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sunfyresrider · 11 months

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𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Widow!Alicent Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ever since Alicent Hightower’s husband died her life had changed exponentially. It’s a hard thing, knowing what to do with freedom you’ve never had. In her attempt to expand her horizons she reaches many bumps in the road she didn’t realize existed, until she met you. Tags: mentions of death, sexuality crisis, struggling to accept change, heavy anxiety, eventual smut and a lot of self-healing. Author’s Note: @ilikeitbetterangsty THIS IS FOR YOU BABES💕 I really hope I did your request justice . Thank you so much for being an amazing mutual and beautiful person. Ps I’ve never been on a date, let alone a first date so I’m sorry if that scene was a little awkward. ALSO dividers are made by @saradika !!!!

His death was expected, anticipated even, yet the day she woke up next to a cold corpse seared itself inside her brain forever. She should be mourning. She should have been more upset, shed more tears for her husband of nearly twenty years. Instead, all Alicent could feel was an odd relief, a weight being lifted from her shoulders. She was finally free.

However, what does someone do with freedom when they’ve never had it? She could do anything in the world, she had more than enough money for it. But what do free people do? Alicent had to read up on what widows were into. They travel, indulge in hobbies, and go out for brunch and gossip. The main factor in all of these is they’re never alone.

Twenty years of marriage and four children and Alicent couldn’t remember a time where she wasn’t alone. She had no friends, too busy caring for a sick old man, children, and running a company. Alicent didn’t want to be alone, she didn’t want to die knowing she had never truly loved. There was nothing holding her back, no father pushing religious guilt, no husband taking her time, and no children to judge.

At first, she made no moves for change. She continued staying at home and running her life as she always did. Although now she spent more time fussing over her only child at home rather than Viserys. Unfortunately, Aegon, her eldest and most troubled child finally declared he was moving out. He also said she needed to get a life in the exact same sentence.

It was time to take a real look in the mirror at the woman Alicent Hightower had become. It was not the best feeling in the world. In the past she was happy, determined, and beautiful in some eyes. Now she was tired, a bit of a pushover and unbearably lonely. All she had done her whole life was serve other people, her father, her husband, her children and never herself. Alicent needed to change that before she died old and miserable.

There was another thing she needed to come to terms with. She never loved Viserys, she never loved any man for that matter. Marriage wasn’t something she enjoyed but endured. Alicent wanted to love someone, which was something she never truly had. Except for once when she was young until she married her friend’s father. Maybe she didn’t hate sex just who it was with. Maybe she was capable of love just not for men. Maybe it was time she started attempting to live her truth.

That was the final push she needed to do something. So, Alicent took a leap of faith after reading a pop news article and downloading HER. It’s an app for lgbt dating, specifically lesbians… It still sounded like a dirty word even if she only said it in her head. There was still a twinge of guilt when she made her first match. It’ll pass, the article on women struggling being their true selves said so.

Twenty years of marriage and Alicent didn’t even know how to flirt, let alone with a woman. The first woman she matched with was only slightly younger yet had no children. She called Alicent a milf, which is a compliment nowadays. It didn’t go much farther, the lack of knowledge on slang really did not bode well with people.

Anyone younger than her wouldn’t do, so she changed the settings. The second match was one that made her excited. From the outside they seemed to share the same values and she was a mother too. They went on a singular date that might not have been the greatest. Alicent was a little awkward, still too insecure about herself to initiate anything, and avoided the goodnight kiss that was offered. It didn’t seem to bother the woman, which made her believe this could be the one. They could grow together, maybe even build a new life together. Alicent genuinely thought she found the perfect one. Until they ghosted her.

The app was deleted that same night. Maybe dating wasn’t in the cards for her. It stung, surprisingly worse than when Viserys died. For a few days she sat in her house and sulked. She strictly ordered takeaway, and binge watched the housewives of Orange County. Braunwyn was without a doubt closeted, it was like looking in a mirror, a very fucked up mirror.

Alicent did a quick deep dive only to find out her suspicions were correct. Right now, Braunwyn was happily outed and living with her girlfriend… It was a mix of jealousy and hope. Someone just like her was living her dream life, which was unfair, but maybe it meant she could manage to live her dream too.

She finally decided to get off her ass and do something. She was a free woman, she could do whatever she wanted, she told herself as she did a rather intense spa routine. All of her expensive skincare products and fancy tools were being put to use today. Alicent actually changed out of her pajamas and into a nice dress she hadn’t worn in ages. It was a black bodycon dress, the only one she owned. Very out of character for her but she was a free woman, she could wear whatever she wanted.

She was going to take herself on a date, to a fancy restaurant. Alicent arrived at the venue feeling nervous but excited at the same time. It was the first time she had gone here alone; the servers were quite surprised to say the least. As she was led to her table, she noticed the looks she was getting from some of the other diners. Maybe it was the dress, or maybe it was the fact she was alone for once.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. “Hey, is this seat taken?” Her head whipped to the side, “N-oh! No.” You let out a small laugh, “I'm only joking, I have my parents waiting for me. How’ve you been Ali?” The last person she expected to meet was Aegon’s old tutor. You hadn’t seen each other in several years maybe. It wasn’t a bad surprise, actually it was amazing to see you again. “I’ve been great, better than ever! How are you?”

“Oh, I’ve been thriving! After quitting I went on a self-healing journey and haven’t gone back.” Your smile reached from ear to ear, you were absolutely glowing in every sense of the word. Alicent was captivated, maybe a little nervous trying to find the right words to say. She hasn’t felt this way since she was what? Fourteen and heavily in the closet. So, she did something way out of her comfort zone, a first step of sorts.

“If you’re free, I’d love for you to come over for dinner sometime and hear more about how you’ve been.” You seemed shocked, cocking an eyebrow at her question. “Is the Alicent Hightower asking me on a date?” She froze, it didn’t even cross her mind what she was actually asking.

So, she blurted out the first thing on her mind. "I...um…if you want it to be." You flashed a smile that was different from the one from earlier. You picked up a napkin, scribbling something on it. “Let me know the time and I’ll be there.” She let out a sigh of relief when you walked away, feeling as if she was going to burst any moment now. Her head was spinning, her heart was racing. She actually asked someone out, on a date no less.

She was nervous, it had been so long since anyone besides her immediate family came into her home. At least it was clean now that Aegon wasn’t here to make messes everywhere he went. In her opinion the modern green color scheme looks great but maybe you hated green. Or maybe she was overthinking this.

Alicent hadn’t ever really cooked besides a select few times the personal chef got sick. In her mind it would be more meaningful for her to cook something for the both of you. However, making homemade penne vodka was a lot harder than she thought.

She wanted it to be perfect, she wanted to impress you in every way. The dining table was set with a vase of roses, her best silverware, and very expensive wine she was saving for a special occasion. She even bought a new dress for this evening, a form-fitting silk one with flowing sleeves.

It was a few hours into her cooking when you rang the doorbell. Alicent took a deep breath, telling herself to remain calm and not make a fool of herself. It didn't stop her from tripping over the edge of the rug on the way to the front door. She jumped up, dusting off herself.

You were there, just as beautiful as you were earlier. "Hey!" Your smile was contagious, making her grin in return. You looked absolutely gorgeous, dressed in a white button-down shirt and black jeans. You pulled her into a hug, you smelled like strawberries, and a scent she could only describe as happiness.

"It’s so good to see you!" She ushered you in, letting you take a seat while she went back to finish cooking. You looked around, taking everything in. “It's still as big as I remember, though you definitely changed the decor.” She snickered, "Well it was in desperate need of a facelift, I just couldn't stand the red and black anymore."

Ali returned with a big bowl, carefully plating both of yours. "I didn’t know you knew how to cook! I thought you had personal chefs for this kind of stuff.” She grinned proudly, "Well, I wanted to do something special for you tonight."

"Aren’t you romantic," You smiled at her. You took a bite, letting out a pleasured sigh. "So good!" Her smile was practically radiant at your praise. You made small talk during dinner, talking about anything and everything. Catching up on what’s happened in the few years you hadn’t seen each other.

She told you about how Aegon is doing, how he has a girlfriend now. You told her about how he was the reason you inevitably quit teaching and decided to travel. You talked about your life, how you took the time to really get to know yourself, and how that was the best decision of your life. She vaguely talked about hers, only giving you bits and pieces.

What you did learn was that she was fucking hilarious, and so much more welcoming than other rich housewives you’ve met. You didn’t ask about the dead husband; it was pretty clear by the lack of a ring and her finally smiling.

Alicent listened to every word intently, her big brown eyes staring into yours. She used to always have a sad look inside them but now she was practically beaming. It might have been the wine flushing her cheeks, but you chose to believe it was because of you.

At some point you ended up on the couch watching housewives, at least pretending to. You were both still talking over the noise, slowly leaning into each other each time you laughed.

You leaned forward, brushing a stray hair from Alicent’s face. Your lips brushed together, “you’re beautiful, you know.” Alicent let out a laugh, "You're too much." Her eyes closed, taking the lead and kissing you first.

When your lips met her, it felt as if fireworks had gone off. Your lips were soft like peaches but tasted sweet like cherries. Your hands touched her face gently, leaving trails of electricity where your fingers were touching.

Her own hands gently tracing down your neck, shoulder, and side to rest on your hips. Alicent’s body sunk down on the mattress, letting you move on top of her to do as you pleased. When she broke the kiss to take a deep breath, you kissed down to her neck and jawline, sending vibrations throughout her. She made a sickly-sweet sound that made your ears tingle.

Her hands moved slowly, almost cautiously as she moved your shirt up to feel your bare skin. She delicately traced lines up and down the curves of your waist. Your sweet kisses trailed down her neck, chest, and slowly you lifted up the dress she was wearing. Moving to suckle at the skin around her core, worshiping her thighs.

Alicent let out a soft moan, curling her fingers into your hair. Her soft noises only encouraged you. Your fingers traced her folds, moving their way around the fabric. You looked up, watching her cheeks flush red in embarrassment. A simple nod was the encouragement you needed to continue.

Your lips kissed over the fabric, hearing her breathe become labored. Her fingers tugged lightly at your hair. You pulled down her underwear, moving it down to the end of her legs. It was your turn to blush, seeing how wet she was already.

Her hips twitched when you dragged a finger through her slit, your finger coming back glistening. You eased it inside of her, quickly finding the sweet spongy spot. Her back arched as you moved your finger, soon another one joining. Your tongue sucked at her clit, moving in circles.

Alicent bucked her hips into your hand, her moans filling the air. Her eyes were shut as you made her legs shake. Your tongue moved faster, hearing her sweet cries. She pulled your hair, pressing your mouth harder against her. Her walls tighten around your fingers, letting you know she was close.

Alicent shuddered, gripping your hair harder as she came. Her back arched off the couch, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Her body finally relaxed, laying on the couch. Her eyes closed, a blissful smile on her lips.

You crawled up, leaning over her. You brushed her hair behind her ear, gazing into her brown eyes. They were still sparkling, like two polished stones. Alicent slowly moved her hands down your back, lifting your shirt over your head. She sat up, kissing you softly.

Her hand slowly moved down, grasping your thighs and opening them. Her kisses trailed down your neck, breasts, and stomach. You let out a small noise as she rubbed you through your pants. Her kisses got hungrier as she undid your belt and pulled down everything that covered you.

You let out a squeal of surprise, feeling her pull you on top. Your cheeks flushed red, as she angled your cunt above her mouth. Alicent was precise, her mouth sucking at you gently. Her hands pressed against your hips, keeping you in place.

Your fingers threaded into her hair, holding her face to your cunt. She flicked her tongue against you, moving it in circles. Her hands moved up to squeeze your ass. You grinded against her face, your juices coating her chin and the couch. Alicent hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you.

Her fingers pressed into you, curling up to prod at your sweet spot. She let out a purring noise, making you move your hips faster. Your breath hitched as she moved her fingers faster, sucking at you with a new intensity. Her tongue moved quickly, lapping up all the juices coming from you.

