree that Az regifting the necklace via Clotho is absolutely not romantic, thus Azriel incel fuckboy (which literally makes no sense) was born. For the necklace regift to hold the symbolism that G/wynriels want it to hold (a sort of passing of the torch of Azriel's affection and attention) they agree that this is icky and gross behavior but G/wyn will fix him and he'll stop being icky and gross. I'd ask for recommendations on romances like that to try to understand that thought process as well, but frankly I am not interested.

Azriel getting rid of the necklace was not an act of hope, it was an act of pain. It was lot an act of love, it was an act of loss.

A change in who a gift belongs to can be romantic, with the right elements. The great ACOSF bonus chapter necklacegate has none of them. And yet somehow, even though everyone agrees it wasn't romantic, people are still out here arguing that it clearly symbolizes a new romance.

I assure you, romance symbolizes romance. It shouldn't be tricky or leave you feeling icky or like the MMC is flaky and entitled. I cannot think of a single romance author who thinks it's a good idea to sit down and write toxic fuckbois as MMC's. Even if they were toxic fuckbois in the past, they IMMEDIATELY simp for their women. As of now, Azriel still hasn't noticed G/wyn, his supposed mate, and is hurting and heartbroken over another woman that he would kill for if asked to. He is not coping with it by raking about town and looking for a new girl to fall in love with since he was ordered away from the one he wanted. He's just training, not sleeping, and putting rocks in snowballs.

When trying to determine what is being foreshadowed as romance, if we have to stretch beyond asking the simple question what is romantic, I fear we have lost the plot.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elain and azriel #death and his lovely fawn

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alessiathepirate · 9 months

Text

December 25

Prompt: Christmas party. / Mistletoe.

Fast and Furious: Deckard Shaw x fem!reader

•••

If Magdalene Shaw wanted you around for Christmas, then you most definitely were around for Christmas. It didn't matter that you had somewhere else to be or something else to do. What she said was more important and serious than the Bible itself.

Even for her kids. Especially for her kids.

Sometimes she wondered how their mother bought their affection and company. Maybe they found her scary when disappointed. Or she simply won them over with fake tears.

For Deckard it was most definitely the fake tears.

Sometimes she even laughed how easily Magdalene managed to get what she wants from them. There were times when they smiled at the other when Deckard couldn't see, and they quietly giggled when he realized his mother was playing around to get what she wants from him.

She actually liked Magdalene Shaw. She respected her too. However it was her turn to be left in the dark. Because no matter how clever the woman was, she most definitely didn't know that she was dating his son behind her back.

Not like it was supposed to be a top secret. No, both her and Deckard loved the woman, they just knew neither of them is mentally ready to take in her overbearing reaction. Or Hattie's. Or Owen's...

So they just decided to stay in the dark.

The Shaw Christmas party was a success. Of course it was. It didn't only have everything one might need, but it had a surprisingly pleasant mood too, the kind that meant none of the siblings were bickering. She had the idea that their mother talked to them beforehand.

"Are you enjoying yourself dear?"

She looked up, only to see Magdalene, who stood next to her armchair and looked down at her with a smile. She purposefully chose to sit there, in a corner with Hattie and Owen so she wouldn't have to introduce herself to every person she hadn't met yet.

"Of course." she smiled. "It's a wonderful party."

"See, that's why I like you." her hand touched her shoulder in comfort, yet that was the first time she felt like the woman knows something she doesn't.

She looked at Hattie for some support, but she only tilted her head discreetely as a no and Owen only shrugged when his mother couldn't see it.

She turned back toward Magdalene and smiled too. "Although your kids are acting a bit too nice for my liking, I was hoping for some fun."

That 'fun' meant shooting someone in the head or driving through the streets in a car with no car doors. Still, she prefered that over their nice behaviour at a Christmas party.

"As long as it's after the party, I'm not against it." her hand finally disappeared and she felt like she can breath again.

"That's what she promised to us too." Hattie said as she smiled and she did too. They had a nice friendship going on which meant 'if you want to leave I do too'.

"I'm really sorry to disturb you dear, but would you get some ice from the kitchen? I'm afraid one of our guest got into a nasty fight."

"And we are the ones who have to behave." Owen spoke up before she could, but he shut his mouth as soon as his mother gave her the look.

"Sure, I'll do it." she stood up after she made sure her dress looked nice. "See you in a sec."

The Shaws had many apartments all around the world and each and every one of them felt like a labyrinth - especially if it was full of people. She gently squeezed through them - almost stopping when she heard some of them talk about dealing cars - and finally reached the kitchen.

It was a big, dark and empty square, the one where she liked to hide when people became too much. She didn't bother with the lights, knowing the light source from the hall was enough. She quickly found the freezer and opened it, then she started to look for the ice.

It was already in her hands when the quiet sound of careful footsteps hit her ear and she grabbed onto the ice firmer as she turned around, one arm raised to smack the person in the face with the thing.

Her arm, however, was luckily caught. She would've felt extremely guilty to stare at Deckard's bruised face when they were alone.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" she cursed as she looked at him, her mind proceeding who she's seeing. "I almost hit you with the fucking ice!"

"You wouldn't have." Deckard smiled and she almost did too.

"I could have." she answered as she freed her arm from his grip, even though it felt really nice. "Where were you all night anyway?"

"Mom put me on firearm duty." he explained. "Someone might have a gun."

"Well do they?" she asked with a confused expression.

"Obviously." he smirked. "But so do we."

She turned to close the freezer and put the ice pack in her other hand.

"Merry Christmas by the way. I didn't have the chance to tell you that yet." her features turned calm and soft, just like it always happened around him.

"Did you get me a present?" his eyes were playful.

"Depends." she played around. "Did you get me one?"

"I might have."

She leaned in first, but he was the one who kissed her. She sighed as she kissed him back. It was the first kiss of the day.

"You look great in that dress by the way. It fits you well."

She slightly blushed at that.

"Thank you. You're not so bad yourself."

"Why are you in the kitchen?" he asked, looking like someone who really doesn't know.

"Your mom sent me here for some ice." she explained. "So we should get going before it completely melts."

"Let's get going then."

Deckard gently held her hand as they reached the hall, intertwining their fingers and holding her firmly, not wanting to lose her in the crowd. She liked it when Deckard was leading her, looking out for her even in the safest moments. She appreciated that a lot. She loved that about him a lot.

"Will you come over when the party's over?" she asked, trying to speak through the chatter and the music.

"Of course sweetheart." he answered as he pushed a man aside who was standing too close for his liking. "That was my plan from the beginning. Besides, I really bought you a present."

She blushed, but luckily this time he didn't have a single chance to see it. They reached the corner where she sat before anyway and she felt strange as she realized Deckard kept his eyes on her throughout the whole evening.

"Here it is." she said as she gave the ice pack to Magdalene.

The woman took it, but her eyes never left hers.

