#same thing with strange he attended her fucking WEDDING
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i was ranting to my aunt abt how like
wanda should’ve moved on with her life after her brother and visions death bc it was fucking forever ago and like…there’s nothing she can do abt it now
and she asked me if i was capable of forming meaningful relationships with ppl and im like
😧
#no but listen#isn’t that like#what happens#you#you.#you ‘get over it eventually’ like#you don’t jeopardize the entirety of the universe bc you couldn’t have the kids you wanted#and the husband you wanted#she didn’t even want him to be a robot her reality could literally#never be possible and she still did all that WHILE knowing that#like#idk if i can really get behind that whole but#bit*#same thing with strange he attended her fucking WEDDING#the woman he’s in love with he attended her wedding to another man#don’t you think it’s time to….move tf on stephen???#like that doesn’t make any sense for you to still be#mopping around#AND IT WAS HIS FAULT THEY DONT WORK OUT#IN ANY UNIVERSE#liek it’s his canon event it’s just not meant to happen#there are other ladies out there stephen (i am also out there)
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hi!!
would you mind sharing your top steddie fics??
looking for great recs
hi! i'm ashamed to admit that i haven't read any steddie in... months. maybe a year. as a result i haven't got anything recent to recommend — but here are some of the ones i enjoyed anyway. if you want any more, my ao3 bookmarks are public!
matches burn after the other - limerental (5k)
It's ten years later. Steve's a hospice nurse. Eddie's got the virus. It's kind of weird and sad and strange and inevitable. Or something. And not as sad as it sounds.
Weakened Like Achilles, with You Always at My Heels - HMSLusitania (53k)
The graduating classes of 1985 and 1986 invite YOU back to West Hawkins!
Welcome reception Friday, May 24th at 7:30pm. School and town tour to follow on Saturday morning. Memorial service Sunday.
If you are a graduate of the class of 1985 and need driving directions to West Hawkins, please RSVP
* Due to current government restrictions, we are not currently able to offer a site visit to the Hawkins Exclusion Zone
Steve Harrington goes home for his ten (well, eleven) year reunion with a nagging secret that's slowly ruining his life.
In the ten years between, he finds the family he always wanted and, unfortunately, the person he wanted to share it with.
windowsill - lagardère (laurore), MissAntlers (13k)
“It’s about finding what you’re invested in,” Ms Kelley had said. “It will help with the process of recovery. You need to find it, and nurture it.”
Whatever Ms Kelley meant, surely it wasn’t this: using Lucas’ binoculars to spy on Steve Harrington as he climbs out the window of the Munson trailer.
(recovering in the aftermath of Vecna's attack, Max is stuck at home. Somehow, spying on Eddie Munson has become her number 1 hobby.)
let's do the time (loop) again - alchemystique (34k)
“Did you, uh… did you sing to me, once?” Eddie asks, sitting on the hood of Steve’s car and staring up at the sky so he doesn’t have to pretend he isn’t desperate for everything promised in the eyes that haven’t left Eddie since Eddie woke up in that hospital bed. It’s just –
Time loops, and the King of Hawkins High going back over and over and over again just to stop Eddie Munson from dying, and –
“Fuck,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t remember, but there’s a song that won’t leave his head, and the voice is soft and warm just like the way Steve smiles at him and – “I didn’t think you remembered any of it.”
---
Eddie died in a time loop a hundred times and all Steve got was this tee-shirt.
You're the Driver, You're the Road - stereobone (8k)
Eddie meant it when he said once he graduated, he was getting the hell out of Hawkins.
He just didn't realize that Steve was going to keep showing up.
the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it's you - @greatunironic (34k)
Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?” Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth.
Waiting Room - @kissmejusttokiss (55k)
Sometimes, Eddie thinks they should have left him in the Upside Down.
But people are happy that he’s alive.
Or, at least, that’s what they keep telling him.
Dustin follows him around like letting Eddie out of his sight will bring about the second coming of hell. Constantly asking if he’s OK, never taking yes for an answer. The other kids do the same, lingering and worrying, but with a softer approach. Robin calls him every day and he gets used to her impromptu visits even if sometimes he doesn’t manage to get a word in edgewise. And Steve…
Steve is an enigma wrapped in an atrociously good-looking riddle.
Eddie navigates the aftermath of surviving the final battle and tries his best not to lose the only good thing to ever happen to him. (Even if that means making a deal with the devil.)
sequel to 'i can't save us, my Atlantis'
sir stephen strider finds his suzie - @lesbianrobin (5k)
Dustin watches Eddie's face as everyone else giggles. He's retained his typical intimidating smirk for much of this encounter, but as Steve stumbles through his fictional seduction, Eddie's eyes soften. His smirk slowly turns to a small grin.
“Didn't Wizard Romeo and Juliet both die?” he asks, in that same low, grumbly voice he always loves to use for big scary bad guys. The effect is jarring.
“Well, yes, but… they loved each other first,” Steve says, oddly sincere. “I think love is worth the risk. Wouldn't you agree? And then, uh, I'm gonna take off my helmet and, like—” Steve tosses his hair, shaking it out dramatically and running a hand through it afterward to fix any wayward strands.
"Ew,” Mike says.
Nancy presses a hand over her mouth, but it does nothing to hide her smile. Usually, this is the point where Eddie would make them all roll initiative. Dustin has his D20 ready. But Eddie smiles. Eddie fucking smiles, and not in that maniacal way he does before siccing something horrific on them, he fucking beams, and says, "You're gonna scrape your neck on his mace doing that, just so you know."
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it’s hard to be anywhere these days (when all i want is you) - two
part one.
two.
Five months went by monotonously. He attended classes, he studied and wrote essays. He patrolled and put criminals in jail. He went to see May without ever entering her room. He ignored Tony’s messages. He ghosted Ned. He received Sophia’s wedding invitation and, later that same day, beat a bad guy that didn’t really deserve it into a pulp.
There was a girl in one of his classes that made eyes at him. He wasn’t one to notice those things, but she wasn’t being very subtle and, in a moment of desperation for human interaction, he asked her out. Carlie, as her name turned out to be, took him home after a pleasant dinner and kicked him out the very next morning saying she’d had a nice time but wasn’t looking for anything serious. Peter felt both empty and relieved.
It bothered him, that emptiness; after all, that had been his goal all along, to be on his own, and his efforts were working. May hadn’t still remembered him. Ned had gone radio silent for weeks. Tony kept calling but it would only be a matter of time until he got the message. And Sophia—
I gave up on you a long time ago.
Good. Good for her.
And yet, the words haunted him. They kept him up at night. They carved a crater inside his chest every time he remembered them.
I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself.
He didn’t need help. He was fine. It was all working out exactly the way he had planned it.
***
The fragile tranquillity and isolation he’d found ended when Mysterio came into the scene.
At first, he’d been the support he’d needed, the friend he’d been desperately craving. The Europe trip had been a distraction from the loneliness he was experiencing at home.
He shouldn’t have been surprised when everything turned to shit and his psyche ended up even more fucked up that it already had been.
It said a lot about his mental and emotional state that he’d felt safe in the Dutch prison. At least, no one there knew who he was, and being dead to the rest of the world was a strangely nice notion he could get on board with.
And then, Sophia showed up.
The look on her face gave away how unimpressed she was by the whole thing, especially when Peter was brought to her in that dirty orange soccer shirt, smelling like cow’s shit.
“Can you walk?” was all she said.
Barely, he thought, but nodded instead.
Without saying anything else, Sophia turned and walked out of the forsaken place, clearly expecting him to follow. He knew better than to argue or protest; besides, the shock at the sight of her was so great he couldn’t have said anything.
The Quinjet was parked in the outskirts of the village, in a colourful field of tulips. Peter had never seen anything so beautiful except for the woman walking ahead of him with an unreadable expression on her face.
“Is it really you?” he dared to ask in a whisper, before getting inside the jet.
Sophia stopped and turned to stare at him. “It’s been five months since my father’s birthday. Have I really changed that much since then?”
His heart raced but he still asked, “What did you say to me then?”
“I said many things.”
“Tell me one of them.”
She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I called you stupid for thinking pushing people away would keep them safe.”
Peter drew in a sharp breath, and he almost collapsed from the relief. Without even thinking, and ignoring all the complaints he got from his wounds, he closed the distance between them and threw his arms around her.
It hit him then that this couldn’t have been Mysterio. Not even his fancy illusion could have faked her scent, or her warmth, or the intensity of her eyes.
“It’s really you,” he sobbed like a little kid, hiding his face in her shoulder as he cried. “Thank God, thank God it’s really you. Thank God you’re safe.”
Sophia froze, evidently not having expected his reaction—or his breakdown. It took her a few moments to get out of her shock and hesitatingly return the embrace. Peter shivered when he felt her hands rubbing his back softly.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’re both safe.”
***
The Quinjet had a small shower because, well, it belonged to Tony Stark after all.
Sophia helped him take off the orange shirt and get out of the suit he was still wearing underneath, leaving him only in his boxers. Then, she cleaned him up with the shower headset; her fingers massaged his scalp while she washed the dirt and blood away, the hot water on his skin helping him to ease the pain in his bones and muscles.
They didn’t exchange any words during all of that; Sophia looked very busy on her task, and Peter was simply too tired to speak. He was also enjoying her touch and presence way too much, and he didn’t want to say anything to make her mad and drive her away.
Once he was decent, she left for a moment to find clothes for him. She came back with a pair of sweatpants and a band t-shirt that clearly had belonged to Tony. She didn’t let him put on the t-shirt though, and proceeded to stitch him up, also in silence.
The pain was rather unbearable, but there was a small mirror in front of him, and he distracted himself from the stitches by observing her as she worked diligently on his wound.
Sophia was in washed-out jeans, white sneakers and a band t-shirt of her own. Her hair was down, with only a clip on one side to keep her long fringe away from her face. He couldn’t imagine what she’d been doing before she had to fly all the way to a godforsaken Dutch village in search of him.
“How did you know where I was?” Peter asked, his voice coming out hoarse.
“I was visiting Dad when your protocols went off,” she told him without looking up from her task.
“I thought I had disabled those,” he frowned before hissing in pain and throwing Sophia a resentful look.
She didn’t even apologise. “You should know better than to think you can trick him with that shit.”
Peter winced. “So he is aware of—”
“Of course not,” she huffed. “I asked FRIDAY not to tell him. He would have wanted to suit up and come for you… so I took the Quinjet and came myself.”
He didn’t say anything for a while, her words making him incredibly emotional and guilty. Even after everything he’d done, Tony still had protocols for him, he was still willing to come for him if he was in trouble.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, quickly rubbing his eyes to dry the tears that wanted to come out. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”
Sophia didn’t reply, but he saw the scowl on her face through the mirror.
She worked in silence for another while until she announced she was done and carefully put on a bandage, to cover the stitches. He observed her with a lump in his throat.
“Soph…”
She flinched at the nickname and gritted her teeth before throwing Tony’s t-shirt at him so he could get dressed.
“I’ll make you something to eat,” she ground out before leaving the small bathroom.
Peter took a few moments to himself before he followed her, looking at his face in the mirror. Even if some of his wounds were already healing, he still looked like absolute shit, because there was more there than evident physical exhaustion. The expression in his eyes was dead, and he could barely recognise himself.
Sophia was waiting for him in one of the seats, a plate of food sitting at the table in front of her. Peter sat in the opposite seat and began eating in silence under her watchful eyes. He didn’t realise how hungry he’d been until the first bite of food touched his mouth.
She waited until he’d finished to begin the interrogation.
“What the fuck is going on?” she asked without beating around the bush.
And Peter started spilling out everything, from the reason he’d accepted to study abroad for a semester—to escape his loneliness, basically—to meeting Mysterio, to being tricked and betrayed by him, to every single one of the illusions Mysterio had fabricated for him, including the ones about her.
Sophia kept quiet through all of it, keeping her expression carefully guarded, until he got to the part where he’d been defeated in Berlin.
“You’re telling me you’ve been hit by a train?” she gasped, palling in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. “That wound in your back is from a bloody train?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah, I managed to climb it up. I must have passed out in one of the cars, which is probably how I ended up in that prison.”
She gaped at him. “Peter, you could have died.”
“I’ve been dead before. It wasn’t that bad,” he joked weakly, which was clearly the wrong thing to say, because her face turned even whiter. “Sorry.”
Sophia stood up from her seat and gave her back to him. Her shoulders screamed tension, and Peter could hear the rapid beating of her anxious heart.
“Do you realise—” she began in a shaky voice, “that even if you push people away, that doesn’t guarantee they will stop caring about you?”
He gulped down. “Tony doesn’t need to find out—”
“I’m not talking about my father,” she snapped, turning to look at him brusquely. There were tears in her eyes, even if her cheeks were red in evident frustration. “I’m talking about me. How can you speak about dying so lightly when I have flown across the world to make sure you were still alive?”
Peter felt sick, knowing that he would have lost it if it had been the other way around. When he thought about the Blip, he was so glad it hadn’t been him in Sophia’s position that it was easy to forget she actually knew what it was like to experience his death, even if he’d been gone for only six months before the Avengers brought everybody back. Sophia was so strong all the time, so confident, that her trauma was sometimes overlooked.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, taking a hesitant step towards her. “I didn’t think about it.”
“But that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Sophia laughed dryly. “You don’t think about the people that care about you at all.”
“That’s not true and you know it,” Peter said with a frown. “Everything I do is to keep you safe. You may not agree with my methods, but all I think about is your well-being.”
“And do you think we are all well and happy without you in our lives?” she shook her head. “You always think about your losses, Peter. What about ours? Because, in a way, we have lost you.”
His eyes burnt, and his hands started shaking. She was right, he couldn’t deny she was right, but he was too scared.
“You’re better off without me, Soph,” Peter said quietly. “You may not see it now, but you will eventually. Tony will have one less thing to worry about, May will not even remember all the trouble I’ve caused her, and you—” he looked away, his throat closing. “You’ve already given up on me, you’ve said it yourself. Aren’t you happier?”
Sophia smiled bitterly. “Do I look happier?”