Your thighs quivered as you came, your voice shaking as you did. Alicent kept going, eating you out until she was satisfied. Your legs gave out, dropping you in a pile on top of her. You laid there, letting her wrap her arms around you as you caught your breath.

"Did I do good?" You laughed, leaning forward to kiss her. "You were amazing,” you peppered kisses on her face, eliciting the cutest giggles you’ve ever heard. You rested your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Her fingers played with your hair as you both laid there, tangled in each other's arms.

Last night had been one of the most out of character nights of Alicent’s life. She never invited someone over, let alone hooked up with someone. It was new, it was exciting, it was also borderline terrifying. Now that she was alone again her thoughts could once again consume her.

You texted her back, at the very least you weren’t ghosting her. That eased the part of her that was afraid the sex was so bad you would never speak to her again. But now there were other things that bothered her. Your question, to be more specific. “Would you want to be my girlfriend?”

It was too soon to do anything drastic, like a real relationship. Did she want that? The idea of being in a relationship with you was something that sounded nice in her head, But would it be good in reality. Not only was she freshly widowed as well as struggling to come to terms with her sexuality. By now, she should be over caring about what other people thought… She wasn’t over it in the slightest.

There was still this guilt and overwhelming anxiety that was holding her back, the same things that held her back her entire life. Alicent laid in her bed, trying to figure out how to answer your text... “I’m not sure if I’m ready, yet.” She wanted to say more, but her thoughts were quickly turning into a jumbled mess.

“I used to tutor Aegon in mathematics… I’m very patient;)” Alicent rolled her eyes at the winky face, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile. “But… I bought two tickets to the Bahamas last week… and my mom canceled so there’s an opening.” Her fingers hovered over the screen, she had never been to the Bahamas before.

To be fair, she had never been anywhere but home. Alicent wasn’t one to drop everything and go on vacation…

You made her want to.

Her thumb hovered over the send button for a moment.

Why was this so difficult?

She was free now; she could leave anytime she wanted.

So why did she keep waiting?

She could just let her phone fall out of her hand and pretend she didn’t see the text.

It took everything in her power to hit send, “I’d love too:)”

You had been talking to each other every day for weeks. You’ve gone on several more ‘dates,’ which all ended in someone’s bedroom. She hadn’t ever felt this happy, but right now she was freaking the f out. She might have under-packed or maybe over packed her suitcase. What if the swimsuit didn’t fit like it did in the store? Should she have brought snacks? What if she forgot to lock the house?

The airport was crowded to the point it made everything feel excruciatingly hot. Maybe it was her anxiety that was making her hot. Alicent glanced around at everyone, a million scenarios running through her head. There was no reason for her to be this nervous. Except there were a thousand reasons, she’s never left the country, the plane could crash, and maybe you wouldn’t show up.

The last one wasn’t realistic. You promised to be waiting at the terminal. You always kept your promises, so she had no reason to worry. But what if you changed your mind? What if the flight was canceled? Or you got sick and didn't feel up to flying.

Was her mind just coming up with different scenarios so she wouldn’t get on the plane? Maybe she should turn around and go home. No, she was free now, she was finally over all the bad that happened. So, there was no reason to not get on the plane.

She had been so caught up in her own thoughts she didn't realize they called her boarding group. She slowly made her way to the gate, getting in the very back of the line. Alicent glanced around the terminal, no sign of you anywhere. She started picking at her fingers, a bad habit. When she was younger, she used to dig at them until they bled.

The line moved at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every second felt like an hour and every step felt like a mile. However, she had made it to her seat on the plane in one piece. She was able to get a window seat, something she was thankful for. At least if something bad happened Alicent could watch the plane crash into the waves.

You still hadn’t shown up and her heart rate showed no signs of going down. She could turn back right now, walk off this plane like nothing happened. She could go back to her old life, tucked away safely in her home. She could stop taking risks, what was she even trying to prove? There were thousands of excuses to turn back, and she was using them all.

By letting this plane take off it meant a new beginning, a real one. The real first step, proof she was living differently and for herself. That scared her, did she even deserve to live for herself? What was her worth if she wasn’t serving someone else? Her fingers dug deeper into the bed of her nails; this was a stupid fucking idea.

Alicent heard the flight attendant preparing to close the doors, She glanced down at her leg, preparing to jump out of this seat and run out the door.

Back home.

Back to safety.

Back to what she was used to.

“Hey! Sorry I took so long I was sat in the wrong seat,” your voice was soft and sweet like honey. Alicent turned around, staring into your eyes. You were gorgeous, to the point it made her temporarily forget what was going on in her head. "You made it," she spoke breathlessly, realizing she had been holding her breath the entire time.

“I wouldn’t miss going on a trip with you for the world.” You smiled at her, intertwining your fingers with her own. A sense of calm washed over her, like the waves hitting the sand in the early morning. She finally let herself settle back into the seat, letting her eyes flutter close.

This was okay.

She could do this.

This is freedom.

Alicent Hightower was finally living,

For herself.

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theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years

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Captivated (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

***please note that this is a sequel to “Safety”, which can be read HERE. Reading Safety before reading this is not necessary, but doing so will provide additional context for this story***

***please note that this now has a sequel, “Storms”, which can be read HERE.

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, references to an ill parent, spoilers for House of the Dragon

Word Count: 6,000 ish.

Summary: While serving as Princess Rhaenyra’s lady in waiting, you’ve been granted ample time to become well-acquainted with the man they call Breakbones. The Princess’ recent tours of Westeros in search of a befitting King Consort have only allowed the two of you to grow closer, and now you’re completely taken with Ser Harwin Strong. But the Princess’ recent tour to the Riverlands, in addition to some troubling news from home concerning the health of your father, Lord Tyrell, have left you feeling discouraged. You’ve begun to fear your affections for the strongest knight in all the Seven Kingdoms may not be returned. Perhaps a surprise visitor from Highgarden will clear things up...

A/N: Y’all... I am FLOORED. Absolutely shooketh. Nothing I have written has ever received such an overwhelming response. Thank you all so much to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged Safety. I appreciate each and every one of you so very much. I am not sure how many parts this series will get, but the ending of this one pretty clearly sets up a part 3... so let me know if that’s something you’d like to see. Please see the A/N at the ending of this chapter for notes regarding the taglist. Thank you all again. I hope you have a wonderful rest of the week! 🖤 PS: this is a Criston Cole hate account. #sorrynotsorry.

I really hope the tags work and I won’t have to post this twice.🥲 Please forgive me if I do.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Princess Rhaenyra smiled warmly at the small child, as did you. The little girl humbly accepted the half a loaf of bread from the Princess’ hands.

You and the Princess were currently in the heart of King’s Landing, inside one of the city orphanages. The harvest that year was already proving to be bountiful, almost entirely in part to the good people who worked the lands of your home. It seemed that there was plenty of food to go around those days, and you were grateful that the Princess and the King were of the mind that it ought not to be wasted.

Back in the Reach, you and your brother had often done the same- you’d visited all of the orphanages and sick homes in Oldtown and even The Arbor at one point or another. Your father has instilled the concept of giving back to those in need very early on in your lives, as your grandmother had instilled the same in him.

You had mentioned this in passing to Princess Rhaenyra one day, when she was still becoming acquainted with you. Once she’d heard of it, she declared it to be a worthwhile endeavor, and adopted something similar as part of her own regular routine. As such, she had made it a point to visit a new place in need throughout the city each week.

While it warmed your heart to help those less fortunate than yourself, especially the parentless children, you were happy that the Princess had decided to become more hands-on with her charitable works for other reasons. You were no fool- you knew how positively the common folk viewed noble men and women who showed them sympathy and kindness.

As lady in waiting to the future Queen, you knew it would be in Princess Rhaenyra’s best interest to win the hearts of the people as soon as possible. Dark plots were actively working against Princess Rhaenyra already, and the more political tools she equipped herself with, the better she’d fare in any future struggle for power.

While you had fully supported the Princess’ recent charitable endeavors, as did King Viserys, others from Court were less than thrilled with the idea. Queen Alicent had voiced some concern, as did Ser Criston Cole. He had deemed it too dangerous.

Even now, the Dornish knight was visibly sweating from across the room. From what the Princess had told you personally, and from what you had heard from others, Ser Criston Cole had experienced many battles, and lived to tell the tale of them all. And yet, in a simple orphanage within King’s Landing, he appeared to be visibly sweating and his eyes shifted across the room madly. His nervousness on behalf of the Princess’ safety had to have occupied his every thought.

Standing beside him, and much more relaxed in composure, was Ser Harwin Strong.

In your time at Court, Ser Harwin Strong had become a member of the City Watch. As a result, he’d become quite familiar with the inner workings of the city, and was comfortable walking amongst the streets. Ser Harwin had proven himself to be an asset for the Princess’ repeated journeys out into the city. Being out in the heart of the city didn’t appear to scare him or cause him any serious cause for concern. But you doubted anything would.

Unlike the panicked eyes of Ser Criston, Ser Harwin’s gentle eyes watched over you and the Princess carefully as you interacted with the children bouncing with excitement around you. You caught him staring at you as you continued to distribute bread, but forced yourself not to think too much of it.

Eventually, it was time to return the Red Keep. You could have sworn you’d never seen Ser Criston look so relieved- though perhaps that would only be true until the Princess’ next escapade concluded. He and Ser Harwin scouted the entrance to the orphanage to make sure there was no sign of danger while you and Princess Rahenyra bid the children goodbye with promises to return in a few weeks.

You made your way out of the dwelling to where the carriage, along with the rest of the guards who had been recruited to comprise the escort, was waiting for the two of you. Princess Rhaenyra climbed in first. You were quick to follow, but were temporarily paused when someone politely offered you an arm for assistance.

It was Ser Harwin.

“My Lady,” he said, bowing his head downwards towards his extended arm.

Despite yourself, you smiled at him as a sign of your gratitude, and hopped up and inside the carriage with his assistance. Once you and Princess Rhaenyra were both seated inside, the carriage was lifted up and off the ground, beginning the return back to the Red Keep. Ser Criston and Ser Harwin, one of them on either side of the carriage, kept vigilant eyes on your surroundings as the entourage moved through the streets. You caught glimpses of the two knights every now and then through the grated windows near the top of the carriage.

“I cannot tell you how relieved I am to be back,” Princess Rhaenyra sighed after a moment. She leant back against the wall of the carriage, and settled down further in her seat.

From your seat across from her, you offered her a small smile. “I recall the feeling of returning home after a long journey very well, Your Grace. I dare say that there is little else that compares.”

Princess Rhaenyra laughed shortly, but you knew she meant no offense. “Though I dare say the feeling of being out of the clutches of power-hungry suitors to be a far better one than that which you have described.”

You stifled a laugh, knowing your involuntary response would be frowned upon by most others at Court. However, none would be more displeased to hear of it than King Viserys, who had through painstakingly great lengths to arrange the tour of the Seven Kingdoms. It was all organized in the hope that his daughter might find a suitor worthy of both her heart and the title of King Consort.

Unfortunately, the tour had proven to be unsuccessful thus far. Princess Rhaenyra had visited the Reach, the Westerlands, and the Riverlands, and not a single notable contender had emerged- at least not in the eyes of Rhaenyra. She had claimed the majority of the hopefuls who had paid her visit to be either far too old, or far too young. She noted that the rest of them had been about as “insufferable” as their power hungry father and grandfathers, who had watched the proceedings with greedy eyes.

You had only received second hand accounts of the events, and largely from the Princess’ sole perspective. While it would have been expected of you to attend Princess Rhaenyra throughout her travels, she had taken her junior ladies in waiting with her for assistance instead. Meanwhile, she had tasked you with what she deemed to be far more important.

Princess Rhaenyra had asked you to stay behind, in King's Landing, to see to her personal affairs. It had been difficult to accept at first, even more so when the Princess went to visit the Reach. But you trusted and respected her opinion that you would be more of use to her elsewhere. While there would always be secretarial duties to attend to, and charitable functions to plan, the main reason the Princess had asked you to stay behind was for reconnaissance purposes.