She felt Deckard's hold on her hand tighten and she realized that their cover was blown. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing really came out. She could see Hattie and Owen changing looks in the corner, then they took a sip from their wine.

"Thank you dear." Magdalene said, her face staying serious. She then turned to look at his son. "Don't you fucking lie to me ever again." her features then softened fast, clearly stating that she wasn't really angry. "Mistletoe by the way." she pointed out the thing above them and left.

She could hear Hattie's laugh from the corner.

#alessiathepirate's christmas special #fast and the furious x reader #deckard shaw x reader #deckard shaw x fem!reader

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galedekarios · 11 months

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Hi!! Hope I am not bothering you (if so please feel free to ignore!) with a Gale lore question, but I figured you're the person on tumblr who would most likely know given all the cool shit you've been posting, but do we have any idea *where* gale was when he got snatched by the mindflayers? I can't seem to find a straight answer about most of the companions, but there seems to be a fairly straight forward answer for most of them except Gale (and Astarion to some extent) I know he had his year of solitude that he seemed to have left willingly and from what Tara says about Waterdeep it doesnt seem like they had a massive nautiloid attack the city a la the opening. I figured he either left Waterdeep in search of more items to sate the orb/protect the city in case of rupturing and was taken there or he was just maybe beaten over the head and abducted in the city by one of the few Absolutists that are in Waterdeep.

thank you for your message! i really appreciate your words.

sadly, there is no indication at all where precisely gale was before the events of the game take place.

i've collected some pieces of the puzzle, however, that i thought are relevant to at least paint a broad picture of what likely happened:

gale is well aware of how unstable the orb is. when he escapes the nautiloid, his first thought is that the illithid tadpole is very likely to have adverse effects on it:

he has lived with the orb for about a year or longer, knowing well what its effect might be. i have wondered often just why gale would know so much about ceremorphosis before the game starts. perhaps the devs just needed another exposition machine, which is likely, too, of course.

but considering the very real and very present danger of the orb, i think it's also likely that in his desperation to find a way to heal himself, reading up as much as he could on everything that even resembled some sort of solution, gale perhaps even read up on ceremorphosis, before deciding that it's just not viable, that it would do more harm to than good.

i think it might be in line with the same reasoning as to why the player can bring up the nightsong to gale as a possible solution to the orb.

2. gale is aware just catastrophic the consequences of the orb being unleashed are. when gale goes to rest in his origin playthrough, sleep will not find him and once more, his thoughts turn towards the orb first:

it's likely that this is why we find him staring into the flames playing a custom protag. these two scenes seem to mirror each other.

3. we also learn from the same dialogue two important things: that gale made tara promise to stay in waterdeep, concerned for her safety. we also learn from his conversation with tara that he is not only concerned about her safety, but his mother's as well and that he left her behind in waterdeep as well:

morena isn't aware of what her son tried to do. he kept it from her. not only had he disappointed her faith in him and his talents, now, with the orb, he was actively putting her in mortal peril. along with everyone else in the city.

from a later dialogue we also learn that gale is afraid of bringing shame to his family name:

player: So, your last name is Dekarios? gale: It is. Courtesy of my mother, the inimitable, dare I say it sometimes unavoidable, Morena Dekarios. It's been so long since I've used it. 'Gale Dekarios' cuts a poor figure next to the wizarding prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep.' player: You're right. Just 'Gale' is better. gale: I agree. And on the plus side, if I get myself into any truly cataclysmic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

we also learn that while news of the absolute seems to have reached waterdeep, tara doesn't seem to think that they have infiltrated waterdeep yet. which in turn means that waterdeep wasn't affected in the same way baldur's gate and other cities and regions were.

4. the next morning, gale can have the following conversation with tara:

"you left the tower in such a hurry you didn't leave an address." is what stands out to me here.

what exactly did make gale leave so suddenly?

was it a particularly bad flare-up of the orb? i think it might be likely because i also found this line in the files:

player: i fail to see why you need me to help you this. you've done fine without me so far. gale: A fair point - however, until recently I was able to rely on a supply of artefacts stored in my tower in Waterdeep. A supply that has now run dry. The reality of the matter is that a lone wizard with a chronic impairment such as my own is not in the most ideal of situations with regards to self-defence. The manner of artefacts I need are not often found waiting patiently on a shop-keep's shelf. One usually has to lift them delicately from trap-filled tombs or prise them from the hands of violent ne'erdowells.

so not only does this validate the fact that gale indeed suffers from chronic pain due to his condition even more, it also clearly states that he had nothing left in his possession to treat his condition anymore.

(as an aside, larian really did the seriousness of his condition a grave disservice here on a multitude at levels and this is another point where the narrative is at odds with the game mechanics of the full release. in ea, it truly required great artefacts (the sword of justice blessed by tyr or even the idol of silvanus) to soothe the orb.)

so to bring all of these points together, this is what i believe:

i think gale left waterdeep in a hurry after he felt the orb destabilising.

having no artefacts great power left, staying was no longer an option, lest he puts his mother (and waterdeep itself even) at great risk. he hurriedly packed what he could.

i assume tara was there and that it was then that he made her promise to stay because he didn't want to put his longest (and now only) friend at risk, too. perhaps he also felt better knowing that tara would be there for morena.

i think he was abducted while on the road, trying to find information about artefacts of great power and perhaps even setting out himself to acquire them.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

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rokishimizu4 · 24 days

Text

Harley (Fucken) Quinn’s girls’ night out!

(I love Harley to the moon and back! But I have a special chapter for her when my story comes out, that I refuse to spoil!)

When Selina called her to inform her that Wonder Woman would be joining them, which she then had inform Dinah and Ivy, she was both super excited and nervous. (Since she used to have a big lesbian crush on Wonder Woman)

It took less time for Selina and Diana to show up than it took for Harley to set out more booze and order another batch of junk food. But before she could say something stupid, Ivy stepped in and got everyone settled down

”Pardon the intrusion, but Cat Woman informed me of a party only for the females and I wished to invite myself to partake in the festivities.” Diana explains as she finishes dragging Selina into Harley, and sometimes Ivy’s when they weren’t arguing over Harley being a sometimes hero, and towards the beanbags.

”No problem girly! The more, the merrier!” Harley returns the joy, pleased with herself when she didn’t stutter like a school girl.

”Honestly, I was hoping that Diana would be joining us, Ollie was telling me about the strangest kidnapping attempt just a few days ago. I’m kind of disappointed that I missed it.” Dinah chuckles as she picks up her wine glass and takes a sip of the dark red liquid.

”Oh yeah! Something about an attempted poisoning and a drug dealer getting her shit rocked by a thing of goop!” Harley adds, as she seen the thing on the news and became interested when she learned that the woman was actually attempting to the sell the kids to some couple at the gala, at least according to theories from certain rouges.