Peter stared at her properly and without restraint for the first time in what felt like forever. She was paler and thinner, her eyes duller and no longer sparkling mischievously—but then again, she wasn’t in the best situation right now.
“You’re getting married,” he said weakly. “That’s a good thing.”
She crossed her arms, her eyes pointedly on his. “Is it?”
He couldn’t hold her gaze. “Aren’t you happy about that?”
“One thing doesn’t cancel the other out, Peter,” she replied sharply. “You were one of the most important people in my life. I thought you were dead for six months and I mourned you…” She drew in a sharp breath, her bottom lip trembling. “And then you came back, and you pushed me away. I was the first person you pushed away—was that because I was the easiest to dispose of?”
His brain broke down, and he was left speechless, unable to believe her train of thought. It felt like a dagger through the heart to imagine she could believe that.
“What?” he let out brokenly. He couldn’t even recognise his voice. “Is that—Is that what you think?”
Sophia didn’t bother to reply, which was answer enough. He would have laughed at the horror if he could even remember how to do that. He’d been drained out of everything, and all he could feel was a deep-rooted exhaustion and sadness.
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” Peter stated, making her look up. “I pushed you away first because I knew that if I could do it with you, then I could do it with the rest.”
She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I had to break my heart beyond repair first in order to do what I had to do, Sophia,” he explained, the sorrow and frustration entwined in his tone. “If I had saved you for last, then I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it. I would have found an excuse along the way—I would have convinced myself that I didn’t have to do it. The longer I waited with you, the harder it would be.”
Her tears were falling freely down her cheeks by the time he finished. He probably was crying too, if the blurriness in his eyes was any indication of it, but he couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t her.
“So, no,” Peter went on with a sad smile. “You weren’t the easiest to dispose of; on the contrary, pushing you away was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I can’t—I can’t even put into words how much I miss you… every day, all the time.” He inhaled some air and even that hurt. “And I know you won’t like this, but I would throw myself under that train again if that meant you would be here with—”
“No,” she cut him off, angrily wiping her tears away and glaring at him. “Shut up. Shut up. You never told me that—what are you even saying? You—”
“I love you,” he whispered but it was loud and clear enough. “I have been in love with you since the moment I met you, and I don’t think that’s ever going to change. I’m sorry.”
She was absolutely astonished by his confession, as if his feelings for her weren’t the most obvious thing in the world. He’d always been bad at hiding his emotions, and the way he felt for her had always been at another level entirely.
“You are—You are apologising?” Sophia cried out after a few moments of shocked silence, stomping his way and getting on his face. “After telling me you love me and all that—all that bullshit?”
Peter simply stared at her, taking in the fire in her wet eyes, the red of her cheeks, the trembling of her body. Her sweet perfume enveloped him and his head spun.
Yes. I love you. I love you. I love you.
“How dare you, Peter Parker?” she snarled, stabbing him with her finger accusatively. “How dare you tell me this after all these years? After you almost died again?”
“Soph…” he tried to speak; to say what, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter in the end.
Because Sophia slanted her mouth over his and kissed him.
Peter hadn’t been expecting that in a million years, and the shock left him incapacitated to react for a few seconds—until her fingers curled around the hairs on his nape and pulled him closer to her.
And Peter utterly and completely lost it.
It was a burst of light, blinding the darkness that had been hanging over him; something akin to the way he’d felt the first time he’d jumped off a building after he’d got his powers. He forgot all about his wounds, about his cuts and bruises. He even forgot all about his plans to keep her away—a plan that he’d been trying to maintain for years. It all flew his mind as if it had never been there, and he could only focus on the feeling of her.
She was everything; all silk and warmth, encaging him in a whirlwind of light and goodness, chasing away the shadows that had been looming over him. His heart thumped like a drum against hers, starved and needy for her, becoming alive in a way it hadn’t been since before the Blip.
“Soph…” he rasped out, feeling high and desperate; eyes still shut.
His lips parted, his senses reeling with the taste and smell and feel of her. He tangled his hands in her hair as he brought her closer, wanting to fuse them together and never let go. She was giving him air after not being able to breathe, she was his oasis in the desert, the only beacon of light in the middle of a dark sea.
And he couldn’t get enough. He’d been deprived of her for too long.
Sophia threw an arm around his neck, her other hand cupping his jaw. “Shut up,” she mumbled, biting on his lips. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Peter could only moan and oblige.
three.
#peter parker#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker fanfic#tom holland fanfiction#peter parker imagine#peter parker x ofc#mcu!peter x reader#peter parker x stark!reader#tom holland imagine#marvel fanfiction#mywriting
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7 Deadly Sins: Envy (Phoenix)
The church was beautiful. High white walls, clerestory windows depicting scenes from the Bible and surprisingly comfortable seats. She could see why you had been so insistant about getting married here, even going so far as to postpone the wedding until the church was free.
The music started and the attendants turned in their seats, shifting their attention from the nervous groom to you. You looked beautiful in your white dress, holding your wedding bouquet, and with your veil covering your hair. Phoenix tried to steady her breathing, but trying to get a grip on her hyperventilation made her loose what little control she possessed over the tears in her eyes.
She was your best friend, your fucking maid of honor. It would have been okay for her to cry.
It would have been okay for her to cry happy tears.
They were not happy tears.
They were tears of bloody rage.
Tears of hate, actually, if she were honest with herself. Because, watching you walk down the isle, she realised how much she fucking hated Rooster. Stupid bastard, with his stupid moustache, stupid tuxedo, stupid happy tears. She knew the poor man hadn’t done anything. She knew he didn’t deserve it. But seeing you make your way to him in your gorgeous dress made her so irrationally angry. So stupidly jealous.
She had been so careful, so purposeful in her behaviour that she had been so sure nobody had noticed her pining and crushing, but as she shook in her seat, Hangman placed his hand on hers and squeezed it. Of course he would know. He was the most observant one of the lot. But she had to appreciate that he chose to reveal his knowledge so carefully. She appreciated that he didn’t do so in public. Or maybe she wanted that ? Maybe having him say it in front of you would have changed something and you wouldn’t be kneeling in front of the priest with Rooster by your side, pledging your undying love to each other.
Somehow she doubted it.
Even she had to admit that you two were a match made in heaven. He made you so happy. She had seen you with other boyfriends, they had been so stupid and incompetent that she hadn’t considered them a threat. She had wanted Rooster to be the same, to meet you, date you and then walk away so she could hold you as you cried, so she could kiss the top of your head. So you could be hers for a moment. But the fucker had stayed. He’d begged for forgiveness when he needed to, made up for every mistake, missed call or rainchecked date. He took you out to do things you actually wanted to do, and he was happy to, because making you happy made him happy. He was so damn in love with you it made Nat feel sick. Not in a cringey way, but because it felt like looking through a mirror and seeing her reflection have everything she wanted to have.
So yeah, she hated Rooster.
An undying, everburning hate she would never be able to quell.
Hangman held her hand right through the ceremony and until they had found their seats for dinner. He had only let go of it because they hadn’t been seated next to each other. He had been seated right next to Rooster at the head table, and she on the other side of the couple. Phoenix had tried to make small talk and you happily engaged. If you had noticed something strange, you hadn’t mentioned.
Hangman looked at her every once in a while during the speaches, as if to tell her not to do anything stupid. But his warning glances turned to supportive ones once everyone started eating. He even asked her to dance, just as a distraction.
You joined Nat by the open bar after the cake cutting.
« So, you and Hangman, huh ? »
« No we’re just friends » She replied
« Yeah I figured you wouldn’t give him the time of day »
Phoenix chuckled sadly, you placed your hand on her back and she felt a shiver down her spine. She wanted to kiss you so badly. She wanted to do a lot of things. Especially with you. Nat took a sip of her beer.
« You’ll find someone, Nat, don’t worry. Your soulmate is out there somewhere »
I already have, she wanted to say, I love you.
She wallowed the rest of her beer instead.
#fanfic#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick#top gun x reader#fanfiction#natasha phoenix trace#phoenix x reader#phoenix#original fic
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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] || Also on AO3
Chapter 14: December 2005
Something’s wrong and Gerard knows it.
In all fairness, it’s pretty obvious. Martin’s name wasn’t even on the program, let alone him not being at the concert, and the place they’ve lived since the wedding is currently occupied by two yuppies and a Doberman. But even beyond that, Gerard just has a…sense that something is off.
The trouble is that he doesn’t know what he can do about it. Or how to fix it.
He’s tried everything he can think of…well, almost everything. He’s checked the phone book, but it still lists their old address; he’s tried asking at a few places, but none of the people there have seen Liliana or Roger; he’s wandered aimlessly around London, but that was always going to be a shot in the dark. He’s even taken his life into his hands and gone to the Magnus Institute to see about trading a statement for an address, but the Archivist and two of her assistants were out, leaving only a too-eager young man who, somehow, doesn’t seem to have the faintest idea of what he’s in the middle of. Gerard doesn’t have the heart to clue him in, despite his personal feelings on people being involved in this shit without their knowledge or consent, so he writes out a “statement” he’s pretty sure he cribbed from a pub song and pretends not to understand when the guy turns fuchsia after an awkward, fumbling attempt at flirting.
He’s cute, actually, and doesn’t look like he’s much older than Gerard, but since he doesn’t intend to stay in London longer than it takes to collect his brother and sister, he won’t be using the number scrawled on the back of the business card.
There is one other option, Gerard supposes, but he doesn’t want to do it. At all. If he walks back into his mother’s shop, she’ll have him again. And he’s got away. He doesn’t have to be in London anymore. Yes, the world is full of ignorance and stupidity and fear and people doing awful and terrible and thoughtless things in the face of it, but it is also full of fresh bread and comfortable armchairs and art museums and brightly-colored poisonous frogs. And he can see it, he can experience it all for himself, and maybe he can finally get a job he wants instead of running errands for his mother. He can be an artist, or a photographer, or a journalist. He can become a train porter or a flight attendant or a steward on a cruise ship. He can be a homeless drifter and get by on the kindness of others. He can fuck off to the Eurasian Steppes and live in a yurt. Anything is possible, as long as he stays away from Pinhole Books.
He sighs and looks at the business card again. Gods above, the guy drew a winking face in the tail of the Y in his last name, he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. Gerard should just throw it away, but instead, he tucks it into the back of his pack of Woodbines, shakes one out, and cups a hand around the end to light it.
“Those things’ll kill you, you know.”
Gerard almost swallows the cigarette. He whirls around to see Melanie standing a couple feet away, hands on her hips, denim jacket open enough to expose the college logo on her sweatshirt and looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Neens!” Gerard drops the cigarette and barely remembers to grind it out with a heel before he steps forward, arms outspread for a hug. Melanie practically leaps at him, throwing her arms around his neck and nearly pulling him over. “What are you doing here?”
“Could ask you the same thing. I thought you were gone for good.” Melanie drops to the ground and looks up at him accusingly. “Aunt Mary said you’d said you weren’t coming back.”
“I’m not staying. I just came to visit.” Gerard looks Melanie up and down. “Came to see you and Martin. I figured you’d be home for the holidays.”
A strange look comes over Melanie’s eyes. “Yeah. Home for the holidays.”
Anxiety tugs at Gerard. That sense of wrong flares up again, and he studies Melanie again. “What’s wrong? You didn’t get kicked out, did you?”
“No, but—” Melanie breaks off and lifts a hand. “Hey. Look what the cat dragged in.”
Gerard turns around and grins. “Hey, Martin.”
“Gerry?” Martin looks dumbfounded. He’s wearing a jumper Gerard can tell he knitted himself—mostly because he bought him the wool last Christmas—over a button-up and a pair of khakis, a leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and he’s made a pathetic attempt at growing facial hair that doesn’t suit him. “I—y-you were supposed to be gone, I thought you finally got away!”
“You didn’t think I was going to miss spending Christmas with you two, did you?” Gerard steps forward and hugs Martin tightly; Martin hugs him back, maybe a little desperately.
“If you go back to that shop, she won’t let you leave,” Martin mumbles in his ear.
“Yeah, that wasn’t my plan.” Gerard releases Martin and steps back.
Melanie comes forward to give Martin a hug, too. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. How are…things?”
“Okay. Dad’s having a better day. I fixed dinner for him and Lily and said we were going to go skating at the National History Museum.” Melanie shrugs. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, but at least it means they aren’t expecting us home for a bit.”
Gerard grins and waggles his eyebrows at them. “Great! If they’re not expecting you for a while, c’mon. We can be halfway to the Continent before they miss you.”
Martin laughs, but it sounds tired. “Skating sounds fun, but I need something to eat first, I think. I didn’t get a chance to grab lunch today.” He reaches under the collar of his jumper and tugs—is that a necktie? “There’s, um, everything around here is kind of expensive, actually, but—”
“No, wait, hang on,” Gerard interrupts. “What are you even doing up this way? Where is ‘home’ anyway? I went by your place and someone else was living there…”
“Yeah, we had to move over the summer. I didn’t quite meet the income requirements for the rent.” Martin sighs and rolls up the tie before stuffing it in his bag.
“Inc—you’re a student!” Gerard throws his hands up. “What income requirements can they expect out of you? And why you?”
Melanie folds her arms over her chest. “Told you he’d throw a fit.”
“Yeah, imagine how he’d react if I let you have your way,” Martin shoots back.
“You shouldn’t have to make all the sacrifices!”
“And what would be the point of you giving it all up if—”
“What. Is. Going. On,” Gerard says emphatically.
Melanie’s scowl deepens. “Dad got fired.”
A chill runs through Gerard’s body. He looks over at Martin, who nods silently. “So…what, you had to get a seasonal job to help out? Surely Mum’s not so stingy she wouldn’t pay Aunt Lily more. She needs her, after all.”
“Apparently not. Mum’s not doing well either, Ger. She…I don’t know. I think she’s been Touched, but I’m honestly afraid to Look.” Martin looks away from Gerard, out over the river. “Anyway, she can’t work any more. And Aunt Mary said she didn’t need my help when I offered to take over.”
“She probably just meant she didn’t need you part time,” Gerard says. “What with you being away at school and all.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Martin says quietly. “I’m not going to school anymore. I dropped out. Someone has to support the family, and if it had to be one of us, it had to be me.”