Foul whispers about the Princess were abound, and they only grew more troubling in her absence. But with you, an obvious ally and devout supporter of the future Queen, roaming around the Red Keep in her stead, the whispers were more timid, and their perpetrators were kept at bay. Any rumors that still managed to reach your ears were immediately reported to Princess Rhaenyra upon her return.

“At least the Riverlands were quite remarkable,” Princess Rhaenyra noted positively, changing the subject. She gazed out the window, as if recalling a scene from her memory. “Even though they are named for such, I was truly amazed at the sheer amount of rivers we came across.”

You smiled at her enthusiasm.

“Have you ever been? To the Riverlands?”

“I’m afraid I have not had the pleasure, Your Grace.”

“We must change that then,” the Princess insisted, giving you a conspiring smile.

“Do you intend to return to the Riverlands soon?” you asked, with sincere interest. “Has one of the suitors finally caught your attention?”

Princess Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, a gesture that most would deem extremely unladylike. However, you knew it to be a common occurrence for her, and had grown quite accustomed to it. Her boldness was appealing, and refreshing amongst the other “highly-refined” ladies at Court. She had thick skin, and never hesitated to speak her mind; you knew that both qualities would serve her well as future Queen.

“Don’t sound too eager, Lady Y/N,” she chided playfully. “Lord Tully was a gracious host, of course. But unfortunately, all of the gentlemen callers were just the same. Too old, too young, or too-”

“-Insufferable,” you finished for her, having heard her same speech twice before.

Princess Rhaenyra laughed. “Precisely.”

In your time in service to the Princess, you had come to be quite close. You considered her a friend, and could only hope that she considered you to be the same. On bolder days, you might have contemplated whether Queen Alicent’s marriage to her father had left the young woman in search of some companionship. If there was a void in that area of her life, you were happy to fill it. You missed her when she was gone on her travels… But perhaps you missed one of her most recent traveling companions even more.

“It was not entirely a waste, I suppose,” Princess Rhaenyra admitted then, her tone shifting once more. “Ser Harwin Strong is far from terrible company.”

Immediately, you glanced at the carriage windows with worry. Was it possible that the very man in question was able to overhear you now? The streets were alive with people, but if Ser Harwin was walking right alongside the carriage…

However, Princess Rhaenyra did not seem deterred. In fact, noticing your apprehension only encouraged her more. She leaned forward in her seat, and said, “We had many great conversations, Ser Harwin and I.”

You forced yourself to smile, torn between the comradery and duty you felt for the princess, and the aching pain you felt in your heart.

“I can tell you all about our conversations, if you’d like,” Princess Rhaenyra offered, clearly, but thankfully, oblivious to your inner struggle. “I believe you’ll find them to be very interesting.”

Normally, you would readily indulge in some harmless gossip with her. But now, you loathed the thought of what she might tell you. “If it is your wish to share such details, Your Grace.”

The Princess finally noticed that something was amiss. She sat back in her seat, and gave you a befuddled look. “Is everything alright, Y/N?” she questioned. “You’ve been very quiet these past few days…”

You’d always prided yourself on your ability to be honest with the Princess. But at that moment, you could not compel yourself to tell her the entire truth. So, you settled for a half-truth, and opted to share with her one of the two things that hung very heavy over your head as of late.

“My father has taken ill,” you admit, lowering your voice so as not to be overheard by anyone outside of the carriage. “I received a letter from my brother just a few days past”

Princess Rhaenyra’s confused expression shifted to one of sympathy.

“The Maesters say he should pull through,” you continued, “But I am worried.”

The Princess had never been anything less than kind to you, but still, you could not have anticipated her next move. She reached across the carriage and placed a soothing hand overtop of your own, which you hadn’t realized you’d wrung together in your concern.

“My father has always described Lord Larris as a strong man,” she assured you full-heartedly. “I trust the gods will see to it that he recovers fully and swiftly.”

You were touched by her gesture. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Should you desire to go visit him, I will agree to it at once.”

“I will keep that in mind, Princess.”

Later that evening, once the Princess had retired, you made your way from her chambers towards your own. Though the hallways of the Red Keep were seldom unoccupied, save the guards keeping watch, they certainly appeared to be that night.

It was unfortunate that the one person you encountered was the one man that, for once, you hoped not to see.

“Ser Harwin.”

The knight paused in his tracks, and bowed his head graciously in greeting. “Lady Y/N.”

“It is a good evening, is it not?”

“It is,” he agreed, smiling softly. “And, seeing as I have been fortunate enough to speak with you, it stands to improve even more.”

Despite your reservations, you blushed.

The relationship between yourself and Ser Harwin Strong, much like your relationship with Princess Rhaenyra, had grown tremendously during your time at Court. And, it had blossomed even as of late. While the Princess had tasked you with seeing to matters in King’s Landing while she went on her tours of Westeros, there were times when you had seen to everything that needed to be done, and as a result, you sought company instead. More often than not, that company had been found in Ser Harwin. Though he had his own duties to see to as a member of the City Watch, he’d never failed to make time for you.

At first, it started off with polite conversation occurring throughout strolls throughout the castle gardens and surrounding grounds. Princess Rhaenyra was correct in her insinuation earlier in the day- despite the bruteish nickname he bore, Ser Harwin was more than a decent conversationalist. The topics were light hearted, but any conversation with him sent your heart racing anyway.

Eventually, you began to share meals together on occasion. Deeper conversations occurred during those times. You’d come to discover that you and Ser Harwin had much more in common than either of you realized. You were both very close to your families. You had each lost your mothers at a young age, but both of you had good relationships with your fathers, and absolutely adored your siblings. He had enamored you with tales of the haunted halls of Harrenhal, and in exchange, you had told him all about the gardens of Highgarden and seasonal festivals that the Reach boasted.

Most recently, the two of you, along with a small party composed of his brother, two sisters, and another few members of the Court, had gone for a few days’ hunt in the Kingswood. You hadn’t lucked out on the hunt like some of the others had, but it was a thrilling experience nonetheless.

The hunt had led Ser Harwin to discover your familiarity with a bow. Though perhaps it was not very lady-like, your father had taught you how to shoot at a young age, deciding that it had the potential to be a unique party trick, at the very least. Your hobby had never been put to use by targeting live animals, but rather, stationary or inanimate objects thrown up into the air. For you, it had never been about the hunt, just the sport of it all.

As soon as you explained as much to Ser Harwin, he requested you to demonstrate your skills. You attempted to politely decline, but upon seeing a disappointed glint in his eyes, you changed your mind. A small crowd had assembled for the showdown between you and Ser Harwin one afternoon. His sisters, surprisingly, cheered for your victory instead of their older brother’s. You found it to be amusing, but oddly touching. Ser Harwin took it in stride, and merely jested about the familial betrayal.

At the end of the shooting rounds, you emerged as the winner, but by only a narrow margin. Ser Harwin could not be faulted; it was well known he was far more talented with a sword than bow, anyway.

Part of you feared Ser Harwin’s reaction, worried that his displeasure would put a strain on your growing relationship. But he had surprised you- as he often did.

“Any boy can denounce a loss as unfair, or even simply blame the wind for a poor shot,” he’d said, grinning ear to ear as he plucked one of your arrows from the bullseye of a target, and handed it back to you gracefully. “It takes a man to be willing to admit defeat to the truly better aim, regardless of who that victor may be.”

Ser Harwin Strong was a flatterer, through and through.

You raised your head to look him fully straight on. Speaking in such close proximity to Ser Harwin always made you recall just how massive he was. Your chin was practically tilted upwards, and his head was bowed down to regard you.

“I apologize that we have not been able to speak much before now,” Ser Harwin said, sounding and looking completely sincere.

“Your apologies are not necessary, My Lord. I am sure you’ve had a great deal of things to attend to, especially after having been gone these past few weeks.”

As was expected, Ser Harwin had traveled with Princess Rhaenyra during her tour of the Riverlands- his home. You had no doubt he had presented himself to her as a potential suitor in Lord Tully’s halls, along with dozens of other vying contenders. As the oldest son of Lord Lyonel, and Heir to Harrenhal, you knew Ser Harwin had every right to offer the Princess his hand. In fact, his failure to do so might have even been considered a slight against the crown- one that his father, the current Master of Laws, would not have likely been able to afford.

But you dreaded the day when news would reach your ears of Ser Harwin Strong’s betrothal. Between his title, strength, and handsomeness, it was a downright wonder why a match had not been made for him yet. You knew it was only a matter of time… and while you had come to cultivate deep feelings for the knight, Princess Rhaenyra would be a far better match for him.

Since their return from the Riverlands, you noticed more and more frequent looks exchanged between the two of them. Knowing looks. It was apparent to you that Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Harwsin held information that you were not privy to. And you had a sinking feeling as to what it was.

An announcement had yet to be made, but Rhaenyra had yet to complete her tour. She was off to the Stormlands the following week. And yet, it was likely all for show. She had to be fair and allow other potential suitors to believe they still stood a chance for her hand- when clearly they did not.

Princess Rhaenyra must have chosen Ser Harwin Strong.

The Realm’s Delight and Breakbones? They made a better pair than one would think. She was a dragon, and he was a fearsome warrior. Her mental ingenuity would only be supported by his brute force of strength. Together, they would take down enemies to her claim one by one. They would want or need for nothing- and neither would their children.

And you, you would resign yourself to your place. Despite being the daughter of Lord Tyrell, you could never hope to compete with the Princess of Westeros for a suitor’s hand. And you never would. You had sworn her your allegiance… your true heart’s desire be damned.

“How were your travels, My Lord?”

“A bit tiring, if I may speak plainly,” he replied carefully. Even you had to admit that he sounded fatigued. “But it was necessary, which has made it easier to bear.”

I suppose winning the heart of the future Queen of Westeros made the trip worthwhile as well, you couldn’t help but think to yourself. “I am glad to hear that, My Lord.”

Ser Harwin reached a hand up to smooth through his brown locks, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You realized with slight shock that he was demonstrating an emotion you had yet to see him display in all the time you’d known him- Ser Harwin was nervous.

“Are you well, Ser Harwin?” you questioned, not caring at all about the concern which was evident in your voice.

Ser Harwin’s gaze softened even more. Your concern had moved him. “All is well, Lady Y/N…” He cleared his throat, before his eyes fell to the floor. “Or, rather, there are no physical ailments burdening me…”

On one hand, you were taken aback by the foreignness of it all. This large man looked as nervous and shy as some of the children you had visited that same morning. On the other hand, it was slightly endearing to learn that a man with the nickname Breakbones was not able to escape the burden of emotions that plagued everyone else. He was just as capable of being human as those two, even three times less his size.

Before you mentally dared to compare him to a gentle giant, Ser Harwin continued.

“I had some… rather enlightening conversations with Princess Rhaenyra during our travels,” he admitted, the nerves he physically displayed betraying his voice ever so slightly as well. “The conversations opened my eyes to a truth that I have denied for quite some time.”

You were surprised to hear that he had not been taken with Princess Rhaenyra upon first sight- most men were. But yet again, Ser Harwin was not like most men.

“I was hoping to discuss this further with you,” Ser Harwin confessed. He looked you straight on, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from his for a moment, even if you had wanted to. “Somewhere more private?”

There was a hopeful glint in his hazel eyes, but the thought of advising him on matters pertaining to keeping the Princess’ interest made you feel suddenly ill.

“Perhaps we could dine together in a few days?” he suggested then, his nerves amplified by your lack of immediate response. “Or, maybe we could take a walk in the gardens?”

You almost caved right then and there. Almost. Ser Harwin knew how much you liked walking through the castle gardens. Even though they paled in comparison to those of Highgarden, they still reminded you of home, and walking along the paths lined with various greenery and floral displays brought you comfort.

“I shall have to see, My Lord,” you replied, even though it practically pained you to not immediately agree. “The Princess has given me leave to visit my father, and I am inclined to take her offer.”

Instead of looking disappointed, Ser Harwin gave you a look of pure guilt.