”Yes, speaking of that incident, Diana has some questions for you darling.” Selina gets straight to the point as she pours herself a tall glass of red wine and drowns it, knowing that she might as well be tipsy for this.

Harley stuffs a thing of nachos in her mouth, before turning to Diana (who was also devouring a whole box of Meat lovers Pizza and drinking from a can of cheap beer, as if she hasn’t eaten anything all day) and giving a her a look.

”Excuse me, it has been quite a week of searching for any leads to the mysterious child of goop and the warriors that follow it. It also takes a lot of energy to contact the Olympians to seek guidance and wisdom.” She excuses herself as she takes the napkin offered to her, and wipes the grease and crumbs off of her lips and hands.

”I was hoping to seek your wisdom Dr. Quinzel, as a woman trained in the mind.”

Harley blinks, and blinks once more before she realizes that Wonder Woman, The Wonder Woman, was asking for her professional help as a psychiatrist. ‘This is the best night of my life.’

”Hold up, I got to get my professional glasses on! And my notebook!”

Cue Selina, Dinah, Ivy, and a slightly drunk Nora Fries, clinging to the sides of walls, furniture, and other objects to get out of Dr. Quinzel’s way (Not wanting to be ran over or be dragged into a therapy session.)

Ivy and Selina grab and moves the table of food closer to their side of the living room/Kitchen area, as soon as Harley comes back in with her glasses on, her blonde (with some reds and blues dyed in) tied up in a ponytail, comfy pjs on, and a huge notebook in hand.

”Sorry that we can’t do this in a more professional setting, but I know that these girls can keep a secret. Well as long as it doesn’t bring harm to Nora and Selina, or Ivy.”

”Yes, I believe that the women you surround yourself with are trustworthy friends, and the advice I seek might benefit them as well. As I believe it is best to get more opinions into the matter at hand.”

Diana then goes onto to explain the warning her mother gave her and what her and the JL have been experiencing for the past few months: From the strange message on a copper spider to Luther asking the JL for safety for himself and his personal staff.

Cue a mix of fierce determination, fear, and just WTF that sparks a realization in Harley’s PHD brain.

Cue her spending the rest of the night creating a timeline, including the information that Nora gave her in a private session (aka weird people asking about Dr. Fries experiments and his knowledge on Cryogenic technology, and how long someone could last inside a Cryotube), which she made sure to keep private.

It takes a few more rounds of drinks and food before the rest of the ladies pass out (from the alcohol or exhaustion, she didn’t question it) and for Harley to set up a private meeting with the Riddler and Scarecrow (both who were still in Gotham Asylum for….reasons).

Harley checks her notebook one more time, before she carefully puts into her bulletproof, lock breaking proof, explosion proof, safe and locks it up for tomorrow afternoon, before taking a double shot of straight vodka.

’Life was soooo much easier as a supervillain. But, being under John Doe’s thumb was a lot worse.’

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user2772636 · 6 months

Text

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

A new task; Kidnap some frogs and a film to get an hour study session with the Annick Sabiani. Things are still unstable with Joseph. Maybe Callum could help. Your fear of hopping creatures makes a boy forget what went wrong.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warning: frogs (whoevers scared of them), swearing, boys being boys, angst

Also, yes, I do know harry potter, I was in both that and the marauders fandom (esp marauders)

===

Chapter six: Mischief Managed

===

"Sophia Loren is so beautiful." We look up at a movie poster, stating that only eighteen above can watch.

"What about Brigitte Bardot?"

"My mother says she's vulgar."

"Apparently, we can sneak in through the back door." Simone points towards the cinema.

"How do you know that?" I ask her, curious.

"A boy told me." It's definitely Jean Pierre.

"Is it Eugène?" Oh, Michèle.

"No, it wasn't." Simone shakes her head, and she's basically telling the truth.

We turn a corner. "You think I'll meet him someday?" Michèle asks Simone. I glance at the dark haired girl, worry spreading in me.

"Who?"

"Eugène."

"I don't know."

I stay quiet, a one-eyed boy in the back of my mind.

××《☆》××

Students enter through Voltaire High's gates and head inside the building.

I sit in the very front of my class, tapping a pencil against the table, anxiously waiting for my score.

"Pardine, 10." I sigh in relief, scanning the paper.

Frogs croak loudly throughout the room, making me shiver in fear. Small, slimy, hopping creatures were not my thing.

"And finally, Miss Sabiani, 12." Laubrac claps his hands, followed by the class. Annick has been glowing, much more social and vibrant. Good for her, comparing her old self to now.

I look back at my score, sighing. I could've done better. Could've gotten a twelve like Annick. I clench my jaw, disappointed.

Then, for the first time of many times today, a paper plane lands on my table. I furrow my brows, turning around to see who could've done it. None of them look suspicious, but Joseph looks nice. Too nice. And he's wearing green.

I turn back around, not knowing if I was flushed because of anger or because of him. Probably both. Annoyingly, both.

"Tomorrow, we'll all be dissecting frogs." My stomach reacts badly, making me gag silently.

Sure, frogs weren't my cup of tea, but dissecting them? I wouldn't even wish death on Joseph. Though, a part of me knows hatred isn't the reason for this.

I have noticed today that Joseph's been gloomy. He's off, and obviously not in a good way. His eyes that were once lit by its own sun dims down like when a storm approaches. And he's not smiling. I miss his smile.

No, I don't. I don't and won't miss anything. He hates me, and I guess I hate him, too. He decides to talk shit about me? The audacity of that man. I wish I could just grab his neck and strangle him and look at him and see his fucking pretty lips turn into a smile-

That god-awful smile. It ruined me. And I hate his smile. I hate it. I hate him.

××《☆》××

We're all gathered up in the courtyard, discussing our grades, when suddenly, boys started crowding near Annick. I overhear what they say.

"One hour with Annick!"

I furrow my eyebrows. One hour? That's what they're freaking out about? Well, it was Annick, and they were boys, so I guess I shouldn't be too confused.

"Hey, what's happening?" I walk up to Pichon, and he looks startled as he sees me.

"Annick is giving out an hour private lesson if someone steals the frogs and the film from English earlier for her." Pichon stutters out.

This morning, in English class, we watched a movie called "To Kill A Mockingbird", the film adaptation of the book. I guess Annick liked it so much that she wants someone to steal it for her.

In the corner of my eye, a tall blonde's wafting his arms in the air. I had a sudden question.

"Hey, do you have any idea why Applebaum stopped talking to me? I know it was from long ago, but I sometimes wonder what happened." Pichon pales, and my brows pinch together.

"You know how Applebaum's glasses went missing?"

I nod, remembering the day at the gym.

"Well, that was Descamps. After that, he came up to us and threatened Applebaum's eye if he went to talk to you again. Applebaum whined for hours to us after that. He said he lost his chance at the only girl who's ever given him one."

I chuckle absentmindedly, shocked at the new information. Then, I turn angry.

