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berenwrites · 11 months

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Beyond the Battle - Chapter 28 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Beyond the Battle: Action & Consequence

Click here for All Posted Chapters

Summary: Steve hits things with a bat or gets hit depending on who you ask. He definitely does not have anything to do with the psychic stuff. That is El’s domain. However, as Vecna is defeated, the rules change.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Other Relationships: Steve & Robin, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin

Rating: Teen

A/N: Multi-chapter story, updated regularly. Honestly not sure how many chapters it will have yet because it's still a bit hand wavy in the middle, but definitely more than 12. Thank you to my beta for find my mistakes and to all those who read/like/reblog.💖 Follow #st:beyond-the-battle for updates.

Also on AO3

Chapter 28. Backs Against the Wall

Steve looked around the room and hoped someone had an idea, because he was all out. Making sure the house was safe was about as far as he could get. When it came to the more complex plans, he was happy to help, even add a suggestion or two, but he was pretty sure they had many better strategists than him.

“We stay together,” Joyce said before anyone else could speak up.

Hopper looked distinctly torn about that.

“Until we know what’s going on, I want to know where you all are,” Joyce added. “Do we have any way to contact Jon and Argyle? They need to be warned.”

“We don’t have any way of contacting anyone at the moment,” Mike said. “The phones are down, and a jammer is blocking the walkies.”

“Then that should be our first priority,” Hopper said. “We need to…”

A very loud bang interrupted the conversation.

“What the hell was that?” Steve heard his mom ask.

Hopper and Wayne exchanged a look.

“That sounded like a large calibre weapon,” Hopper said, and Wayne nodded.

Steve had no idea what military experience Wayne had, but it seemed as if he knew what he was hearing.

“Nobody move,” Hopper said and headed into the room to the right of the front door.

It was the only downstairs room that had a good view down the drive. Steve put aside the small amount of mac and cheese he had left, sitting forward as his appetite deserted him. When Hopper came back, the man’s expression was grim.

“There’s a heavy armoured car on the driveway,” Hopper said. “I think they just put a warning shot over the house.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie said.

This was part of the shit-show the Upside Down brought that Eddie had never had to deal with; the stupidity of their own government. Steve couldn’t say he was shocked, nor that he blamed Eddie for his reaction.

“They’re trying to intimidate us,” Erica said, as always, wiser than her years.

“It’s working,” was Gareth’s comment on the matter.

“They must have followed us from our house,” El said, sounding guilty.

“They were probably already watching this one,” Steve said, hoping to nip that in the bud. “If they were following Nancy, they were probably following all of us.”

“At least with most of us in one place they can’t pick us off one by one,” Dustin agreed.

There was a momentary, high pitched whistling sound.

“Surrender the girl and this will be over,” came the distorted instruction from outside the house. You have twenty minutes to comply.”

Another crackle and there was silence once again. Everyone in the room shared a look.

“That was him,” El said, confirming what they had suspected.

The day was not looking up. Steve was not privy to all the details of what had happened with project Nina, but he knew enough. This colonel was very bad news.

“Do you have any guns in the house?” Nancy asked, looking at Steve.

He in turn looked to his mom, since he didn’t know of any. His dad was more into golf than hunting or anything like that.

“There’s a rifle in the lock box in the front garage,” his mom said, “but I don’t know how much ammunition there is. David is a terrible shot, so it’s only ever been for show on the odd business hunting trip.”

“Can you show me?” Joyce asked.

His mom stood up with a nod and took the other woman to find the gun.

“I have my service weapon,” Hopper said, producing the handgun from under the back of his jacket like it was a perfectly normal place to keep it.

“I have three bats and plenty of nails if we need to improvise weapons,” Steve revealed, “and I’m sure there’s stuff in the second garage that we could use for Molotovs.”

“Three bats?” Lucas asked.

“I wanted to be prepared,” he replied. “They’re under the bed in Eddie’s room. They’re mostly meant for monsters, but they could come in handy if the standoff doesn’t last.”

“Do you think this colonel will risk a frontal assault?” Dustin asked, and sounded for all the world like he was discussing a strategy for Dungeons and Dragons.

The fact that the kids looked the least likely to panic out of a room full of older teens and adults said so much about their screwed-up world. Steve would have liked to meet their currently faceless enemy with his old bat for putting them all through this again after it was all supposed to be over. It simply wasn’t fair.

“The neighbourhood is mostly empty,” Steve said. “Not many people have come back yet. They’re probably waiting it out in their beach houses until everything’s back to normal.”

He didn’t bother hiding his contempt for his neighbours. It had been a long time since he held any of them in high regard.

“Yeah, but this house is not a secret government base, and it’s full of innocent American citizens,” Hopper pointed out. “That’s a lot harder to cover up, especially when you’re not the only government team on the field. That should make him more inclined to negotiate than come in all guns blazing.”

“They covered up Russians under Starcourt,” Robin pointed out.

“They were all on the same side then,” Will said.

“So, we need to get working on contacting someone before that changes,” Dustin said, sounding as confident as ever. “Steve, do you have any kind of radio equipment we could use to boost the walkies?”

The kid sounded so completely confident in his own abilities that Steve wished he had an easy yes to the question.

“Nothing springs to mind,” he said, “but you can look.”

“Would a cellular phone be of any use?” his mom asked, reappearing with Joyce carrying his dad’s rifle. “There’s no coverage in Hawkins, but I have one in my bags if it could be helpful.”

Dustin’s face lit up.

“I bet we could modify it to patch into the government systems via Cerebro, or, or, Murray. He always has ears on,” the kid said, clearly all sorts of ideas flashing behind his eyes.

“Then we could call in the cavalry,” Mike added.

Steve couldn’t help being amazed as his mom disappeared again, this time to grab the phone and the kids went into action. His house might be about to lose some electronics, but it was a small price to pay.

“Operations Comms is a go,” Hopper said.

“Now we just need to hold off the insane army colonel until help arrives,” Nancy said.

“If I go out to distract…” El started to say.

“No,” was the resounding opinion from every direction.

El looked kind of shocked at the vehemence. Hopper slung an arm around her and pulled her close.

“No noble sacrifices on my watch,” Hopper said very firmly.

“We can take out the armoured car,” Will said, looking at El and trying to sound confident.

El nodded.

“You need to be careful though,” Joyce spoke up. “We don’t want what happened to El after Starcourt and the battle with Henry Creel to happen again. I know you’re stronger together, but a stroke is very, very dangerous. You can’t push too hard.”

“What if they can,” Steve said as a lightbulb went off in his head.

Several sets of eyes stared at him as if he had gone mad.

“You can heal it before it happens,” Robin said, of course immediately getting what he was trying to say.

He nodded.

“How can you be sure?” Hopper asked.

“Because I was trying to do the same thing to myself earlier today,” he replied. “I’m fed up of getting blood out of my clothes, okay?” he added as several people eyed him. “I didn’t get as far as healing myself because I didn’t have time, but I figured out what was going on. I could see where the pressure was.”

El was giving him one of her very serious looks.

“You are not just talking about the nosebleeds,” she said.

“No,” he agreed. “The pressure inside.”

He was pretty sure no one else except Will really understood what they were talking about.

“Show me,” she said, stepping towards him holding out her hand.

“El,” Hopper said, but she looked back over her shoulder at the man, and something must have passed between them, because he backed down.

Steve reached out and took El’s hand, feeling the familiarity of her presence as soon as he did. Closing his eyes he let his healing power rise, giving his instincts free reign as he focused on El. He knew then she had been right, he had healed her before, because he sensed the same level of familiarity he had when he had returned to finish healing Max.

“Ready,” he said.

He sensed it as El slipped into the Void, but he ignored the urge to join her, remaining in the half state, focusing on El’s physical body. It was like sparks along his spine as her abilities rippled through her physical form. He did not need to smash through the barrier for this, not yet at least, El’s own body was quite capable of healing itself from the damage being done. His instincts knew what to do, boosting El’s own healing and preventing the injuries almost before they could begin to form and before they could cause harm.

The crackle of El’s carefully controlled power was awe inspiring as he observed it at such a fundamental level. She was amazing.

When that power was pushed back down, he opened his eyes to find El already looking at him. As soon as their eyes met, she smiled.

“Steve is right, he can heal us,” she said.

“He forgot himself again though,” Robin pointed out.

“Well healing someone else and healing myself at the same time is hard and going to take way more practice than we have time for,” he replied, pulling out the Kleenex he had in his pocket to deal with the slight dribble of blood from his nose. “And healing doesn’t cause the same intense pressure as moving things or going to the Void, I’ll be fine.”

He left the ‘I hope’ off the end of that.

“Try me,” Will said, standing up and walking over to offer his hand.

As he had done with El, Steve took Will’s hand. This was familiar, they had worked together a lot over the last few days, but he had never healed Will. He allowed his instincts to rise once more, carefully feeling out Will in a way he hadn’t needed to with El. Simply letting his instincts rule was not an option for this, he needed to be in control because he would have to be fully aware when they needed him.

“Ready,” he said after taking a good few minutes for his awareness to sink into Will’s physical being.

It felt the same when Will slipped into the Void, but the sensation lancing up Steve’s spine was very different as he focused on Will’s power. The feeling brought with it a sense of fire rather than the lightning like reflection he had felt with El. It whispered of power, carefully controlled, but it was a little bit wilder with untapped potential. What was the same, however, was the pressure that came with it and the damage it could do.

Steve did exactly as he had with El, using his own energy to push Will’s natural healing into overdrive, smoothing over any damage before it was little more than an idea. It was easy, like he had been born to do it.

He was pretty sure it would be harder when El or Will exerted themselves, but he knew he could be ready for it. When he opened his eyes again, Will was already smiling at him.

“I think that’s definitely proof of concept,” Robin concluded.

“But can you heal both of them at the same time?” Joyce asked the next sensible question.

“And how long can you keep it up for?” Hopper added.

“I think so, and as long as I have to,” Steve replied, because he refused to be beaten by any part of this.

He was still holding Will’s hand, so he held out his other one to El once more. All he could do was try.

End of Chapter 28

Chapter 29

#stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie lives #stranger things #st:beyond-the-battle #fanfic #post season 4 #vampire eddie #hurt/comfort #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington has powers #steddie fanfic #steddie fic

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yocalio · 2 years

Note

they're making a sequel to game of thrones... with Jon as the main protag... the second most boring character in the shit show (Bran being the first and most boring character who could have been interesting but *gestures vaguely* all of that happened with him)

Like a show about what happens after he gets banished and goes and lives beyond the wall? Why would anyone want that? Honestly, why would anyone want to watch that? That would especially be a slap in the face to all us Daenerys fans. Are we gonna have to watch him go through his .345 seconds of grieving for murdering her and then quickly move on and be happy with his bros and another love interest? 🤡🤡🤡🤡 HBO can fuck right off.

#anti got #anti jon snow #ask

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heartsofbeskar · 3 years

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the red wolf

chapter one: two swords

oberyn martell x fem!reader

WARNINGS: mentions and descriptions of violence (GOT canon typical), talk of death, language

WORDS: 3.5K

EXCERPT: Sunlight streamed through the window, the painted glass covering the two of you in an array of colours. When you had arrived in King’s Landing, you were sure it was the most beautiful place you had ever been. How could Winterfell compare to this sunlight and sea and splendor? But the longer you stayed, the more you saw that the beauty was but a thin layer, covering the stench of violence and greed.

A/N: this is in second person, but the reader insert character belongs to a canon house which of course implies physical characteristics, including her being white! (ik this is a problem for some reader inserts being coded white so i wanted to address it here)

masterlist

Your hands trembled as they threaded through the soft, red locks. You used to do this when she was younger, you recalled, when she couldn’t sleep or was feeling ill or had a frightful dream.

It wasn’t just a dream this time.

Her shaky breath was warm against your neck, and you pulled her head closer in against you. Tears fell down the front of your bodice and you swallowed thickly, as you felt a familiar burn behind your own eyes. You willed the tears not to fall.

“It isn’t fair,” came her voice, impossibly small, against your bare skin. Her hands gripped tightly into the dense fabric of your skirts. “He wasn’t a traitor.”

You shushed her gently, your free hand ghosting up and down her back. You longed for the days when she was small enough for you to collect her in your lap, hold her close to your breast, as your mother had done for you both.

Another sob wracked her body, and you squeezed your eyes painfully shut at the sound. You hated it, you hated this. How you couldn’t protect her, or your father, or your brothers, or anyone.

“Sansa,” you whispered, taking her face in your hands, tilting it up to look into yours. Your heart shattered again at the sight of her, skin glistening with her tears, eyes and lips swollen and flushed from crying. You rested your forehead against hers, thumbs stroking her over delicate features. “You cannot say those things outside of this room. Tell me you know this, please.”

Your voice broke on the last word, emotion clawing its way up your throat. You loathed to ask this of her, to harden her once trusting and open spirit even further, but you needed her to know it. You wouldn’t give the Lannisters any excuse to hurt her, too.

“I do,” she choked out, fresh tears spilling over. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, pulling her back into your arms.

Sunlight streamed through the window, the painted glass covering the two of you in an array of colours. When you had arrived in King’s Landing, you were sure it was the most beautiful place you had ever been. How could Winterfell compare to this sunlight and sea and splendor? But the longer you stayed, the more you saw that the beauty was but a thin layer, covering the stench of violence and greed.

“We are Starks, my sweet sister.” You resumed combing through Sansa’s long hair; you weren’t sure if it was a comfort to her or to you. “We will not yield.”

—

The great walls of Winterfell rose behind you, as your feet carried you through the tall grass that grew uncontrolled just outside the keep’s gates. Small creatures darted to and fro under its cover. A gentle wind blew across your face, pushing your hair to the side. You heard the call of a wild raven overhead.

Winter bounded past you, the direwolf’s strong limbs carrying him far ahead of you with ease, though his grey speckled coat made him easy to find against the late summer colours of the grass. He turned back to look at you, mouth wide open in a pant, then gave an impatient bark. You laughed, shaking your head.

“You know I cannot keep up!” You called out to him, as if he could understand your reply. But ever since Winter had been a small pup, brought to Winterfell by your brothers with the rest of the litter, it had felt like he could. All the time you had trained him, he had tilted his head at your affirmations and musings, and had burrowed into your side when you were upset. It was an inexplicable connection between the two of you.

He waited patiently for you now, tail wagging and legs bouncing in excitement. He always loved these excursions outside the walls, and it provided a convenient excuse for you. As much as you loved to blame Winter and his need to get out for air, the same desire always burned within you as well.