“My sincerest apologies, My Lady,” he said. “... I may have inadvertently heard about the news of your father. While I did not mean to overhear you, I heard the Princess speak my name this afternoon, while the escort was on the way back to the Red Keep… I feared she required something of me. By the time I realized that I was not needed, I fear I may have heard too much.”

It was nice to have confirmation that the walls of the carriage were not very thick, if only for future reference. Part of you felt embarrassed by the fact that Ser Harwin had overheard your personal matter, but the other part felt relieved that the knowledge that had clouded your mind over the past few days had been made known to one of the few individuals you trusted in King’s Landing. And seeing as Ser Harwin looked and sounded as guilty as he admitted to be, you could not find it in yourself to be cross with him.

“Your apologies are not necessary, My Lord.”

“I wish Lord Tyrell a quick recovery,” he confided to you. “And, should you leave for Highgarden, I wish you safe travels.”

You smiled graciously. “Thank you, Ser Harwin. Should I see him, I shall pass your well wishes along to my father.”

It was Ser Harwin’s turn to smile then. But after a few moments, nervousness seeped into his composure once again. Though he was more soft-spoken than you had once imagined him to be, his next words were said so softly, that had you not been alone in the corridor, with only a few inches between yourselves, you might not have heard them at all.

“Should you decide to leave, Lady Y/N… I fear I will find myself counting down the days until I am in your company once more.”

… This man. This man was going to rip out your heart, tear it into pieces, toss it on the ground, and stomp on it through his impending marriage to the Princess you served dutifully. You knew you had to begin to prepare yourself to suffer through it… But you would also take any attention and warm sentiments that Ser Harwin Strong would grant you in the meantime.

The memories of his kindness that he had shown you would have to be enough to get you through the pain you were sure to endure.

Despite the forwardness of Ser Harwin’s words, what was more alarming was the stark seriousness of his expression. He meant every word of what he had just said, and you believed it fully. Still, you would have to be daft to decry him now just for the sake of proprietary.

“I must admit… I shall miss you too, My Lord.”

By the end of the following week, Princess Rhaenyra was off on her tour of the Stormlands, with Ser Criston Cole glady serving as one of her escorts.

You had seen Ser Harwin in passing since the night you last spoke, but you did not make any further meaningful conversation with him. Though you missed your talks, you reasoned it was better for your heart to start putting some distance between the two of you now, before his marriage to Princess Rhaenyra would place you worlds apart.

You had seen to all the tasks that Princess Rhaenyra had left you with, and had begun to pack and ready the rest of your things. The plan was to embark on the trek back to Highgarden within a day or two.

But your plan was cut short when a messenger knocked on the door to your chambers. You had a visitor, and they were waiting for you in the courtyard of the Red Keep.

You hurried to the courtyard with moderate speed. It was seldom you had visitors- a cousin had visited once, a few weeks back. But besides that, no one had yet to pay you a visit. Many visitors to the Red Keep had it in mind to speak with many, many others besides the likes of you.

But when you entered the courtyard, you noticed the small entourage that had just arrived. No carriage in sight- just several men and their steeds. But that didn’t mean the visitor was from a place nearby. When your eyes fell upon a lean figure donned in the familiar colors of your House, you beamed brightly, knowing that without a doubt, this visitor was truly one for you.

“Brother?”

Your brother, Derron Tyrell, the Heir to Highgarden, turned to face you upon your call. When he saw you, he grinned. “Sister!”

You crossed the courtyard in large strides and practically leapt into Derron’s arms. Your brother caught you and returned your familial embrace with ease.

“I have missed you!” you told him hurriedly, pulling away to look at him. Even though it had only been a few months, going on a year at most, since you had seen him last, it had felt like far longer. But Derron looked the same as he always had, and it brought you joy to see him in good health.

“And I you, Y/N,” Derron replied, his smile still as bright as your own.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?” you demanded of him in a hushed whisper, your arms falling back down to your sides. Suddenly, a terrible thought entered your mind. “Did I miss a raven? Is father-”

“Father is alive,” your brother was quick to assure you. “And you did not miss a raven, for there was none sent to you.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

Derron looked at his entourage surrounding him. Though you recognized most of them as bannermen with whom he had rode and fought beside for years, you could tell that your brother was wary of their presence at this particular moment.

“Come now, Sister- we have much to discuss.”

It seemed that someone, although not you, had been expecting Derron Tyrell to arrive in King’s Landing. Chambers had already been set aside for him and his men, and he’d even been given a special audience with the King later in the week to discuss ongoing matters in the Reach.

Later that day, once your brother was settled in his chambers and unpacked, you met with him. You were eager to learn of the cause of his surprise visit, and to privately discuss what he had referred to in the courtyard.

The pair of you were seated at a table on the balcony connected to his chambers. As Derron poured you a glass of wine, before pouring one for himself, you asked him the question that had been on the forefront of your mind since his arrival.

“How is Father?”

“He’s made a turn for the better since I last wrote to you,” Derron answered truthfully, setting the pitcher of wine down. “He was still too weak to travel here, but the Maesters were even more hopeful than before by the time I left.”

That was great news. Perhaps your return visit to the Reach could wait a few more days, and once your brother’s affairs in King’s Landing were settled, you could ride back to Highgarden with him, and be all the more safer for it.

“What brings you here, Derron?” you asked then.

“You may not have received a raven, but Father did,” he replied. “Father received two of them, actually.”

“Who were they from?”

“The first was from Princess Rhaenyra herself.”

That was extremely surprising. Had you done something to upset the Princess? She seemed alright when she bade you goodbye before departing for the Stormlands… but perhaps she was attempting to save face in front of those around her. Had she written to your father and asked you to be removed from her service?

“I can see your mind racing,” your brother observed with a smirk. “You needn’t worry, Y/N. Princess Rhaenyra simply wished him a swift recovery, and invited him to King’s Landing to visit with King Viserys and to discuss matters of the Reach as soon as he was able to travel once more. I wish I had the letter to show you, but I believe father kept that for himself- the Princess complimented you greatly. I wish you could have seen the smile on his face as he read her words.”

The thought of your father’s smile due to humbling praises from Princess Rhaenyra brought a smile to your own face. You missed him. You missed home. But the visit with Derron would have to be enough, until a more suitable opportunity to return to Highgarden would appear.

“You mean to meet with the King later this week?” you asked, slightly confused. “Have you traveled here on Father’s behalf, then? Was there a matter so urgent that could not wait until he was able to travel here himself?”

“Yes… and no,” Derron. “All is as well as it can be in the Reach; the harvest has been as bountiful as we suspected it would be. But there was another, more pressing matter that required one of us to see to it immediately. Father decided it would be good practice for me to come and speak with the King about business while I was already in King’s Landing dealing with this other matter.”

The other matter must have been extremely pressing, if it had compelled your father to send Derron all the way to King’s Landing without so much as a raven’s notice. “Pray tell- what is this urgent matter you speak of?”

“That would involve the second raven Father received,” Derron pivoted. “Fortunately, I do have that letter in my possession. We both thought it might be best for you to see it for yourself.”

Your brother withdrew a rolled up piece of parchment from his coat, and handed it over to you. You took it with great intrigue, and immediately set about reading the tiny scrawlings littering the page.

“To Lord Larris Tyrell of Highgarden, Defender of the Marshes, Lord Paramount of the Reach, and Warden of the South:

I hope you are able to overlook my forwardness. I, Ser Harwin Strong, son of Lord Lyonnel Strong of Harrenhal, write to you regarding a most urgent matter of the mind and heart…”

You tore your eyes away from the page, and looked back up at your brother. The reassuring look on his face confirmed what you had suspected- your eyes were not deceiving you.

Ser Harwin had written to your father directly.

But what on earth for?!

“We received the raven with this message just a few days before I set out for King’s Landing. But I assure you, Father and I have discussed the contents of this letter at great length.”

You were almost too afraid to ask, but you found the courage to do so anyway. “What does this letter have to do with your visit?”

“If you would continue reading on, you shall see for yourself,” Derron encouraged you. “There are important conversations to be had with Ser Harwin Strong… as well as his father, Lord Lyonel. Such matters are far more appropriate to address in person, rather than by letter.”

Your eyes fell once more down to the parchment in your hands. “What matters could possibly require such attention?”

“... I can tell by your reaction that you have not spoken with Ser Harwin as of late,” your brother deduced. Didn’t last week count? “But that is of no matter. Now that I am here, we can all address it. Please, Y/N. Keep reading.”

“...

I would like to start by wishing you the quickest of recoveries.

I hope this letter reaches you in due time- I intend to discuss this subject with Lady Y/N in depth as soon as she allows me, and as soon as I muster up the courage to do so. I believe she is the one who deserves to learn of this matter first, and so that she may pass her judgment on it. But, on the advice of my father, out of respect for your great House, and out of respect to my own, I thought it wise to at least enlighten you about my intentions.

I apologize- I have never had the reputation for being a particularly eloquent man. But for this letter, I shall to be just that. I have only recently returned to King’s Landing from escorting Her Grace, the Princess Rhaenyra to my home, the Riverlands. Despite the tiredness I feel, the journey opened my eyes to a truth that I feel drawn to act upon at once.

My Lord, I have had the immense pleasure of sharing company with Lady Y/N since the Princess Rhaenyra recruited her to be of her service some time ago. Although I am sure you are aware, Lady Y/N is a great compliment to your house. Her kindness and charms are extended warmly to all, from the royal family to the poor of King’s Landing. Her wit entertains all who are blessed with her conversation, and her tenacity to succeed in an environment without the support of her family, who she clearly loves so dearly, has been nothing short of inspiring- even to a ‘brute’ such as myself.

All of this, when combined with the mere passage of time, and counsel from Princess Rhaenyra herself throughout our recent travels, has led to me to face one conclusion that I have been blind to for some time.

I have become completely captivated by Lady Y/N.

…”

Derron’s next words nearly fell upon deaf ears as you spaced out, torn between continuing your enthralled reading of the letter in your hands, and seeking clarification to the many questions that had been raised by it.

“It would seem,” your brother said wistfully, “That I am here to discuss the terms of your courtship, and inevitable betrothal, to Ser Harwin Strong.”

You were astonished.

“But before I can do that, I must know… Is this what you truly want?”

Part 3, “Storms,” can be read HERE.

A/N: Thank you for reading!🖤

Please feel free to let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist for any future parts. I apologize sincerely if I’ve missed anyone- please let me know if that’s the case! I tried to tag everyone from the first part who requested it, as well as some people who left comments on reblogs, but please do not hesitate to let me know if I missed anyone, or if you are on the taglist currently but wish to be removed.

TAGLIST: @whitetigerlover17 @littlebirdgot @strawbbyjamb @te5s3ract @landofdreamsworld @nerdboylover @piper570 @ephemeralninon @linkpk88 @green--beanie @kaygilles @hippzella @wicked-hg @thatgaytevinter @nowheredreamer @ateliefloresdaprimavera @queenofterrasen418 @saintspector @thebigbadbatswife @blazinglioness @itevilhag @chlo-feigh

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nocasdatsgay · 16 days

Text

Baby of Mine A Spring Time Affairs Fic

Day 7 of @polyacotarweek Free Day

Pairing: Tamlin/OC/Elain/Lucien | Rating: T| Word count: 3778

Master List | Poly Week Masterpost | Read on AO3

Summary: After Calanmai and forgetting to take the tea, Flora is pregnant. The problem is, she doesn’t know if Tamlin or Lucien is the father.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Anxiety, base level childbirth mentions, a baby

AN: WE DID IT FOLKS! Last day of the week. I can’t want to go through the Masterlist and read what I have missed while writing. Thank you for all the likes and comments. PS: Can you catch the Beast of the Briars call out?

Tagging: @saltedcoffeescotch @ysmtttty

Tamlin said he did not care.

Lucien and Elain both said they didn’t care.

But Flora did.

The stress was evident on her face as she turned in front of the mirror, gaze dropping down to her bare stomach. She was starting to show. New clothes would be in soon, her old ones already feeling snug. She didn’t want to despise the babe in her belly but gods it was hard to not let her worries get to her.