"Descamps, did that? Why? Why would he want Applebaum away from me?" Pichon scans my face, trying to see if I'm serious or not.

"You really don't know?" I shrug, suddenly embarrassed. Pichon scoffs. "He's in love with you, that's why. Even when he looked like he hated you, from how I saw it, he was so in love it turned him into a mad man. I always caught him looking at you or being near you, even if it was a hundred feet away. Wherever you were, he was, too." It's my turn to scoff.

"He doesn't love me. He hates me. I caught him in the halls, talking about me to his friends and saying I was too clingy." My heart shatters in my chest as I recall that moment.

"Wait. How could he say you were clingy?"

"We've hung out the past few days. He's stayed the night the day before I heard him call me that."

"What? You let him stay the night?"

"Yes? What's wrong with that? We're friends. Or atleast we were."

"Oh my god, no offence, but how could you be so daft? You love him, too!" Pichon says a little too loudly, making the courtyard glance at us before returning to their own conversations.

"I don't! Now keep your voice down, or I'll rip them off." I whisper-shout at him.

"You even talk like him." I roll my eyes at his conclusion.

"Anyways, don't be delusional. He doesn't love me, actually, quite the opposite, and I don't love him. That's that." There's a lace of disappointment in my voice, but I cover it up with a stiff face.

Pichon raises both his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say." He walks away, a smile dancing on his lips. I scoff.

He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about.

××《☆》××

I lean against the wall facing Michèle as we wait for Simone in the toilet.

"So?" Michèle calls out to the door.

"Yes, it's my period." The door opens, and Simone walks out. She closes the door.

"Is there a stain on your skirt?" Simone checks.

"No. But my underwear's ruined. The rest is fine. I put toilet paper" I notice how messy she looked. I comb her hair out with my fingers. She grabs her things from Michèle.

"You should go to the nurse, Simone." I tell her, worried.

"Yeah, my aunt will have pads." Michèle interjects.

"No, I'll be fine." I puff out my cheeks at her stubbornness, but dismiss it.

We start to walk, but after only a few steps, Simone clutches on her stomach.

"You definitely need to go to the nurse." She shakes her head.

"You poor thing." Michèle says as we continue to walk.

Once we make it out the door to the courtyard, Pichon pops out of nowhere. I squint at him, still pressed about earliers conversation. He just smiles at me.

"Michèle." He says. "Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure." Michèle responds, walking down the steps with us.

"Do you know where your uncle keeps his keys? There must be spares. Y/N needs them, too." I raise my eyebrows in surprise at the bold question. Then I remember the Annick situation. I nod along.

A voice butts in. "Hey, are you nuts?" It's Dupin. "Don't involve the dean's niece." He's leaning against the wall with his hand on it, legs crossed. "She's gonna snitch."

"What's he talking about?" Simone asks.

"Oh no, not again." Pichon looks between us and Dupin then walks away. I look at him confused.

Michèle walks down to Dupin. "You think I'm a suck up because I'm the dean's niece?"

"Yes." I know that voice all too well. I look at Joseph, and we lock eyes. I scan his face. Nothing's changed much, but it feels like something did. He glares at me then stares baack at Michèle.

"Let's go, guys." Simone says, walking down the steps. Michèle follows, but I stay.

"I heard about what you told Pichon and Applebaum." I walk the down the steps, looking up at his towering figure. He glances at Dupin and his friend, nodding them to go somewhere else. They follow.

"What about it?" He tilts his head at me, hand in his pockets.

"Why are you threatening Applebaum's eye if he looks at me?" His jaw clenches.

He pauses. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I chuckle half heartedly. "Why not?"

"Did I stutter?" Wow, since when did he have sass?

"You're an asshole, okay? First, you talk shit about me to your friends, talk shit about my friends, then I'm now just finding out you threatened Applebaum?" I raise my eyebrows at this, disappointment seething through my teeth.

"Well, that's just life, isn't it?" What the fuck is wrong with him?

"What the fuck do you even mean? We were so close, Jo- Descamps. We were friends, didn't you think?" I stutter at saying his name, embarrassment coating my cheeks.

"Back to last name basis?" There's disappointment in his tone, but I somehow catch his eye glancing down at my lips. I flush more.

"Yeah. Why not?" I mock his words, jutting my head forward.

"Alright, Pardine. If that's what you want." He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He's starting to piss me off.

"I didn't fucking want us to stop being friends. We had to because, for some reason, it's only now that I remembered you're an asshole."

"Whatever." He scoffs out.

"Fine." I stepped closer. I already feel his warmth.

"Fine." He steps closer. He smells the same. I wish things were still the same.

"Fuck you." That's the last thing I say before walking away, feeling his stare on my back.

××《☆》××

"Stealing Herman's frogs and Couret's movie? Did Annick cast a spell on them?" I exclaim, raising my arms. Michèle and Simone follow behind me.

"And Dupin calling me a snitch. I may be the dean's niece, but I'm no rat." Michèle says over my shoulder. I nod in agreement.

I glance at Simone, seeing her clutching her stomach. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She answers simply, face grimacing.

"You should I ask my aunt to write you a note and go home." Michèle says as she rubs Simone's arm.

"You think?" Me and Michèle nod.

"Okay. I have to go to the bathroom. It's soaked already." I nod again and lead Simone to the bathroom door.

"Michèle." I stop in my heels as Simone turns to Michèle. "You should steal the frogs. That'll shut them up." We continue to walk.

I lead Simone down the staircase, her one hand gripping mine and the other on the rails.

"Are you okay, Ms. Palladino?" Ms. Couret says, looking up at the both of us.

Simone talks to Ms. Couret and I excuse myself. Before I leave, Simone looks at me, glancing at Ms. Couret. I remember the film then nod at Simone. She nods back. I go all the way down the stairs, going out to the courtyard and on my way to the gate.

This morning, Callum called. He told me he had some news. When I asked why he chose lunch time to tell me, all he said was it was so important that he wanted to tell me face to face, and as soon as he was on his lunch break. So, naturally, I agreed.

I see the Thunderbird from a distance, its colour eye catching. A tall frame with messy brown curls exits the car, making his way to me, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Good afternoon, beautiful." I roll my eyes at the name, smiling. He simply chuckles. I walk out the gate. He hands me the bouquet.

"What is it?" I ask, implying the news he wanted to tell me.

"Not even a hello? I'm hurt." I stick my tongue out to him. "Anyways, how do you feel about Paris?" My ears perk up at the mention of the city.

"Paris? I miss the place. Why do you ask?" My heart beats in excitement, not knowing what to expect.

"Well, the people loved you so much. The company that released the magazine contacted me to get to you." I raise my eyebrows as he pauses. He furrows his.

"You don't get it? They want you in Paris by summer because they want you to model! Like, professionally." My eyes blow wide open and I gape in surprise. My mouth open and closes, not knowing what to say.