Your bow and arrow shifted across your back as you increased your pace. The tips of your fingers grazed across the flowers that periodically sprung up from the dense grass. You made a note to pick some on your way back, for Sansa and little Rickon. You knew they’d enjoy them.

The treeline seemed to swallow the sun overhead as you passed beneath it, relishing in the coolness of the air here. Of course, the air had become cooler and cooler with every day that passed now. Winter is coming, your father harped on. And he was right, as usual. The arrival of your first winter sent a trickle of excitement through your entire body whenever you dwelt on it. Mother and father and Uncle Benjen had told you stories of winter, of the endless white and sparkling ice which could drip from the overhangs in the courtyard.

Winter ran excited circles around you as you set your quiver against the ground. You signalled to him with your hand, a communication in the language only the two of you spoke, and he settled promptly down to the ground, back end still wiggling with excitement. But he knew the best was yet to come if he waited.

Pointing the bow at the ground, you pulled an arrow from the quiver, resting it and nocking it against the string. Hooking two of your fingers around the end of the arrow, you scanned your eyes across the shadowed forest floor.

Before long, a movement caught your eye. A small rabbit sat, just a few yards ahead of you, chewing on some of the greenery there. You brought the arrow slowly, silently, up to your eye level, barely daring to breathe, lest you scare timid the creature away. You gripped the bow tightly in your opposite hand. Bringing the string straight backwards to sit next to your face, you tried to envision the path once you released it. Taking one last deep breath, you snapped your fingers off the string.

The arrow flew, fast and long through the air, and finally — fell a few feet left of the rabbit, spooking it into running deeper into the woods.

“Shit,” you cursed, collecting the wayward projectile from where it had sunk into the earth.

“Now, I don’t think your mother would appreciate that language.” A deep voice emerged from behind you, exciting Winter to stand and jump once around again.

“Father!” You gasped, whirling around. “I am so sorry, I know I shouldn’t speak that way, I would never—”

He held up a hand to cut off your babble, a small smile settling on his time weathered face. “It’s alright. I have cursed too many times to reprimand it from any of my children.”

You mirrored his smile, moving to stand beside him. You looked down at your bow a little sheepishly. “I was just trying to practice a bit. You know how Jon and Robb like to tease.”

“I do.” He placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “But you shouldn’t be out here alone, sweet.”

“I have Winter with me.”

He laughed at that, moving his hand now to scratch behind the ears of the direwolf still pacing eagerly between the two of you. Winter yipped in excitement, pushing up against his hand.

“Winter is about as ferocious as a newborn babe,” he teased. “The opposite of Greywind, might I add. Anyone but Robb approaches, and that wolf is on alert.”

“Winter just has a gentle heart, is all.” You drop to one knee, letting the direwolf nuzzle into your chest, stroking his soft ears.

“It’s not unlike the differences between you and Robb, truth be told. Strange, how you can share a womb with another living being, and yet grow to be so distinct.” He had a far away expression on his face when you looked up. You stood again, allowing him to grasp your hands in his.

“You’re not here just to chastise me for going beyond the walls.” You knew, too well, the expression on Ned Stark’s face when he had to speak of things he didn’t want to.

He nodded. “Sweet child … you know I have nothing but respect for you and your choices. But, I am afraid it has become an unavoidable truth. Your mother and I have discussed this, and we have decided that once we arrive in King’s Landing, we need to decide on a man for you to marry.”

Your face was impassive as you considered his words. You knew in any other family, in any other man’s house, you would have been wed as soon as you’d bled for the first time. But your father had allowed you to grow and mature past that, and you cherished those years, holding them close to your heart. You squeezed his hands.

“I know, Father. And I am happy to do my duty as the eldest daughter of the house. You needn't feel guilty — I know you won’t marry me to a monster.” Your lips quirked upwards. And it was true; you had the utmost trust in your father that he would choose someone kind, someone level headed. That he would make a match considering your wishes, too, and it would be a life you could grow to love a man in.

He sighed, shoulders sagging in relief. You wondered if the prospect of marrying his first daughter, his first child, was more difficult for him than it was for you. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re a good daughter. But still a mediocre marksman; come, let me show you where you went wrong,” he said, picking up your discarded bow and quiver.

—

You longed to be in those woods now, with your wolf and your father and your bow. In your home. All the beauty and splendor and opulence of King’s Landing could never erase the horrors you’d endured here.

You glanced behind you, where Tyrion and her handmaiden were trying their best to implore Sansa to eat something. There was an impressive array of foods strewn about the small table, though your younger sister touched none of them.

As you watched, her handmaiden — whom you suspected was no handmaiden at all, given her incompetence at her job — rose from the table, shooting a glare at Lord Tyrion.

“She needs to eat,” she quipped, looking up at you briefly before she left, her light skirts swaying gently as she retreated down the garden path.

You turned and sat slowly in her vacated seat, saying nothing. Sansa didn’t spare you a glance, her eyes vacant as she continued to look at the table in front of her, not really seeing it.

“I can’t let you starve,” Tyrion implored. You bit back the remark on the edge of your tongue. How amusing it was to think of a Lannister caring for a Stark’s wellbeing. Even if it was the Stark he’d been wed to. “I swore to protect you. My lady, I am your husband. Let me help you.”

“How can you help me?”

“I don’t know, but I can try.”

“I lie awake all night staring at the canopy, thinking about how they died.” This you knew to be true, as those past nights you had curled yourself around her, in her marital bed, unable to sleep, but equally unable to leave her alone in this place. Sansa continued.

“Do you know what they did to my brother? How they sewed his direwolf’s head onto his body?” You shut your eyes tightly, images of Robb coming unbidden to the back of your eyelids. His gentle smile, his awful jokes, his tenderness as you’d raised that very direwolf alongside your own. “And my mother. They cut her throat to the bone and threw her body in the—”

“Sansa, please,” you choked out. You could not take any more, or surely the tears you had so desperately supressed for days would finally emerge. She sent a cool glance your way, but stopped.

Tyrion cast his eyes down; you could tell he was carefully considering his next words. Ever the silver tongue. “What happened to your family was a terrible crime. I didn’t know your brother. He seemed like a good man, but I didn’t know him. Your mother, I admired her. She wanted to have me executed, but I admired her. She was a strong woman. And she was fierce when it came to protecting her children. Sansa … your mother would want you to carry on. Both of you. You know it’s true.”

Sansa didn’t make any indication she had heard his valiant speech. Good, you thought to yourself. She stood, hands lightly falling onto the edge of the table. “Will you pardon me, my Lord? I’d like to visit the godswood.”

“Of course,” Tyrion nodded enthusiastically, brows drawn together. The scar you knew he’d gotten during the Battle of Blackwater Bay was deep set above one eye. “Prayer can be helpful, I hear.”

“I don’t pray any more,” she said quietly, as she began walking away. “It’s the only place I go where people don’t talk to me.”

You watched her form as she walked away, knowing she wouldn’t want you to follow. Your heart felt like it was being crushed inside your chest at the sight of it, at the knowledge that you could do nothing for her pain. Nothing for your own pain, even.

Tyrion appeared conflicted, eyes looking between where his wife had now left, and you where you remained seated. You took a deep breath, straightening your back.

“You needn’t stay and pretend to care for me as well,” she quipped, jaw tense. “... my Lord.”

Another Lord, another Lannister even, would have struck you. But perhaps marrying your child sister had curbed that edge in Tyrion, for he said nothing else before taking his leave from you.

As he turned the corner in the path, you sighed, dropping your shoulders. You stood from the table, returning to your previous spot, overlooking the sea. You let out a shaking breath as you leaned against the short garden wall.

The sea churned beneath you, it's great waves smashing ferociously on the rocks below. It smelled of salt and wind and you tried desperately to fill your lungs with it, to wash away every other feeling inside of you.

“A wolf of winter in the summer gardens; a strange sight indeed.” A lilting, accented voice came up behind you. Turning, you saw a tall man adorned in mustard robes, accents of fine jewelry hanging from his neck, on his hands, wrists, everywhere you could see. His skin was tan, golden, in a way you had never seen before, and the top of his robe exposed the start of a golden chest. His neatly trimmed beard and hair were dark, but not as dark as his eyes, which bore into you now.

You noticed the red suns stitched into the fabric of his robes — House Martell. Your father would never forgive you if you forgot all those long lessons on the great families of Westeros.

“My Lord,” you inclined your head politely in his direction, willing your body into the proper posture. “You’ve arrived from Dorne, for the wedding I presume?”

The man raised an eyebrow at you, stepping closer, until he stood directly in front of you. One step forward and you would be in direct contact with the expanse of his chest.

“You paid attention to your schooling on Houses,” he said lightly. He reached down to grab one of your hands that hung by your side, bringing it slowly up to his lips. “I am Prince Oberyn, indeed of Dorne. Forgive my manners, but I do not believe I need an introduction to you, Lady Stark.”

His dark eyes held yours, as he leaned in further. You could feel his breath on your face. It was pleasantly warm, and smelled of … oranges? “I heard of the tragic events that befell your family, at the hands of your benefactors.” He spit the last word.

“I do not know what you mean,” you breathed out. You pleaded with him with your eyes, please don’t do this; don’t make me speak it where they can hear. “The Lannisters have been most kind and generous to me and my sister, more than we deserve even. My family …” You swallowed thickly; your skin felt hot despite the shade. “My family betrayed the crown, and has paid their price.”

Oberyn’s brows drew together in a worried expression as he studied your face. You didn’t look away from his gaze, holding him there, trying not to show a crack in the facade. He ran a light hand up your arm, and though he barely touched you, a shiver ran across your skin. It came to rest on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing small circles over the fabric there.

“Little wolf, I assure you that the Lannisters are no friends of mine.” Something dark flashed in his eyes, for only a moment, so fleeting you weren’t even sure it had been there. “They have ripped apart my family with their teeth, also.”

You felt that particular burn in your eyes, and you pressed your nails into the palms of your hands, willing it away. You eyed the man’s hand where it still sat on your shoulder.

“Yet you break bread with them, do you not?” Your eyes were glued onto his as they cast downwards. “You come peacefully to King’s Landing, you bring wedding gifts for King Joffrey, and you drink from their cups.”

Your breathing was heavy now, emotion you had pushed into the deepest parts of yourself leaking out. You shut your eyes, shaking your head. This was a Prince.

“I … I am sorry, Prince Oberyn, I should not have—” He cut you off, gently pressing a hand to the side of your face. The skin of his fingers was rough, calloused, no doubt from years of fighting.

“You do not need to apologize, little wolf.”

“You shouldn’t call me that here.”

The side of his mouth quirked upwards at that, one delicate brow arching. It transformed the planes of his face, and you found yourself transfixed on the shapes and textures set into his tanned skin.

“I do believe we are alone here, little wolf.” Teasing now, he used the nickname with purpose. You liked the shape of it on his lips, though you still fought the overwhelming urge to peer over your shoulder at whoever may be watching.

“You don’t understand, my Lord.” You shook your head again, and his hand fell from your cheek. “King’s Landing is a pit of snakes. And they are always — always — listening. You are a Prince of Dorne and I…” You didn’t finish. I am nothing but a stupid girl who waited too long to marry, is too old for the King, is tainted and stained with the stench of my family’s rebellion. I am doused in their blood, being made to drown in it.

Your palm felt wet, drawing your attention down. Opening it, you saw blood welling from the four small crescent shaped tears that now appeared in the delicate skin there. Oberyn’s eyes followed yours, and they softened at the sight, cupping your hand in both of his. They were so large around yours, and steady.

“I am a Prince of Dorne,” he said, his voice quiet, not looking at your face. He pulled a handkerchief from the inside of his robe, next to his chest. Gently, he wrapped it around the palm of your hand, seemingly unbothered by the blood which immediately began to blot onto it. Many moons had taught you that blood never came off. Tying it secure under your knuckles, he met your eyes, lifting your head with a finger under your chin. “And if this is indeed a pit of snakes, it is a good thing you are in the company of the Viper. Your words — all of your words — are safe with me, little wolf.”

You wanted so badly to believe him, to think that there was someone in this wretched place you could trust, outside of your sister. That a man was really looking upon you with kind, genuine eyes, for the first time since they’d taken your father’s head from his shoulders.

The sea crashed particularly forcefully below, startling you. He leaned back now, pulling his hands away from you, and you immediately missed their warmth. As if he had carried the Dornish sun within his very body, all the way to King’s Landing. He kissed your unwrapped hand again, briefly, and he sent you another smile before beginning to retreat, hands clasped behind his back.

At the mouth of the garden entrance, he turned halfway, face playful now. “I should like to make strolling in these gardens a daily habit whilst I’m here; there is so much to see. Would you care to join me in that?”

You nodded, smiling; a small one, but the first smile you remembered giving genuinely to someone in a long time.

A/N: aaah this was so fun to do that i ended up finishing it waaay sooner than i thought i would! so excited to see what people think!! also it will probably end up being oberyn x ellaria x reader bc... i love her and i love bisexuals

taglist: @asta-lily @pedrostories

#game of thrones #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction #mywriting #the red wolf

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jackoshadows · 3 years

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So, some speculation on how Bran Stark can become King of Westeros.

The series is called A Song of Ice and Fire and not Game of Thrones as GRRM reminds us - “ And it is important that the individual books refer to the civil wars, but the series title reminds us constantly that the real issue lies in the North beyond the Wall. Stannis becomes one of the few characters fully to understand that, which is why in spite of everything he is a righteous man, and not just a version of Henry VII, Tiberius or Louis XI.”

It is the fight against the Others - this existential apocalyptic threat to ALL mankind - that is more important than petty wars between humans over the Iron Throne. That is the central theme of the books unlike in the show. “When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits on the Iron Throne - Jeor Mormont”.

The Long Night is a horrendous event and Old Nan’s description of it sounds nightmarish.

“Oh, my sweet summer child," Old Nan said quietly, "what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods”

The Others … Thousands and thousands of years ago, a winter fell that was cold and hard and endless beyond all memory of man. There came a night that lasted a generation, and kings shivered and died in their castles even as the swineherds in their hovels. Women smothered their children rather than see them starve, and cried, and felt their tears freeze on their cheeks. In that darkness, the Others came for the first time … They were cold things, dead things, that hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun, and every creature with hot blood in its veins. They swept over holdfasts and cities and kingdoms, felled heroes and armies by the score, riding pale dead horses, and leading hosts of the slain. All the swords of men could not stay their advance, and even maidens and suckling babes, found no pity in them. They hunted the maids through the frozen forests, and fed their dead servants on the flesh of human children.

tldr - this shit is scary.