She was Tamlin’s wife. She had a duty to him to have his heir. What would the court do if her babe came out with red hair or russet eyes? Their relationship wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew. But they’d been so careful and then Calanmai came and the one time she forgot to put contraceptives in her system, she ended up pregnant.

She hoped it was the first undiluted magic that conceived this child. Tamlin took her into the cave. They made love on that stone and released all that magic back into the world. What happened with Lucien and Elain after wasn’t under the same pull of ancient magic. But doubt plagued her. Her plants showed her there was no difference between the first wave of magic and after. It could easily be the same with her.

“Flora?” Tamlin’s voice dragged her out of her thoughts. Her gaze met his through the mirror. “Is everything alright?”

Tamlin stayed nervous about her condition. She knew why. He was worried she would fall into a depression or worse. He was constantly encouraging her to engage with the court, to go outside with Elain. It warred with his want to keep her inside and safe. His mistakes in the past haunted him. Even after all the time that passed.

“I just-“ she looked back at where her hand rested on her stomach. “You know I worry.”

“I don’t care what others may think. You know this.”

“They’ll talk, Tamlin,” tears built in her eyes. Her worries she had been holding in came tumbling out. “What good am I? If my first born is not your heir? This is a child, Tamlin. What if it is Lucien’s? What if it triggers something in Elain? They’re mates.”

“Flora.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked and tears spilt. “It’s awful to think these things, I know. I'm horrible.”

“You’re not horrible, my wildflower.” Tamlin came up to her, wrapping his arms around her. One hand splayed over her stomach. “How long have you felt like this?”

“Since I found out.”

She grabbed one of his arms with her hand to mentally steady herself. She hadn’t spoken out loud how she felt. She feigned excitement; they were so happy when her scent changed. She didn’t want to take that away from them just because she worried.

“Honey.” She winced at the sadness in his tone. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You’ll never upset me.” She felt him kiss the back of her head. “I know you worry but our babe is so loved already and that’s all that matters.”

She nodded and leaned back into the embrace of her husband. Tamlin was the most excited out of all of them. She just hoped she could match his enthusiasm sooner rather than later.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She officially was showing and barely made it out alive from the Court announcement party. So many congratulations, each one meant well but still grated her. She was a perfect Lady of Spring, faking her smile and when someone did notice, it was explained off as hormones. Tam watched her the whole time, ready to scoop her up and out of the room if needed. She finally feigned tiredness and excused herself.

It was a relief to enter the empty hall. Though she was not alone for long. She made it up the stairs before running into one of the two people who put her in this predicament. Lucien’s gold eye clicked rapidly as he came up to her, studying her face. She had not seen him since his return this morning from visiting Day Court.

“How did it go?”

Flora rolled her eyes. “I swear if I hear one more congratulations I am going to vomit.”

”So it went well. Good.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “And how are you? How’s my little one?”

”I am tired and annoyed. And you don’t know for certain, if this babe is yours,” she snapped. She regretted it the second the words left her mouth. “The baby is fine, Lucien. I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. That was unkind of me.”

“It was.” He didn’t hide the hurt on his face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t mean that. I’m sorry.” She looked down in shame. She’d never spoken to Lucien like that before. She was horrid.

“Flora, look at me, I do forgive you.” He reached his hand under her chin and tilted it up so she would look at him. “I get it and I’m sure the announcement party didn’t help.”

Her eyes watered. “It really didn’t. None of them have any idea. They all just assume this was planned. They all just assume this is Tamlin’s and when I try to correct them, they just -” She took a shaky breath and her hand went to the small bump poking out from her dress. “Tam says stress isn’t good for the baby.”

”It’s not,” Lucien replied. “If they’re mine, they might come out looking grumpy and be mistaken for Eris if you aren’t careful. Try explaining that to the court.”

That made her laugh. “You’re right.” She gave him a soft smile. “He’s a boy, by the way. Don’t tell Elain, she doesn’t know yet.”

Lucien’s grin beamed with likeness of the sun. “We’re having a boy?”

“Yes. We are having a boy.” She paused and bit her lip. She knew the answer but after the party, her worries continued to fall from her lips without warning. “If this is Tam’s baby, are you sure you aren’t going to be mad?”

Lucien sighed. “I’ve already told you, it doesn’t matter if he’s mine or Tam’s, he will be ours.” Lucien tapped his finger on her nose. “Get those thoughts out of your mind. Don’t let the courtiers get to you. And go tell Elain before I find her first. I won’t be able to help myself and she’ll be livid you told me first.”

Flora nodded and smiled again. Lucien always knew how to make her feel better. She stood on her toes and gave him a quick kiss before setting off to find Elain. He was right on that part; Elain was going to be livid she was the last to know.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tamlin made her nap in a guest room citing he ‘had a surprise’ for her. She was too tired to question it. Five months in and between being either absolutely insatiable and exhausted, she took his word for it and laid down. It wasn’t until after dinner that night, he escorted her to their rooms, grinning the whole time.

“What did you do?” She asked, not able to suppress her own smile.

“Come see.”

They entered through the sitting room and into their bed chamber. Nothing looked different; Tamlin guided her forward into the next room and she gasped. The nursery was finished- and fully finished. Her hand went instantly to her stomach, where she felt the flutters of life moving inside her.

“It’s beautiful,” she blinked back her tears. “Oh, Tamlin.”

She called out things as she noticed them. The walls were painted a pretty light green. A bassinet in the middle and an oak crib against the wall near their room for later. Even the rug was beautiful- her favorite flowers stitched in throughout. Other furniture filled the room, all a deep oak like the crib. There was even a rocking chair and bookshelf by the window.

“Do you notice anything else?”

She frowned, looking up at her husband’s knowing smirk. She looked around the room again- everything was new. The room even smelled of wood still. She frowned harder; that wasn’t right. She glanced around the room again and finally noticed it. A new door opposite their own.

“Where does that go?” She asked.

“To Lu and Lainy’s rooms.”

She jerked her head towards him again with her mouth open. “They’re moving? Really?”

They talked about it so often before that Flora thought it was mute at this point. She desperately wanted them to be closer than where their rooms were now on the other side of the manor but didn’t want to push them. They deserved their own space. Even with the baby- especially with the baby. But knowing they agreed to move closer- she started crying.

“We’ve been waiting for time to put the door in so they’d have access to the nursery too if needed.” Tamlin reached up and wiped her tears. “These are happy ones, correct?” She nodded. “Good. Come, I want you to pick out the curtains for the window.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three more months to go and Flora was ready to evict this baby now. Sitting was a little uncomfortable, her belly becoming rounder by the day. It didn’t help that her babe started to kick daily, for no other reason than to make his mother uncomfortable.

Even outside in the garden, where the chairs could lounge out to prop up one’s feet weren’t comfortable. It was Elain’s idea to take their tea outside today. Flora shuffled about in her chair while Elain poured tea into a cup.

“Drink this,” Elain sat the tea cup and saucer beside her.

“What is it?” Flora was scared to sniff it. Last time she smelled anything but black tea she nearly hurled. Though that was early on in her pregnancy. She avoided it ever since.

“Raspberry mint. I made it for Feyre and it seemed to help with the second pregnancy.”

She took a hesitant sip and her eyes widened right before she downed more of it. She sat back her chair and made an inappropriate noise.

“This is the best tea I’ve ever had.” She took another drink from the saucer. “Thank you Elain.”

“You’re welcome. Hopefully it calms the little rascal.”

Flora nodded and resisted the urge to down the rest of her cup. She set aside and watched Elain take a sip of her own tea.

“How are your sisters?”

Elain contemplated for a moment. Flora didn’t know if that was a bad sign or not.

“Nesta has taken on a writing project.” Elain cut her eyes to Flora with a knowing look. “A romance novel.”

Flora sat up straighter. “Really? On a scale of what I read and what you read, how smutty is it?”

“What you read. You know Nes adores those Drake books. Stands to reason she would write something equally scandalous.”

“You know you love those books too,” Flora playfully rolled her eyes. “I hope she completes it. Tell her I look forward to having a copy on my bookshelf.”

Elain grinned. “I will make sure to let her know.”

“And Feyre? How is she?”

Flora held no ill will to the female. What happened between her and Tamlin was in the past.

“She’s good. The twins are giving her hell.” Flora laughed at that. “She handed off her workshops to local artists. So now she’s only supervising the ones in Illyria and Hewn city, occasionally hosting an event.”

“I thought you mentioned she planned for that?”

Elain took a sip of her tea. “She did. She’s just been putting off for decades. She’s worse than Lucien, having her hands in so many pots.”

Flora couldn’t disagree. She picked her tea backup and drank the rest before it was too cold. It was only minutes later when she realized she could still feel the baby move but his kicking stopped.

“By the cauldron I thought he’d never stop. You’re a lifesaver, Lainy.”

She only smiled and took another sip of her tea. They settled into a nice silence but Flora’s mind spiraled. No longer focused on her baby’s excessive kicking, she couldn’t help but wonder further about Elain’s sisters. She hadn’t had time to ask. Or even think about it but now…

“Elain?” She hummed in acknowledgment. Flora smoothed out the fabric on her belly idly. “Have you explained to your sisters he might be Lucien’s?”

“I have.” She replied. “They are aware we have a different relationship, the four of us. They are understanding. You don’t know them as well as I do, but I promise they will not care. If they did, I would never let them hear the end of it.”

She accepted that response. Elain studied her for a moment, then reached over, placing her hand on Flora’s stomach.

“No matter what, this is our baby. We’ve been over this. I will love him no matter who fathered him.”

“I know, I know. Thank you.”

Elain gave her a soft smile and pulled back her hand to stand. She came over and gave Flora a quick kiss. She patted Flora’s shoulder.

“Come, let’s clean this up and go bother our husbands.” She said with a grin.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The time finally came and Flora labored off and on for days. The whole time Tamlin never left her side. Lucien kept the court running and Elain took over the kitchens by cooking. She’d brought all kinds of food every few hours to see if Flora would eat. Flora took most of the pastries. She joked the baby had a sweet tooth but they all knew it was just Flora’s preference.

It felt like an eternity passed before it came time to push. Their healer in the room supervised as planned. With Lucien and Elain flanking her sides, and holding her hands, Tamlin caught their child as he was pushed out into this world. Flora should have known the second she felt the head crown and Tamlin’s widened, what was about to happen. Of course she was too focused on screaming her own lungs out from the pain and pressure to realize it for what it was.

Their healer beside him cleaned out the baby's mouth and wails filled the room. Flora was finally handed a baby boy with the brightest red hair she’d ever seen in her life. And she laughed. She laughed and cried as she pulled her baby to her chest. All those months of worry, all the love for this tiny little being she grew in her body, and all the stress from labor hit her at once.

It was bittersweet but not in the way she expected or planned for. She didn’t realize Elain had moved off the bed until Tamlin was right beside her, hands cupping her face as he kissed her forehead then her lips. He was crying too but there was no sadness in his eyes. No words were exchanged; they weren’t needed. It was their healer who finally intervened, moving Tamlin so her assistant could take the baby to clean up and she could take over for the rest of the process. Flora looked over to see Lucien and Elain still by her side. Both of them had red eyes also.

“We have a baby,” Flora choked out, tears renewed. Both of them grinned at her.

“We do,” Lucien laughed through his tears.

They both gave her a long kiss each before the healer shooed them out to give Flora some space. They all agreed when she first became pregnant that no matter what, she wanted Tamlin by her side during the first few hours of recovery. She still felt guilty sending Lucien out, knowing what she knew now.

The guilt didn’t last long when she felt like she had to push again.

Tamlin was utterly smitten. Flora watched him cradle their baby in his arms while the head healer made certain everything else was gone and felt around her stomach. He was so gentle, like he was afraid he would break him. The healer finally took the baby back to show Flora how to feed him. Once he was settled, they cleaned up and Flora moved into their room.

After some time with just her and the baby, Tamlin came back to join her on the bed. She also finally realized how exhausted she was. Being back in her own bed, with her baby calm had relaxed her heavily. Tamlin put their son in the cradle by the bed and crawled up next to her. They were silent for a long time, so much she almost fell asleep with Tamlin rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. His soft voice pulled her back from sleep.