“It should be both of us,” Melanie says pointedly. “I could’ve—”
“Look, as hard as it was for me to find anything without a degree, it would’ve been harder for you and you know it,” Martin cuts her off, with the tone of someone retreading a well-worn argument. “This is the best option. Trust me.”
Gerard stares at them both, feeling the bottom drop out of his world. He left home—he thought for good—ten months ago, secure in the knowledge that Martin and Melanie were free. They’d both done well for themselves in school, both achieving places in colleges outside of London. They had futures, they had their whole lives ahead of them, and Gerard knew that for the first time, all of them were away from his mother and Martin’s and the lives they’d tried to trap them in.
But if Martin dropped out…
“Hang on,” he says slowly, dread creeping up his spine. “Where are you working around here? One of the shops or—?” He freezes, looking across the street at the looming, imposing building he was just in a few minutes ago. “No. Don’t tell me—”
“Just the library,” Martin says, but the defeat in his voice is obvious.
“Martin Blackwood.”
“Look, it’s not like I had a choice. Nobody was hiring, and I mean nobody. I’d picked up a bit of change working at the tea shop again, but that wasn’t…we didn’t have much of a grace period on rent, you know?” Martin sighs heavily. “Everybody wanted degrees, o-or experience or…I had to do something.”
“You lied on your CV,” Gerard guesses.
“And the Magnus Institute was the only place I could successfully fake the credentials they were looking for,” Martin agrees. “Or, well…I mean, I’m pretty sure Mr. Bouchard knows the truth, but he hired me anyway.”
Gerard swallows hard against the lump in his throat. “So…you’re working for them after all.”
“Yeah.” Martin lowers his eyes and turns away. “Guess so.”
The glare Melanie shoots Gerard is almost enough to burn holes in his leather duster, but he doesn’t need her to do that to know he’s fucked up. A sickly spiral of guilt swirls in his gut, and he steps forward and takes Martin’s arm, not really turning him to face him, but just kind of maintaining contact. Letting him know he’s there.
“Hey,” he says softly. “No, I—I didn’t mean it like that, Martin, I just—God, l thought you two were safe. I would never have left if I’d…i-if I’d known you were in trouble, I’d have come back in a heartbeat. I hate that you’re stuck. And it’s my fault.”
“It’s not. It just…it just happened.” Martin wipes his eyes and looks at Gerard. “Knowing you and Neens made it out…that’s enough for me.”
Melanie’s snort echoes off the surrounding buildings. “You don’t think we’re going to leave you to this, do you? I told you before, when you were worrying about whether you’d even get into that program, that I wasn’t going to go off and get away from this if you couldn’t. I’m not dropping out because you’ll kick my ass—”
“Damn right—”
“—but I’m not going to stop helping, either,” Melanie concludes. “Fuck it. If you’re in it, I’m in it. Not like they’ll let me stay away forever anyway. Might as well make them regret it, right?”
Martin gives her a small, watery, but genuine smile. Gerard takes a deep breath and squeezes Martin’s arm. “She’s right. One for all and all for one, yeah? I told you last time I wouldn’t leave without you, so if you can’t leave…I won’t, either.”
“You’re not going back to your mum, though, right?” Melanie’s voice is sharp, but her eyes are worried.
Gerard smiles, and doesn’t answer. His mother isn’t gifted with prophecy or anything, but she knows him, and his brother and sister to a certain extent, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find out this is why she refused to hire Martin full-time. She knows how he feels about them, and knowing Martin is trapped at the Institute is going to be the perfect cat’s-paw to get him back under her thumb for good.
“Come on,” he says, looping his arm through Melanie’s and pulling both of them closer. “Let’s go get something to eat. My treat. And then I think you mentioned ice-skating.”
One last moment, he thinks. One last taste of freedom before he puts his neck back in the yoke to be worked to death. He can do this. It’s fine.
It’s worth it. It has to be.
#ollie writes fanfic#to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#gerard keay#melanie king#martin blackwood#manipulation cw#smoking cw#guilt cw
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as someone who's v new to the fandom (and didn't even know the names of 1d until this year) I truly do not understand the larry thing... like even if they were a thing, they most definitely aren't now and we aren't even sure they're on good terms? especially because that man never talks about louis (or praises him like niall or liam does) and how he never made a statement about how euphoria used their images & names without consent or knowledge (and then hung out with the creator after louis made a statement). I just cannot fathom it. plus larries thinking songs are about that man (that would show him in a very negative light if that were true) and continuing to both support him AND say that they're secretly married or wtv? sorry for the rant I'm just very confused by it all???
Old grandma larries who want to live an epic love story through 2 strange, much younger men keep this thing going bc they keep talking about this ship and they will never ever change their mind no matter what. They use 2011/ 2012 old footage that taken out of context may look cute to some people in order to recruit these new fans to their cult. They also live in a bubble and block any solo louie they see and tell their followers to do the same (didn't you know it's a sin to support a musician for his music ? You have to worship his husband that he wasn't seen with in 1654 years too 🙄). By the time these relatively new people realize that they've been obsessing over ancient footage and that these two men haven't interacted with each other in ages, they're way too invested in their delusions to aknowledge that, way too self centered to admit they were wrong all along and that other people's sexuality/ partners is none of their business. It's offensive to ship Louis with a man who called his late mother (may she rest in peace) someone's mom, whose personal assistant liked a hate post about Louis' voice, a man who's besties with that australian host who called his ex-bandmate (and to them it's worse, husband) a rat on radio. That man even said that he attended her wedding . It's offensive to ship him with a man who hasn't uttered his name in more than 7 years except for snl and talk show sketches (and that damage control award show speech), it's offensive to ship him with a man who approved that Euphoria scene and didn't even think of telling him, it's offensive to ship him with a man who has an other woman's name tattood on his body and another one's voicemail in his song 💀.... Like if they cared about Louis and loved him just a little bit, they would've wanted him to be OUT of this relationship even if they believe it to be true. But they're a lost case 🤷🏽♀️. They're celebrating that in bty he says i love him (according to them not me) and ignore that he says i hate it right fucking after 😭 and that this song is about a toxic relationship (Mind you in 2019 when i joined the fandom they used to "believe" Louis when he said he doesn't relate to the song bc that man is such a great partner it could never be about him 😭). In conclusion, don't be confused anon, these people are just delusional. They stan that dead ship and nothing else. And unless they seek irl help, they will never change their mind about it
#they hate Louis#that man is ok to them bc everything he does is justified by evil management 😭#they're stuck in 2012#and they won't leave it until they sick help#welcome to the fandom btw 🫶🏽#Louis is the best#best person#and best singer/ songwriter#louies are so amazing#stick to their side of sm#and you'll be good
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A teaser,,,,,
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Reegan replied. “How’s it going?”
“Oh ya know, just the night before my wedding, no worries over here, nope, none at all,” Bryan stated, causing her to giggle and roll her eyes.
“I knew you’d take the freak-out route.”
“It’s not a freak-out. Well, not in the like panic sense. Just a ‘holy crap, it’s happening’ kind of way, ya know?”
“Not scared, just excited.”
“Yea, that,” Bryan agreed. “It’s gonna be good, I already know that.”
“It’ll be the best damn hippie-crunchy-granola wedding of all time!” Reegan agreed with enthusiasm. He made a long-suffering scoff sound.
“Thanks,” he muttered, though she knew he was smiling.
“Anytime,” she grinned to herself.
“What about you? You alright?”
“Peachy keen, jelly bean,” Reegan replied. “I’m just enjoying a nice night, looking at the stars.”
“I was actually thinking about doing the same,” he laughed. “Figured it might help calm me down to maybe sleep.”
“You should come join me,” she stated. “Bring a blanket too. It’s kinda chilly in Arizona tonight.”
The moment of silence that followed her words was heavy, to say the least. She couldn’t help but hold her breath as she waited for him to process her words.
“…you’re here,” Bryan breathed out, and the emotion in his tone made tears come to her eyes. He sounded amazed, surprised, happy.
“Of course I’m here, pollo,” Reegan replied softly, blinking her watery eyes slowly to try to keep the tears in. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
“Where are you? Like, at the resort?”
“Yep,” she stated. “In the back, back. Like past the pool.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Bryan decided.
“OK. And I was serious about the blanket,” Reegan replied.
“Got it,” he agreed. And that was apparently his goodbye as she heard the phone call end. Reegan rolled her eyes to herself, not being surprised. Putting her phone back on the ground beside the bench next to the water bottle she’d brought, she looked back up at the stars.
Taking in a deep breath, Reegan attempted to settle her emotions, her heart. She knew it was going to be a heavy weekend. She had tried to prepare herself for it, but she knew really there was no preparing. She had to face many of her coworkers, friends, for the first time as a widow. She had to attend a wedding, a celebration of love and commitment, without the man she had done the same with so many years ago. And that wound of loss was still so very, very fresh. She was to witness one of her best friends, one of her husband’s best friends, get married without her husband by his side as had been the plan. She hoped that her presence wouldn’t put an even darker cloud over the celebration.
Reegan heard footsteps approaching, and found Bryan coming around the corner, a blanket from the hotel bed in his arms. He was in sweatpants and a hoodie himself, and once he saw her, a smile broke across his face.
“Annie,” he said, almost as if he had to confirm it was her in front of him. He threw the blanket down on the bench beside her, and she was barely standing before he had his arms around her. Reegan had to giggle, as he lifted her from her feet, her arms securely around his neck. “I am so happy you’re here.”
“Me too,” she replied. There were so many other things she wanted to say, but she found any words dying in her throat as she squeezed him tighter. His arms tightening around her kept the tears just a little more at bay.
“How did you pull this off?”
Her watery giggle was all the answer he apparently would get, as he put her back onto her feet, and stepped back enough to hold her by her arms.
“Seriously Ree, what the fuck? I really thought you wouldn’t be here,” Bryan stated, his eyes a strange combination of loving and hurt.
“I’m so sorry,” she sniveled, squeezing his forearms. Taking in a deep breath, she did her best to get her emotions back under control. Though the alcohol she’d had prior to this moment wasn’t making it any easier.
#the long story#wwe#bryan danielson#oc#fan fiction#fan fic#wwe fan fic#wwe fan fiction#to be continued
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I think that because of your story I am team green, your way of capturing Aemond and the entire family plot makes me empathize with them much more than with Daemon and Rhaenyra... what's wrong WITH ME
Its weird because I'm team Black!!! I support Rhaenyra's rights and wrongs lol
I think its because we've spend so much time with the characters (mostly Aemond) from team green in the story. I empathize with the green characters, and understand their characters and why they are the way they are.
But I also extend the same empathy to team Black.
In this story, Rhaenyra has taken a step back from the political intrigue to raise her family on Dragonstone. She's a bit like her father in her avoidance of things that really shouldn't be avoided. And Daemon is just preparing for the inevitable.
Daenera is send to KL because he trusts her and trust that she will prepare things for when Rhaenyra decide to step up and take a more political role. He didn't expect Daenera to get in the trouble she got in with Aemond, and when he heard that she had fucked up by giving Aemond her maidenhead (ammo for ruining her), he did what he thought was best and had her betrothed to Boris.
Of course, that was to save Daenera's ass from rumors of ruin, but it was also pragmatic-- a two birds one stone kind of thing.
Daemon put a lot of expectations on Daenera, and he does love her, but he also sees her as a pawn he can use. And perhaps, he should have eased up on her, but he didn't.
Daemon is a character who sees things as black and white, either you're a friend or you're an enemy. There's a hard line that shouldn't be crossed, and he will react poorly if it is.
But he's also very protective of those that he loves, of Rhaenyra especially, of his brother, of his children. Daenera may think that he doesn't consider her his, but he does-- he just expects more of her than the others (mostly also because we haven't really seen his relationship with his children)
And I'm 100% sure that he would have flown to KL and cut Boris down had he known of the abuse, but Daenera was afraid he wouldn't and she was afraid of disappointing him.
I like team black and we will see more of them when ep 10 comes around for the story; we'll get to hop into both Rhaenyra and Daemon's head, and see how they handle things.
Strangely a lot of readers dislike Rhaenyra and Daemon in this story, which is not what I at all intended. Some of their actions are misconstrued into something I never intended it to be, but that's how writing is sometimes. And I think a lot of it comes from the fact that we haven't seen a lot of them, and that they've been away when major things happen/we've only seen them through Daenera's view and its inherently biased; she's a girl who doesn't want to worry her parents and don't want to disappoint them.
And honestly, the reason why I've had them separated this much (like them not attending the wedding/funeral) was because it would trigger scenes too early or screw up the timeline.
This was far longer than you properly expected, sorry for that! But hey!! I'm very happy you're enjoying the story and that you might have gotten another point of view <3
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♡ — pairing: eren x reader
♡ — tags/warnings: mentions of cheating and alcohol. side aruani and yumihisu. honestly just a feel-good fic, with humour and fluff <3
♡ — a/n: honestly, this is the most “romantic comedy” fic i’ve ever written and i love it <3 shout out to @ofoceansandtombstones that beta read this one mwah thank u
♡ — masterlist
There was an ill taste in your mouth that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many drinks you had. And you already had more than a few. From your spot on the table, you could see your friends dancing and having the time of their lives. You really wished you could join them. Nevertheless, you had wasted all your energy forcing a smile and clapping along during the ceremony. Once you had arrived at the hotel reception with the rest of the guests, you had slid a bill to a kind waitress and told her to keep the drinks coming.
Ymir and Historia were dancing in front of you. Stoic, sour-faced Ymir couldn’t help but smile as her sweet girlfriend twirled and giggled, her cheeks red and eyes just the tiniest bit unfocused. Next to them, Sasha, Jean and Connie were owning the dance floor, moving in sync to the happy music. A grin formed on your face as you saw Connie lifting Sasha up and her almost falling to the floor. Jean was holding his stomach as he laughed loudly.
On a nearby table, Mikasa looked over at them, a small smile on his lips. She was sitting next to her girlfriend, who was holding her hand as they watched their friends dance. You saw her girlfriend leaning over to her and whispering something in her ear, to which she chuckled. It was so strange -and so beautiful- to see Mikasa laugh that it took you aback. And apparently, also the girl she was with, because her lips slightly parted as she watched her in awe.