Unlike in the show, the Long Night is not going to last for 10 minutes near Winterfell and solved by Arya jumping from behind a tree and stabbing the Night King. The Long Night will probably be the central story of the last book and cover several months of dark winter and affect the whole of Westeros. In the books, Winter has already come to the North - Snowstorms so bad that even armies in the North are finding it hard to move and Winterfell’s walls are no longer seen. No army is crossing the neck into the North. Winterfell will most likely fall and the fight against the Others will continue down south.

Dany dreams of fighting the Others at the Trident -

“That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper’s rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened.

The last time, the first men were only able to win with the help of the Children and it was the Last Hero - possibly Bran - who gets their help. Bran is the only character in the series heavily involved in this part of the story and he has already met the Children of the forest.

What if the only way the Others can be defeated is some kind of pact where Bran has to become the leader of Westeros for either the Children’s assistance or for the Others to retreat? We really need to know more about the Others and what they want - we probably get this in the next book - to get an inkling of why Bran could be king. We know absolutely nothing about them.

Similarly, the Children hate the Andals, faith of the seven, the lord of the seven kingdoms etc. considering the Andals burned down Weirwoods and destroyed them - what if they want Bran and the Old Gods in the south as a condition for help?

Wouldn’t the whole of Westeros agree to this considering their very survival is what’s at stake? Again, “When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits on the Iron Throne”.

I also very much doubt that the prophecies of Azor Ahai/PTWP are literal - they are about heroes who undertake great sacrifice to save the realm. The key being ‘sacrifice’ - for ex. Nissa Nissa. Giving up something they care about dearly. What if Dany has to give up the Iron Throne for the greater good? Wouldn’t she do it? This could be why Dany and Jon leave Westeros behind - sacrifice - and head for the lands beyond the wall.

Or it could be some kind of conflict between Bran Vs Jon/Dany?

I think Jon, Dany and Bran are the three heads of the dragon, three parts of the prophesied leader and each will play their part in humans winning the Battle for the Dawn. It would be a sacrifice for Bran as well to leave his home and the North for the south.

Will Bran as king undermine GRRM’s entire point about Aragorn and taxes? Yes, it does. Maybe this is where Tyrion comes into the picture. Without Jon and Dany, he’s the next best person to actually rule - and he does this for Bran, as Hand of the King. Maybe Bran is the figurehead and Tyrion the actual ruler - “ When he opened the door, the light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king”. - AGoT Jon .

We still have two books left and a lot of story to cover and I think Bran will be getting a lot of POV chapters as GRRM delves more into the fantasy aspect of the series.

So possible character endings: Arya plays an important role being a leader of her people against the Others and ends up being the Stark in Winterfell. Bran ends up as King on the Iron Throne as a condition for either defeating the Others or getting them to retreat, Tyrion ends up Hand of the King/Defacto person actually involved in adminstration and ruling, Jon/Dany leave for beyond the wall and the rest of Westeros assume the Targaryens are dead and gone.

So King Bran is possible - this is high fantasy after all - but how GRRM gets there and whether it makes sense is indeed important and I guess we will have to wait and see if the seeds are getting planted in the next book. According to GRRM’s editor, he told her Bran’s endpoint so they could edit and plan TWoW better:

George is a very secretive fellow, and guards his secrets well. I do know a few things from AWOW, but mainly because we had to shorten a few elements in the book as it was already getting too long, and he had to reveal a few secrets so I could help him redirect parts of the plot a bit. I do know the endpoint of Bran’s story line—and Daniel Abraham, who has been adapting the graphic novel of AGOT for me, knows where Tyrion ends up. - Anne Groel.

#Bran Stark #Tyrion Lannister #Daenerys Targaryen #Jon Snow #Arya Stark #TWoW speculation #ADoS Speculation #Asoiaf

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weirwoodking · 3 years

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i know we are on a got hate hiatus so this is a mockery meant as a joke it's not even rage filled. maybe you don't remember this because of how random and utterly hilarious that benjen saved jon snow from.... something... (? i wanna say wights) in s7. like he came back from the dead in s7, had a different hair colour (for some reason his hair was a horrendous red/orange??). so he throws jon on his horse, saves the day, maybe he dies but i'm not sure, and it is never explained what happened to him during the six seasons he was gone and his different hair colour. it's the funniest mystery i've ever witnessed. benjen stark deserved better <3

Firstly, we are never truly on a GOT hate hiatus, even if we’re not openly talking about it as much. Also, Benjen deserves better, present tense. And he’s gonna get that better story, in the books.

IIRC what they did with Benjen was turn him into the Coldhands figure in their version (even though GRRM has explicitly stated that Coldhands isn’t Benjen). Their explanation was like... he got attacked by wights and he was brought back by the singers as half-wight/half-human, and he can’t go south of the Wall so he’s just been hanging out up north since book 1 (apparently never caring to get in contact with anyone in the Watch, not even during the Great Ranging). And then in season 7 during that episode that made even casual show-watchers start to realize how ridiculous the writing was, he turns up at the last second to save Jon after he almost drowned and then he swings a little fireball around at the zombies (sacrificing himself) and sends Jon off on his horse. I don’t remember the hair color change, but it wouldn’t surprise me. They really did like giving the Starks the wrong hair colors.

Now, you’ve prompted me to go on a little rant, because what really pisses me off about that deus ex machina-Benjen moment is that Jon was somehow miraculously okay. So... he goes out on an expedition beyond the Wall (with no hat/scarf/clothing for his head or neck) and they immediately lose all their food and water. Then he’s stuck on an island in the middle of a frozen lake surround by the literal fucking gods of winter who “bring the cold”, so it’s probably sub-zero (Fahrenheit, I’m American) temperatures. Then he fights a battle after having not been eating or drinking water for like at least 12 hours. Then he falls into a frozen lake in multiple layers of heavy fur, somehow he gets out on his own (with his sword in his hand), and then is immediately put on a horse while still in sopping wet clothes and rides off into the cold wind. And then hours later he arrives unconscious on the horse (how exactly was he holding on?).

By the time he gets back to the Wall... excuse me but his organs are failing if they haven’t failed already, and, IIRC (I’m not looking up the scene to rewatch it), he wasn’t shivering when they got him off the horse, which means that his body is no longer trying to regulate his temperature and you’re not going to be able to fix this shit with just some blankets and the magic of wishful thinking. So, unless you’ve got some medieval form of heated IV saline and warm humidified oxygen, HE’S DEAD. VERY, VERY DEAD. Oh, and apparently he suffered no frostbite, not even on his nose or ears. Big shift from the books, where Jeyne Poole gets frostbite on her nose from the escape in the snow. (Also, if you want to try and make the excuse of “well maybe the power of R’hllor made him cold-resistant” or whatever… no. It’s not stated or implied that that’s what happened. Post-res Jon in the books may react differently to temperature, but in the show he was presented as just being a revived human with an unaffected body.)

The show is just all-around absolutely ridiculous in the portrayal of injuries, especially since they constantly talked up how much they prided themselves on the “gritty realism”. You’ve Jon getting shot like three times in the back and somehow not getting a punctured lung (and recovering fast enough to lead another ranging beyond the wall before the wildlings arrive from either side). You’ve got Arya getting deeply stabbed multiple times in the stomach and then jumping in a dirty canal (if the blood loss or organ damage doesn’t kill her, the infection definitely will). You’ve got very little or no armor (see: every Jon battle scene) and no appropriate cold-weather clothing. You’ve got Jorah having all the dermis (and hypodermis too, I think) flayed off his entire upper body. You’ve got Jaime somehow surviving getting tackled off a horse into a lake/pond in full battle armor and somehow coming out the other side completely unscathed and un-sunk to the bottom. I never saw 8x5 but weren’t a ton of main characters in KL as it was being burned? And no one felt any effect from the dust and smoke inhalation? The most fantasy-like part of the TV show was everyone’s miraculous plot armor against any sort of bodily harm. Unless, of course, you get stabbed once in the stomach with a dagger when you’re a woman getting put down like a dog, then you bleed out and die in 20 seconds.

The most infuriating thing is that the books are comparatively on a very strong level of realism with injuries. Just using Jon as an example (because he seems to be George’s personal punching bag), he suffers second degree burns from his right forearm to his fingertips, and he has to constantly flex and move his hand to keep the muscles from stiffening up. When he gets shot in the leg an entire chapter revolves around it being treated, and the injury has lasting effects on him, he has to walk with a crutch for weeks. When he gets assassinated, he thinks of himself as only having been “grazed” by Wick’s knife, but blood immediately wells between his fingers when he puts his hand to his neck, and the next moment when he tries to reach for Longclaw he’s suddenly too weak to grasp it. So we can infer that the slash wasn’t just a graze, the knife probably hit his carotid artery.

GRRM puts so much care into making the physical traumas and their consequences realistic, just like he does with the mental trauma of his characters. I know we joke about stuff like “the more she drank the more she shat” but I personally love that GRRM was like “nope, if you drink unclean water it’s not gonna end well for your digestive system”. The show just full on winged it and made different standards for reality wherever and whenever they felt like it, failing to portray physical trauma just as badly as it failed to portray mental trauma.

#i have a really specific pet peeve about medical/injury unrealism in media #like no matter what genre your story is in (fantasy. dystopia. etc) the human body needs to react to everything in the way a human body does #and if what you’re going for is ‘gritty realism’ then it better be fucking realistic #unless there’s a direct clear explanation. like dany hatching the dragons and being fireproof only for that special magical process #and then she ends up getting burned the first time she rides drogon! no fireproof plot armor #ask #anon #anti got #long post #edit: adding these tags #tw gore #tw gore mention #tw injury #tw injury mention #tw medical trauma

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hellsbellschime · 4 years

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I was wondering if you could do an analysis on Sansas and Daenerys interactions in 8x02?

Totes, because I think it’s an extremely interesting character interplay that needed more development and that was either actually rife with subtext and just written really poorly or it was just dumb. But while I wish there had been more development for literally everything in season 8, I think that the dynamic between Dany and Sansa needed far more room to breathe and grow given that their incredibly brief relationship is one of the main catalysts for the climax of the story.

Jaime’s whole “trial” scene is one that I really wish we had been able to see the lead up to, because while the drama of starting off the episode with it is certainly compelling, I’d honestly really like to know how everyone even got to that point in the first place. Like, Dany is furious that Cersei has betrayed her and lied to her about her intentions... except how exactly does that square up to someone who came to a truce with their enemy and then immediately arrests them and puts them on trial when they actually follow through on their end of the bargain?

However, looking beyond that there is not just Dany vs. Sansa, it’s kind of Dany vs. Team Stark. Dany lays out all of the reasons why Jaime deserves to be punished and Sansa actually completely agrees with her and says she completely understands how she feels, but then Brienne speaks in Jaime’s defense and Sansa immediately agrees that Jaime should stay. Now as viewers we understand what Sansa is doing here, but I think that Dany does not. I think that this may be a sort of crucial moment for what happens later, because someone who is unfamiliar with Sansa but sees that she is popular among the Northerners might come to the easiest conclusion, which is that Sansa is easily manipulated, weak willed, or likes to agree with people and thus everyone kind of likes her even though she’s the type of person who shouldn’t really be seen as important or authoritative.

But when Dany kind of ropes Jon into it I think it’s even more interesting, and once again could be an implication that she doesn’t understand people who put the interests of others before themselves. Because way back when Melisandre told Dany to invite Jon to Dragonstone, Tyrion tries to sell her on it by explaining that the Lannisters have treated the Starks even worse than they theoretically treated her, so they have even more reason to want to see their downfall. So I think she inquires about Jon’s thoughts expecting her to agree with him, because quite frankly it’s just not in her wheel house to put the needs of others before her own. But he winds up agreeing to let him stay, and she feels peer pressured into acquiescing when she really doesn’t want to. That really puts her on the back foot and makes her extremely uncomfortable because it’s something she never does, and it’s basically taking her whole fantasy of conquering Westeros and destroying her enemies and basically forces her to give it up for the sake of maintaining her own mystique.

So she’s super pissed and Jorah talks her down, and while once again the show cuts away from shit that we actually need to see, it’s fair to assume that he said something along the lines of Sansa is Regina George and you’re currently Janis Ian, so you need to go talk to her and charm her into liking you and the rest of the Northerners will fall in line. So, Dany follows his advice and tries to actually talk to Sansa and to get her to see her as the Enlightened Despot she imagines herself to be.

Frankly, the conversation between Sansa and Dany is extremely weird and vapid on the surface, but I think it makes sense within a certain context. Namely, that Sansa and Dany both have very clear preconceived notions about each other, however Sansa’s assumptions are generally correct while Dany’s assumptions are completely incorrect.

Obviously at this point, Sansa isn’t being fooled by charm, and Dany unfortunately reveals herself to Sansa in completely unintentional ways that she doesn’t realize are actually really hurting Sansa’s perception of her. Dany is here to conquer Westeros and force the North into submission, and maybe I’m overestimating Sansa’s political genius here, but what I find extremely interesting is that Dany asks Sansa why they’re at odds with each other but she doesn’t answer. She waits for Dany to answer, and Dany’s answer frankly gives Sansa an enormous political and manipulative advantage by letting her know that she assumes Sansa would not like an invader with dragons and an army the size of a city because she’s jealous that Dany has her brother’s attention.

And yes, of course, Sansa loves Jon and is likely extremely concerned, but I just cannot believe that Sansa is being genuine in this conversation. This is the woman who had to convince Jon to accept the inevitability of their baby brother dying because focusing on saving him was an existential threat to their family and the North. I cannot believe that she would have more issues with the potential safety and manipulation of her brother who was a king, Lord Commander, and survived with wildlings beyond the wall than she would over Rickon. Not to mention, the notion that at this very moment when the North is on the brink of destruction and everyone is facing down the apocalypse, but somehow Sansa is concerned about the person that Jon may or may not be smashing, is an incredibly condescending and childish assumption to make about her.

However, Dany does seem to make that assumption. Dany’s whole impression of Sansa seems to initially be that she’s just a catty and frivolous girl, and she seems to think that assuring Sansa that her super cute new crush is the one who really has her wrapped around his finger is enough to reassure her that everything’s fine and that that’s enough for Sansa to accept Dany as queen.

But then Sansa quickly flips the script and asks about Northern independence, which I honestly think was a mistake on her part. Dany initially saw Sansa just like Cersei and Joffrey and Tyrion and the Tyrells and every other person saw her, as just a superficial idiot who can be easily managed and bent to someone else’s will. I understand why Sansa would never want to play that game again, but it also left her in an enormously advantageous position, and letting Dany know that she was actually very politically minded was not the right move at that moment. But of course, because this is the season of constantly interrupted interesting conversations, as soon as the discussion turns political it’s interrupted.