“Flora?”

“Tam.”

“How do you feel?” He was still stroking her knuckles nervously.

“Exhausted.” She knew that’s not what he meant. “Numb. I worried so much. I was so anxious. Now it’s over and I don’t feel anything.”

“Look at me,” he pulled back and tilted her chin up gently. His sad green eyes pleaded with hers. “The second you start feeling upset or overwhelmed, you tell me. Because you will- you just had a baby, our baby. Your body might be in shock.”

He let go and she nodded. “I know. I promise. I love you.”

“I love you,” he kissed her forehead. “Do you want to bring Lu and Lainy in? Or do you want to rest?”

“They can come in. They need to meet their son proper.” She grinned when she said that. Their son. The four of them.

“I’ll get them.”

Tamlin went through the door to the nursery and shortly came back with Lucien and Elain right behind him. After a few exchanges of kisses with Flora, Lucien took the babe first. Elain came and sat by her while Lucien stood, rocking the baby gently in his arms.

Then his brows furrowed, confusion etched in his face. “Are we sure he’s mine?”

“That’s exactly what Beron said when you were born,” Tamlin replied immediately, causing Flora and Elain to snort with laughter.

“No, I mean it,” Lucien replied through his own chuckles. “His eyes are green.”

“No, they aren’t,” Flora replied.

She had stared at her son the whole time she had him and fed him. Not once did she notice his eyes being green when he opened them. Elain got up and Lucien lowered him for her to look. Shock went over her face.

“Flora, they’re green.”

They brought their son over to her. She frowned as she took him and he grunted from being passed around. It took a moment for him to open his eyes again. Flora’s mouth fell open. Her son’s eyes were green. Tamlin’s green.

Tamlin looked down at their son with a soft smile. “The Mother has a sense of humor. When we said our baby she knew we meant it.” He sighed and looked at his wife. “Do you still want to wait? Before we tell your parents he’s here?”

“Gods yes.” Flora’s parents always meant well, but were so overbearing sometimes. “I need a few days before my mother descends upon the manor. I’m also going to need all three of you here to explain this.” She smoothed her son's red hair gently.

Along with overbearing, they weren’t understanding of her relationships. They only kept their mouths shut thanks to Tamlin being High Lord. Elain’s sisters understood. Lucien’s parents understood a little too well, considering who his father was. Flora was going to have to mentally prepare for the explanations she’d have to provide. Elain pulled her from her thoughts, moving her mate to sit beside Flora.

“Have you picked the name?”

Elain looked between her and Tamlin with her big doe eyes, innocently trying to hide her excitement. She’d been begging them to tell her what they picked for weeks. A small list was made by the four of them and from there, her and Tam picked two weeks ago.

“Yes Lainey,” Flora bumped her forehead gently against Elain’s. “We’re going with Ezryn.”

“Not the grumpy one,” Lucien exclaimed albeit playfully.

Before Flora could even scold him, Ezryn grunted and shuffled in his swaddle. It would have been perfect timing if his hair hadn’t changed from bright red to brown. Her eyes widened as she just stared at her baby, silence between the four of them deafening. It was finally Elain, who said something.

“Oh he’s going to be a rascal.” She covered her mouth and looked at her mate.

Then Flora laughed again. Laughed and cried like she had when she held him for the first time. The whole time she was worried about his hair and he changed it. Which meant her worries, her acceptance of her fate, was all a waste. Tamlin was laughing too, his head on her shoulder.

“He’s worse than you,” she wiped her eyes, turning her head to her husband. “By the mother he’s only a few hours old.”

“I still think he’s Lucien’s,” Tamlin chuckled, which sent Lucien howling.

Ezryn did not like that. To be fair to him, his little fae ears could only handle so much. Tamlin took him, rocking him gently in his arms. Lucien and Elain both made their exit, promising to come back with dinner later so Flora could rest. By the time he was settled again, Flora was also nearly asleep.

“He’s going to be a menace,” she whispered after Tamlin put their son in his cradle.

“He’s our menace.” Tamlin got in the bed with her. “His powers are just fluctuating because he’s a newborn. They’ll taper out in a day or so.”

She nodded and yawned. She then snuggled up to Tamlin to try and rest, though her mind raced.

“Will you check on Lucien later?” She whispered. “I’m worried. We all thought…”

“I will, I promise.” He took her hand that laid on his chest and gently squeezed it. “I think he’s fine, but I will ask Lainy to keep an eye on him. Today was a lot for all of us.”

“It was.” She yawned again. “Thank you.”

Silence fell between them. She let Tamlin brush his fingers through her hair until she finally fell asleep.

#Theyhadababyitsa[redacted]#that is a deep cut joke #pregnancy fic #Tamlin/Flora #Tamlin/Flora/Lucien/Elain #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #tamlin #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d7 #Spring Time Affairs #Polycule Tam Lu Lainy Flora #Tamlin/OC

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skiesofrosie · 25 days

Text

all is fair, but matters of the heart

joe liebgott x ofc (amy calloway)

summary: joe doesn't quite know why he's even fighting the war anymore, until she starts to give him reason.

word count: 6.7k+ words

a/n: this is a long one, so i don't know if anyone would want to read it, but if you do, then do enjoy. all characters based only from the show. oh, and ps. these photos do not belong to me. :)

1942

Joe Liebgott is a reckless man disguised in a fight for honor.

perhaps, it's the notion that he has nothing to lose. if fate decides he should take a bullet through the heart, than his mother had six others still beating.

it’s not that he believes his life to be disposable, it just seems he was meant for more than to sit behind a wheel and drive a yellow cab. though, the smiles that would linger on his customers’ faces when they shut the door as they leave, always drew a smirk of satisfaction to his lips. Joe was an expert at bringing laughter to the table.

but there was something untamed in the depth of Liebgott’s soul, and he figured the war would be the key to unchain it from its cage. it was the mask he was looking for, a place where he could ravage against an enemy because the lines of good and bad were nowhere to be found.

many will say that Amy Calloway is soft-spoken, elegant, and revoltingly kind — everything that the war is not. there were no more men in Easy Company to question her placement. nobody would say it, but the thought would linger in the back of all of their minds: that a woman, a small and reserved one at that, is assigned to be their medic and last more than ten minutes on the battlefield.

but she will not let them prod at her flames with gasoline on their fingers.

everyone thought it, but only Joe would say it.

“and the woman has barely said anything since she got here,” he rants over lunch, mouth full of spaghetti that's spitting out to Webster, who flinches in distaste. it didn’t help, Web thinks, that Joe has the tendency to speak like there's a microphone in his lungs. “if she goes, that’s another loss for E company, and another medic down. fuckin’ hell–”

there’s a reason she keeps her composure intact. the Calloways spanned generations through the military. her own father had fought as a pilot in the first war, and her mother was a nurse, drafted at the same base where he was stationed. she told Amy the stories of quieter days, where daylight would be a welcome deception to the true face of volatile combat. of course, it is days like those her parents would sneak away, and in the doings of a weekend pass, they married and conceived Amy right in the middle of war.

but she also told her of the days when there wasn’t an inch one could go where blood did not stain the sterile floors, the white curtains and every leaf in a potted plant. it is in this chaos, she would say, that it is most important to remain patient with mankind.

“as a medic, you’d be gambling with their lives otherwise,” she remarked. “become too riled up to do your job right.”

of course, this excludes the fact if they are shooting at you.

that day in the cafeteria however, Amy is not yet weighed down by the tribulations of saving lives. they are not in the crossroads, so she can afford a little gamble.

Amy is seated just two tables down from Liebgott, letting the comfort of a silence in her fellow medic, Eugene Roe, speak louder than his obnoxious tongue. it's one thing to insult her capabilities as a medic, but it's another to base judgment on whether she would survive to her being a woman. she did not train for nine months to be berated by a man with an ego. when the words left his mouth, implications that she was a liability to the airborne infantry, the budding flame began to release its fumes in her blue eyes.

“Roe,” she calls, Eugene’s attention snapping to her. “i’m gonna get a second round.” he nods and pronounces he could use another plate too. oh, if only he had known he would get caught in a—albeit tame—crossfire.

and Liebgott dares to lock eyes with Amy, winking as her figure approaches his table. “ah, and here she is, Easy’s very own princess.”

“i appreciate the honor, really,” she replies, nonchalant. Liebgott scoffs, and he is about to blurt another unremarkable comment when she snatches the mic from his chest, “perhaps, i don’t say much, especially to you, because i don’t waste my breath on people who aren’t worth it.”

“the fuck did you just say to me,” he spat, nearly kicking his seat back. before he can even stand, Floyd grabs him by the shoulder and shoves him back down. the room is deafeningly silent, save for the clang of pots and pans in the distance. “jesus, Lieb,” Talbert says, exasperated, “you gonna square up with the woman?”

“looks like you’re ready to take it.” it is quite amusing what the choice of rebuttal could do to a man. his shoulders are tense, and his lips are pulled into a sneer. a smirk betrays her attempts at schooling how smug she felt. she pays no mind to the way his eyes fall to her lips while he licks his own clean. “you got anything else you wanna fucking say?”

“that you have to trust me,” she states, and his fingers that were about to lift a cigarette to his mouth pauses mid-air. “i wouldn’t be here, chosen for Easy if they weren’t damn sure i could keep your legs and your arms attached to your body.”

Joe is surprised to find no snark in her tone. it was no testimony to prove her case, just a statement of her belief. and despite himself, he is impressed at which she holds it with pride, cementing her position in black, permanent ink.

when Amy turns around, she closes her eyes for a split second longer than usual, and breathes out a sigh of relief. funnily enough, she was never one for confrontation. she laughs at the sight of Eugene, who is trailing close behind her, but darting his eyes to every corner of the room in pure discomfort.

it was misplaced to Joe, the scent of lilies and jasmines she left in her wake (but, of course, he barely noticed). he huffs in annoyance, but as the clock ticks by, the rowdy chatter starts to intrude into his head like noise pollution. he wonders if somebody had punched a hole in the roof, because an irrepressible feeling of guilt began to pour in and drown his cocky charade. and he knows Webster has caught on. his bunkmate took one look at Joe, shoving the spaghetti around silently in his plate, and began chortling to himself.

a whistle blowing stabs at his eardrums, and he groans when Sobel walks in. “Easy Company is running up Currahee!”

1944

there is a shift in Joe Liebgott, and not in the way he would expect.

he joined the infantry as a complete rascal, aimless with his gun so as long as it points to the enemy. whether in bar fights or with machine guns, and especially in the aftermath of D-Day, Joe is a walking grenade.

but there are a few instances, in the throes of his rage, when fiery strikes would perish into complete duds. and in each occasion, she was there.

ever since that day in Camp Toccoa, he had attempted to keep his distance. keyword: attempted, and failed. it is quite a feat to achieve, especially when he feels her presence like the sun, even as she shies away into the corner of a room. and joe may be a reckless man, but he’s hardly stupid. he knows there is something in the way she brings him serenity. in a place where the soil comes infused with blood, agony and finality, she was the lone flower that found the strength to bloom within it all. and in her roots are humility and grit — all things that holds the stem of her beauty.

truth be told, it is not like him to restrain from matters of the heart. people believe Joe to be a man who doesn’t think, only does. that he does not feel, simply acts. but the reality is quite the opposite. he drives himself into carelessness, oftentimes crashing into a dead end, because he feels too much. his rationality is uncaring when the question of fairness is at hand. and Joe—watching his friends, watching her, on the verge of death—feels that this entire war is the definition of unfair.

he keeps his distance from Amy Calloway, because if there is one thing he is careful of, it's to not make her fall for someone like him. and he knows she feels it too.

if not love, they both walk a tightrope—one end tells them both to just let it go, and the other begs them to take a chance.

they balanced a step forward when he felt the soft skin on her hands slip over his fist, back when they were on their way to England. in his defense, everyone was on edge on that ship, awaiting the hellfire; even more so than now, when sacrifice was something they just had to expect. and his outburst, because of course Joe had to throw a punch somewhere, was egged on by Guarnere running his mouth.