“How’s the party animal doing?”
You looked up and saw Eren staring down at you with a funny expression. He was wearing black dress pants and a white shirt. The first two buttons were undone, and he was carrying his suit jacket over his shoulder and a beer on his other hand.
“Someone’s gotta keep an eye out for everyone,” you replied with a shrug. Eren scoffed and took the seat next to you on the empty table, leaving his jacket on the nearest chair.
“I mean, I know attending your ex’s wedding isn’t bound to be a good time, but you’d think you would try to put on a happy face.”
You rolled your eyes. “Hey, at least I’m here.”
“After Mikasa tried her best to convince you during a whole week,” he said. You turned your head to Eren, eyes wide open. “What? Of course she told me.”
“That little… That’s it, I’m going to tell her girlfriend about that one time Mikasa got drunk with us,” you muttered angrily, standing up. Eren was quicker and pulled you back to your seat.
“You and Armin broke up a year ago. Why are you so upset he’s moving on?”
Before you could answer, the music stopped and the dance floor erupted in applause. Eren and you watched as Armin and Annie walked in between their guests, greeting everyone as they made their way to the bride and groom table, covered with a pearl cloth and decorated with the finest flowers. Every detail screamed elegance and you knew Armin had been the one to decide most of it. It had his taste written in every napkin and strategically placed flower.
Armin’s smile was almost too big for his face and if you had to guess, those small red marks on the external corner of his eyes meant he had been crying just a few minutes ago. You rolled your eyes. So sentimental. On the other hand, Annie’s smile was far less noticeable, but for someone who always repressed her public displays of emotions as much, that little smile must have felt heavenly to her new husband.
Husband. You took a big gulp of your drink.
“I’m telling you this because I care for you,” Eren said, redirecting your attention to him. “You’re looking like a petty ex.”
“Rather be petty than a cheater,” you shrugged, finishing your drink. You gestured to the waitress and she immediately walked to you, handing you a full glass. Thanking her, you wasted no time in taking a sip.
Eren’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Armin never told you why we broke up, right?”
Eren scooted his chair closer to you and you bit back a laugh.
“He said you just weren’t good together,” he said, trying to remember his friend’s words. “And you said something similar when I asked you back then. Where does this ‘cheating’ thing come from?”
You let out a long sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t cheating. Not by definition, at least. But when your boyfriend starts dating someone else a week after you broke up a two-year-long relationship and he gets engaged four months later… you draw your own conclusions,” you explained, taking another sip of your drink and making a grimace. “Fuck, this one’s strong.”
After not getting a response from Eren for a long moment, you finally turned to look for his emerald eyes. You could almost see the numbers flying around his mind, trying to make sense of everything you had just told him. It was endearing.
“Wait, no-- wait,” Eren gestured at you with his hand. He stopped himself again and took a sip of his beer. “The first time Armin told me about Annie was in February. I remember it clearly. We were shopping for Mikasa’s birthday gift and then he went to pick something for Annie. And you guys broke up around Halloween, that’s the time I found you crying-- in Jean's backyard during our costume party.”
“We had a big fight at that party. We hadn’t broken up,” you clarified with a smirk. “He broke up with me after Mikasa’s birthday party. The same party he convinced me not to attend.”
Eren’s face dropped once all the pieces clicked together. He turned his body to look at the bride and groom table, where Armin and Annie were taking a sip of their champagne glasses and talking to each other enthusiastically, while the rest of their guests kept dancing.
“That son of a bitch,” he breathed out. You burst out laughing at his reaction. “No, I mean it! I really thought you had broken up during that Halloween party! You didn’t upload any more photos together, I don’t even remember even seeing you together--”
“I told you, we were fighting and… not in the mood for photos or public dates. Most of those months were spent at his apartment, fighting over really, really stupid things or just not texting each other for days,” you explained. “Honestly, when he broke up with me he made the decision I was too afraid to take. He was right, we weren’t good for each other anymore. But... fuck,” you chuckled icily. “I wish he would have broken up with me before getting with Annie.”
Eren listened in silence, his eyes still on his friend. You gave him time as you kept drinking, your gaze drifting to your friends again. You really wished you could have the energy to join them and forget Armin and Annie. It was true you didn’t love him anymore, yet seeing them together only made you remember how you had been fooled by someone you thought loved you the most.
You had had many dates ever since, but no one ever stuck. It was fun, getting someone’s attention for a couple of weeks, but then you couldn’t help but ghost them, putting up shitty excuses like wanting to focus on yourself and not having enough time to spare with them. You had lost so many amazing opportunities with both boys and girls that a couple of months ago you had decided to stop dating at all. It was lonely for sure, but at least you didn’t find yourself feeling guilty for not being able to open yourself up emotionally for someone else.
“Want to get back at him?”
You turned to Eren so fast you almost hurt your neck.
“What?”
“I have an idea. Just play along,” he explained, standing up.
“Eren, hey, what are you--”
“Everybody! If you could give me a minute please!”
You watched horrified as your friends started turning to you and Eren, confused at the commotion. Eren kept waving his hand, gathering more and more people’s attention, Armin and Annie included. He even gestured to the DJ to lower the music and she complied. In a few seconds, all the guests of the party were looking at you, who was still sitting down with a confused expression, a drink in your hand. Once he deemed enough people were looking at him, you saw him fumbling with his hands nervously.
“Eren,” you called for him again in a whisper, but all he did was take the drink you had in your hands and put it on the table.
“Sorry for interrupting, I know a lot of you were having a lot of fun dancing. But all I’m asking is one minute of your time. I hope that’s okay with you guys,” he grinned back to the bride and groom table, where they were as confused as all the guests around. “I have something really important to say.”
“Eren, no, you can’t tell them about--”
“No, no, give me a moment,” he hushed you again. The DJ walked to both of you and handed an inalambric microphone to Eren.
You didn’t like how devilish his smile turned.
“Great, thanks, this is much better,” he told the DJ, who just kindly smiled at him. “Anyway, I don’t want to take much of the bride and groom’s time, so I’ll try to be concise. The thing is…” he said, turning to face you. “I love you.”
Your mouth flew open as you heard multiple gasps coming from the guests. Yet, you couldn’t bother with looking anywhere but Eren’s eyes. What was he doing? Since when did he have feelings for you? If he wanted to say something, he could have easily said something a few minutes ago, when--
Just play along.
Oh.
Your questioning glare turned into a big smile and you noticed Eren softly nodding at you.
“You already know how much I love you. Honestly, I never get tired of telling you so. And hiding our love from our friends has probably been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Sorry about that, Mikasa,” he said, gesturing to the woman.
You could imagine your friend’s dumbfounded face, but you knew better than to turn and check for yourself. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hold in your laughter.
“So I’m here in front of all our friends and some other guests I don’t know to ask a simple question.”
In a swift movement, Eren got down on one knee. Your hand flew to cover your mouth, trying your best to hide any trace of laughing on your face. The flash of the cameras startled you for a moment, but that only meant Eren’s plan was working. The excited murmurs and squeals only fueled Eren, as he pulled up a ring and showed it to you. You immediately recognized it as one of the rings he had been wearing a few moments ago.
“Would you marry me?”
A huge, honest grin made its way to your face and you nodded quickly. You grabbed the microphone Eren was holding and spoke right into it.
“Yes, I’ll marry you!”
You hadn’t listened to a crowd erupting in applause and cheers as loud as the guests at Armin’s wedding when Eren slid his ring on your finger. Once again, the flash of the cameras were right into the both of you as you leaped into his arms. He stood up while holding your body close to him, even giving you a small spin and you buried your face in the crook of his neck.
When he finally put you down, the music resumed and all your friends began running to the both of you.
“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered to Eren, holding his face between your hands. He laughed.
“Kinda ruined the reception, huh?”
“When the fuck did this happen?” Jean inquired as soon as he reached you.
“Dude, why didn’t you tell us?” Sasha whined, with a small pout. “But congratulations!” she quickly followed, hugging you tightly. As you hugged her back, you felt someone taking the hand that was now wearing Eren’s ring.
“This is one of your rings,” she noted, shooting Eren a dirty glance. He lifted his hands in surrender.
“Hey, I didn’t plan this! But I will get her a prettier one soon,” he said, winking at you. You laughed and shook your head.
“Nah, I like this one,” you replied. You shared a knowing grin and soon it was Connie’s turn to hug you.
While you were hugging your friend back, you saw in the corner of your eye Armin getting up from the table and starting to walk to both of you. Your smile immediately vanished from your face and once Eren caught it and followed your eye trail, he understood the reason why. You heard him mutter a curse before he pulled you from Connie’s embrace.
“Well, we’d love to stay, but my fiancée and I want some time alone.”
“C’mon, you haven’t told us yet how you got together!” Sasha complained.
“Next time, we promise,” you hurriedly assured her.
Eren picked his suit jacket from the table and before Armin could reach your group, you quickly walked away, exiting the hotel. Eren whistled to a taxi and you jumped inside, telling the man behind the wheel to drive. Loud laughter filled the vehicle as soon as it began moving.
“How-- how did you even have this idea?” you asked him, holding your stomach as you laughed. “Dude, Armin looked so upset, we totally stole his thunder.”
“That was the plan,” Eren shrugged, a winning smirk on his lips. “Knowing the gang, everybody’s going to be talking about us and the engagement for the rest of the party.”
“Remind me to never have you as an enemy,” you chuckled, leaning back on the car seat. Letting out a long sigh, you took off Eren’s ring and handed it to him.
He shook his head. “Nah, keep it. As a souvenir of today,” he winked.
“Thank you,” you smiled. You put the ring on your thumb this time, since it was too big for your ring finger anyway. “You didn’t have to do this at all, and yet--”
“It’s okay,” he assured you.
“No, really. It’s just-- I’ve been having a tough time since the breakup,” you admitted. “To have you doing this for me means a lot. Makes me feel someone really cares for me. I never said anything to anyone back then because Annie is also a part of the group and I thought…”
Eren leaned his head towards you.
“You thought…?”
“I thought you would pick her too. It’s stupid, I know,” you shrugged, turning your head to Eren. “But Armin had just broken up with me and a week later he was already in public with Annie. Back then, I thought everyone knew we had just broken up and if no one had said anything was because they didn’t care. So I just… stopped hanging out with all of you as much as I did before.”
“Yeah, I noticed that,” he muttered.
“You did?”
Eren nodded. “That’s why I asked Mikasa to pressure you into coming to the wedding. I hadn’t seen you in a while.”
“You could have just asked me to hang out, you know,” you teased him. Eren chuckled, pushing some of his loose hairs behind his ear.
“I think we know by now I don’t take the conventional route.”
“Yeah, all of the guests know that too,” you quipped, making both of you laugh.
This time, when the laughter came to an end, you realized how close your faces were. Your noses were almost brushing as you both were lying your heads on the back of the car seat. You looked into Eren’s emerald eyes and noticed he wasn’t looking away from yours either. Was it the alcohol that made his cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink? If it was, then you could say the warmth crawling up your face was its fault too. It had to be the alcohol, or else, you would have to also ponder about the reason your heart was beating out of your chest at having your friend so close to you. He was handsome, he had always been and you knew this. But why were you losing all your composure just now?
A brief look at Eren's lips gave your thoughts away and, in less than two seconds, he was pressing his lips against yours.
For a spur-of-the-moment kiss, as you thought this one was, it was rather soft. Eren kissed you as if he thought you were the most expensive and fragile thing he had ever seen. But of course, this was just a product of the adrenaline and the fact that -as far as you knew- he hadn’t been dating anyone as well, right?
Your small theory crashed and burnt when you felt his hand softly cradling the side of your face. No. This wasn’t an adrenaline kiss, neither one that you gave without a thought. Maybe it had been unprompted and maybe you hadn’t seen it coming, but it sure as hell seemed he did. Eren’s lips gilded against your with ease, revealing a soft tenderness you didn’t know he possessed. You kissed him back, matching his rhythm as you softly pressed your hand against his chest.
Eren pulled away from you softly, and if his longing eyes were any indicator, a bit reluctantly.
“Hi,” he breathed out, making you grin widely.
“Hi,” you replied. You gently caressed his cheek with the knuckles of the hand that was previously resting on his chest. Eren took it and kissed your palm, making your heart flutter.
“Sorry to interrupt kids, but where are we heading?”
The voice of the taxi driver startled you, making you pull away from Eren. He chuckled at your reaction and then looked back at the man.
“Take us to that pizza place near the central park. Gotta have a celebratory dinner with my fiancée,” he said cheekily, taking your hand into his. You squeezed his hand back, his ring digging a little on your skin.
“So young and engaged already? Congrats!” the driver said, turning left and heading towards the direction Eren had given him.
“Thank you!” you smiled brightly at Eren while he took your joint hands to his mouth and placed a kiss on your knuckles.
A part of you knew you weren’t taking that ring off anytime soon.
#snk x reader#aot x reader#eren x reader#eren jaeger x reader#eren yaeger x reader#eren jaeger#eren yaeger#eren fluff
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Mrs. Chase is a fucking saint. She should be offered immortality for putting up with all the shit she does. In no particular order, here's some things Mrs. Chase just has to live with.
On their wedding night, Frederick confesses he's a virgin. But yes, Annabeth is his biological daughter. It's complicated. No, he won't explain further.
Speaking the name of Annabeth's mother will summon her so it's better if Mrs. Chase just doesn't know at all.
Her new stepdaughter is suddenly having frequent nightmares about spiders for no apparent reason and keeps saying there are cobwebs on her.
Strange people keep attacking Annabeth and Mrs. Chase's sons, but especially Annabeth, with alarming frequency. It's scaring Bobby and Matthew but if she keeps the kids separate, only Annabeth is a target.
WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE AND WHY DO THEY KEEP ATTACKING HER STEPDAUGHTER?
Mrs. Chase has no clue what's going on and now her stepdaughter is talking about monsters and weird shit and Frederick do something about this. Frederick does not do anything about this.