Now, what I think is very interesting about Dany is her desire to essentially acquire special people. She wants Tyrion, the “most brilliant man in the kingdoms”, to be her hand. She knows he’s exceptional, and she wants to basically own him. And she goes through the same thing with Jon. She perceives her feelings towards him as love, but I think she really knows nothing about him and just thinks that he’s extraordinary enough to be worthy of her and therefore they must be in love with each other. Dany sees herself as a person unlike any other, with no equal in existence or history, so when people fawn all over her or give her unquestioned loyalty it’s nothing more than what she expects, but when literally anyone seems to care about or respect someone more than they do her, she doesn’t understand it and often sees it as some kind of a betrayal.

So when Theon shows up to fight for the Starks, she doesn’t necessarily seem mad, but she is clearly baffled, especially because she has already categorized Sansa as someone not special. If she thought Sansa were special or important enough to warrant her attention, Jorah wouldn’t have had to tell her to go try to be friends. But when Theon arrives and asks Sansa to fight for her, she doesn’t get it because in her mind Sansa is not worthy of that kind of devotion because she’s too ordinary, and the fact that someone is prioritizing Sansa over her right in front of her face really puts her off. And what seemingly makes this interchange dangerous is that Dany’s reaction to seeing this doesn’t seem to be a desire to actually understand where it stems from, but seems to result in the immediate conclusion that Sansa herself must be stopped (which is an idea that Dany toyed with in the season premiere as well, but I think it only solidified that idea for her further).

But I think that Sansa and Theon’s interaction here is obviously fascinating as well, both in relation to Dany and in general. Honestly, that kind of raw emotion and vulnerability is something that people in GoT rarely display around one another, and I can’t even think of another instance of Dany actually witnessing two people who genuinely love each other emotionally connect in that way. That’s not generally a way that she feels about a lot of people, and in her world, she is always the center of attention. So even if there are people in her orbit who love each other, she never really sees that. I actually think Emilia’s expression captures that perfectly as well, she both seems put off but unsure of how to react and borderline unsure of WTF it is that she’s actually seeing, because again, it’s pretty abnormal to see people be that emotionally open in public anyway and because it’s something that Dany is completely unaccustomed to seeing when it’s not directed towards her.

And of course, for Sansa and Theon as a pair, it’s extremely heartwarming and emotional to see how deeply they care for one another, and it’s even more touching to realize how powerfully they have had to repress their own emotions for so long and that they have now gotten to the point where they’re so completely unashamed and completely lacking in self consciousness that they’re willing to be that raw no matter who’s looking.

Overall, despite the massive flaws of season 8, I do have to say that the scenes between Dany and Sansa are some of my favorite and I wish we had gotten so much more out of them. I actually think the performance chemistry between Emilia and Sophie is better than nearly every other character that Dany was introduced to late in the game, and I think it was a huge mistake to not explore that more and to not fully clarify that these two literal queens are not bickering over a boy’s attention.

#Anonymous #sansa stark #anti daenerys targaryen #dark!daenerys #got #got meta #sansa stark meta #daenerys targaryen meta #meta

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fierypen37 · 3 years

Text

The Oasis: Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Woken the dragon. Vis had always said that growing up, whenever she annoyed him—which was often. Now, staring down the barrel of his silver revolver, Daenerys felt another dragon wake inside her. A wild thing of rage and betrayal, ready to burn all who stood in her way. For herself. For Jon.

Viserys’s features were a narrower, masculine echo of her own. The expression he wore was one she recognized, composed but triumphant. Daenerys didn’t dare break eye contact, but she felt Ramsay looming behind her. On the edges of her periphery, she saw the car lurch and one, two, three bodyguards emerge. Ramsay jabbed the back of her head with the gun.

“Kneel,” he said. Daenerys did so. The bumpy asphalt dug into her knees. Five armed men twice her size and all she had was a two-bit nail.

“Why?” she said, the word trembling in the air. Viserys’ face creased into a moue of displeasure.

“I didn’t want all this, Dany. But you refused to cooperate.”

“Cooperate? What in the seven hells are you talking about?”

“I thought you understood. The goal was to get it back, get everything back, no matter the cost!” Daenerys’ lips felt numb. She licked them, striving for patience, for calm. The tone she found was an old one, from when he would rage and throw things, railing at the unfairness of the world. A soothing medley.

“To get our home back. I know, Vis. There’s been government red tape around Dragonstone. You’ve been to the meetings. We’re working on it.”

Dragonstone was their home, that was the thing that unified the two of them—the last Targaryens against the world.

“But the Dragon is mine! My birthright! A throne not meant for a sniveling girl who couldn’t keep her legs closed.” Gods, he was beyond his usual self-absorbed bullshit. This was some god-level projection coupled with delusions of grandeur. Daenerys went cold. Just like Dad. Still, the fire in her belly pushed words out before she could stopper them.

“Dragon is mine, Vis. I built it. With my sweat and blood, I built it from the ground up. Breaking Chains as well.”

“Everything that is yours is also mine. I made you,” he hissed and prodded her forehead with the barrel of the gun, “If only you’d cooperated. Daario would--”

“What does Daario have to do with--” she began. Viserys slapped her so hard her cheek tingled and her ear rang.

With sudden blinding clarity, she understood. Viserys had taken loans from Stormcrow and had—she clenched her eyes shut at the fresh wave of betrayal. Two hot tears eked out. Daario had taken her as payment. Why else would Daario look so confused when she broke it off? Why else would Viserys demand she return to him, no matter the circumstances?

“You sold me.” Vis was unmoved.

“It worked out fine for you, didn’t it? You were even going to marry him. It was Daario who gave me the idea. He kept whining about the increased expense of your security detail after the death threats from the Harpies. They’re nothing but Ghiscari scum, they had no real power to make good on those threats.” Viserys’s lilac eyes took on a glazed, feverish shine.

“But then—ah ha!—think of the news coverage. The philanthropist CEO, Daenerys Targaryen, dedicated to bettering the downtrodden, slain by very villains she fought. So tragic. So cinematic. Dragon’s stock would go through the roof! Televise the funeral, rake in donations, weep a little for the cameras, and then . . . Dragon is mine and only mine. As it should be.” The tinny taste of blood leaked from the opened cut in her lip.

“You’re insane,” she whispered. Viserys’s eye twitched and he gestured. Ramsay hauled her up by her bound hands. Pain shrieked through her shoulders and she bit back a cry. Ramsay drew a long, wicked knife and set it at the base of her throat.

“Oh yes, sweetling. We’ll get to play,” he whispered in her ear. Viserys stalked closer, patting Daenerys’ cheek with deceptive gentleness.

“You made it very difficult for me. You and this Jon Snow. It was a stroke of luck Ramsay extracted the name out of that Lorathi woman before she died. Such a little slut, aren’t you? How long had you been fucking the masseuse? He trotted after his bitch like you were in heat. I staged it to echo Dad’s death. Dirty and pathetic in an alley. My origin story, right? After my sister, my only family, dies tragically, I take up the reins of the company. Then you thwarted me. I admit, the machine guns on Loom Street were a bit much, but I was just so angry. Selmy was a good man, I trusted him. I do regret that.”

“You shot him in the street like a godsdamned dog! He--” Ramsay grazed her throat suggestively with the knife and Daenerys swallowed her choler.

Viserys plunged on as if he hadn’t heard her. Perhaps he didn’t.

“And then poof--” he snapped his fingers, “you dropped off the face of the earth! It wasn’t until I found the footage. You and Snow were still together. You sunk your hooks in deep, you wicked girl. Still, it’s a big world, and Snow had connections to Stark wealth, nearly as prodigious and ancient as the Targaryen’s. Lucky for me, Ramsay is a northman too. Loathes the Starks.”

“Self-righteous cunts,” Ramsay agreed.

“He thought to look for something smaller, more remote. And there it is, plain as day on public record microfiche, a deed for a house billed to Eddard Stark—Jon Snow’s father.” Jon. Dead. Burned to ash. A fresh wave of grief buffeted her.

“Viserys, please,” she croaked, “I’ll step down. I’ll cede Dragon to you, I swear it. Just don’t do this.” He had the gall to look sad about it. He bent and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry, sweet sister. It has to be this way.”

Daenerys glared him down. She tucked the nail between her fingers. There was only one chance to use it. She dragged in a deep breath, her heartbeat thudding loud in her ears. Wait. Wait for the right moment. Viserys snapped his fingers, gesturing for one of the burly guards. Too much of a coward to pull the trigger himself. The shadow of a snake.

“You are no dragon,” she said, mutinous.

Bam!

Bam bam!

Daenerys blinked dumbly as one of the bodyguards crumpled, bleeding from behind the ear. Viserys was cursing and shouting, ducking behind the remaining two, who shot blindly into the thick woods surrounding the tarmac. The noise and smoke filled her senses. Shots went wild, cutting holes in the sedan like cheese. Shattered glass tinkled on the ground. Ramsay cursed. He dropped his knife to draw his gun, yanking her tight against him.

“You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you?” he hissed in her ear. I wish. Even if there was a park ranger or police officer who happened by, they would have announced themselves. Her security team was hundreds of kilometers away. And Jon was—Daenerys bit her lip.

The gunfire ceased. Her ears rang from the noise. Daenerys craned her head to look for Viserys. She saw his expensive leather shoes beneath the shattered door of the car, cowering. Where were the guards?

“Got him, Boss!” a rough voice said. Him? Her mystery defender? Her knees gave out when the burly men emerged from the brush.

“Jon?”

Fuck. He was a fucking idiot. The calvary was on its way, all he had to do was stall. He could have picked off another one of the thick-necked fuckers, scared that chickenshit Viserys into spooking. On the other hand, seeing a gun pointed at his heart-and-fucking-soul made him a little twitchy. Jon had pushed the Old Bear’s beat-up truck to its limits to reach the airstrip, praying his hunch would pay off. And now all it did was get him a front-row seat to watching Dany die.

The hunting rifle jammed, but he’d broken one of the goon’s jaw for his trouble. The utility knife was rolled in his sock, not that it did him much good at the moment. Goons One and Two had his arms in a lock behind his back, dragging him down the shallow hill to the tarmac. Dany’s sobs tore already pulverized heart into tinier shreds.

“Jon, Jon, I thought you were dead!” she said, her voice thick with tears. Jon flicked his gaze over her from her braid to her ziptied wrists to her bare feet. A bit battered, but whole, still—thank the gods. He turned his baleful gaze on the source of their misery. Viserys—the skinny little fuck—sneered at Jon. What kind of sick fuck wanted to assassinate his own sister?

“The unkillable Jon Snow.” Starks are hard to kill, Dad always said.

“The chickenshit Viserys Targaryen,” Jon shot back. Viserys made a curt shooing gesture.

“Gods. Let’s get this over with before anything else goes wrong. It’s going to cost me a fortune to clean all this up.”

“Boss, can’t I just shave off a--” The bug-eyed fuck who held Dany brandished the knife, nicking the curve of her jaw. Dany gasped, and Jon saw red watching the blood seep from the cut.

“Come try and shave off a bit of me, you little shit!” Jon shouted, lunging. He made a show of thrashing around until Goon Two backhanded him hard. He tasted blood, his ear rang. Jon sagged in their grip, snagging the knife with his fingertips.

“Shut the fuck up!” Viserys bellowed, shocking them all into silence. He jabbed a finger at the bug-eyed fucker.

“Ramsay, we’ve been over this. If you’d pulled off the job like you were supposed to, my sweet sister would be yours to play with as long as you like. As it is, I need her dead. Now. We have a schedule to keep.”

“What about the boyfriend?” Goon One said. Viserys scowled.

“He’s a complication. If he’s here in one piece and armed, he’s called the authorities.” Jon allowed a grim smile. If they made it out of here, Viserys would spend the rest of his pathetic life staring at the walls of Iron Island Penitentiary.

“We better move fast,” Ramsay said gleefully. Viserys kicked aside the body of one of his guards, fishing a pistol from a pool of blood with a moue of distaste.

“Yes, exactly. Any last words, Daenerys?” he said. Daenerys looked at Jon and in her violet eyes, he saw everything he ever wanted. Home. Gods, she was so beautiful.

“I should have told you before. I love you,” she said.

And the world exploded.

“I love you.”

Daenerys slammed the nail up and back with all of her strength. It stuck and Ramsay’s shriek rang in her ear.

“You fucking bitch!”

Daenerys ducked down, scrambling away from a staggering Ramsay. Gods. She’d been lucky. Through the sieve of his clutching fingers, she saw the head of the nail stuck in Ramsay’s left eye. Blood and snot poured down his cheeks from his blinded eyes. A flurry of movement. Jon, struggling with the remaining bodyguards. Viserys advanced on her.

“Gods, you’re such a troublesome little cunt! I’ll be glad to be rid of you!” Spittle clung to his lips, his face an inhuman rictus of rage. Daenerys crawled back on her hands and bare feet, feeling the hot bite of the shattered glass.

“Vis, please!” Daenerys screwed her eyes shut.

The loud rapport of the gun.

Bam! Bam! Two shots. A heavy weight landing hard on her. Daenerys snapped her eyes open.

Jon.

Jon: between her and Viserys.

Jon: sticking a knife in Viserys. A struggle. Jon was stronger, skilled. He wrenched the gun away from Viserys. Snaked an arm around his neck, squeezing. Vis fell facefirst. She heard a crunch.

“Dany,” Jon wheezed.

Jon: bleeding.

“Gods, Jon. Jon, you’re shot,” she whispered, pressing at the sticky red spot growing on his chest, awkward with her hands still bound. His breath was wet, rasping.

“Dany.”

Daenerys cast a wild glance around. It looked like a battlefield with destroyed car, dead bodyguards, Ramsay writhing and cursing, Viserys in an awkward heap. And Jon, her hero, her love, bleeding in her arms. Blood made his shirt sticky, another wound in his thigh. No, no, no. She had nothing, nothing but her empty hands to help him.

“It’s ok, Jon. You’re going to be ok. You’re going to be fine,” she said, frantic. She’d seen the world without him. A bleak, lonely stretch of empty road. She couldn’t go back to that. Panic kept inching up her throat, strangling her. Hot tears coursed down her cheeks.

Daenerys looped her arms around his shoulders and heaved him up to rest on her knees. Jon grunted in pain, though his breathing was better. His beautiful eyes were dark with pain.