“Joe,” she whispered. “Joe,” she muttered, even quieter, but her lips felt closer to his ears. her presence overwhelmed him with the way she stood so close to his right, grabbing onto his biceps to force him down. despite the scowl on Bill’s face, and the three, maybe four other soldiers straining to keep him still, it was when he felt her fingers clasp over his own that he tampered the fire in his breath. “don’t let him get to you, he’s just being a fucking idiot.”

it was most difficult to not meet her eyes, what with the way he felt her breath on his neck.

they took another tip toe forward, when he spotted her clear as day, shrouded in a darkness thick with trees that strayed into an abyss, from about 100 meters away in Normandy. he’d like to say it was because of her glassy blue eyes, or her porcelain skin, but really, it's because he’d recognize that short stack figure of hers anywhere.

“flash!” Joe whisper-yelled, throwing his hands up when she whips her head around and points her rifle, laser sharp, at him. “Joe?”

Amy lowered her gun, her chest visibly rising and falling in a rush of panic. Joe managed to crack a light, teasing grin then, in hopes it would put her at ease, “i should report you for breaking the regime, Private Calloway.”

and it did, for a few seconds. taking a few steps in crunching leaves, she was about to retort—until gunfire cut her straight off.

hastily, they dropped to the ground, dragging their bodies against the soil with their elbows and fists, and found themselves hidden behind a tree. as they were clinging as close to each other as possible, the sides of their arms and legs trying to fight for cover behind the trunk, a single thought crossed Joe’s mind: this is the first time he has ever shown fear. and of course, he thinks, as the bullets stop flying, it’s in front of her.

in the name of fury, he was about to channel his fear into an air massacre with his gun. that is, until he heard the shaky exhale of her breath, stark in the eery quiet. and in knowing she was there, alive, by his side, he could already feel his rage slow down by a fraction.

“hey,” he stammered, leaving her side to crouch at her front, “are you hit anywhere?” he asked, because of course she’s not okay. she nodded a no, and closed her eyes to regain composure. before he could deliberate his actions, he reached a hand to cup her cheek, eyes scanning her face intently. “we have to keep moving, find the others.”

and there went the savage in his heart, tamed simply with her presence.

after Carentan

there is something about Joe, and the way his warmth seeps through her in waves.

Eugene would always say he was a wild one, and to be frank, his point has been proven one too many times. it was easy to let loose at camp, because everyone believed they were invincible—especially if you bulldozed through Sobel’s dictatorship. and she liked that he was never one to back down from a challenge. with each taunt he threw into her lane as they hiked up Currahee (“keep up princess,” “can see through your shirt, Ames,” “big steps short stack”), it sparked a flame in her body that made her legs pick up their pace.

but here they are, having scraped by Carentan with 65 casualties. they are most certainly not invincible anymore, and with her and Eugene being medics, they know that better than anyone else.

the war is changing everyone, but especially Joe Liebgott.

“you’ve seen better days,” she says, lightly teasing as she cracks his door open. at the sound of her entrance, he kicks his legs to sit up on his bed, setting the newspaper on his pillow. he huffs a single, mirthless laugh, and nods in what seems like annoyance, but Amy knows it’s not at her. “here, i got you some…well, i guess you can call it soup. god forbid he kills me for calling this shit.”

he chuckles, albeit soft, but genuinely at that. he turns to sit on the side of his bed, facing her as she takes the one right opposite. they are back in England now, taking residence in a hostel, somewhere in the countryside (they never really knew where they were). the rest of Easy Company were drowning their sorrows at the bar downstairs, but Joe, he had enough.

“not interested in watching the wolf pack rip apart a dartboard?” he questions, and she shakes her head. “probably for the same reason as you. i just need a break. Gene and I, we…went to go visit the wounded men.”

a thick silence hangs in the air when that sentence leaves her breath. it is usually comfortable with Joe, the quiet. the both of them need not say any words to feel safe when they’re next to each other. but this time, she knows there is a question stuck in his throat, one he isn't quite sure he wants the answer to.

“he’s okay,” she mutters, afraid to probe, but even Joe Liebgott is too tired to light up. “Tipper. he looks—“

“like piss?” he added, and she chuckles. it floats into his ear like the twitter of a nightingale, prompting his heart to start beating again, slow and steady. “like absolute shit. a little more than roughed up, but, he’ll make it through.”

he nods and his shoulders sag ever so slightly, feeling relieved at the news. he doubts Tipper would’ve made it if not for Amy, who sprung into action not even ten seconds after he yelled out for a medic. she was always there, and especially for him. and Amy knew, that if he ever called, she would run. there’s a clear tiredness in his eyes when she looks at Joe, and the spark in them clearly struggling, but she thinks them to be as beautiful as they were two years ago.

“you know,” he mumbles, all of a sudden, “you’re my fucking miracle.”

she was about to laugh, but it dies on her tongue when she sees him, looking nothing less than serious. in fact, with the quiver in his voice, he almost seems vulnerable.

Joe is still the same aggressive bloke who surprises her with his softer traits. the day she walked into the nurse wing back at Toccoa, paying visit when he broke his foot on a run, she nearly squealed with delight to find him flipping the pages to Frankenstein by Mary Shelley—one of her favorites. he had pretended to shove his book under the pillow then, as if to upkeep his feisty image. but that was the first time they laughed together, and they shivered in unison when they spoke of the monster.

the only books either of them can read in Europe are dusty, torn up papers they’d find beneath building rubbles. the same Joe who walked around with a permanent smirk now had a scowl almost always worn on his lips. his snarky words now stemmed from hatred instead of humor, and he was quick to anger, like poking a lion with a stick.

but, Amy knows she has a way of calming him down. in fact, everyone knows. if another time, she would have spent her nights overthinking the way she could always feel his brown-eyed stare from across the room, completely unwarranted. but Amy didn’t see it fitting to place gravity on what that all meant, at least not right now. it is better to just stay close to him, and be a shoulder he can lean on because the world has turned so, so vile. whatever she felt, it just wasn't important anymore.

her lips fall apart slightly at the intensity in his gaze. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” he says, rising to his feet slowly, “i don’t think i would be sitting here without you.”

“joe, you knows that’s not true,” she replies, a little unsure. craning her neck upwards as he closes the gap, slowly, from his bed to hers, she continues, “you’re a strong fighter. one of the best in easy, and that’s why you’re here.”

he doesn’t say anything to that, opts to kneel down on one knee instead. she is his lone flower, still heavenly beautiful even if a few of her petals have fallen. an unguarded smile breaks out on his face at the sprinkle of red dusting her cheeks. he reaches for her hands, the skin now much more coarse, unable to control the way his eyes keep darting to her lips.

“that’s not what i meant,” he murmurs, inching his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath clouding over. Amy is barely breathing at all. but as she finds herself pulling closer towards him, their lips barely grazing each other, a creak of the wooden floors ‘causes her to flinch back.

and it's a sound that would go unnoticed by Joe.

the door to his room slams open to reveal a floundering George Luz. “oh,” he jolts, a deer in headlights as he realizes to have interrupted a moment. “children,” he coughs, flustered by the way Joe is glaring at him. “we’re moving out.”

dread swarms the nerves she was feeling before, but as she looked back at Joe, quiet and deflated (and utterly heartbroken), she didn’t quite know which was worse.

the tightrope, now thinning and flimsy, had yanked them both backwards.

Bagstone

it’s rare that Joe, a man who seeks thrill, ever backs down. and for some reason, whenever he so chooses it winds up being the most unfortunate timing. the one time he’d hesitate to call on his opponent in a game of bluff, he would lose all his pennies. that one day after school, when he chose to bike home through the civilian route instead of his usual, dangerous back alley, and was met with an accident that’s left a scar on his right knee.

there's one mantra he keeps pinned to his forehead, one his mother ingrained in his mind: if you’re going to take a risk, then trust yourself to couch the fall. and Joe is hardly scared of a few broken bones.

he just wasn’t prepared for the insurmountable pain of a broken heart.

the scene rewinds in his mind like a broken tape, the way her body flinched at the touch of their lips. he wonders if it was in panic, or in pure regret. either way, he’d rather not know. and it reminds Joe that his soul is not made for love anyways, so he exerts his desolation by doing the most reckless thing of all—he avoids her. and this time, it doesn’t stop at trying.

it’s better this way, he decides. they were sitting ducks in the center of the war, and to be distracted, is practically asking to be hit.

of course, his resolve cracks just a little when disappointment storms in her eyes as he denies yet another shitty bowl of soup she’s saved for him. he knows he’s being a fowl idiot, when he pretends to be distracted with a book, or writings letters in his room, when she seeks a moment of his solitude. the day she found him, playing dice with Luz and Talbert, not even fifteen minutes after proclaiming to be busy for the nth time, she had stopped asking.

(she wonders if he sought her as an outlet in a moment of weakness. Joe wouldn’t do that, she tells herself.)

but the worst, to Joe, is when she stops reacting altogether. Easy has been shoved to the front lines of Bagstone, forced to make defense in the piercing, icy snow with no ammo and no winter gear. when he’d pass by Amy waiting in line for some chow, her lips chapped and skin faded, she would morph her discontent into a strained smile, and leave their conversation at hello. and what makes it even worse, is that he doesn’t have a right to be annoyed.

it’s better this way, he tells himself. cut the tightrope lose now, save them from any grief.

but it is in his attempts to cut his losses, that the most painful loss cuts through him. it never occurred to him, in the equation of his decisions, that she would get hit.

nothing would slice through Joe more then the screech of Amy’s voice, ripping through eruptive shells of 88s. his body immediately freezes, the sound of the artillery strike somehow muffling as he searches the distance. he runs, when hears another wretched scream tear through his ears, every fiber of his being set ablaze in total dread. he runs, even as a small piece of flak shoots through his shoulder. and when he sees her, laying, pulsing, with blood streaming out her neck—well, he never wishes to feel that anguish stab at his veins ever again.

“medic!” he yelled, from whatever is left in the back of his throat. “Roe!” he collapses by her figure, murmurs words of i’ve got you, sweetheart, i’m here. he grabs a piece of cloth, tucked in her red-stained jacket, then presses it at her neck as a poor attempt to slow the bleeding. screaming, falling trees, wailing orders, frantic footsteps, and Luz who runs towards them, they all swirl into a blur, because in that moment, the only thing existing is the sight of her inching closer and closer to a demise. “hey, hey,” he gulped, whispering, while his free hand strokes her hair as her eyes begin to flutter, “keep your eyes open for me.”

even in despair, her blue eyes are the most beautiful thing. to him they are as rare as a pearl that washes ashore into the sand. and even if from afar, he’d do anything to keep them blinking.

her hands are trembling, far too much in pain to fully move, but he knows how hard she's trying. he barely notices the way Doc Roe shoves him off, and when he does, he is too far in shock, his back glued to the snow. the flecks of white are barely traceable in scatters of ash and soil. it feels like the sky is falling, the darkness hovering over his nose with the glow of a meteor shower. he thinks he would be okay if it just swallowed him whole.

“Liebgott,” Eugene calls, grabbing at his uninjured shoulder. “Lieb, snap out of it,” he exclaims, and reality surfaces back into his mind. “we’re bringing Ames to the aid station, and we need to get your shoulder patched up. come on.”

before Luz can slip his arms under her body, Joe pushes him off to carry her himself, with Eugene on the other side. “we got you, Ames,” Eugene coaxes. “you’re holding up just fine, sweet girl.”

yes - his lone, beautiful flower that found the strength to bloom amidst an entire war.

Joe hops into the back of the jeep first, and the trio then lays her body across, with her head resting on his lap. her eyes are starting to flicker, darting at every corner, and her hands lightly flail, but they are just too weak and tired. he holds her chin with his thumb and index finger, and brings his head down close to her, occasionally jumping as the jeep roars through broken roads. “hey, beautiful,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “aren’t you a pretty thing,” feeling the ghost of a bitter smile on his lips.

she renders him speechless when her fingers, slowly raising and quivering, begin to trace softly at the shape of his lips. he feels a choke in his throat and is unable to restrain his emotions, letting a single tear fall from his eyes and down her skin.

he questions the world and its fairness, because Amy of all people, did not deserve this.