Seriously why are these people going after Annabeth? Is it a trafficking ring? Did her mysterious mother who has not been named and is in no photographs put a hit out on her own daughter? WHAT IS HAPPENING?!
Annabeth ran away. Frederick does not file a police report.
Months (or years) later, they begin to get letters in the mail from Long Island saying that Annabeth is at some camp. Frederick asks her to come home.
Annabeth hates all of them and wants them all to die, including her father. She will not come home.
She does come home and the random attacks by random people start all over again but this time Annabeth has a dagger and SHE'S KILLING PEOPLE.
FREDERICK, I SAW THAT DAGGER! WHAT IS GOING ON? WHERE IS SHE HIDING THE BODIES? FREDERICK, DO SOMETHING.
Annabeth runs away again. Frederick still refuses to file a police report.
Annabeth decides to live with them again and this time they're driving up to the camp but they aren't allowed to actually visit the camp and see what kind of place it is. For some reason they can't seem to move past the giant pine tree and the valley is covered in fog.
"My mother gave me this cap," Annabeth says about the Yankee's cap. She doesn't let anyone near it. She won't tell Mrs. Chase what her mother's name is or when she saw this woman.
Sometimes Mrs. Chase cannot find Annabeth. She was right there.
A boy Annabeth's age and an older girl from Annabeth's mysterious camp come and pick her up for something but no one is saying what. Their eyes are shattered and almost seem to glow from within. Frederick doesn't ask where Annabeth is going or when she'll be back.
The same kids, plus one more who has a bow and arrow on her back, come back a while later to inform them that Annabeth is in terrible danger. They talk about battles like they were there. They say that they need to borrow the Chase's car.
Frederick agrees. Mrs. Chase calls the insurance company. By the time she's off the phone, Frederick tells her that he's going to take his plane out for a while. Just for a short flight. It has nothing to do with Annabeth. He has a belt of bronze bullets slung over his shoulder.
Frederick comes back. His plane has been damaged. The bullets are missing. He says Annabeth is fine. Annabeth does not come back for several more days.
She has a streak of white in her hair when she gets home.
Annabeth and her father get into fights about moving to California.
Even more people in California want to attack Annabeth. By now, Mrs. Chase has accepted that this is her life. She becomes a wine mom. She still doesn't know what Annabeth does with the bodies.
Annabeth runs away again several times. She comes back after a few days. There are tickets to New York stuffed in her shorts pockets. During summer, she goes back to New York to go to the camp. She laughs at the suggestion of attending a different camp in California.
Mrs. Chase does not know where the money for all these plane tickets is coming from. At this point, it's probably better not to ask.
A handsome young man with a scar on his face comes to the door asking for Annabeth. They sort of have the same facial structure but when asked if he's somehow related to Annabeth, he just sighs. Which isn't a no. He's carrying a sword. He and Annabeth fight when he asks her to run away with him. Shockingly, Annabeth refuses to run away for the first time in her life. He tells Annabeth to kill him. Shockingly, Annabeth refuses to kill someone for the first time in her life. The young man leaves. Mrs. Chase never sees him again.
When Mrs. Chase asks Frederick about the young man, he just tells her that he's one of Annabeth's mother's people. This does not clear anything up.
Annabeth's boyfriend - the one with the shattered eyes who asked to borrow the car - has disappeared under mysterious circumstances. No one is sure if he's dead or just missing. Annabeth refuses to come home when summer is over. It's been over a year since she's been home.
When Annabeth does finally come home, she looks like a walking corpse.
Frederick and Annabeth fly to Boston to look for Annabeth's cousin because he's apparently in danger. Magnus dies under mysterious circumstances and Frederick attends the funeral. Annabeth does not fly home with him because she is apparently doing important things with Magnus. Who is dead. Frederick, he's dead, what is she doing with him?
Annabeth finishes school and moves back to California (with her boyfriend who barely looks like a person anymore and no one should have eyes that broken) because apparently there is a camp there that she can live full-time at and it also has a college. The family can't visit her there because their type aren't allowed.
Mrs. Chase wonders if Annabeth is a white supremist or in a cult or both. The attacks on Bobby and Matthew have stopped completely. Frederick still writes letters to Annabeth but he doesn't see her even though she's within driving distance. His letters occasionally mention Magnus, the aforementioned dead cousin, who has somehow opened up a homeless shelter for teenagers called Chase Space despite being dead and only sixteen.
A search reveals no information about Chase Space's owners. The phone just rings endlessly when you dial the number. There is no listed address.
Mrs. Chase sits on a chair and stares into her wine glass. "This is fine," she says.
#mrs chase#frederick chase#annabeth chase#magnus chase#percy jackson series#pjo#riordanverse#long post
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“You will learn to love me.” - With Heisenberg and restorator darling, please? Perhaps when this is her first experience?
Heisenberg/F!Darling: "You'll learn to love me."
TW: Dubcon, loss of virginity, forced marriage
Weddings were usually a joyous affair. Gorgeous dresses, dancing and enjoying your loved ones' company, celebrating the life you wanted to share with your one-and-only... ____'s wedding was not at all like what she or her family might have hoped it would be. For one thing, none of them even knew where she was; she'd spent the last few months trapped by the terrifying man who'd kidnapped her from the Romanian wilderness, a man named Heisenberg who had a gift with metal that bordered on supernatural. As a restorator she would've been fascinated if she wasn't terrified of what he could do with that power of his, especially when his "work" littered his factory with corpses and their scattered body parts. The only other company she had were the wolflike monsters and patchwork creations that followed Heisenberg's orders.
He'd actually bothered to get a wedding dress for her, an admittedly beautiful traditional gown made by the women in the village. The delicate lace along the sleeves and the vibrant embroidered flowers and patterns on the vest looked so out of place in the dusty and rusted-out factory. The villagers were eager to celebrate their Lord's marriage and hadn't stopped sending flowers, pastries, clothing, and handmade talismans for long-life/love/fertility to the outskirts of Heisenberg's property until he'd stationed some of the Lycans to scare off the throngs of annoying worshippers and well-wishers. ____ didn't know if it was better or worse that Heisenberg and her would be the only ones at the wedding; she was terrified of being alone with him, but the way the villagers stared at her and threw themselves to the ground while reverently calling her "Lady Heiseberg" left her uncomfortable to say the least.
____ stared at her reflection in the mirror and tried her best to prepare herself for what was to come. I can still try to escape, but...being his wife just makes it feel more hopeless. She bit the inside of her cheek and glared at the reflection of her dress through her veil. I'll have to be tied to him, even if I'm being forced to say those fucking vows to always stay with him until "death to us part."
She didn't hate him, at least not as much as she did when he'd first taken her. She definitely feared him, but that was just common sense when your captor has an army of corpse-machines, werewolves, and can control electricity and metal with his mind. He'd been more accommodating than he'd expected for a kidnapper. He had been sexually forceful sometimes whenever he groped her or turned her head to kiss her, or lightly rutted against her body when the two of them slept in the same bed. But he'd also given her a room to herself, and insisted on not forcing himself on her completely until he'd made her his wife--another reason she was dreading this day. He'd appreciated her restoration skills and the two of them had actually shared some enjoyable conversations while spending time in his workshop. And he was fiercely protective of her when it came to his equally monstrous siblings and mother. Part of it seemed to be selfishness, not wanting them to go after HIS woman, but he'd consoled her after that wretched little doll of Lady Beneviento's had insisted on "playing" with her by chasing her and tearing at the flesh and skin of her legs. His voice had been soft when he'd promised to not let anyone hurt her, and having him hold her was comforting.
The sound of her bedroom door opening snapped ____ out of her thoughts, and she saw Heisenberg walk into the room. He wasn't wearing his usual trenchcoat, and instead had on an outfit that ____ had never seen him in before: a black vest with similar embroidery to her own outfit, along with a white blouse underneath with fur-trimmed black sleeves. His pants were also black, save for the bit of dust around the hem from walking around the factory. His shoes were made from dark leather and had the same fur trim as his shirtsleeves and the inside of ____'s vest. His signature sunglasses were absent, and his hair was freshly washed and combed.
Heisenberg stared at ____ for a moment, looking her up and down as she stood in her wedding clothes. He had seen what they'd looked like folded up and hanging in her closet, but it was nothing compared to her wearing them. He wasn't used to seeing something so delicate and beautiful, especially in his factory. "Everything's ready," he said. He put one arm around ____'s waist and kept a gentle yet firm grip around her. "Since Miranda gave us her 'blessing' beforehand, we don't need to have her here to watch and attend in all her glory," he quipped. "God knows that bitch would ruin this whole thing just by being here."
____ let Heisenberg lead her to his own room, where a small leather box lay on his bedside table. He used his powers to shut and lock the door behind ____ while he went to grab the box. "I don't have much from my real family," Heisenberg said, carefully opening the lid. The inside was lined with cloth, and inside was a pair of exquisite wedding bands. There were some signs of age in the metal, but the small opalescent jewel nestled in the center of the bridal ring shone as if it had been polished just yesterday. The other ring was less flashy, with the only flair being am etched ridge in the shape of a mountain on the top, inlaid with gold. "This ring's one of the only things I've got from them." He took the groom's ring and slipped it on his own finger. "I want to say it was one of my great uncles who made it? One of them was a jeweler, I think." He shrugged and held his hand out to admire how it looked. "My mom slipped them into my things after Miranda's people had come to take me and my cousins away. I think she knew it'd be the last time she saw all of us together."
____ noticed the strange tone in Heisenberg's voice as he recalled his last memory with his family. She'd never heard him reminisce about them before; with how far-off and melancholy he sounded, she knew why it wasn't something he discussed that often. Just as she was about to try to say something to try and comfort him, he took the bride's ring with one hand and slipped the box into his pocket. He took ____'s hand and squeezed it. "There's no set of vows we have to take," he explained with a half-smile. "One of the perks of being royalty in this shit hole is anything you do is fine, no matter how informally you do it. Not like the villagers are gonna complain about us not following all the traditions, so it saves a lot of time. But..." Heisenberg stared intensely at her as he slipped the ring onto her trembling finger. "One day, you'll learn to love me. I promise that."
____'s hand felt as if it were chained to a sinking weight, pulling her through the ground and crushing her. There was no way out. She'd be "married" to this man who'd ruined her life, isolated from the rest of the world and completely at his mercy. Her heart leaped into her throat and she suddenly felt a rush of dizziness; she stumbled forward and Heisenberg caught her, helping her back upright and holding her in his arms. He brushed her clothed hip with his thumb and then lifted her veil to fully reveal her face. Before ____ knew it, Heisenberg's lips were against hers as he tilted her head back slightly to deepen the kiss.
Heisenberg ran his fingers through her hair as he lowered her onto his bed. ____'s heart raced and panic ran up and down her spine as she lay on the bed. He was taking off his shoes, unbuttoning his vest...reaching down to take off her veil. "K-Karl," she stammered, "I'm not...I've--"
"Never done this before?" He rested one hand on her vest before unbuttoning the golden clasps and sliding it off of her shoulders while she just tried her best to stay still. "I figured as much." Heisenberg smirked and moved one hand underneath the skirt of her dress, creeping up her thighs and stopping just inches from her panties. "You always get that funny little look on your face whenever I touch you for a bit in bed, almost like you're feeling a certain way for the first time. Wouldn't surprise me if you've never even touched yourself."
Goosebumps rose on ____'s legs as Heisenberg ghosted his fingers over her pubic mound, and she looked away as she rubbed her thighs together. Was she really THAT obvious about it? "I know I can't stop you," she said quietly. She bit her lip and tears welled up in her eyes as she tried her hardest to not envision what ____ was about to do to her. Maybe he'd start to tire of her once he finally fucked her and got what he really wanted, and he'd let her go. Would she get blood on the sheets and her dress when he entered her? Would he even care? She could already feel his cock prodding her through his pants; it was a strange, foreign presence that filled her with dread. She knew that some men had penises so large that they could fill someone up all the way to their cervix...just how painful was this going to be once he took all of his clothes off? How harsh would he be now that he didn't feel the need to be so accommodating and kind once he finally claimed her?
____ sniffled and looked up at Heisenberg pitifully. "Please be gentle," she begged. "I don't want...I know it can hurt a lot during your first time, so just..."
Heisenberg cocked his head slightly and rested his fingers on the flesh of her right thigh. "It can hurt if you don't do it right," he replied, sounding a little confused. "What, you think I'm just gonna whip my cock out, go in dry, and finish after a few pumps?"
____ looked up at him, not sure of what to say. "You want to f-fuck me, don't you?" She sounded more confused than accusatory. "That's why you kidnapped me. That's why you've tried to be nice to me and make me trust you." Her shoulders drooped slightly and she clenched her jaw. "I just figured that you wouldn't care that much about...about making me feel good, at least not as much as yourself."
Heisenberg's brows furrowed, but only for a moment before leaning down to kiss her again. ____'s eyes widened at just how gentle this kiss was compared to the one he'd given her after slipping his ring on her finger. "I didn't kidnap you just to be a cocksleeve," he replied with a slightly disappointed frown. He caressed the inside of her thigh and trailed his lips down to her collarbone. "If I wanted that, I would've just raped you the first night you were here." ____ moaned softly as he moved one hand underneath her blouse to massage her breast, and a sudden rush of heat pooled between her legs as he used his other hand to play with an extra-sensitive bundle of nerves through her underwear.
"Kidnapping you doesn't really help my case," he said begrudgingly, "But I do love you, you know. As much as I can love anyone after the shit I've been through." He toyed with her nipple and smiled when he felt her hips rock a bit as he circled around her clit through her panties. "You're not my whore, you're my wife. So tell me what you want, and how you want it. And I'll give it to you."
____'s entire body felt so warm underneath her wedding dress. The places he was touching her felt so tingly, just like how they did whenever he groped her before tonight. Somehow though, this was different. Her fear wasn't as prevalent and the heat bubbling up underneath her skin wasn't from shame. This felt gentler. This felt good. So, so good. He wasn't lying to her about doing whatever SHE wanted; for once, she felt like she had a semblance of control while in bed with him--previously her kidnapper, but now her husband.