“Dany. Dany . . .” His brows puckered in a familiar intent scowl. She bent and rained kisses on his face, wishing there was more to do to help.

“Shh, don’t talk. Just focus on—”

“Dany, I love you. I was a . . . a coward before. I love you. Marry me.” There was barely enough breath to push the words out. A weak sob escaped her. Faintly, she heard the peal of a siren.

“Hold on, Jon. Help is coming! I love you, Jon. I love you. Hold on!”

He closed his eyes and Dany clutched him close.

#jonerys fanfiction #fp37fic #The Oasis #CEO!Dany #masseur!jon #tw violence

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whereflowersbloom · 4 years

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Sleepless night

The desperate and loud yells and screams were all that Raven could hear as she ran out of the safehouse that she had been occupying after suddenly fainting in the middle of the fight, completely drained for overusing her powers. They did not see it coming, no one did, more powerful and deadly enemies showing up after the battle against Trigon and then Darkseid. Damian had given her his word to meet here there after, taking care of some damage control in the east side of Jump city. No one expected this to happen. She pushed her way through masses of people in the dark and crumbling streets, only to look down at Damian’s bleeding body, lifeless on the ice cold streets.

“Damian...” Raven barely breathed, kneeling down next to him and picking his head up, cradling it in her lap, brushing the hair out of his face, a single trail of blood dripping from his mouth. No, no, this couldn’t be happening, she used her powers to heal him, bring him back but nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing. His whole body was rigged and pale, his hand cupping his side where blood spilled through his fingers. “Damian, you can’t leave me. Your promised me you would always come back to me.”

“We have to finish decorating the new apartment, and you can yell at Jon and Conner for messing around while painting the guest’s room.” Raven whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. But he did not move. He could not move. She begged urgently to Azar for him to open his clear green eyes. She did not feel any emotions or anything at all coming from him. Her insufferable and kind-heated Damian. Civilians flooded around them, everyone straining to see what had happened, mothers covering their children’s eyes and pulling them away from the silent madness. Someone came up to Raven and put his hand over hers, she didn’t bother to identify the person. She did not care, her lover’s body lying cold and stiff in her arms. Gently, they pulled him from her as she started to really grasp what had happened. Once she felt that he was no longer in her arms, she looked around frantically yelling. “No, no, no. Wait! Damian!”

“Raven wake up!” She heard a voice exclaim as a hand fell against her upper arm and shook her lightly.

Raven’s eyes shot open, trembling, startled beyond speech for a heartbeat, she feels a little more disoriented than usual as she comes to, blinking through the dark of the bedroom. Her chest feels tight and her lungs feel a little bit like they’re burning, like she can’t take air in fast enough, until her violet eyes find Damian’s stunningly brilliant emerald eyes wide with alarm, with worry, concern for her, lingering just above her, snapping her out of her daze. She sucks in a sharp breath, sputtering, lungs fluttering in relief. He was here, safe and alive.

“It was a nightmare, beloved. It’s alright.” Damian whispered comforting words next to her small ear, his calloused thumb brushing a tear from the corner of her eye, his lips a gentle press against her temple.

Raven dug her nails into Damian’s skin with how tightly she clings onto him and this truth, he’s alive with her and Trigon can’t harm him, and felt her lover’s skin beneath her palms solid and warm and very real. If it hurts him, he doesn’t let her know. He doesn’t even flinch or groan. He simply drew her to his exposed tanned chest and kissed the top of her head, her temple, her rosy and soft cheek, murmuring words she can’t quite catch in another language, though the comfort her all the same. His presence was calming and he was all Raven ever wanted, someone who accepted her despite her quirks, mistakes, a tormented and deeply flawed being. No, Damian could see beyond that, he saw right through her, strengths, virtues, compassion, the things that made her Raven. There was no judgment between them. She let the depth of his love for her, the sincere and profound emotions sink into her body. She glanced down the bed, her eyes adjusted to the darkness of their room, and took in the way the covers and sheets are tangled around her calves. She felt as if she’d been frozen in her dream, unable to do anything but fall into that agony, chaos, that world where her Damian wasn’t breathing. She didn’t want to imagine it again. It’s obvious her body had been frantic. She can’t remember ever moving around so much in her sleep before.

“Raven.” he breathed, his strong muscular arms tightening around her as he began to casually trace circles on her back. “I wasn’t sure if I should’ve woken you.”

She nodded slightly, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “I’m glad you did.” She felt trapped in that vivid and terrifying nightmare. Useless, unable to do anything to save the most important person in her life. She can’t bring herself to say explain it, the horrors of her dreams, the fear of losing him oermamnentiy, but she knows Damian understands her, anyway. He had a natural way to interpret her body language, every move, gesture, he knew her like no other. Words weren’t necessary.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Damian offered with such love and tenderness, his eyes wrinkle at the corner, intense eyes studying her reaction,and then he dropped his lips to her forehead. Raven shook her head and reached over to Damian’s shoulder, running a lazy finger down the smooth hot flesh. Damian shuddered momentarily, eyes shuttering closed and open again. “I could use a distraction.” And Damian narrowed his eyes, green eyes darkening, catching the suggestive hint in her words. “Oh, I know a very specific way that could be of help.”

Damian breathed deeply while her hand was placed to the back of his head to pull him closer and in the next second his devilishly sweet mouth was covering hers. It started out as a careful slow kiss, testing the waters, and they continued kissing lazily. Her lover licked her lower lip and she opened her mouth to let him in and ran her hand through his dark thick hair as the kiss grew more passionate. Raven completely forgot about the bad dream before and she knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Opening her mouth and allowing him permission to kiss her deeply. When he bit her lip lightly she let out a moan filled with desire, and that seemed to send him into overdrive and suddenly he shifted and he was on top of her. His hands slowly cradled her face to align it better so he could access her mouth at just the right angle and then they continued to her neck and slowly, oh so deliciously slowly, moved down her sides to the bottom of her nightgown. They disappeared under it and her skin was on fire. Every inch of the skin he touched felt as if it was on fire and they had only started kissing. But every single time it was that way with Damian, night clothes were discarded on the floor of the room, they’re really in the way of their nocturnal activity. Damian continued his slow, torturous path, gently sucking at her neck, moving to nibble at her delicate sensitive ear. Raven’s soft whimpers and gentle scratches along his sides and back drove Damian crazy. He gasped out against her skin.

“You’re so beautiful.” He rasped huskily, his voice filled with need for her. He took one pink nipple, completely hardened by then, in his mouth and sucked on it. One of his hands caressed her flat stomach while he settled the other on her lower back to hold her in place. As if she could move, she was passed with hunger for his touch.

Raven threw her head back, her dark locks covering her narrow back and he gripped firmly them with the hand on her back. His tongue flicked over her pulse on her neck while still holding her in place by her hair. He grazed her flushed skin with his white teeth and heat pooled between her legs. He knew the effect he had on her. Long gone was the shyness of their inexperience the first times they made love.

Damian slowly ran a rough hand down Raven’s smooth stomach until he came to rest between her pale and gorgeous thighs. The first brush of his fingers over the folds of her sex makes her jump, so brief that she thinks it had maybe been an accident. Until two fingers are pressing against her again in purposeful strokes, parting her sex. Her lips fall open in a soft moan as his mouth skims over her pulse, sucking at it gently at first, then a little harder. His fingertips find her little bundle of nerves with ease and he teases it in slow circles, her hips starting to rock against his hand as she moans louder.

“Quiet, my love.” he shushed gently, playfully smirking into her neck as he dipped his skilled long fingers lower, lower, finding her entrance. “Someone will hear you.” But she didn’t care, she wanted his fingers, mouth, everything he had to offer exploring her every part. He slipped his fingers between her folds, massaging her centre while his mouth roamed her chest and down to her navel. He quickly slid a finger inside her and Raven gasped out at the fullness. Yes, oh Azar, that was exactly what she needed.

Her mouth opened to blissfully receive his fully, and their tongues danced and teased each other. Raven felt the building in her core and she bit down on Damian’s full swollen lip, her legs shaking but her hips gyrating against her partner’s expert fingers. He curls his fingers, quickly finding a rhythm that makes her vision eyes haze over and Raven can almost feel the orgasm crashing through her body, when all of a sudden. She sensed it, someone coming.

She can just barely hear light footsteps coming down the hallway, towards their room, she’s only just pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck when they heard repeated and gentle knocking at the wooden door. “OH FOR FUCKS SAKE.” Someone exclaimed in shock.

“Shit. fuck, sorry.” The recognizable familiar voice of Jon Kent muttered, muffled through the wall. Though they must have been half-hidden in the sheets of their enormous bed from the bedroom door at this angle, she knows there’s no mistake that Jon indeed saw something she shouldn’t have with his X-rays vision, considering the whirlwind of emotions coming from him. “I heard someone screaming and though maybe...” he began to explain obviously nervous, stuttering over his words. “I’m sorry Dami and Raven....Goodnight.” He sounded so embarrassed and perhaps a bit disturbed. They would have an extremely awkward conversation tomorrow at breakfast.

“Dude, explain tomorrow, they are obviously busy.” Jaime interrupted politely, unexpectedly surprising Damian and Raven, Jaime immediately dragged a traumatized Jon back to his room, who kept apologizing until they were down the hallway.. Shit. Damian pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat. Fucking Kryptonian abilities. First thing in the morning tomorrow, he would soundproof their bedroom and make proper arrangements for their apartment to be ready and have everything they required installed before the end of the month.

Damian and Raven exchange looks, not sure how they would face their teammates tomorrow. It was nothing new they were in a romantic relationship, but so far their friends respected the privacy of their intimacy. When Raven finds her voice, it’s breathless and heavy, thick with the discomfort of being caught and excitement of their sexual activity before they were abruptly interrupted. “I think we’ve traumatized the entire Tower.”

“They’ll get used to it, beloved.” Damian mumbled, frowning at the thought of Jon opening his big mouth to let anyone know what he had seen tonight. He would have a word with him when Raven wasn’t around. He sighed and his muscles relaxed, his hands traveling the magnificent curves of his girlfriend, and aspiring the intoxicating lavender essence of her hair, pressing a kiss over her temple, against her forehead, until he finds her lips again.

She looked up at him, the full weight of her love, her undeniable and undying desire, her devotion to him shining through her beautifully stunning violet eyes. Her lips instantly curl into a warm and genuine smile, happiness. It was real. This was her reality and Damian was part of her life. This was only the begging of their life together.

Another short one shot 🙈🙈🙈🙈

@xaphrin @andthendk @chromium7sky @ravenfan1242

#damirae #demon birds #damian wayne #raven roth #jon kent #jaime reyes #teen titans #donna troy #conner kent #garfiend logan #robrae #oneshot #smut and angst #domestic fluff #nightmares #dc fandom #dc universe #robin #writing

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letsasoiaftogether · 4 years

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Jon Snow x Stark!Reader Gif Imagine...

IMAGINEEEEE.....being the twin sister to Jon Snow and punching him upon his return to Winterfell after going beyond the wall to get the white walker to show the Lannisters/Kings Landing.

The original plan when Jon returned from beyond the wall definitely wasn’t to punch him in the face, but when you laid eyes on the Dragon Queen and you were reminded of the horrors your brother must have went through to get the white walker in order to try and rally support from the South…your temper flared and any thought of a gentle greeting went out the window.

“Y/n,” Jon whispered after hugging Sansa and turning to you.

“Jon,” your voice was short and harsh, your gaze heated as you refused to look at the Targaryen behind him. “It’s nice to see that you survived yet another adventure.” It definitely wasn’t nice! And anyone who knew you would be able to tell your words were full of shit.

Jon whispered your name once more, the pain in his tone evident as his gaze flickered to the ground like you had scolded him. And…really…you had.

How else were you supposed to act?! He was your brother! Your twin brother! At the end of the day, Jon was the only person you could truly trust! It was how it had always been! You had gone through hell after the Seven Kingdoms fell into chaos; after Robb was killed and the Boltons gained the North. And even before then; back when Theon took Winterfell and then Ramsay Snow took it from him.

“I’m sorry. I’m home now.” Jon tried to reason, taking a step toward you.

You saw his arms moving as if to hug you and your fists clenched at your sides. Every thought of worry and fear for him ran through your head in an instant and it wasn’t until Jon was stumbling backwards and several shouts filled the courtyard that you realized what you were doing.

“Y/n!” Sansa hissed, grabbing your arm and you allowed her to pull you back a few feet away from where the Dragon Queen was now checking on your twin. “What are you doing?” Your sister hissed into your ear, but you could hear it in her voice – she was impressed and amused. No doubt, she wanted to do the same thing.

“You go out there, you risk your life again and again leaving Sansa and I here to wonder and worry that you wont come back to us. That, once again, we will be all alone in this world! And you think you can just come home and get hugs and compliments on your valiant efforts in amassing an army of the living to fight the dead!” You shouted, tears filling your eyes, “You should have asked us! You should have ran it by us first! We’re family, Jon! You’re our brother before you are our King! The pack survives by sticking together. Haven’t you learned that by now?” And you spun around on your heels, running inside before you broke down into loud, ugly sobs in front of everyone.

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crimsonbluemoon · 4 years

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Kihorri’s Birthday Present: Daithi De Wildcat

OKAY SO FIRST OF ALL

Happy birthday @kihoori !!!! You are the best Owlbun ever and I’m so happy to have you in my life! And since you drew me pictures that made me cry for my birthday, I wrote you a little drabble to get back at you. Won’t make you cry, but it’s a storyline you wanted me to write so I figured I’d spoil it to you and give it to you.

So again, happy birthday, and please enjoy! ^.^

Kihorri’s Birthday Present

Wildcat hadn’t wanted to know his ‘perfect match’. He was in the competition, yeah, but that was because he needed money. Marcel had urged him to enter the competition on a whim; they were looking for single people in the area, and Tyler definitely fit that part (Marcel’s word’s, not his own, and he’d shown his appreciation by throwing a gatorade at his head). Wildcat hadn’t expected a call back, nevermind an actual place on the show. He’d taken the chance, because it was free money and he wasn’t an idiot. So he had to go on weird dates and let a computer calculate his compatibility with a bunch of guys. He could handle that. A plan was formed; he’d come in, watch guys make complete fools of themselves, and then he’d get the cash money at the end. Maybe even get some entertainment out of it.

But when he actually fell in love? Yeah, that wasn’t a part of the plan.