"Callum." I stutter out. "Please don't lie."

"I'm not." Tears rim my eyes, and I blink them away.

"I swear Callum if you're lying-"

"I'm not! I swear on my life." He laughs, his breath blowing on my face.

"Fuck, Callum." I give him a hug, wrapping my arms around his torso, gripping him to stay upright, my mind unable to grasp whether this was real or not.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, rubbing my back and kissing my hair. "You deserve this. I'm so proud of you."

I pull away from his chest, dried streams of quiet tears on my face. Callum still wipes them away.

"Let me take you out tonight." My heart sort of drops. I can't, I tell myself. Why can't I? Then, a one-eyed boy is in my mind again. Oh. I grip my bouquet.

"Sure." Joseph wouldn't care. I then realised that he probably never did. Whatever, it's fine. But really, it isn't. I shouldn't be thinking about him, I should be thinking about the fact people want me to model for real.

But I can't help it. There's a boy in front of me, a modelling opportunity, and a dinner to look out for tonight, but all I can think about is him.

Him and his ash coloured hair, eyes that change colour in the light, smile that makes my heart clentch in my chest, and his lips. His beautiful, plump, pink lips.

Then I look up at Callum, and he looks at me the way Joseph once did. And I crumble internally, realising how much this beautiful boy will break when he finds out how I feel about someone else.

Joseph never loved me. I don't think he did. I felt used, hurt, and betrayed after what I witnessed. And what's funny is the fact that after that incident, that's when I realised I loved him. I love him.

I love Callum, too. But the way I feel for Joseph, it's different. And it's too bad I realised I loved him and that he hated me too late. I can't help but love him anyway.

That's the thing with love, though. When you realise you feel it, you can't let go. The way it feels is so different, you're too scared to let it go because you don't know when or if you'll ever feel it again.

"I'll pick you up at 6?"

A pause.

"Sure."

××《☆》××

My footsteps echo through the halls, too loud, in my opinion. I follow Michèle, her eyes glancing at me from time to time. I guard the door as she walks in and grabs both of the needed keys.

She gives me my set, whispers good luck, and walks to her room. I part to mine.

I quickly unlock the room and close it behind me, a quiet click sounding around the empty class. The film was situated at the table, leaning against some books. It looked like it was meant to be stolen.

Then I hear footsteps shuffling outside. I get under the table, trying to figure out the noise. It was too flat to be heels, and it was too heavy to be a woman. It sounded like thudding than clicking. Then the door opens, and I see brown oxfords. I know those oxfords. They've been in my flat before.

I get up from my spot, accidentally hitting my head on the edge of the table. Hard.

"Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?" Descamps sprints over to me, hands cupping my head and inspecting the hit area.

"It's Pardine to you, Descamps. And no, do I look okay?" I push his hands away, fixing my hair and dress. I look up at him, and he's already looking at me.

"What now?" I groan, crossing my arms. Descamps raises his brows, crossing his arms, too.

"You think you're the only one who wants to get the film?" He bends down to reach my height. I flush at the proximity.

"I certainly was here first."

"Well, too fucking bad, because I have it now." He snatches the film of the table. I grunt, trying to grab it. He lifts it over his head, stretching his arm. He's smiling. How much I hate that smile.

"Fuck you, Descamps." I push him off, making my way to the door. There's footsteps outside again. I stumble backwards.

"Go, go, go!" I nudge Descamps to the table, planning to get under it again. Our knees push against each other as we try to fit in the small area. A couple of swears and names were silently thrown around but were silenced when the door opened slowly.

I held my breath as Descamps did. I absentmindedly grip his calf, and his hand was gripping mine. In other circumstances, he'd be whispering reassurances in my ear, holding me close with his arms, and kissing my head 'till I calmed down.

This wasn't one of those circumstances.

After a while, there was a snore. I furrow my eyebrows. Snoring? I slowly come out of the nook, not before Descamps pulls me back down and asks me what I'm doing. I shush him, going back up slowly. His hand is still gripping mine. It feels the same as it did all those other times.

I make it to the edge of the table, and across the room, one of the janitors was sitting on a class chair, snoring the afternoon away.

I sigh in relief, coming back down to Descamps. He raises his brows at me.

"So?"

"He's dead asleep."

"Do we stay here 'till he leaves?" I think about it for a moment.

"I guess. It'd be too risky to leave. The door's too loud."

"Fuck. I guess I'm stuck here with you." He rolls his eye. The audacity.

"Hey, I'm not the one talking shit about my friend." He scowls at me.

"Well, I'm not the one who's fucking assuming."

We argue whisper shouting.

"I saw you! And I heard you!"

"You don't know why I was saying that!"

"I know exactly why! You hate me!" That makes him shut up.

"What?"

"You hate me, Descamps."

"Why would you even think that?" There's a tone I can't tell. Like he's hurt, or in disbelief, or in denial.

"Because you're-" He cuts me off.

"Why would I ever hate you?" He squints at me a bit, voice wavering.

"You-" He cuts me off again.

"I could never hate you." Tears brim my eyes at his words. I look at him quietly.

"Stop lying, Descamps." My voice breaks.

"I-" He sighs, looking down at his lap.

I sniffle, wiping my nose. I turn around, back against his clamped legs. And he stays still. We've done this before. Except my back was against his chest, and he was combing my hair with his fingers.

"And Annick." I feel him tense.

"What about her?" I scoff in disbelief.

"You're doing this for her, right?" I turn my head, not really looking at him.

"What? Oh, no, of course not. I was here because Pichon told me, or really I made him tell me that you-" His voice gets cut off and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"That I what?" I urge him to continue. Incoherent noises come from the back of his throat, stuttering against his teeth. He sighs, wiping his palms on the cloth of his knees.

"That you were coming here." It comes out as a mumble, and I almost didn't hear it from the way my heart was thumping and blocking my hearing.

"Why would you care?" There's a pause again, and it's suffocating.

"So that I'll know how easy it'll be to get it before you do." I snap my head forward, looking at the blank wood of the table.

A few seconds pass by. I hear his voice again.

"What about you? Why do you want an hour with Annick?" I keep my head straight this time while talking.

"I need to keep up with her." I shrug simply.

"Why? You're already doing so well in class." I flush at the compliment, but shake my head.

"Well, I could do better." I sigh deeply, seemingly annoyed at the question. I still want him talking to me, though.

"I mean, sure, but isn't it draining?" My hearing blurs for a second at the question.

"Of course it is." I keep my answer plain, but my voice breaks. I hear his heavy breathing.

"You know that I know how much you study. Even if we're... not so close as we were before, I still think you should take a break."

A memory comes to mind. I lean over my books on my bed, writing notes on the pages. Feet thumping against wood floors doesn't break my focus, but a hand caressing my back does. I still remembered the way he whispered against my ear, telling me to take a break. The way he cupped my hand to stop it from writing. The way that the bed dipped as he sat down and wrapped his arms around my waist. How much I missed those nights.