____'s voice was breathier than she expected whenever she spoke again. "C-could...could you put your mouth on me?" She rested one shaky hand by her chest on top of his own. "On my breasts, where your hand is right now. I want to f-feel more of...of this." She was struggling to articulate just what she was feeling and what she wanted, but Heisenberg just grinned as if he'd heard her loud and clear. When he lifted her thin white blouse over her head, leaving her in just her skirt, panties, and stockings, he immediately latched onto her right breast while he continued to play with her left nipple. ____ gasped and bucked her hips as he swirled his tongue around the pebble of flesh; his stubble grazed her soft skin, and the texture made her shiver.
Heisenberg finally moved his lips back with a small pop and switched to her other breast while he circled even faster around her clitoris and occasionally stroked the damp spot around her cunt's lips. "Can you feel how wet you are down here?" He chuckled and hooked one finger around the waistband of her panties before pulling them off of her completely. "I definitely won't hurt you if you're dripping like this from just my fingers." He slowly inserted his middle finger inside of her tight walls and eagerly looked at her face as she moaned and moved her hips to take even more of his hand. "Does it hurt, honey?"
"Ah, n-no..." ____ had never felt so hot and lightheaded and FULL. There was a stretch, but it wasn't painful; if anything, she wanted to feel more and more of it. "It feels good, so good..." Heisenberg curled his finger inside of her and laughed again at how his wife cried out in pleasure, practically shoving her pelvis forward to fuck herself on his hand while her pussy clenched around him. "More, more, please! That felt even better, do it again--o-or, or put another finger inside, or your whole hand or your cock or--"
Heisenberg shushed her and slightly increased his pace as he slipped another finger inside of her. "Easy, tiger," he teased with a smile. "I'm not using my cock until you cum at LEAST once on my hand. I haven't even gotten to taste you yet!"
"But...don't you want to feel good t-too?"
Heisenberg felt his hard-on stabbing through his clothes as he rutted his hips against the mattress. He'd get some relief soon, but for now he wanted to show her just what she really meant to him. He could fill her up with his cum and fuck her silly later--right now, he wanted to make sure his perfect little wife enjoyed every single second of her wedding night the way she deserved.
This WAS a celebration of their love, after all.
#.re8#.heisenberg#yandere re8#yandere heisenberg#virginity kink#tw: dubcon#.myshit#.queue#fem darling
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An Ever Fixed Mark (arranged marriage Au)
Part 1 is here, finally! Title a reference to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116.
Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
Read it on Ao3 HERE
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Vesemir’s slap hit Geralt firmly on the back of the head. Two seconds previously Geralt had been complaining about his upcoming, politically motivated marriage to some nobleman’s son.
“It’s a good thing, lad. Other witcher schools would kill for something like this,” he said. Geralt knew it was right, legal punishment for those who shortchanged or attacked witchers. It set a precedent, and apparently the earl was very influential. It could change things.
“And there isn’t a fidelity clause,” Eskel said. “It doesn’t have to be more than a sort of partnership.”
“No consummation requirement either,” sniggered Lambert from the other side of the campfire. “You don’t even have to fuck the bugger if he’s ugly.” This earned him a sharp elbow from Eskel.
“What I don’t understand is what they get out of this,” Geralt said. It had been bugging him.
“Ah,” Vesemir said, looking uneasy. “It seems that the payment is...taking the viscount off of the Earl’s hands, officially. It seems he’s something of an embarrassment.”
The unease in Vesemir’s voice was subtle, but after so many decades with their teacher, the wolves of Kaer Morhen knew the slight variations of tone and expression. His discomfort was twofold, first, the obvious implication that the Earl was sending his son to live a dangerous life alongside a witcher in order to...deal with him. A death sentence, from father to son. The second was that Geralt, already saddled with a political marriage, was also to be saddled with a nuisance of a husband.
“But why me?” Geralt knew he was whining like a child, but he couldn’t help it. It was three days to Lettenhove, and then they’d be there at least a week for the wedding and he’d have to act courtly.
He wasn’t good at courtly.
When he thought about it none of them were.
“It couldn’t have been me,” Eskel said, a little shyly. He was right. Eskel believed his scars were horrible, made him unlovable and undesirable. Geralt didn’t buy it, but nobles could get a bit stroppy about appearances. And if they humiliated Eskel because of his scarring...no, Geralt wouldn’t let that happen.
“Couldn’t have been me,” Lambert said, mouth full and rather cheerfully. No. It couldn’t have been him either, no manners and no filter, they’d be at war with the entirety of Lettenhove within a day.
“And I’m an old man,” Vesemir said. He didn’t actually wink, but he might as well have. Older though he was, he was still three times the warrior of any young human man walking about these days. But from what Geralt had heard, and it hadn’t been much, the Viscount was young, not quite twenty, and it wouldn’t be kind to marry him to someone so much older than himself. Geralt reflected grimly that he was nearly four times the youth’s age.
Three days of riding passed far too quickly for Geralt’s liking.
Chateau de Lettenhove loomed. It was a fairytale castle built by a man expecting a siege. There were high, rising towers with huge windows and artful buttresses, but to the trained eye of the witchers, it was a fortress. The towers had carved, decorative arrow slits, the windows all had iron grates over them, wrought like lace, and the buttresses could be easily used as defensive positions. All in all, it was a castle that growled, albeit genteelly.
They were greeted first by a footman, and then a line of servants increasing in rank, until a very snobby servant, likely the head housekeeper from the way all the maids scuttled away from her, brought them to an anteroom. At this point courtesy dictated that she bade them sit down on one of the lavish sofas. She did not. She chose instead to turn up her nose and sweep away.
The four witchers remained standing, not looking at one another. Geralt could feel Lambert stewing about the obvious slight beside him. He reached out, still staring straight ahead, and tweaked Lambert’s ear.
This was about to result in much brotherly retribution and probably a brawl when the housekeeper returned, followed by another woman.
“His lordship the Earl of Lettenhove is attending to vital business,” the housekeeper said, tone of voice implying that the arrival of four witchers who were muddying her nice clean floor were certainly not vital. “I present, her ladyship, Countess Amaria Elizaveta de Lettenhove.”
The countess curtsied, it was a polite little bob, and she smiled a little dazedly as the witchers all gave their best attempt at courtly bows. A small but significant part of Geralt’s brain was panicking, and it dealt with this new form of terror by imagining that the school of the wolf, seen from the outside plying their newly practiced bows, must look like a line of seagulls vying for a dropped crumb.
Vesemir stepped forward and, in a rather more suave gesture than Geralt had been expecting, took the Countess’ hand and bowed over it. Two bows seemed excessive to Geralt, but since it seemed to indicate that Vesemir would be taking over the speaking for now, he certainly wasn’t about to bring it up.
“A pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Vesemir said, straightening and releasing her hand. “May I introduce the school of the wolf. Eskel is--”
The countess had waved a limp hand. “Plenty of time for that at the feast, deary,” she said, smiling dreamily. There was something in her eyes that was a little absent, possibly more than a little if her calling Vesemir ‘deary’ was anything to go by. Geralt looked the countess over. He had been given to understand through the brief letters from the Lettenhove estate, that this wasn’t the viscount-Julian, the letters said-’s mother, but rather his step mother. She was a petite lady with mousy hair and rather absent blue eyes. Her dress was obviously of very fine material, rose pink and probably silk, although Lambert would know better than him, but a simpler cut than Geralt had expected.
His examination, done in a split second, decided that she wasn’t an immediate enemy, but probably not a terrible useful ally.
“I’m to give you this courting gift,” here she proffered a small but beautifully carved wooden box. “And to show you to your quarters.” She smiled again, and it was warm, but still vapid.
“Custom usually dictates that the fiancé give the courting gift,” Vesemir said, cautiously taking the box.”
“My husband wanted someone else to present it,” she said. “But your grandson can give his gift in person when he meets Julian. Now what...” she trailed off, not even noticing Vesemir’s slight sputter at grandson. “Ah yes, your rooms, right this way please.”
She got lost on the way to their rooms and a shaking footman showed them up to a suite, then kindly took her by the hand and led her away.
They sat, silent, in the nice but not lavish quarters. Four beds in curtained alcoves off to the side, and in the middle a room with a table and chairs, and a sofa and more comfortable chairs in front of a fireplace. It was already blazing and the witchers stared into it for a minute.
“That was strange,” Eskel finally said, and the others just nodded.
“Should I have insisted on giving her our courting gift?” Geralt said after another pause. “I thought they were usually given in person.”
“I think you’re fine,” Vesemir said. “If they broke that tradition they can hardly fault you for doing the same.”
Lambert, sprawled across the sofa, said, “When’s dinner?”
“I think I’m supposed to meet Julian first,” Geralt said. “Someone will probably come get us.
“When we meet Julian you mean,” Lambert said, sitting up.
“No, I’ve been thinking about that and I want to meet him alone.”
Vesemir nodded, “Sensible, we don’t know how he will react to one witcher, let alone four.” Then he smirked, although not unkindly, at Lambert. “You will be introduced and have a chance to be nosy later. At dinner perhaps.”
They unpacked their belongings, potion bottles and swords looking out of place along the old but nicely carved furniture. After days of tension on the road as Geralt wound himself tighter and tighter with anxiety for his...wedding, yes his wedding, now this pause was jarring. Eskel tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a look.
Geralt turned around to give Eskel room to work.
On the Path, witchers are rarely, if ever touched. Certainly not in a friendly way if the other isn’t being compensated. It wasn’t therefore, unusual for the wolves of Kaer Morhen to be tactile with one another. Not hugging and cuddling sweetly, but rough housing and wrestling ending in exhausted dog piles. But Eskel had a gift, he had magic hands, literally and figuratively, and he carefully oiled his hands while Geralt took off his travel stained shirt.
Geralt sunk into himself, half meditating as Eskel dragged the tension from his shoulders and beat the knots from his muscles. It wasn’t a relaxing massage, but it always left him feeling like liquid, if slightly bruised. When it was over and the liquid feeling had left him, or at least subsided enough that his knees could hold him, he stood, clapping Eskel on the shoulder in thanks.
Then came the hard bit.
Geralt needed to be courtly. He scrubbed the bits he could with water and a cloth from a little washstand, but he hoped he could have a hot bath later. Afterwards Vesemir advanced on him and battled the dirt from underneath his fingernails with a stiff brush before attacking his hair with a comb. Geralt sat on the ground like a child, his brothers looking on in amusement as Vesemir sat behind him on the couch and teased the tangles from his hair. He was making faces, he knew, but Vesemir wasn’t gentle, and he hadn’t detangled his hair in some time.
Scrubbed raw, with his hair floating around his shoulders like a silver cloud, Lambert presented him with a doublet.
It was black, which was good.
That was the only good thing about it. It was most likely a very nice, extremely fashionable doublet. Lambert might take delight in embarrassing Geralt, but he didn’t mess about with clothing. The issue was that it was attention grabbing, it was subtle in a way that seemed to play itself down while actually drawing every eye. It was black, in the same way a raven’s wing was black, every shimmering shade shifting as the fabric moved.
And he would be wearing it.
He did wear it.
His hands shook as he buttoned it up.
He was just examining himself in a slightly tarnished hand mirror when there was a sharp knock at the door. The footman let himself in right after and bowed swiftly.
“I am to escort the witchers of Kaer Morhen to meet Lord Julian.”
“Just the one witcher,” Geralt said. Vesemir pressed his courting gift, and the little carved boxed nestled on top, into his arms.
The footman didn’t seem to care and simply turned away, leading Geralt through hallways that all looked the same and down two very winding staicases, the second of which was so narrow his shoulders actually brushed the walls. They stopped outside a plain wooden door. The footman bowed and smiled. It looked, Geralt couldn’t help but feel, rather cruel. Then he left. Geralt knocked softly on the door, feeling very large in the narrow, low ceilinged hallway.
Eskel had told him once of a myth he had read, about a beast, half man half bull, hidden away in a maze. Geralt felt like such a beast, too large and rough and probably going to barge in and do everything wrong.
“Come in.”
It was soft, but not nervous, and Geralt pushed open the door.
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Oooh I’m naughty for leaving it there, but it’s almost 2000 words already. @llamasdumpsterfire here it is at last, I hope it lives up to expectations.
#the witcher#geraskier#arranged marriage au#vesemir#eskel#lambert#don't worry we'll meet Jaskier in part 2
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The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3
So I picked option 2 cause I just had more ideas around it. I could probably still do 1 and 3 sometime but this is the direction we're going now. Y/n gets a call from her horrible grandmother who is expecting a visit.
Trigger warning: discussions of emotional and mental abuse, gaslighting
That night at his dining table was the start of something wonderful. You made a point to apply a bit of perfume to your neck before you left your apartment. Your three slightly judgmental but overall supportive roommates even donated a few drops of their own fragrances from time to time.
You didn’t like the sound of the sentence “Hannibal is my boyfriend”. It just didn’t hit your ear right. ‘Boyfriend’ was too childish of a title for him. By extension, he found something very diminutive about referring to you as his girlfriend. You were, of course, a grown woman. He remedied this right away, resigning to call you his ‘darling’. You, however, had to use ‘partner’ as a placeholder until a more suitable pet name presented itself. Although the titles were never stated outright, after a while, you knew it was more than just a passionate affair. Hannibal (and you were calling him Hannibal, now) saw potential in you. He nurtured you and had been since day one.
Finally, things were starting to go your way. You were in classes you loved, had wonderful, supportive friends and a fulfilling relationship. It took over twenty years, but better late than never.
But, if there was one thing you learned from your short stint as a student of physics, it was that what goes up must come down. Your long-awaited bliss was about to be tested by an equal and opposite force bearing the name “Beatrice [L/N]” on the caller ID.
Not only did she call, but she called three times in the middle of your meal. And that was followed by multiple texts, several of which containing words like “emergency” in all caps. You were just trying to enjoy another one of Hannibal’s culinary works of art, but the old bitch was persistent.
You apologetically excused yourself from the table and retreated to the office with your phone.
Grandma, you had better be on your fucking deathbed. You thought to yourself before sliding the green answer icon across the screen.
“[F/N]!” Came her shrill voice. “You finally answered. I was beginning to worry.”