“It’s just a date, Tyler.” Vanoss rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch, which was far too large for just the two of them to share. The living room held all twelve men on the show easily, but most of the other contestants were busy getting drunk or falling in love. While Scotty and Marcel (the first perfect match to be discovered by the group) made out in the kitchen over dinner, Smiity, Craig, and Ohm joked around a game of poker and shots. Wildcat was sure the others were scattered all over the home, but it wasn’t any of the people in the house that was causing his pissed off mood.

“Why the fuck did your boyfriend choose Nogla and Moo for the date? Delirious is a fucking idiot, but even this is beyond his stupidity.” Vanoss flushed and kicked the side of his thigh before slumping back on the couch’s armrest. His hands shoved into the front of the sweatshirt, Evan burying his chin and scowl under the collar of the hoodie. Wildcat knew that technically, Jon and Vanoss hadn’t been paired up yet by Panda’s ‘Computer of truth’, but everyone had all but given up on trying to match with either of them. Vanoss was hopeless, Delirious oblivious, and Wildcat wanted to smash their faces together or drown them (depending on how close he was to the pool at that given moment). Some of the couples in the house were dumb, but these two were hopeless.

“He was put on the spot after he won the challenge; you know Del’s mind ain’t good with quick decisions.” Vanoss defended Delirious, because of course he did. Wildcat made his feelings about the reply known by a snort and a roll of his eyes.

“Moo’s got a better chance finding water in the desert than matching Nogla.”

“You know you keep doing that, right?” Vanoss’s tone changed, and Wildcat arched an eyebrow to dare him to continue. Surprisingly, Evan did, even if he sunk lower on the couch and sigh. “Any time any of us put Nogla on a date, you say they won’t match.”

“What? No I don’t.” The loud groan that came out from Vanoss proved that he felt Tyler’s answer was dumb.

“First time, we sent him out with Lui.”

“Have you seen the height difference? And the chaos is too imbalanced, neither keeps the grounded side of their stupid relationship-”

“Which is probably why the computer said they weren’t a match, and we moved on to Nogla and Brian-”

“Why, because they both speak like dumbasses? Neither one of them has a grip on reality, and they’d be spending their money in Las Vegas before the first date ended. I knew before they even got scanned they weren’t gonna be a match.” His critical assessment got a droll stare from Vanoss, who kept his judgement quiet because of the pizza slice he’d stuffed into his mouth. “Wait, when did you get-”

“And now-” Evan cut in, the cheese and dough muffling the voice. “We picked Moo. Who is well grounded, mature, will help Nogla’s impulsive nature.”

“Brock’s softer than a sneaker full of shit; he’s too kind for him to keep a steady leash on Nogla’s chaotic energy. I’m telling you, Moo is Terroriser’s match and y’all are gonna send Brian to jail for murdering the next guy who takes Brock out.” Tyler hated how little their group gave him credit for his intuition. He wasn’t buying the algorithms and stupid shit their host, Panda, had explained on the first episode. But he could pick up on human nature; Brock and Brian’s chemistry was soft, but powerful, except both men were just too hesitant to get rejected by the other to suggest they go on a date. Plus, they were already on two strikes each; one more strike and they’d be sent home without finding their Mr. Right.

“I think Brian’s waiting to win one of the competitions so he can ask Brock.” It was cute, in a dumb kind of way, that Brian wanted to earn his date with Brock. Wildcat could respect that, in a way. He’d only been on one awkward date with Ohm the first week, which he was sure Smiity chose just to get Tyler back for eating his cheerios. Since then, Wildcat had glared at anyone who even looked his way during the ‘date decision’ part of the show, and his name had been kept off the chopping block.

“Is that why Brian asked your soul-dork to a boxing match? To beat the shit out of the guy who beat him out of sheer luck and sent his lover away for the night?” Because Delirious should not have won their challenge that afternoon; since when did Delirious read? Did he even know how to? He couldn’t figure out the word ‘mountain’ on a good day. Yet he’d aced the trivia quiz about literature, stealing the last three points of the competition out of Brian’s hands when knowing the two men who were sent to kill Hamlet were named Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (even Brock hadn’t know that, and he’s the nerd of all nerds). Vanoss had looked impressed, Terroriser pissed, and Wildcat just wanted to yell at Nogla for not knowing who wrote Harry Potter.

“You know,” Vanoss drawled out slowly, tip-toeing around a subject that Wildcat wasn’t aware of. “Remember how we got split into two teams week three for our date challenge?”

“Yeah, I got stuck with the fucking idiots.” He’d lost, because Scotty couldn’t figure out how to change oil for the car they’d had to tune up for the competition. Where Panda and the producers of the show got the stupid ideas of the challenges, Tyler didn’t want to know.

“Panda spun the wheel for the first half of the date, which landed on Nogla. So we had to choose the other person.”

“I was literally right there, why are you-

“Lui wasn’t the group’s first date choice for Nogla.” Vanoss’s words pushed Wildcat away from the back of the couch, fighting with himself for only a moment before he caved.

“Then why the fuck did you pick him?” Wildcat snapped out, crossing his arms over his chest. Evan took time stretching his arms over his head, before letting them dangle over the armrest his head rested against.

“Why is this my job?” Vanoss gripped into the air, but didn’t give Wildcat time to ask what he meant. “We had to choose Lui because the guy he’s meant to be with had made it quite clear he’s not going on another date.”

“You’re saying… wait.” Dumbfounded, Wildcat sat without words to reply with. Vanoss gave him a few seconds to try and rebuild his brain, then finally pushed to sit cross-legged on the sofa.

“We’re on week six, and you haven’t even stopped to think of why you hate Nogla being on dates with people?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Wildcat answered, uneasy when Vanoss shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

“Or maybe cause he’s your idiot?”

“Wh-what the fuck? Are you stupid? Why would he ever be-”

“Nogla’s on two strikes, too.” The words stalled Tyler’s brain, Vanoss leaning to the side to snag another piece of pizza from the box he’d hidden under the table. “If we test him with Brock, and it’s wrong-”

“It will be wrong.”

“-then he’s gone.” Evan folded the pizza together, but kept his eyes focused on Wildcat. “You okay with that?”

“Course I’m not!” His words came out before he could stop them, and Vanoss nodded like he already knew the answer.

“Wonder why that is.” Both men sat in the silence for different reasons. Evan because his mouth was full of pizza, and Tyler because the bottom was dropping out of his stomach. He couldn’t accept this. Sure, he knew there was a chance, because statistics and algorithms and all of that bullshit. But he’d thought he’d end up with someone softer. Someone who didn’t drive Tyler up the wall with his idiotic nature and weird laugh, his love of dogs and his kind smile whenever he was proud of one of the other guys. Not one who was optimistic about everything in life, made Wildcat’s ragged edges a little smoother, made him wanna just roll his eyes and laugh at all the random thoughts he spouted out at the weirdest time. But he was cute when he got angry at Tyler’s insults and the blush brightened his eyes if he was too tired-

“Oh.” Horror crashed through him, Wildcat slowly rising to his feet. “Oh no.”

“Yup.” Vanoss didn’t even give him the dignity of looking up from his pizza when he finalized Tyler’s mental breakdown.

“Fuck that.” Then Wildcat was gone, his panic pushing him down the stairs of the house. He could hear the cameraman chasing him, trying to keep track of his movements. But Tyler just didn’t care; he needed out of the house.

“Wildcat?” Panda’s voice caught his ear when he pushed out the front door, feet feeling the wet grass because he’d left his shoes in the house.

“Nope.”

“Where are you going?”

“Away.”

“You can’t just leave! Get back here.” The sound of Anthony moving after him made him walk faster, refusing to let his anxiety or feelings catch up with him.

“Nononononono-” Tyler shouted when he was tackled to the ground, his mouth filled with dirt and grass in seconds. He spit it out and flailed his body, trying to buck Panda off his back. But the host held strong as they rolled, garbled shouts and insults thrown back and forth between them. Panda’s elbow met his eye, while his own palm rocked the side of Anthony’s nose. They fought like school kids, Wildcat desperate to get away from the show and Panda refusing to let him budge. In the distance he could hear cheering from his castmates, and he knew Kryoz well enough to assume he was taking bets. If Vanoss didn’t bet on him, he swore to god-

“Woah, woah!” Moo’s voice caught Tyler’s ear, jerking his head up from the grass Panda was pushing it into to look at the new voice. Not because he wanted to see Brock, but because Wildcat knew who he was with.

“Is that Panda? Is the host supposed to fight the contestants?” Nogla glanced between Anthony and Tyler, eyes round with curiosity and excitement. “Is Tyler winning?”

“O-obviously,” Wildcat answered, despite his cheek fully planted into the ground. But he couldn’t really care at the moment; his heart was too busy trying to leap out of his chest to focus. Like a freight train, his emotions finally caught up with his body. Seeing Nogla after Vanoss’s revelation made Tyler realize the idiot wasn’t lying; the tension that’d spun around his spine from the moment Nogla and Moo left on their date finally unraveled. Panda bearing down on his back didn’t affect his breathing anymore; he was able to breathe smooth and easy. The pulse in his neck was going wild, and he’d never felt the desire to kiss and punch someone at the same time so badly.

“Come on, up you go.” Brock helped pull Anthony up with a laugh, finally allowing Wildcat to push up into a seated position. It was second nature to cross his arms and glare at Panda, who showed his maturity by sticking out his tongue. But he looked proud of himself turning to chit chat with the filming the crew, because he had completed his mission. Wildcat was still at the house, stuck with his feelings and emotions and Nogla-

“Aw, jeeze, Tyler. Look at you, buddy.” Nogla’s goofy grin when he crouched down and rubbed his rough palm against Wildcat’s dirty cheek was overwhelming, Tyler frozen in his spot at the touch. Heat rushed his face, fingers twitching in the grass from the urge to touch the beanstalk gazing down at him in obvious amusement. “You’re a mess.”

“Well whose fault is that?” Tyler snapped out, sure his cheek would burn off Nogla’s skin from the heat. Dumb as always, Nogla gave a owlish blink, tilting his head to the side curiously.

“Eh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re my match, you idiot!” His mouth really needed to learn to take a fucking break. His chest heaved from the shout, hating how many eyes and cameras and lights were on them. He wanted to curse himself for making Nogla’s mouth drop open in surprise, proving he hadn’t a clue about their potential match. Which meant the idiot didn’t even see Tyler as a possibility, which was just a kick in the dick-

“Are ya making fun of me because I like you?” The question derailed Wildcat’s thoughts, and he stared at the slight pout that Nogla now wore. “Cause I already told the guys ye wouldn’t want a guy like me, so if this is some sorta bet or something…”

“Since when have you liked me? You never told me shit.” Tyler asked, and Nogla sighed with more annoyance than he should ever be allowed.

“Ya, obviously. Why would I wanna get rejected by my match?”

“Wait, you knew?”

“Yup! First week, it was kind of obvious. I got all these butterflies looking at you, but nobody else. You’re weird and rude, and I like how funny you are when you make fun of the others.” Nogla scratched his temple with his free hand, the other still holding Wildcat’s face. “Don’t like it much when you do it to me, but I think that’s how you flirt so it’s okay cause you do it alot! Made me feel pretty special.”

“Jesus, what is my life?” Tyler’s shoulders deflated, but even with his irritation, he felt his heart lighten. Trying to cover his hint of a smile when noticing the cameras still watching them, Tyler huffed, rolling his eyes. “We’re going into the scan tonight; if we’re a match, the next date is ours.”

“Fuck the rest of us, right?” Brian’s shout from the balcony of the house had the rest of the castmates laughing, and Tyler flipped him off long enough that he knew the editors were going to hate him.

“Yeah! Let’s go on a date.” But when Nogla laughed and dived forward to tackle Tyler (despite Wildcat shouting in protest) onto the grass in a hug, Wildcat forgot the rest of the house. The show, the money, getting revenge of Panda- none of it mattered.

Wildcat hadn’t wanted to find his match, but maybe he was okay that he did.

And there ya go! Thank you very much, let me know what you think, and go say happy birthday to Kihorri! <3

#Daithi De Wildcat #Daithi De Nogla #I Am Wildcat #<3 #Happy birthday Kihorri!#Hope you liked #Probably a mess cause I don't write them often #but you liked them so #Enjoy!

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queenofthefallenangels · 4 years

Text

Think Twice Part 1

"I am going to make sure you never even think of touching my girl ever again. I am going to make sure you wish you never even met her."

Loosely based on the song “Think Twice” By Eve 6.

Seth Rollins x OC x Jon Moxley

Rated: M

Warning: some abusive themes, violence, drinking

Tag Team: @sithstatlander @xladyxfatex @writtingrose

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag permant or for this story ask is open.

As Always ENJOY

-----

Aria's POv~

“You don’t think this is too soon, do you?” I asked Alexa as we sat in the lunchroom break room together.

Alexa shrugged as she pushed a fork into her salad. “I mean, it wouldn’t hurt. It doesn’t have to be anything serious. It could just be you two ending up being friends. Besides, you need something to cheer you up and get you out. You have been depressed this whole time. It worries me honestly. You know that leads you right back to him.”

I sighed. She was right. Whenever I felt lonely, it was easy to back to him. I couldn’t help it. I was in love with him. He just wasn’t good for me.

~flashback a few weeks ago~

I was minding my own business, watching Netflix like any other night after work. Seth was working late on the books. It was pretty normal. I would have never expected what was going to happen next.

Seth came storming into the house. The door slammed so hard the pictures on the wall shook. I had no idea what had gotten into this time, but it wasn't good. I was too scared to even get up and ask. Not like it would have mattered because his long legs aided him to get to the living room fast. He threw his phone on the coffee table. "Is there something you want to tell me, Aria?"

I looked up at him confused. I could see the anger fueling in his eyes. The normal soft, caramel orbs were dark and harsh. It almost scared me. Anger like this I had seen before, but normally I had an idea what it was about. I moved towards the edge of the couch looking down at the phone. It was a screenshot of text messages. My text messages. "How did you get these?" I asked him. They were from my Instagram. It was a completely harmless dm. To Seth, it was more. Seth had a huge jealousy problem. He didn't like me talking to other guys thought he was always talking to other girls.

"Why does it matter how I got them? Keep going I got more screenshots."

I swiped to the side looking at more. My heart sunk. I knew I should have deleted those ones. "Seth, this one isn't what you think."

"You told Alexa, you had a plan to leave me. That I was too overbearing. Too hypocritical. I can go on." He said as he paced infront of me.

"Well, don't you think going through my texts kind of proves that. You don't trust me."

Seth groaned. "I used to, but it’s hard to with all these pictures you post on social media."