"You know, I used to fake studying so you could come close." I blurt out, not caring what I say anymore.

He doesn't respond immediately. "Yeah?" I hum in response.

"I used to make every excuse to come close." I shiver at the confession, wishing I could turn back time to every moment he came close and held me.

"It's too bad you're an asshole." He chuckles.

"Really is too bad."

I guess that was where the conversation ended, though I'm not sure, but after a while, we hear the janitor get up and leave. I slowly come out of the hiding spot, dusting my dress again.

Before I leave the room, a hand grabs my wrist. I don't turn around, but suddenly, my hands clasp a rectangular object. Descamps drops my hand and leaves.

When the door closes, I just stare at it. Then, I raise my hand. The film was in it.

××《☆》××

I walk with Pichon to the alley, watching familiar faces look at us. I avoid Descamps' gaze, focusing on Michèle and smiling at her.

"There they are!" One of them calls out.

"So?"

"We've got them." Pichon answers, dropping the bag. I hand the film to Annick, leaning into her ear.

"Descamps did it. Give him the hour." I purse my lips, then walk away from her. She turns her head to Descamps, and I'm too scared to see if she looks at him the way I used to. Well, really, I still do.

I walk to Michèle, smiling at her. Then I look at Applebaum.

He hasn't changed much, and when he catches me staring, he turns as red as his name and looks away. I laugh a little, then start to feel bad about the fact that Descamps had threatened him. I'll talk to him about it later.

We all lean and look at Pichon as he opens the pouch, frogs hopping out of it. I yelp, trying to get away from them.

"It only took five minutes?" Dupin asks.

"He's smarter than all of you." Laubrac answers.

"Can't wait to see Herman's face."

They start to grab the frogs and chase each other with it. Dupin lifts it up to my face, and I yelp, running away.

Strong arms lift me off the ground, the familiar scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne fill my senses.

"Come on, go chase Felbec or something. Not her." Dupin nods and runs elsewhere.

He gently places me on the ground again, cupping my face.

"You okay?" He whispers. I nod.

"Don't talk to Applebaum. I saw you looking at him. I know you know that I threatened him, it's only because he's a fucking weirdo and you know it. Please." He reads me too well. I nod again.

"Thanks. Now go home." He pulls his hands away, grabbing another cigarette.

I stumble backwards, walking away fully.

Almost halfway home, I remember leaving something. It was a tie I accidentally dropped when Descamps lifted me off the ground. It was pretty special, so I went back for it.

Turning to the now golden lit alley, my feet stutter to a stop when I see Descamps against the wall, some girl from school splayed over him, her hand on his chest and lips close to his.

The garbage rattles and their heads turn to me. I make a run for it, leaving the tie to be forgotten.

I should've known. He never loved me. He always hated me. Since when were they even hanging out? What if they were together the whole time? I gag at the thought.

I hate him. I hate him so much. But I don't.

Fuck, this hurts.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter six: Mischief Managed

Next- Chapter seven: Salvatore

××《☆》××

So that took SUCH A LONG TIME. Um very angsty good or very angsty bad? Idk if I spell checked or grammar checked this well, so if u see smth, dm me PLS

Also for the F1 fans, ik im late w news, but 1-2 ferrari, carlos pole after appendix got removed, ferrari and mclaren top 4 domination, hamilton and verstappen dnf, george flipping over on the middle of the track, and fernando alonso getting p1 for a few minutes. Austrailia GP will always be wild.

HAPPY READING!!! 6/10 CHAPTERS DONE

#joseph descamps #joseph descamps x reader #mixte1963 #michèle magnan #simone palladino #jean pierre magnan #alain laubrac #reader insert #fanfic #enemies to lovers #angst #fluff #love triangle #slow burn

132 notes · View notes

kckt88 · 9 months

Text

Take My Breath Away IV.

Summary:

Aegon issues a threat and Vaeryna discovers the pleasure of her husbands touch.

Warning(s): Little Time Skip, Swearing, Angst, Threats, Kissing, Oral Sex - F Receiving, P in V Sex, Jokes, Regret.

Word Count: 3205

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

GREENS WIN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

As it turns out Aemonds seed did not take root, as Vaeryna’s monthly bleeding arrived.

Aemond wasn’t sure whether he felt relieved or disappointed.

He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be a father, because he was afraid of turning out like his own.

When Aegon was told he couldn’t sire more children, the need to provide a male heir had fallen to Aemond, and he accepted it as his duty.

But his guilt over the way he acted during the consummation with Vaeryna still lingered, they had not touched one another since and now she wasn’t with child, he knew he would have to lay with her again.

He had been summoned to a meeting with Aegon and their mother and as much as he wanted to refuse. He couldn’t.

So, after Vaeryna had gone out with her Cannibal, Aemond found himself slowly walking to his mother’s chambers.

The guard stationed outside nodded his head in respect and then opened the door.

“Prince Aemond. Your Grace”.

“Thank you, Ser Colton,” replied Alicent.

Aemond declined his mother’s invite to sit next to her, preferring instead to stand, his arms folded behind his back.

“Ahh brother. I heard that your wife had her monthly bleeding”.

“Yes, Your Grace” replied Aemond.

“Was it not made clear that you were to make every effort into putting a child inside your wife?”

“It was made clear Your Grace” said Aemond clenching his jaw.

“So why is my good sister not yet with child?” asked Aegon.

“These things take time Your Grace” exclaimed Aemond.

“Mayhaps it would help if you had actually bedded her more than once”.

“She does not care for it Your Grace” muttered Aemond.

“I don’t care. She is your wife, and it is her duty to provide you with children”.

“Aemond. You need to understand the situation your brother is in, without a male heir to succeed him he is in a vulnerable position” said Alicent calmly.

“I am aware of that mother” replied Aemond.

“Well then do something about it. You need to be fucking her every night in order to increase the chances of your seed taking root” snapped Aegon.

“Aegon” gasped Alicent.

“You had no trouble fucking that old whore from Harrenhal, so I don’t see your issue”.

“Your Grace-“

“You will do as your King commands, or do I need to stand over both of you to ensure that it is done” said Aegon.

“No, Your Grace” replied Aemond.

“Good. Now I expect you to fuck your wife tonight or there will be consequences. For both of you. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Grace” said Aemond.

“You are excused” snapped Aegon waving his hand dismissively.

Aemond bowed respectfully and then left his mothers chambers.

He stormed through the corridors of the Red Keep, not wanting to speak too anyone and he had barely closed the door to his own chambers before he punched the wall.

“FUCK!!” exclaimed Aemond as the pain quickly lanced through his hand.

Gods he was angry. He needed to get out of there before he did something stupid, like go back to his mother’s chambers and beat the living shit out of his brother.

Ignoring the pain in his hand, Aemond quickly donned his riding leathers and went to Vhagar.