“What do you want, grandma?” You groan.
“I wanted to ask you what you were wearing to Anna’s wedding next weekend.” She explained, calmly as ever. “The color scheme is seafoam and coral and she wants to make sure everyone adheres to it for pictures.”
You covered the speaker with your hand and pulled your phone away from your ear so she couldn’t hear you bite back a scream. It physically pained you to return the phone to your ear. “Yeah, I RSVPed no to Anna’s wedding.”
“[F/N],” Your grandmother said in that scolding tone you knew all too well. “Your cousin expects you to be there. I expect you to be there. I invested so much money into this wedding, I will take it as a personal affront if you don’t attend.”
You take everything as a personal affront. You thought.
“It doesn’t matter, I already said no. She’s not going to have a chair or food for me.” You explained, hoping that you found some way out of this conversation.
“No, she will.” Your grandma corrected. “I won’t have any child of mine absent from another’s wedding. I put in all the work to pull this event together.”
For a moment, you almost felt bad for Anna. Having to endure your grandmother’s micromanaging was a circle of hell even Dante refused to tread.
"Of course, heaven forbid someone in your life show an ounce of autonomy." You finally snapped.
"I don't know why you're acting so rude, but it stops now." Grandma ordered. "I raised you as my own daughter. You should be more grateful for the luxuries I can extend to you. I didn't have to take you in, you know..."
It pained you to stay quiet when all you wanted to say was "I wish you hadn't".
"Your emotional manipulation isn't going to work on me anymore." You informed her.
“So, naturally, I’ve seen to it that you are expected." She continued her own conversation without even acknowledging yours. "You and a plus one, of course.”
You hadn’t even considered the possibility of attending the wedding with Hannibal. The two points never once intersected. And they never would. You vowed that Hannibal would never meet your grandmother or cousins. At that moment, that was the hill you were willing to die on.
“If I come at all, I’m coming alone.” You snap. “You can punish me all you want but I am not letting you get him involved.”
“Him?” Your grandma repeated. “So there is someone?”
“Someone you are keeping me from.” You said, thoroughly frustrated and now panicked at the idea that your grandmother knew Hannibal existed. “Goodbye.”
You didn't want to rejoin Hannibal in such a sour mood, but you didn't want to keep him waiting either. You returned even more apologetically than you left and took your seat.
"Everything alright, love?" He asked. You could tell he was raring to psychoanalyze you.
You shook your head. "It was my grandma."
"I could tell that much." He admitted, beginning to cut into his steak. "What with all the frustration you're trying so desperately to hide. What did she want?"
"She called to tell me she expects me at my cousin's wedding next Saturday." You rolled your eyes. "I'd already declined the invitation, but she didn't like that, apparently."
"Which cousin is this?" He probed. "The one that works as an engineer for Halliburton?
"No, that's Theresa." You shook your head. "And she works for Halliburton, but she's not an engineer. She's a PR executive."
"Right." Hannibal nodded, taking a bite of steak between his teeth. "She took after your grandmother and turned gaslighting into a career."
You smiled a bit. "Right."
"So, it's Anna, then?" He concluded. "You haven't told me much about her. Perhaps she is the benign tumor of the family?"
"More or less." You shrugged. "She works at a publishing agency. Only got the job because her boyfriend's uncle's the CFO. She didn't even make it to the interview. It was pure nepotism."
"And now she's marrying the boyfriend, I presume?"
"Yeah." You felt a grin cross your face thinking about what you were going to say next. "She wasn't even dating him at the time. She was dating someone else and cheating on him with the guy she's marrying now."
Hannibal grinned. "You like knowing this? Having information that could potentially ruin her life?"
You knew there was no use in lying. The look on your face said it all. "Absolutely I do. When you're the black sheep of the family, you've gotta take power where you can get it. Mine just so happens to be potential blackmail."
"I'm quite delighted to be privy to this side of you, love." He smiled. "We're a bit vindictive, now are we?"
"Are you kidding?" You snicker. "These are the girls that psychologically tormented me growing up. Of course I'm vindictive."
"So about this wedding." He didn't look up from his plate. "Do they expect you to bring a date?"
"They do." You nod, your eyes wandering off. "But I can't let them meet you. They're just so unspeakably rude all the time."
For some reason, you felt that this didn't deter him. Perhaps it even compelled him a little. "Oh?"
"They take this really strange pride in making scenes everywhere they go." You explained. "They've already ruined so much of my life. I can't even give them the opportunity to ruin this too."
"Darling," Hannibal leaned in. "Is there a part of you that wants to attend this event?"
You held your tongue before you said anything you both know to be untrue. "...maybe a small part."
"That small part of you that wants power. That wants justice." He nodded. "Indulge it for a moment. What does this wedding look like to you?"
Trying to keep up the illusion that you hadn't thought of this before, you paused for a moment. "...we would show up--you and I--and I'd be wearing a stunning gown that doesn't fit the stupid color scheme at all. And there's just an unspoken knowledge that I could absolutely ruin Anna's entire day. Anna and Theresa and Grandma are all being nice to me because if I so much as mention the name of that boyfriend she cheated on, I'd ruin her life and possibly her career. So finally I hold all the cards."
Hannibal looked proud. He took a sip of his wine. "You want to be powerful, but with just enough restraint so they know you're the bigger person."
"Exactly." You agreed.
"Perhaps my fondness for you is clouding my professional judgment, darling." He put his wine glass down. "The thought of you in an evening gown, commanding attention and reverence... that's just something I have to see."
"...something you have to see?" You met eyes with him, realizing you were on the same page.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket again. This time, you didn't feel the need to step out.
"Hey [F/N], care to explain why my sister is crying?" Theresa snapped through the receiver.
"Is someone cutting onions nearby?" You offered. "That usually makes me tear up."
"Fucking hell, for once in your meaningless life can you care about someone other than yourself?!" Theresa yelled. "Grandma told us you're not coming to the wedding."
You looked back at Hannibal, who gave you a nod. "Actually, I am. We are."
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I loved what you did with the Donna ask. Could I request a part 2 where Donna's son starts interacting with the other lords and Angie? Maybe include Donna getting more possessive if her son since he's finally back on his feet and other people and taking him away from her, not used to him being away from the house?
Broken Truth: Well, she did make sure her son was strong now she has to protect him from her greedy family! Let the words weave together and see what Donna shall do to keep her son!
[Beneviento Estate]
"Which do you think is better, Angie? The Blue One or The Black One?" [Y/N] asked the doll as he put both the ribbons up to the collar of his dress shirt. He had a mirror to his left but he couldn't make the choice himself and asked the Wedding Dressed Doll that sat on his dresser this question.
"Why does it matter? You look good in both of them." Angie said.
"Thanks for the compliment, Angie, but I want this to be perfect. Mother gave me her father's Beneviento Tie Brooch and I want to look as sophisticated as he did." [Y/N] said with a smile at the thought of himself being honor to the Benevienot Name.
"Alright...Um...The Black One." Angie said.
With a smile, The Young Master looked at the black ribbon as he placed the blue ribbon back on his dresser and grabbed the Beneviento Insignia Tie Brooch from the dresser, and weaved the black ribbon in the back before bringing the dangling brooch to his shirt - the wings of his collar upward - and tied the brooch around his neck before lowering the wings. He reached and got his House Jacket off the vest of the coatrack in his room and wore it. He looked at himself in the mirror with a smile - he was distracted with his appearance that he didn't hear the door open until his mother spoke to him.
"You look like a truth Beneviento, [Y/N]." He looked at his mother who smiled at him as Angie ran over to her mother.
"Thank you, Mom. Are you ready to go?" The son asked as he walked over to his mother.
"Yes. I'm unsure why Mother Miranda wanted to have dinner at Alcina's Castle but...as her daughter and servant, I must listen to what she says." Donna looked to the ground, she was not looking forward to this dinner.
Mother Miranda said this dinner was going to be about integrating [Y/N] as the Offical Heir of House Beneviento and Future Lord of the Village should anything happen to Donna. Donna made sure Miranda knew about this arrangement when [Y/N] was born but she never took interest in him while he was sick but now that he was better...now that he could move around on his own...
Donna didn't like it.
She saw the way her siblings looked at her son - he was no longer the weakling that couldn't do anything for himself. He was grand. He was powerful. And most importantly, he was hers.
He was her son.
Her pride and joy.
And the fact that other people were taking interest in him now that he was better...it angered the Lady of Beneviento. But Donna was a woman of calming mist, not raging fires - that was Heisenberg's Department; however, she was a mother and she would not let anyone take her son from. She just...had to be careful of what she said and how she did things.
The Mother and Son got their coats - [Y/N] actually wore his grandfather's long trench coat that bore the Beneviento Crest over his chest, it was a perfect fit for the future Lord Beneviento. The two of them walked out of the house with Angie riding on [Y/N]'s shoulder and they headed to Castle Dimitrescu.
[Upon Arrival To Dimitrescu Castle]
"Ah, Donna. I was wondering when you would arrive." Alcina said as she met her 2 new guests at the door. She looked at the tall male beside her sister and smiled. "And this must be Little [Y/N]; he doesn't seem so little to me anymore."
"Greetings, Lady Dimitrescu." He said in a respectful bow but Alcina just laughed and waved her hand in dismissal.
"No need for formalities, my boy; we're family. You can call me 'Aunt Alcina'." She smiled - Donna didn't like that same.
"Um...Okay, Aunt Alcina." He smiled nervously - he never really interacted with the other lords so he wasn't sure what to call them.
"Well, come, My Little Nephew!" Alcina placed her hand on his shoulder and led him away from Donna, "Your Cousins, Uncles, and Grandmother are waiting to get to know you." Alcina said - leaving Donna there...NOT!
Donna marched over to her son and grabbed his hand and pulled him away from Alcina, who looked at her with confused eyes.
"He is my son, Alcina; I can bring him to the dining hall myself." Donna said as she pulled her son along to the dining hall where the other Lords, Alcina's Daughters, and Mother Miranda were waiting for them.
[Y/N] and Donna walked over to their chairs but the son pulled out his mother's chair before he pushed her in and took a seat himself.
"A Gentleman. We don't see much of that anymore." Alcina said as she took her seat.
"I raised my son well, Alcina." Donna said.
"And I'm grateful for having her as my mother." [Y/N] smiled at his mother.
The maids came out with dinner and everyone ate in silence.
[After Dinner]
"Now, unto the matter we are here for." Miranda said as she wiped her mouth of wine. "Donna, why haven't you given any reports on how the Cadou has affected [Y/N]?" She asked.
"What would be the need to do that, Mother Miranda? [Y/N] isn't an experiment, he's my son." Donna said.
"While that may be the case - anything relating to the Cadou must be run by me." Miranda said as she looked at her daughter who just stared at her.
"Mother, I gave you the information of the Cadou I used in [Y/N] but that wasn't the thing that healed him - it was medicine from a recipe I happened to come across." Donna said.
"It doesn't matter if the medicine made him better - I want to know how the Cadou affected him but you didn't tell me in your notes." Miranda said.
"It shouldn't matter since my son is not an experiment, Mother. I don't feel comfortable talking this, Mother." Donna said as she rose from her seat and her son followed her as she left the castle with her son in tow. There were many displeased faces at the dinner table.
[A Few Days Later]
The phone rang and [Y/N] roses from his seat where he was with his mother and answered the phone.
"Beneviento Residence." He said.
"Aunt Alcina?" He questioned; that made Donna look up from her tea and look at her son - why was Alcina calling them?
"No, I don't have anything to do at the moment; I was drinking tea with mother." He said.
"You want me to come over to tea? I'll ask mother to see..." He stopped for a moment, "You want me to come alone?"
'What?!' Donna questioned in her mind.
"Um...Okay. I'll be there in a moment." He hung up the phone after a moment and looked at his mother, "Um...Aunt Alcina invited me for tea with her and her daughters. I'll be back in an hour, Mom." He said as he walked out the door after putting on his coat.
"What was that about?" Angie asked as she jumped on the table.
"Alcina invited him for tea." Donna said with displeasure on her face.
"Don't worry, Donna; he can take care of himself." Angie said.
"I know he can...it's just...I'm used to him not being home; he's been here for years and now that he's better and moving around...I just have this strange feeling that someone might try something." Donna said as she looked at her tea.
[Timeskip]
The next few weeks weren't any better - every one of the lords called Beneviento Manor for [Y/N] asking him to spend time with them or spending nights at their places. Alcina had Heisenberg even set up rooms at their places for him when he came over. Whenever there was a lord meeting, the other lords would ask Mother Miranda if [Y/N] could attend but Donna would say no - her son would be at home doing what he wanted without the lords bothering him.
"We don't bother him, he loves hanging out with us; more than you, Donna." Karl would say.
Today - it was a Lord Meeting and Donna was ordered to come. [Y/N] said he was going to rearrange and plant some new flowers in the garden - the flower girl gave him some new seeds and a discount, Donna was sure she was flirting with her son.
Donna arrived at the meeting and took her seat and it was...quiet.
Karl and Alcina would usually argue about something but they were quiet at the moment. Everyone waited for Mother Miranda to speak.
"Now - the purpose of this meeting isn't about the village or even the ceremony." She started.
"Then what is it about?" Donna asked.
"It's about [Y/N], Donna Dear." Alcina said with a smile across her red-painted lips.
"What about him?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Listen, we get he's your kid and all but he needs something more so we think it's best if he came to live with one of us for now on." Karl said.
Donna...was...pissed.
"What did you just say?" Donna hissed.
"Listen, Donna - you did a perfect job raising him but I think it would be best if [Y/N] came to live with me at the castle. The girls love him and see him as a brother; they are always wanting him to move over and him living there would be better for him and my girls." Alcina said.
"Like hell you'll get him, Lady Super-Sized Bitch. The kid is a boy and we men need to stick together. He's a fast learner and I need that in my factory. I'll be a better father for him." Karl said.
"NEITHER ONE OF YOU ARE GETTING HIM!" Donna yelled as she rose from her seat with a glare.
"Donna, calm yourself." Mother Miranda tried to say but was cut off.