I stood up at this. "Me? Me?! Show me one picture on your page where you wear a shirt that doesn't promote the gym or is of us which by the way barely exists!"

"Why do you keep turning this around on me?!" He yelled getting closer to my face. "We are talking about you."

I held my ground getting right up in his face. "Because you do the exact same thing. Let’s go through your dms. I bet I can find tons of flirty ones of you and Becky." I still had his phone in my hands. I took it and started walking towards the bedroom. He quickly ran behind me as he yanked me back, but he wasn't fast enough. I had already seen enough. "You...you…" I couldn't get the words of my mouth as tears began to fill. The texts were beyond what I thought they were. They were dirty with pictures included. I almost couldn't believe my eyes. I was so mad, I slammed his phone against the wall. It broke into pieces against it. Seth stood there with his mouth open. He closed it glaring at me.

"What the fuck was that for!" He yelled his grip tight on me.

"You know what that was for," I said pushing him off me. I pushed him hard again making him fall back. "You motherfucker! You always make me look like a fool! Trying to pin cheating on me when looking at what you are doing! Sending your dick again. I forgave you last time, but you go and do it all again! How do you think this makes me feel!"

"You aren't any better!"

"Am I? I never ever sent someone else pictures of my naked body parts."

"We were sending pictures of our results." He said rolling his eyes. I hated it when he did this. He acted like everything I said was the stupidest thing.

"Really? I didn’t know you were working out your penis with her.” I said the sarcasm dripping as I spoke. I turned from him heading into the bedroom to grab my bag. I had one secretly stashed in case something like this happened. I hated being prepared, but with how Seth and I have always been, I couldn’t help it. This wasn’t the first time I caught him cheating and it wasn’t the first time I took him back thinking he would change. He doesn’t. I am no perfect angel in this relationship, but at least I try to make things right. He tries for a while. He makes me feel like things could be different this time, but every time, every single fucking time, I am wrong.

As soon as I come out with the bag, his eyes widened. “So you do have a bag. I thought you were just saying shit for Alexa to get off your back, but you actually have a bag.” He shook his head. “You aren’t actually going to leave.” He stated, trying to call my bluff. I wasn’t bluffing though I walked passed him hitting my arm against his shoulder. He shook his head grabbing me back. “You aren’t fucking going anywhere.”

I pulled my arm back, but his grip was too tight. “Who says? You aren’t the boss of me.”

“I say so.” He said as he pushed me against the wall. “I fucking love you, Aria.”

“Well, you got a funny way of showing it!” I screamed at him.

“God damn it,” He said punching the wall in anger. The drywall cracked under the pressure, dust hitting me. I screamed in shock as his hand went through it. He pulled his hand back as he started to realize what had just happened himself. “Aria, I am-”

I held my hand up before I pushed him off once more before I grabbed my bag and left for Alexa’s.

----

I hadn’t spoken to him since. He had tried to, of course, get in contact with me. He sent over a million apology texts and flowers. Becky had even come to apologize to me. I forgave her. I really didn’t hold any ill will towards her. She had said he told her we had broken up and were just living together until I found a place to stay. She would have never if she had known the truth. I couldn’t hold her against her if I tried. She was just caught in his web. If he really wanted to be with me, he would have told her the truth.

“Maybe you are right.” I finally spoke as I pulled myself from my thoughts. “I need some fun regardless of what happens.”

Alexa smiled at me. “That’s the spirit. Now, come to my house at seven and we will get you all ready.” She said before getting up.

----

I felt like the week sped by. Which was good because my nerves about this date were crazy, but also bad because I was still really nervous about the whole ordeal. It had been years since the last time I had tried to go out on a date and that was with Seth. I was sure that was going to be the last time that ever happened. Did I even want to try again just to go through it all again? Alexa was right though. Just go and have fun. What could it hurt just to go get to know somebody? It couldn't hurt right.

I was in the car sitting outside the bar we were supposed to meet at. Trying to calm my nerves. Alexa did her best to psych me up, but I could still feel the nerves pool deep down. I slowly got out of the car. I had to hold my dress down. It was so tight. Alexa had given me a small black dress that hugged every inch of my curves. I pulled my leather jacket closer to me as I felt eyes fall on me. I could tell guys were staring. I shook it off finding a seat. I pulled out my phone looking at the time. I was a bit early so I had time to try and use some alcohol to relax. I ordered a rum and coke.

"That is not all that I would have expected from a girl like you." The man in the seat nearby said when he heard my order.

I wanted to ignore him, but I couldn't help but glance where the voice had come from. I should have known a deep husky voice like that belonged to a strong-looking man. His shoulders were wide and you could see his muscles from underneath his tight leather jacket. He was fit. I could tell he worked out. No man could look like that without it. His piercing blue eyes watched me as I moved to face him. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"You look like sex on the beach type of girl?" He said as he took a drink of what looked to be whiskey.

I rolled my eyes, “Looks can be deceiving.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Really? Well, why don’t you tell me, why a pretty girl like you is doing at a bar by herself on a Friday night?” He gave me a quick look up and down. “If you must know, I am waiting for a date. What are you doing here all by yourself?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Waiting for your date to be over with,” He chuckled as he put a drink down.

“What do you mean?” I was taken aback by this response. I figured he was waiting for a date or a few friends.

"I guess you will have to wait since I think your date is here." He said gesturing as Kevin walked through the door. I had only spoken to Kevin a handful of times. He worked with Alexa and I, but he worked in a different department. I saw him for parties and other things. Alexa knew him better than I did and knew he had just gotten out of the relationship himself so maybe it would be good for us to get out. I think Alexa was just trying her hand at matchmaker.

He smiled as he walked towards me, “Hey, Aria, sorry I am a bit late. Traffic sometimes can be hard to get around.”

I smiled back at him, “It’s fine. I understand, How about we get a table?” I said as we walked towards the table. I could still feel that man’s eyes on me. I wasn’t sure what to think of him. His whole waiting thing was probably some dumb cheesy pick up line, but yet as my date went on, every time I looked over towards him. His eyes were still there. I wasn’t sure if Kevin was aware of it. He didn’t show it if he was.

The talk of the date mostly revolved around work and getting to know each other a bit better. He was a really nice guy, but I knew I wasn’t attracted to him in the slightest. It wasn’t that he was ugly or anything. He was a bit bigger built, but he was still fit in a way. He was a decent guy all around and it could have maybe worked out, at least for a second date, if it wasn’t for the man that was sitting across the way watching us. He was hiding it quite well too. If I wasn’t watching him back, I would have never noticed. He talked to other girls, but it never lasted long. He talked to people about the game on the tv.

Kevin excused himself to the bathroom when he took this chance to turn around and face me.. A smile was on his face. “So, are you enjoying the show?” I asked him

“Greatly.” He said as he took a drink. He had switched to a beer. He must have been trying to sober up a bit. “I am also glad it’s almost over.”

“How do you know that?”

He shrugged, “I just know things.”

“How about you let me know something?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “What’s your name?”

“Jon, and you?”

“Aria,” Kevin said from behind me. I bit my lip. I had no idea how this looked. Maybe it looked like an innocent conversation. I hope it did. “Can you come here?” Kevin asked. I nodded as I got up from the spot.

“I am so-” Kevin held up his hand.

“Let’s face it, Aria, we have zero chemistry. We both just agreed to do this for Alexa. How about we just end this night? You can go talk to him. I don’t want to hold you back. I know Alexa will kill me for leaving you alone, so if he turns out to be creepy just call.” I nodded smiling.

I wrapped my arms around to hug him. He hugged back.

“I am sorry it didn’t work out.”

He shrugged. “Maybe, its for the better.” He said as he let go. I gave him a quick peck of the cheek before returning to speak to Jon more.

--No POV--

Kevin sighed as he walked back towards his car. He kind of should have known Aria would have no interest in him. He honestly couldn’t blame her for wanting someone else. The date wasn’t the greatest. He still wasn’t over his ex either, so there was no way it could go good.. The whole date he just wished it was her instead of Aria. He was kind of glad that she found someone to take interest in so the night wouldn’t be a total failure. He remember Alexa mentioning that she was worried, she would run back to Seth and Seth was no good for her. Alexa really wanted to show her that there was more out there and she could find better. Hopefully that guy could help more than he did.

He walked towards his car hitting the button to find it in the parking garage. All of a sudden, a van with blacked out windows pulled up next to Kevin with two men coming out. They jumped on him almost immediately. Kevin tried his best to defend himself from the blows, but he was out number. He wasn't prepared to fight, but he would be damned if they got him. He had been a fighter before giving it up for a normal life. He was rusty but he knew he could take them. As a rush of adrenaline pushed through him, he was able to take out the two men.

He heard clapping from behind him turning around to see one of his old foes, Seth freakin Rollins. "Well, looks like you still got it in you, Kev, after all these years."

"What do you want, Seth? I told you, I wasn't coming back."

"Why? The whole reason you stopped left you." Seth pointed out as he grabbed for something in the back of the car. "That isn't why I am here. I am here, because of your little date with my girl." He said as he held a steel bat in his hands. Kevin tried not to let this scare him. He was just trying to scare him.

Kevin looked at him confused, "Both her and Alexa said she was single." He knew somewhat of their relationship. Not enough to think this would happen.

Seth didn't respond to this statement. "I got a question though. Was she not good enough for you to at least walk her to her car? Make sure she got there okay? There are a lot of creepers out there. It would be a shame if something happened to her.”

Kevin scoffed. “You wouldn’t hurt her besides I didn’t leave her by herself. She met a guy she seemed to like at the bar.” Seth’s eyes widened. He pulled the steel pipe back and smacked Kevin hard in the stomach. “What the fuck?!” He yelled as he fell to his knees.

“You just left her with some guy! Who knows what kind of scum you could have left her with.”

Kevin groaned, “She seemed to like him. He didn’t look like a bad guy. I mean she dated a guy who hits people with pipes. What could be worse?” Seth hit him again this time in the arm.

“Akam! Rezar!” He yelled at the two men. They stood up and grabbed Kevin standing him up so he couldn’t move as Seth gave another blow to his stomach. “Now what did this man look like?”

“Fuck,” Kevin groaned in pain. “He was just a guy with reddish brown short hair and a beard. He looked like any ordinary bar guy. I heard him tell her his name was Jon. He didn’t say a last name.”

“Get him out of my sight.” Seth growled as he handed the pipe to Rezar.

“Wait, no what?!” Kevin screamed as the men took him into the van. Seth walked off pulling out his phone. He dialed the number fast. “Murphy! Send me a picture of the guy Aria is talking to in that bar. He hung up the phone. It wasn’t long before the picture appeared on his screen. Seth could feel anger burn inside him as he looked at the image. He tightened his fist as he looked to the sky. “Ambrose.”

#wwe #wwe fanfiction #dean ambrose #dean ambrose fanfiction #dean ambrose smut #seth rollins #seth rollins smut #seth rollins imagine #seth rollins fanfiction #seth rollins x oc #jon moxley #jon moxley smut #jon moxley fanfiction #jon moxley x oc #jon moxley imagine #wwe smut #aew #aew fanfiction #aew smut

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ashleyfanfic · 4 years

Note

Prompts- angst #15 and/or #4

Angst... is not my thing. But here you go for #4 “Why are you lying to me?” This is canon. I imagine that our girl Dany would have sought him out before the crypts. The fact that she just passively let things like Jon walking away from her happen sort of pissed me off. So, here you go. How I think that parentage reveal should have happened. Well, one of the many ways I think it could have happen. Thanks for the angsty as shit prompt! I don’t like angst. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mind that I will try to hang myself with later! :) *~* He startled as she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. He must have tensed for she immediately released him and moved around to stand in front of him. “What’s the matter?”

He shook his head, but couldn’t meet her eyes. This was all too hard, too much. He loved her more than he thought he could love anyone. This news shouldn’t matter. None of it should matter but the way they feel about one another. “Jon,” she prompted and he licked his lips, afraid to ask his question fore he knew she would have more of her own. “Tell me what’s wrong,” her voice was soft, unsure. “We’ve been in Winterfell for days and you’ve been avoiding me. I just want to know why.” He stepped back from her and paced to the other side of the room. He needed distance from her. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t give in to how he felt for her. Not now. Not after he knew. But how did he tell her? She’d understand. He knew it. She would have to see that this couldn’t happen. But the hopeful look on her face, the way she wanted to believe that everything could be made right again, nearly broke him. “I’m sorry.” “Whatever for?” He looked down at his hands. “You’re my queen, but we can’t keep doing this between us.” Her face fell, then suddenly, her queenly mask was back on. “I see.” He shook his head. She didn’t know anything. He couldn’t tell her. It could hurt her. More than she was already hurting. “I’m sorry,” he said again. Her eyes met his, defiant and angry. “Could you extend me the courtesy of telling me why?” “It’s... become too complicated.” “Is this because of your sisters?” Not his sisters. His cousins. But how did he explain that to her? How did he tell her what he knew without it shattering her as it had him. “No,” he shook his head. “Your banner men?” “No.” “My council?” He shook his head again. He released an angry breath. “Jon Snow, tell me what it is?” He frowned. “I don’t think we’re a good fit.” She was silent at that and after only a moment, her eyes narrowed. “Why are you lying to me?” “I’m not lying,” he said as he looked away from her. “Yes, you are,” she moved to stand in front of him, a breath away. Her scent was nearly overwhelming. The ache in his body was from longing to kiss her. “I expected a great many things when we got here. I expected hostility. I expected a certain amount of push back. Even possible rejection from your people. But I never expected that you would seek to hurt me. You’ve never lied to me, not even when it would have been convenient. As your queen, I demand you tell me the truth.” “You don’t want me to tell you,” he hissed. “You don’t want anyone to know.” “I think I can judge that for myself. Most of my life has been people making decisions for me. I will not allow the man I love to do the same, no matter how I feel about you. Tell me this truth you think I can’t handle.” He looked down at his hands. “Look at me,” she demanded. “I-I’m the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark,” he said the words in such a rush that he wasn’t certain he had said them all. She stared at him, blinking in the low candle light. She took a deep breath. “That’s it? That’s why you’re pulling away from me?” He didn’t know what to say about that. “You’re my aunt. We can’t... continue this.” She rolled her eyes. “If your the son of Rhaegar Targaryen,” she said quietly, “then that means you come from a long line of Targaryens who have no only wedded and bedded their family, but usually their siblings. This means nothing in terms of how I feel for you.” He tilted his head. “It doesn’t?” “Does is change how you want me?” He released a pent up breath. “It should,” he said softly and her expression changed. She took a deep breath and unbuttoned her coat. He took a step back as he watched her begin unlacing her dress. “I suppose to some, it should. But I’m a Targaryen and have grown accustomed to the rules not applying to me.” She stepped toward him and he took a seat on the edge of the bed as he watched her shed her dress and corset. Her shift exposed one shoulder and she stepped closer. “I hatched dragons and walked through fire. I’m a dragon rider, the Khaleesi to the greatest Khalasar ever created and am the mother of dragons. I’ve broken every rule by merely existing, Jon Snow. And if you see to tell me that there is a rule that says that I have to give you up because my brother fucked your mother, then I’m afraid that’s not a rule I feel I should adhere to.” Her shift fell to the floor in front of him. She stepped between his legs and traced her fingers along his jaw. “You’re quite the rule breaker yourself. Befriended the Free Folk, bedded one of their women and fell in love with her. Allowed Wildlings south of the Wall.” She tossed his hauberk to the floor and began unlacing his jerkin. He looked down at her fingers, and how his hands gripped her fleshy hips. “You died, my love, yet here you stand. Alive and well.” She pushed the fabric off his shoulders with his help then lost his tunic. Her fingers danced over the largest scar over his heart. “What are rules to you and I when our very existence shows that we’re beyond them?” Her fingers slid down his stomach and to his laces. His breath was coming out in short pants and as he looked up into her eyes, he could see that she believed everything she said. “I will not beg you to be with me, Jon. But I will ask what the purpose would be? We came from opposite sides of the world, gained power separately, and managed to find each other. If anything, that tells me to cling to you harder.” She removed her hands from his body and stepped back. “But I will acquiesce if you say you can not be with me.” Rules. Was it a rule keeping him from her or was it his own fear? Fear that he wasn’t good enough for her, even knowing what he knows now? The feeling of being lesser than didn’t go away over night, but then she’d never actually treated him as if he was less than her. She might have called him my lord, but that was a power play. When it came time for her to address him as a king, she had. And Gods, he loved her. If nothing else, that should be reason enough to break the rules. No one knew but them. And Sam. He could keep Sam quiet. He pulled her against him and brought her lips to his. She let him lead the kiss, giving him the power to decide. And his choice was her. Not that there could ever be another. She broke the kiss and smiled up at him. “What about the rules?” “Fuck the rules,” he grumbled against her mouth as he took her in another heated kiss.