A few hours away from it all is exactly what he needed.

It was almost dusk when he returned to the Red Keep, sometimes his old girl could be difficult to rouse but today she’d been more than ready to take to the sky.

Aemond did wonder if he would cross paths with Vaeryna whilst he was on his travels but wherever she’d gone with her Cannibal he didn’t spot her.

Of course, he was curious where she would go, as she would often be gone for hours at a time but given how the time had gotten away from him whilst he was amongst the clouds he wasn’t too concerned.

In the weeks since their wedding, Aemond and Vaeryna had developed some form of friendship, they dined together every night and spoke often of historical facts or whatever they’d done during the day.

She would still speak her mind and insult him on occasion and even though it boiled his blood, he accepted it, because that just who she was, and he wasn’t going to try and change her because he knew that she’d tell him to fuck off if he ever dared to try.

His mother had once made a sniping jape about Vaeryna truly being her fathers daughter and Aemond couldn’t agree more, she even looked like him in certain light.

As he arrived in his chambers he was greeted by a hot bath.

“I figured you’d want to bathe; the air was rather cool today” said Vaeryna.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as he began pulling of his riding leathers.

“I’ll go into the lounge-“

“No. Stay. There’s something I need to tell you” said Aemond.

“Ok” replied Vaeryna looking away until Aemond stepped into the bath and lowered himself into the hot water.

Aemond leaned against the edge of the bath and closed his eye. The hot water soothing his aching muscles.

He almost forgot Vaeryna was there until she cleared her throat.

“You said you had something to tell me”.

“I’ve spent the last few hours practising this conversation and there’s no easy way to say this but-“

“For the love of all that is holy, just spit it out will you” snapped Vaeryna.

“The King has been made aware that you are not with child”.

“-And” sniped Vaeryna.

“He said bedding you only once was not sufficient enough to sire a child” replied Aemond.

“Tell that to the numerous silver haired bastards that he’s got running around the streets of silk-don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true” said Vaeryna.

“Be that as it may, he’s told me that we should be laying together every night in order increase the chances of my seed taking root”.

“Did he now?” retorted Vaeryna.

“He also said there would be consequences if we don’t” said Aemond.

“Did he indicate what these consequences could be?”

“No. But given how twisted my brothers mind can get, I shudder to think what he would come up with” said Aemond.

“So basically, your expected to rape me and I just have to accept it?” asked Vaeryna.

“No. I-I can’t do that to you again” muttered Aemond.

“But the King, said there will be consequences of we don’t” replied Vaeryna.

“Whatever happens, I will take the brunt of it, I won’t let him hurt you”.

“But those were the terms I accepted on my arrival to Kings Landing, I knew my purpose was to provide you with children and-“

“-You shouldn’t exist just for the purpose alone” mumbled Aemond as he began to look for a towel.

“Here, I placed it near the fire so it would be warm for you” said Vaeryna as she handed him a warm towel.

“Who taught you that?” asked Aemond.

“My mother. We used to go on family dragon rides and sometimes the skies around Dragonstone would get a little chilly, so she would always set towels in front of the fire to warm us up after we’d washed away the smell of dragon” said Vaeryna sadly.

“Sounds-nice” muttered Aemond.

Vaeryna nodded slightly and then turned around to give Aemond some privacy as he dried himself and pulled on a pair of loose breeches.

“Perhaps we could try-“ whispered Vaeryna.

“What?” exclaimed Aemond.

“It is rather admirable of you to want to bare the brunt of the Kings consequences, but you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to that”.

“What else can I do?”

“We could-” said Vaeryna quietly.

“-Surely your not suggesting what I think you are?” asked Aemond.

“Yes, I am” said Vaeryna as she began fiddling with the laces on her shift.

“N-No. Stop. I don’t-“

“-What’s the matter can’t you get it up for someone your own age, or do you prefer old lady cunny?” said Vaeryna smirking.

“Must you be so crass?” exclaimed Aemond.

“Would you have me any other way?” asked Vaeryna.

“No, I would not” replied Aemond.

“This is my choice Valzȳrys. As much as you are a cunt for what you’ve done to my family, I find myself unwilling to allow you to place yourself in harm’s way” said Vaeryna (Husband).

“You almost sound like you care”.

“If anyone was going to subject you to immeasurable cruelty then it will be me” said Vaeryna.

Aemond took a deep breath and sat on the bed.

“If were truly going to this, then you will treat me with reverence and you will give me the experience I would have gotten if you had known I was maid” said Vaeryna as she untied her shift and pulled it from her body.

“A-Are you sure?” asked Aemond.

“Your seriously asking me that as I stand in front of you as naked as my name day”.

“Just making sure” replied Aemond as he reached out and took Vaeryna’s hand guiding her to the bed.

“Now, show me what it feels like to enjoy the touch of my husband”.

Vaeryna had lost most of her senses the moment Aemond had pressed her onto the bed and knelt down between her open legs.

When he said he wanted to kiss her there, she never imagined this.

Vaeryna’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as Aemond’s tongue swept across her slick wet folds.

Vaeryna bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to tease her entrance.

“Ivestragī issa rȳbagon ao” growls Aemond (Let me hear you).

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” moaned Vaeryna.

Aemond pressed two fingers inside Vaeryna, moving them against a spot that made her entire body shake.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen my sweet. Come for me” whispered Aemond.

Vaeryna arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond crawled up Vaeryna’s body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Vaeryna blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself my little dragon” murmured Aemond.

“I-I’ve never-” mumbled Vaeryna.

“Was that your first peak?” asked Aemond.

Vaeryna blushed and nodded.

Aemond smiled as he leaned forward and slowly ran his tongue along Vaeryna’s bottom lip.

Vaeryna jumped when she felt Aemond’s cock against her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow” whispered Aemond as he reached down and took hold of his hard cock rubbing it along Vaeryna’s wet folds.

“Ok. I’m ready” replied Vaeryna, her heart pounding.

Aemond thrusts his hips forward and the entire hard length of him is buried inside Vaeryna.

“Oh” gasped Vaeryna.

She had expected to feel pain, but this was something else entirely.

Aemond rolls his hips gently at first, allowing Vaeryna the time to adjust to the feeling of his cock moving back and forth inside her, but when his wife begins issuing quiet yet insistent pleas of 'harder and faster' Aemond loses it and begins fucking Vaeryna into the mattress.

Their hips pound together as Aemond thrusts hard and fast, his movements brutal and precise.

“Fuck, Ryna” moans Aemond his cock throbbing with need.

“A-Aemond”

“What is it you desire, Princess?” asked Aemond, his thrusts becoming somewhat stuttered and messy, his singular eye screwed shut, he ready to burst at any moment. His silver hair stuck to his forehead, from the exertion of fucking his wife.

“You-Aemond-” gasped Vaeryna.