"NO! YOU DON'T SAY ANYTHING, MOTHER!" She looked at her Sister and Brother, "LET ME TELL YOU TWO SOMETHING: HE IS MY SON! YOU HEAR ME?! MINE! I RAISED HIM! I WAS THERE FOR HIM WHILE HE WAS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE! ALCINA, YOU WILL NEVER BE HIS MOTHER AND HE WILL NEVER BE THE GIRLS' BROTHER! KARL, YOU WILL NEVER BE HIS FATHER; HE HAD A FATHER AND HIS FATHER DIED! I DON'T GIVE A DAMN HOW MUCH YOU THINK HE SHOULD BE WITH YOU; IT'S NEVER GONNA HAPPEN! HE'S MY SON AND YOU ALL CAN FUCK OFF!" Donna roared.
Everyone was silent.
You could hear a cotton ball drop.
Donna rose from her chair and walked out the door and went back home to her son.
HER SON.
She was quiet about her son visiting them but the moment they fixed their lips about taking him away from her...they are on Donna Beneviento's Shit List.
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Do that last one about Drunk weddings for the Sole Survivor, too. I may have my biases, but Fallout 4 can have a little love, as a treat.
Cait: "Don't be makin' so much noise in the back if you aren't going to share, you hear?"
Prior to her journey into Vault 95, Cait is just as stumbling drunk as the sole survivor, giggling with reckless abandon and daring guests to go a round with her outside the venue. She enlists the sole survivor to help her change out of her dress to make good on these bare-knuckle boxing promises, but the two of them wind up forgetting about the whole thing and singing loudly over the music on the dance floor. Post-sobriety, Cait heckles the sole survivor after they pass the point of no return, but she abstains in favor of demolishing Piper's gifted stash of Nuka-Cola.
Curie: "Do not indulge too much, mon glaçon. Excess of drink is the cause of many health problems."
Curie, ever the picture of innocent poise, laughs politely when the sole survivor starts making outbursts at the party, then corners them in the bathroom when she's free and insists they drink several glasses of water and eat some mirelurk cake hors d'oeuvres in front of her. She enlists Danse to help her carry the sole survivor to bed when they finally wear themselves out, and she does it all without staining or ripping her dress.
Danse: [speechless, awkward blushing]
Paladin Danse turns beet red when the sole survivor climbs onto a chair to get the party's attention for a toast, and dashes to their side when they start to wobble. To him, a wedding is no reason to let down his guard and drink, but the rest of his Brotherhood brethren don't share that viewpoint: Particularly Proctor Teagan, who is just as far in as the sole survivor. Once embarrassed, Danse tries to stay on the opposite end of the room, and steers his new spouse clear as well. He will give up his avoidance tactics if asked to dance, though.
Deacon: "Everyone drink up, we're trying to erase any memory of this get-together in case the Institute captures us and demands to know what menu and color scheme we picked."
Given his career and his own personal history, Deacon insists on having a small affair with close friends over a large shindig. He's mostly joking about forgetting the party- or is he?- but either way, he's handing out bottles of Bobrov's Best like it's going out of business. Valentine keeps side-eyeing him and calling him an "enabler," but Deacon couldn't care less.
Hancock: "Cheers to you, cheers to me, cheers to us and the whole fucking Commonwealth!"
The sole survivor's drunk? Good, so is Hancock. Like Deacon, the mayor of Goodneighbor is handing out bottles of booze left and right, along with palming chems to anyone in the Third Rail who looks too mellow. Whitechapel Charlie complains loudly when the groom and the sole survivor start dancing on the bar, but Hancock does not care one whit about property damage on his special day. That is, unless someone starts getting fresh with Magnolia.
MacCready: "So when I said partnering up with you beat drinking myself blind in Goodneighbor, that wasn't me saying we should switch spots, boss."
MacCready is too overwhelmed with disbelieving happiness on his big day to care if the sole survivor is wrecking shop. He's too busy staring at his new spouse holding Duncan and laughing with joy to notice the sole survivor spilling drinks on other guests, but he will perk up if they manage to hijack the jukebox. He'll roll his eyes, switch the song back to something more to his taste, and then drag the sole survivor onto the dance floor to work off some of their excess energy.
Valentine: "Gonna water that battery acid down with anything, or do I need to tell Vadim to cut you off?"
The synth detective takes in the sole survivor's antics with a wry smile before pulling them aside to make sure they're going to behave for the rest of the night. Any further shenanigans will earn them a withering frown from across the party. Rather than leave his new partner's side, he enlists Ellie and Piper's help in strong-arming them away from the moonshine supply and out into the fresh air for a bit.
Piper: "Really, Blue, on my wedding day? I don't do many editorial cartoons, but I think this might warrant one."
Piper has roses blooming in her own cheeks from drinking, but she'll insist the sole survivor switch to Nuka-Cola, park them in a chair next to her and toss tongue twisters at them until they can recite them back to her straight. Like MacCready and Danse, she will also accept some impressive dance moves as penance for their crime of disrupting the celebration, but if she starts dancing too, she'll slip quickly into the same territory of overdoing it.
Preston: "No thanks, but you keep going. We'll see whose head feels better come sunrise."
On the opposite end of the scale from Deacon, Preston doesn't want to forget a second of this day and is therefore abstaining. His Minutemen compatriots aren't though, so the sole survivor fits right in with the crowd. Ever the model of manners, Preston will join in on their drunken rendition of Dion's "The Wanderer," but he'll just as quickly bow out to go grab his new spouse a drink, chair, snack or anything else they might need.
X6-88: "Strange. The sensation leaves me unbalanced, but... warm. Perhaps the SRB was right to restrict substances such as this."
The Courser is puzzled the first time the sole survivor hands him a drink, but he accepts it and downs the lot admirably, shaking his head at the taste. He likes the way it makes him feel for a little bit, but learns quickly that if he keeps going, he'll wind up draped over the nearest furniture like the former vault dweller. Once the sole survivor is hiccupping and incoherent, he easily hoists them over his shoulder and deposits them as far away from the liquor supply as he can, ignoring the impressed cheers of Deacon and MacCready.
BONUS!
Gage: "No, I don't care if it was brewed in a settlement, that stuff'll knock you on your ass just as well as the beer that's been sitting still for 200 years."
Porter Gage has been dry for decades, and his own wedding isn't going to be enough to ruin that streak. Seeing as he's pals with a whole bunch of raiders, he can't well keep the rest of them from indulging, but he can sure as hell protest if the sole survivor tries to push a bottle on him. Repeated inquiries will earn them a black eye, but he'll let them steal his eyepatch for the rest of the night as condolence.
Longfellow: "Here's to full glasses an' fulsome lasses, ain't that right, honey? Bottoms up!"
There's not much to do on the island when you live alone, other than get really good at your hobbies and drink. Old Longfellow lives accordingly, and he can out-swig anyone attending his little party, including the sole survivor. By the end of the night, those who dared to pick up a glass around the man are under the table, while Longfellow is still singing sweet, fully-coherent lullabies to his new gal beneath the glow of the bottle lanterns. Knowing him, she's probably just as seasoned at drinking as he is.
Maxson: "Dull senses make for poor soldiers, but I suppose we can set our weapons aside for one evening."
Any Brotherhood of Steel Elder's marriage is a huge deal, and subsequently warrants a huge celebration. Alcohol flows freely at such parties, and any drunken behavior on the sole survivor's behalf is probably drowned out by hundreds of other Knights, Scribes and Lancers acting foolish too. Like Longfellow, Maxson holds his own in contest with everyone else, but doesn't push those around him to keep up. Anyone counting his drinks can't help but wonder where he's putting it. If the sole survivor's not too far gone, they can spot him dumping his glasses after a sip or two to keep up the mythic image, but he'll swear them to secrecy.
Desdemona: "Being able to take a moment to breathe can be just as vitally important for an organization as resupply missions or exterminations. Stop touching my hair."
The Railroad leader appreciates being able to cut loose, but she's still too paranoid to trust any glass handed to her and favors the flask inside her ballistic weave-armored dress that she fills herself. Once relaxed, this is the only time she'll allow the sole survivor and friends to get rowdy and fawn over her in the least. Liquored-up compliments on her outfit, her leadership abilities and her organization are fair game, but any probing into her personal background will result in her simply standing up and walking away.
#fallout#fallout 4#fo4#fallout companions#fallout reactions#fallout 4 reactions#fo4 reactions#fallout 4 companions#fo4 companions#desdemona#maxson#elder maxson#elder arthur maxson#arthur maxson#old longfellow#porter gage#x6-88#preston garvey#piper wright#nick valentine#wedding#drunk party#alcohol cw#maccready#robert joseph maccready#hancock#mayor hancock#cait#deacon#danse
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can- can we please have more of the mob au 🥺 i loved it sm would love to see more!!
YES O H My god this is literally my favorite AU. I’m so fucking excited by this oh my god. Okay for you nonnie you get to have the story of how Mari took over her family’s business. Putting this under a read more for strong themes TW: Death TW: Mob TW: Murder (Like someone actively gets killed)
Mari was raised as her father’s successor. Her mother wanted Mari to not be involved at all and to just be a happy sweet girl who played piano and created a powerful alliance through marriage (She wanted her to be closer to Canon Mari’s personality)
Her father saw her intelligence, her cunning. He saw her spirit which had a detached power. He knew she would be able to make tough decisions and keep herself whole as she did it.
Ultimately it’s his decision, and he decides he wants Mari to become him in due time. Her mother moans and wails about it, but he will not be swayed. Even when Sunny is born four years later, he does not budge into stereotypical gender roles.
Mari’s father assembles a team of people for her who are ultimately loyal to her not him. His own consigliere advises against this, but her father knows Mari will be great and in order to achieve that greatness she will need people who are dedicated to her.
Among those people are a set of twins who belong to a baker under his protection. The twins are Mari’s age and they are strangely morally ethic. The twins are told by their parents that they are to be friends with Mari and to listen to whatever she says. Soon enough they forget they were ever given this direction, Mari is just theirs to follow.
Mari’s father makes one fatal flaw that leads to his downfall.
When Mari is four and a half years old, he introduces her to Hero. Their parents are affiliated with one another, but they both run their own organizations. They’re civil, but that’s all. They expect their children to be the same.
Their children immediately fall in love. True pure honest to god love.
Both fathers are less than pleased, but they agree that a union between their families would be mutually beneficial. Hero is the next in line for his own power, and having two strengths would be...interesting.
It’s a tentative bond that could snap in a second, except Hero and Mari are not as weak as the agreement between their fathers. They spend every day together. They grow together, they learn together, they only get closer and closer.
They know their destiny. They will rule together and nothing will be able to get in their way. They are equals, matched in every way.
Their fathers are less pleased. Mari’s father refuses to let his daughter and his future be put to the wayside, and Hero’s father has no interest in having his son be anything less than the most powerful person around. Where their children found balance, the fathers found discord.
When she is sixteen years old, Mari’s father breaks her engagement with Hero.
Hero’s father had encroached on his territory (yet again) and it is the final straw for her father. Mari tries to argue with him, but he is deep into his Don headspace, and there is nothing she can say to make him reconsider. He will not have his mind changed, and he is going to deal with the problem once and for all.
He orders a hit on the entire family. Hero’s mother, father, Kel, even the newborn Sally. But more than anything, if the only one who dies is Hero then her father will be satisfied. He wants to make sure there is no heir other than Mari. No one else but his own blood who can take the crown.
Mari finds out about this hit, and a cold cruel breeze rolls down her spine.
Her father’s hold has been steadily weakening the older she gets, and his latest deranged action is unsettling to the capos and his advisors. Even her mother is disturbed by his fervor against her daughter’s ex-fiance.
Mari has options. Mari makes her choice.
Mari kills her father on her seventeenth birthday. The morning of March 1st is freezing, but her hand on the pistol doesn’t shake. Her father is still raging, still yelling at his men and shouting orders. Mari doesn’t need to shout. Her word is law.
A congregation watches her. Hero’s mother and father who she warned of her father’s plans, Kel and Sunny who are probably too young to watch but have to understand the change, all of the capos who have chosen loyalty to her, and thus chosen to live. Hero is the one who hands her the loaded pistol. He stands at her side as she carries out the hit.
Those not in attendance include her mother and her father’s top advisors. They are being arrested in a Sting operation she set up. It was good that her mother forced her to keep her pristine mob daughter image. Her snow white dresses and long flowing hair create a perfect picture of innocence. It was all too easy to trick the FBI into doing her bidding.
Right before she kills him her father becomes fully lucid to what is happening. He stares up at her from past the barrel of the gun. She is not second guessing. She is not grieving him. There is only a cold fury. He dared to threaten what was hers. He had the audacity to try and bite the hand that feeds.
Her father’s last words continue to haunt her far into her adulthood
“Now you’re a perfect legacy,”
After her father’s death his business splits into parts and divides out. Mari keeps those who were closest to her (and all the money) but the rest she liquidates in one way or another.
She and Hero are married a month after her father’s death. They are both seventeen. The wedding is a beautiful affair, and that night she sits with her father in law and her husband and they discuss her wedding gifts.
Her wedding gift is Hero stepping back. She has proven her loyalty to him and their family. She has proven her dedication to their continuation, her ability to do whatever is necessary. Hero has always been better at the other side of things. The wooing, the wheeling and dealing. This is the right way. With her at the helm and Hero as her most trusted, she will create an empire that will outlive all of them.
Her second wedding gift comes from Daphne and Bowen. Their parents had been a part of those culled, an unfortunate reality. They took custody of their younger brother and ownership of their parents bakery. Their parents had the choice to back the right horse, and they chose wrong. Nether twin holds this against her. They offer her their bakery as her starting point.
Don Mari begins her reign with blood stained hands and an elegant white wedding dress. White becomes her symbol.
#LOVE THIS AU#Nonnie#I'm into this AU#omori#asks#anon#omori au#omori headcanons#omori mari#omori hero#heromari#mob boss mari#omori sunny#omori sunnys dad#omori sunnys mom#omori kel#omori heros mom#omori heros dad#omori bread twins#bread twins#unbread twins#omori daphne#omori bowen#Mafia au#mob au#tw:death#tw: mob#Tw: mafia#TW: murder
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