PROMPT LIST

#jonerys drabble #jonerys #jon x dany #season 8 sucked

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constantlytiredghost · 4 years

Note

For the smooch promts. 4 for Martin Gerry or 15 for Daisy and Basira. Your choice. ;)

Here we go one (1) GerryMartin (technically JonGerryMartin but shhh)

with 4: An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose I mean at this point it's the prompt rather loosely interpreted and split into an accidental 'kiss' and brushing lips against each other before diving in for another kiss BUT I hope you like it nonetheless :'D (and as you already know Daisira also happened and is already up on ao3 lel)

Having a crush on your boss was already bad enough, but also having a crush on the childhood friend of your boss was worse. But here was Martin, crushing on both, the small grouchy head archivist who happened to be his boss and the tall, buff goth that occasionally appeared in the archives to bother aforementioned grouchy head archivist.

And they were dating. Probably. They hadn’t announced it or anything, but it seemed pretty obvious from an outsider perspective that there was something between them, that went beyond a normal friendship. Simply watching the way they interacted with each other showed that.

Not that Martin watched them interact or anything. Not a lot at least. Sometimes he simply saw them. Like that time when he had seen them walk down the stairs of the institute, Gerry’s arm slung across Jon’s shoulder pulling him close, or the time when he had found them in the breakroom with Jon nearly sitting in Gerry’s lap. So they didn’t need to announce anything for Martin to be convinced that they indeed were a thing, which was fine really. He was happy for them, but it wasn’t exactly making things easy.

Martin had tried to stomp those pesky feelings, but that hadn’t worked so far. He tried to keep his distance, he really did, but there was only so much he could do to avoid his boss and Gerry had a knack for finding him. Because even when he hid away in a storage room, putting old statements away, he couldn’t escape.

“Do you need help?”

Martin nearly let the box with the files drop. Speaking of the devil.

“Gerry! Geez… ah, well no, I’m good I think. Thanks for asking though.” he replied, trying to calm his racing heart. “Did Jon kick you out again?”, he asked then.

Gerry huffed amused.

“Yep. It’s statement time, no interruptions allowed for the next mhhh 20 minutes? Unless I want to get threatened with a tape recorder. So I thought I’d check if I can be of help elsewhere.”

Martin chuckled softly before he shook his head lightly.

“Well, as I said, I’m good. Maybe ask Sasha? Or Tim?”, he suggested.

Gerry gave him a long and piercing look that Martin couldn’t quite interpret.

“Sure.”, he said then. “Are y…”

Before he could finish that sentence, the light above them flickered and went out.

“...shit.” Gerry said instead, and Martin had to agree.

“I think they got a new piece from the Dark in the Artifact Storage today.”, he mumbled, feeling around for the shelves, bumping into Gerry in the process.

“Sorry.”

“No worries, I’m fine.”

“That’s uh great, uhm well I’ll go look for the fuse box in case it’s just, well, normal stuff instead of the Dark.” Martin said, making his way along the shelves into the direction of the fuse box.

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t need too.”

“But I want too, and in case something tries to jump either of us it’s better not to be alone.”

That was sadly a pretty solid argument that Martin could hardly say no to, so he sighed.

“Oh, and I have a flashlight.”

A dim light flickered to life, making Martin squint his eyes when it danced over his face.

“Fine.” he relented.

“Great, lead the way.”

The light of Gerry’s torch was weak and flickered, but it didn’t die, so Martin had hopes that maybe, maybe they wouldn’t have to deal with some sort of darkness monster and could just fix some fuses and be done with. He doubted that they were that lucky, but he still liked to hope.

The fuse box for this area was in a small room in the back and calling it a room was maybe too much. It was a glorified closet with enough space for the fuse box, a few supplies and two people if you squeezed as it turned out.

Gerry’s side was squeezed against his, and maybe Martin was panicking a little bit.

The only reason for Gerry being in the closet with him being that they were both stubborn. Gerry refused to give him the flashlight while Martin was blind without it, but refused to move, so Gerry had simply squeezed in next to him so he could shine at the fuses.

“Well, this, unfortunately, looks fine,” Martin muttered after he couldn’t find anything out of place. “Guess it really is something down in the Art…”

The door behind them slammed shut, making the small space seem even smaller.

“Well, this on the other hand, certainly isn’t fine.” Gerry commented, making Martin snort against his better judgement.

He could feel Gerry shift around next to him and then heard him rattle at the door.

“It’s locked.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, definitely doesn’t open.”

Martin also pushed against the door, but just as Gerry had said. It didn’t budge.

“Guess we’re stuck then.”

Gerry snorted. “Apparently. At least it’s only the two of us and no shadow monster in sight.” he said, leaning back against the door, seemingly trying to find a comfortable position.

Martin smiled weakly, while he tried to move around, also looking for a remotely comfortable position, who knew how long they were stuck.

“Suppose we’ll just have to wait until the others find us.”, he said after more or less leaning against the wall.

Gerry hummed in agreement.

“Yeah we could just wait, or we could...talk.”

“Talk?” Martin questioned.

“Mhhh, talk, like about why you’re avoiding me, for example.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Martin said defensively. Gerry only raised an eyebrow and gave him a disbelieving look.

“Fine.” Martin relented with a sigh when Gerry kept on staring at him. “I’m avoiding you.”

“Oh, I know that you’re avoiding me.” Gerry chuckled softly. “But that doesn’t answer why.” He paused. “Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to be around me, but I’d rather know, then have you run away from me, alright?”

“I...It’s not that I don’t want to be around you.” Martin said with another sigh, rubbing over his face. ”It’s just…”

“Is it because of your crush on Jon?”

“Wha…? How do you know about that?” Martin could feel his cheeks burn and just hoped that it wasn’t too visible in the dim light.

Gerry looked at him and then started laughing, but it wasn’t mean or anything and just resulted in Martin’s heart doing funny things inside of his chest.

“You’re not exactly subtle. I’m pretty sure everyone knows...okay, everyone except Jon. He probably just thinks you’re nice.”

“Jon thinks I’m nice?”

“You constantly bring him tea and biscuits, and you care for him, what else is he supposed to think? You’re literally one of the nicest people I know Martin. Even though….Now that I think about it, you’ve been avoiding him too, so this clearly is about him.”

Martin buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“Listen, if you’re here to tell me off or something, just do it.”, he muttered.

“Tell you off? Why would I tell you off?” Gerry sounded truly confused, and Martin slowly lowered his hands.

“Because I have a crush? On your boyfriend?”

Gerry stared at him. Martin stared at Gerry until Gerry’s snicker interrupted the silence that had settled between them.

“Stop laughing! I’m serious.” Martin complained, kicking lightly against Gerry’s shin to shut him up.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just…” Gerry started laughing again. “This is ridiculous.”

“Excuse you?!”

“Okay, shit that came out wrong, sorry. What I mean is that it’s pretty hilarious how blind people can be when it comes to themselves."

“And you’re trying to tell me what exactly?” Martin asked.

Gerry gave him a lopsided grin.

“Jon likes you too.”

Martin blinked, then he opened his mouth only to close it again, before pinching himself. It hurt, so not a dream.

“I...Jon...but aren’t you dating?”

Gerry shrugged, pushing himself from his position against the door so he could turn to face Martin, knocking a few supplies over in the process of doing so.

“Yeah, we are.”

“Why...how are you so chill about this?”

Gerry gave him a wry smile in return.

“I like you too, I guess,” he shrugged again. “heteronormative relationships were never my jam, so maybe that’s why. I know you like Jon and not me, but if you’re willing, I’m sure we can work something out. I honestly just want to see both of you happy.”

Gerry was rambling, and Martin could only gape. His heart ached for this beautiful man, who had decided that he was okay to put his own wishes last if it meant that the people he loves were happy.

“...and I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything. I swear this sounded better in my head, but…”

“Gerry.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Gerry’s mouth closed with an audible click. He looked nervous, and now it was Martin’s turn to smile.

“You know, you call me and Jon blind when it comes to ourselves, but I don’t think we’re the only ones. Jon is not the only person I have a crush on, Gerry.” he said softly and watched how Gerry nervous face turned from nervous to confusion, to surprise and then into a wide grin after the realisation hit him.

Then Gerry squinted his eyes at him. “It’s Tim, isn’t it?” he asked, but Gerry’s shit-eating grin and the twinkling in his eyes told Martin that he wasn’t serious.

“Obviously.”, he replied dryly. They looked at each other and started laughing. Gerry leaned forward, to place his forehead against Martin’s shoulder, snickering. Martin wrapped his arms around him, cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

“God, we’re all so blind.” Gerry mumbled against Martin’s sweater, his arms wrapping around Martin’s middle.

“Yeah.” Martin agreed with a snort and as if on command, the light of Gerry’s torch flickered out, leaving them in pitch black darkness.

“....I didn’t mean literally.” Gerry muttered and pulled back, and Martin couldn’t stop snickering.

“I think I got spare batteries, wait.”

Martin could feel Gerry shifting and moving around.

“Careful.”

“Yeah, surahhh…. FUCK.”

Martin could feel Gerry tripping and tried to grab him, but the supplies that had fallen earlier made him topple over too, and they both crashed.

Martin hit his head against the door, and Gerry somehow landed half on top of him, knee ramming into his thigh while their lips smacked against each other, their teeth clacking together painfully.

Martin groaned that had hurt.

“Shit, sorry,” Gerry muttered, trying to get up before he just gave up and simply straddled Martin’s legs instead. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I think,” he answered, rubbing his head. “That was a pretty shitty first kiss though, dunno why movies think this works.”, he added lightly, sitting up, only to bump his head against Gerry’s in the process. “Did you at least find the batteries.”

“Yeah, and I’m very willing to make it up to you as soon as I put them in.”

Martin could hear something getting unscrewed, and a few clacking sounds. It didn’t take long until the torch flickered back on, illuminating the closet once more.

“So, Mr. Blackwood, will you let me prove that I’m capable of more than smashing our heads together and probably giving you a few bruises in the process?”

Gerry looked at him with open eyes and an adorably, impish smile. Martin still couldn’t quite believe it, so he just nodded, unable to trust his own voice.

Gerry leant forward again, slowly to give Martin all the time he wanted should he decide that he wanted to pull back.

Martin didn’t and leant forward instead, meeting Gerry halfway. When Gerry’s lips brushed over his, it was barely a touch, soft and sweet and Martin wanted more, chasing after them when Gerry pulled back, to tug him into another kiss.

He vaguely registered that the torch clinked against the ground next to them, to busy burying his hands in Gerry’s hair to pull him even closer and Gerry followed, nipping at his lips, with a playful bite.

Movement could be heard in front of the closet, and they broke apart just in time to look up at Jon, who looked back down at them with raised eyebrows.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked, and Martin could feel a blush creeping up, on his cheeks.

“I got us a boyfriend, that’s what’s going on,” Gerry replied cheerfully, scrambling up on his feet, before holding out a hand for Martin, to help him up.

“Unless you don’t want too?”

Two searching gazes were directed at him, and Martin shook his head.

“No, I mean, yes? I mean, I’d love too.”

Gerry seemed relieved, a tension that Martin hadn’t noticed before left his body and on Jon’s lips formed a smile.

“You need to fill me in on what exactly happened in there. I think I’m missing a few pieces."

Gerry and Martin looked at each other and then at Jon.

“Yeah, let’s talk. Guess we should do that anyway.” Martin said, and the two of them followed Jon into his office.

They told Jon what had happened and in turn, Jon also told them a few things. Like that the Dark didn’t have anything to do with the entire situation. The lightbulb simply had burned out, and the door hadn’t opened because of a book stack that had toppled over, slamming the door shut and in the process lodging themselves so that it was impossible to open the door from the inside without violence.

Hearing it all like that Martin felt a bit like he had ended up in a ridiculous cheesy romcom, but he also certainly couldn’t complain.

He also learned that day that kissing Jon while Gerry was nipping at his neck was a special form of bliss, that he couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. And that being sandwiched between those two men was exactly where he wanted to be.

#nat writes #gerrymartin #aka the story where I added as many cheesy tropes as possible :'D #tma #jongerrymartin #martin blackwood #gerard keay #jonathan sims #jgm #this also means that I filled all prompts but the one I'm currently working on :000 #which means prompts are open again if anyone wants to request smth!

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