Aemond grinned, increasing the intensity of his thrusts, watching her body jerk with each movement of his hips.

He could feel her cunny fluttering around him, so he reached down to apply pressure to her pearl.

Vaeryna let out a chocked moan as she felt is finger swirling around her, she buried one hand into his long silver hair and the other grasped his arm so tight her knuckles had turned white.

Aemond pulls back slightly to watch with excitement as his wife peaks again around his length.

With a choked, staggered moan of his own, Aemond grips her so tightly, she would surely bruise, as he spills himself inside her hot, wet cunny. Filling her with rope after rope of his seed, thrusting shallowly to ensure it was as deep inside her as possible.

Aemond collapsed on top of Vaeryna, his face buried in her neck.

After he’d managed to catch his breath, Aemond slowly pulled his softened cock from his wife and laid down next to her, without thinking he enveloped her in his arms.

Vaeryna felt warm and utterly exhausted. She shifted to look up at her husband, watching as his eye opened to look down at her.

“A-Are you ok?” asked Aemond.

“I-I think so” replied Vaeryna.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’ll think I’m being stupid” said Vaeryna.

“No. I won’t you can tell me” suggested Aemond.

After a few moments of silence, Vaeryna took a deep shuddering breath.

“I can’t help but feel like I’m betraying Jace” whispered Vaeryna.

“I know you still have love in your heart for Jacaerys and being with me must be difficult, but we have to make the best of the situation we are in. Granted I did not know him well, but I’m sure Jace would be glad that you are alive” said Aemond.

Vaeryna smiled slightly and snuggled closer to Aemond.

“Do you not want to take that off?” asked Vaeryna.

“It is unsightly, I would spare you from gazing upon my disfigurement”.

“Aemond-I would like to see you, all of you” replied Vaeryna as she sat up.

After a few minutes of silence, Aemond took a shaking hand and unbuckled his eyepatch, showing Vaeryna what lurked beneath.

Both the upper and lower eyelids were missing, with the surrounding flesh red and scarred, yet nestled within the hollow where his eye had once been, was the brightest sapphire that Vaeryna had ever seen, it was so hauntingly beautiful.

Aemond moved his head and attempted to press his face into the mattress, almost as if he was scared of seeing her reaction to what he considered as ugly and shameful.

But Vaeryna gently placed her hand on Aemond’s scared cheek and smiled.

“Gevie zaldrīzes” (Beautiful dragon).

“Vaeryna” whispered Aemond as a lone tear trickled down his cheek.

Aemond smiled at Vaeryna and sat up, he placed his hands on her face and kissed her gently.

Suddenly the door burst open and Aegon sauntered in.

Vaeryna shrieked in horror and attempted to hide behind Aemond.

“WHAT THE FUCK AEGON” balled Aemond as he manoeuvred himself in front of his naked wife.

“I just wanted to check that you had taken my words seriously” replied Aegon as he spied the wine decanter.

“So that gives you the right to barge into my chambers” snarled Aemond.

“That’s rich coming from you, Mr I’m a Prince I’ll go wherever I please” muttered Vaeryna.

“Ryna, Now is not the time” quipped Aemond.

“I’m glad to see that you heeded my suggestion brother. But don’t forget you need to be fucking her cunny every night to ensure your seed takes. I want my heir” said Aegon.

“GET THE FUCK OUT” snarled Aemond.

“Oh, come now brother is that anyway to speak to your King” laughed Aegon as he took a sip of wine.

“Out there you might be the King, but in these chambers, you are nothing but my wastrel of an older brother, and if you do not remove yourself, I will not hesitate to skin you alive” retorted Aemond.

“Such violence, tell me good sister how do you put up with him” laughed Aegon.

“OUT” shouted Aemond as he jumped off the bed.

“Hmm, I can certainly see why she puts up with you. Quite impressive brother, truly a marvel-I’m honestly quite jealous” quipped Aegon as he looked Aemond up and down.

“Halt your vulgarity and get out” said Aemond as he seized Aegon by the collar and marched him towards the door.

“Don’t forget the wine brother” giggled Aegon.

“Take it and piss off, don’t ever barge in here again” exclaimed Aemond as he released Aegon.

The King who already seemed off his face, staggered to the wine decanter and took it into his greedy hands.

“Do remember what I said, I would hate to punish you both” said Aegon darkly.

“Ser Arryk, see that the King is safely escorted back to his chambers. He’s obviously taken leave of his senses” said Aemond as he held open the door.

“As you wish My Prince-this way Your Grace” said Ser Arryk as he took hold of Aegon’s arm and directed him down the corridor.

“Gods what a-CUNT” balled Aemond as he slammed the door.

Vaeryna stared at Aemond for a few seconds before she burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your naked you know” said Vaeryna.

“I-I was aware of that” mumbled Aemond, his cheeks-tinged pink.

“Oh, Its nothing to be embarrassed about husband, it is a little chilly in here after all, I’m sure it will return to its regular size eventually” joked Vaeryna.

“Are you jesting?” gasped Aemond.

“Try not to feel too bad” giggled Vaeryna.

After a few awkward seconds, Aemond caught onto Vaeryna’s joke and rolled his eye.

“Your impossible you know that” replied Aemond as he got back in bed.

“It’s your brother that’s the impossible one, he took the wine and now we have nothing to drink” said Vaeryna.

“Fucking Aegon” muttered Aemond as he jumped from the bed.

“Don’t forget breeches this time” suggested Vaeryna, hiding her face in the covers.

“It’s nothing the maids haven’t seen or had before” replied Aemond smugly.

“WHAT?” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“Surely you didn’t think Alys was my only experience”.

“Oh, well no-I just assumed that-“ stuttered Vaeryna.

“Good job I’m joking then isn’t it” quipped Aemond as he pulled on his breeches and tunic.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Got you didn’t I-Should’ve seen the look on your face” laughed Aemond.

“Piss off” muttered Vaeryna.

“Oh, come now ābrazȳrys. Don’t sulk. After I’ve got more wine, how about I put a smile on that pretty face of yours” said Aemond.

“How are you going to do that?” asked Vaeryna.

“Mayhaps I shall insist that you are to take my cock again and ride me like an unclaimed dragon in front of the fireplace”.

“Aemond” gasped Vaeryna blushing.

“So, wine and the-“

“Yes, I would like wine and the other” whispered Vaeryna.

“That’s my girl” said Aemond as he pressed a quick kiss to Vaeryna’s forehead and left the room in search of wine.

‘That’s my girl’ The words awakened a latent memory in her mind and Vaeryna felt her heart flutter in her chest.

Jace used to say to her. He would whisper it as he pressed his forehead against hers after they had shared sweet kisses.

She could almost remember the feeling of his curly hair in her hands as she used to clutch at it in her desperation to feel him closer.

“Jacaerys” sobbed Vaeryna as she threw herself onto the bed and buried her face into the pillow.

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