“she’ll be okay, Liebgott,” Doc Roe tells him, completely worn out. “she’s a strong woman, you don’t even have to worry.”

for a while, he wasn't permitted to abandon the front lines—the numbers were dropping, and Joe was one of their best. but everyone was worried about him. he was the resident firecracker of Easy Company; confident on the battlefield, and spared no hesitation in combat. he was unafraid to cast his spitfire, even if it was against an officer. but like every other man, Liebgott had his limits. the spark in his eyes began to dissipate long ago, from the first sight of a fallen soldier. but he, compared to most men, held on the strongest.

Amy going down had just about forced him over the edge. the fire in Joe Liebgott had died the second he heard her scream. he felt only anguish, and it began to consume him.

he barely slept, he barely ate, he barely moved, and only did so when called to fight. some days after he’d stopped counting, having ignored the mush that Talbert left at his feet, Sergeant Lipton came creeping by his foxhole. and clearly, word has travelled on the state of Joe, who was on the brink of delirium in the middle of a harsh winter. Lipton informed him that Captain Winters had requested him as a battalion runner. months ago, he would’ve refused in favor of the action. but this time, he perked up, knowing that could’ve been a few days to spend by her side.

“take about an hour and get yourself a hot meal,” Captain Winters ordered as he briefed him on his duties, back at headquarters. Winters was distracted by a map, as much as Joe was distracted with the field hospital. “do what you need to do.”

to hell with a hot meal, he thinks, making his way straight to the aid station.

the dead weight dissolves from his shoulders the second he sees her, back facing him, awake, and chatting with Doc Roe and another wounded Easy soldier, Skinny. the hospital is plenty gray and dull, and Joe had to keep from pulling a face at the lack of an eye in one of the men. but even so, the sight of her, alive, is enough to invigorate a few pulses in him. his feet are planted to the ground, arms bent against his waist. he lets his head fall downwards, closes his eyes and heaves a sigh.

“hey Doc,” Skinny says, groaning as he accidentally twists his broken leg, “Doc...think you can get us outta here before they move? i don’t wanna be stuck here when Easy’s rollin’ out.”

“you do that, and you’re gonna need to cut off your leg,” Eugene replies, lighting up a cigarette as Amy chuckles. a very luckily, small piece of shrapnel had busted a couple of bones in Skinny’s leg, before Amy got hit—they were sticking out as she drove him into town. “keep doing nothin’ for once Skinny, this is basically the Ritz Carlton.”

“so where’s my fuckin’ champagne?” he gestures mockingly. she snorts at that, “i’m sure Malarkey can pull something out of his ass.”

“hopefully not a fucking bullet,” Eugene mutters. “isn’t that the golden shot?” Skinny adds, “you’re practically Easy royalty.”

she takes a good look at Eugene. the bags under his eyes have turned purple, the skin on his fingers are tearing and bruised, and though he was always quiet, now he seems more distant. now that Amy is down, he's the only medic keeping those boys intact. but there is no use in pointing it all out, not unless he wants to speak first. there is nothing that can be done either way.

“what,” Eugene asks, speaking under his breath, “i think i can make front cover on news looking this god damn handsome, don’t you?” she would’ve shoved him if not for the bandage that was wrapped tightly around her neck, and weaved through her arms. sometimes it was hard to breathe in them, but perhaps, it was the better than having the flesh in her neck spill out. it is a miracle that it's not that.

Skinny scoffs, shaking his head as he stares at his broken leg. “nah doc, i’m the prett— Liebgott.”

scrutinized, is what Joe feels when all three of them whip their heads to face him clearly. with the way she furrows her eyebrows, looking concerned all over, it was clear he— “look like shit. damn, 88 got yer face or something,” Skinny jokes, and Amy rolls her eyes. she would’ve shoved him too for that.

Eugene nods at them then, standing up to take his leave. “alright,” he says, “rest up both of you. and don’t try to get outta here before you can.” as Eugene turns around and makes small talk with Joe, she cannot help the way her eyes fall taking in the sight of him. if she thinks Gene looks exhausted; well, Joe looks deathly pale.

“you’re not taking care of yourself,” is the first thing Amy says when he takes the chair Eugene was seated in. he chuckles at the observation, but it's empty, lacking in amusement. “Joe, when’s the last time you’ve properly eaten? and your shoulder, how’s it feeling?”

he scoffs, feeling something between annoyed, and a spill of warmth. “shit Amy, you’re wrapped up like a fuckin’ mummy and you still gotta fuss over me. how bout ya let me worry about you this time? i'm at your service, princess.”

“hey look at me,” she gestures to herself, as much as she could in those bandages anyway. “i’m sitting up, i’m talking, i’m not fuckin’ sliced up like Toye and Guarnere. jesus. i’m basically as good as new, Joe. do you know what’s the first thing Guarnere said when he got here? ‘hey Amy darling, i always knew i’d end up in bed right next to ya!’ blown off leg be damned.”

despite the mental kick he sends Bill up his ass, Joe can’t help but laugh at how comical she's acting—it was always the other way around, him scouring every excuse to make her laugh. at the crack of his snickers, Amy smiles at him too. she's always loved the sound of his laugh, but it has become so rare, that each time he does, she tries to memorize every single note to replay it again and again.

“they keeping you both in check in here?” he asks, tipping his head at Skinny, who's just been floating in the background of them two. Skinny nods, “Doc’s right, this is basically Ritz Carlton. i got nurses at my beck and call, they bring food to my bed, what else could a man ask for?”

Joe breathes a laugh, but as he looks to Amy, he fails to catch his breath. she is looking at him with such tenderness, and her smile grows wider as he stares back, at a loss of what to say. he doesn't know if it's appropriate, considering the way he’s ignored her for weeks. he thinks that Amy shouldn’t even be bothered with him. but no, she’s looking at him like he’s the first taste of rainfall to her drought.

“why did you stop talking to me Joe?” she questions lightly. there is no bitterness in her tone, just a plea to say the truth. a truth that they both know, but have allowed to go unspoken. and now that she is really asking, he finds it hard to make an answer—bare his imperfect heart, and hand it to her, even though he knows that is where it will be safest.

his head hangs low, feeling ashamed at his choice to be a coward. but she moves her fingers to tilt his chin up, forcing him to meet her eyes. as she begins to stroke his cheek, he finds himself leaning into her touch without even thinking, raising his hand to meet hers and hold it in its shape.

(“you have to trust me,” she once said.)

finally, he speaks his mind. “i thought i was doing us both a favor. you’re just everything good, and you deserve someone who’s not…who’s not me. i don’t know how to do any of this, i don’t know how to give you the best and even then i think you deserve so much fucking better than that. so i, i chose to surrender. keep a distance between you and me, as if i could live without you. and i think i’ve always known this, and i've never admitted it to myself, but i’ll admit it now—i really, really can’t live without you.”

there was something untamed in Joe Liebgott, back when he signed his name in 1942. he joined the war, ready to release that vigor and channeled his rage into the way a single bullet would zip through the air and pierce through the enemy. he was a seeker of thrill like moth to a flame, but the longer they spent in Europe, the more his resolve crumbled into the remnants of the friends he had lost. now, over two years later, he has become a fragment of his old self, finding it hard to reason why he still bothered shooting the rifle. he was tired of it, tired of all the noise, all the pain, and found the only thing that gave him adrenaline was the sound of her laugh, and the feel of her touch.

and it is her touch, in that moment, that holds his left hand tenderly, bringing it to her lips to kiss the back of it. “Joe, you are so much more capable of love than you allow yourself to think.”

Joe is trying to survive, because he knows his mother is waiting at her front porch for his return. he is trying to survive, because fuck, he actually enjoys the ease of driving people around. he loves making them laugh and seeing the city pass him by. he is trying to survive, because he wants to find out who Joe Liebgott is without the war, placed deep into his mind.

but he needs to survive, because when he gets back to the States, he is going to buy Amy that lily and jasmine perfume she always used to wear back at Toccoa, spritz it all over his home until she's ready to move in with him herself. but right now, that’s reaching too far.

he is no longer fighting the war just to fight, he thinks, while inching forward to press a soft, warm kiss to her lips. this time, the chaos of the aid station did not make her flinch, 'cause there was only him.

no, he is fighting to survive, for her.

1945, Austria

“is there a reason you call me a little flower, Joe?” Amy asks.

“because come sunshine or rain, you manage to keep being so fuckin’ beautiful,” Joe answers, shrugging.

she blushes at that. Joe, whose face is half covered by a new comic his sister has just mailed in, smirks in satisfaction. there is no doubt who has the upper hand of turning the other into mush—it was Amy, and it annoys him that she never even has to try. whenever he gets a chance to make her even a little flustered, he takes it, and he rubs it in her face.

his attention flickers back to the comic for a second, before he looks at Amy again. Amy, though busy with her coffee and crossword puzzle, darts her eyes to him and back playfully, throwing in a wink—and he laughs at that. setting his comic book down, he walks the close distance to her wicker chair. their hotel balcony they're sat on faces the mountainous, green view and it's so glorious that it seems more like a painting. there are birds flying through the skies, a few of the Easy boys yelling rambunctiously through some baseball, and hot water in the showers.

“Joe, what—” her thoughts are cut off when she’s engulfed by both of his arms, muscles in his tank flexing as he carries her whole, and plops himself down in her chair, before cuddling her on top. “what?” he says, smirking as she chuckles, before settling back into his arms. it feels surreal, to Joe and Amy both, being able to bask in the quiet of each other, in the comfort of their own room (well, sneaking into each other’s rooms). they didn't have to wake up breathless in the face of an artillery strike, and they didn’t have to steal kisses in the cover of the night. everyone knew about Amy and Joe (especially Skinny, god bless him having to watch them kiss), but they were in the middle of a war, and about to be promoted on the basis of their discipline.

in fact, it felt wrong sometimes, taking advantage of the luxury in this place. but they’ve also just dragged their minds through Haguenau, Thalem, and Landsberg, where they found that the scale of brutality committed was much, much bigger than they figured humanely possible. perhaps Colonel Sink thought they deserved a reminder of what the world was like when it was still good. it all felt wrong, but everyone preferred to be imposters in the sunshine, than burn alive underneath it.

“you told me,” Joe asks, caressing her waist and her thighs lightly, “that you wanted to open a little bookstore when this is all over.”

fiddling with the necklace around Joe’s neck, she nods. “what about it?”

“where?” he asks again. Amy notices the way his tone is not only questioning, but nervous. “where would the dream Calloway bookstore be?”

she sits up slowly, placing a hand on Joe’s chest which he cradles with his own, rubbing his thumb back and forth on her skin. “i don’t think i’ve really thought much about what i’m gonna do beyond this place Joe…i, i don’t know. anywhere back home’s gonna be better than here. i just need to get away.”

“home?” Joe asks, “you’ll go back home?”

(my home, Joe thinks, is wherever you are.)

the sound of the scenery washes over their reverie. the afternoon laze is settling in, the men that were playing baseball now dispersing, remaining a distant sound from where Amy and Joe's room was. none of that matters to Amy though, because she's focused solely on Joe, slowly grabbing his hand and raising to kiss the back of it. it reminds him of their time, withering away in the freezing cold of Bagstone, but he shoves that thought in the back of their mind. they are in Austria now. and though they were awaiting on orders for the Pacific, for now, they were safe.

“home is the where the heart is,” she marvels, her smile growing. “so yes Joe,” she continues, reaching into his heart, “i’ll be going wherever home takes me.”

thank you for reading.

#band of brothers #band of brothers x ofc #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #joe liebgott x ofc #band of brothers x oc

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siriuslyshouldislytherin · 8 months

Text

Two Halves of a Whole

(Part 1)

Pairing: Sirius Black × Potter!reader

Summary : Y/N Euphemia Potter is the younger child to Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. James introduces Y/N to his gang on the very first day of her school. As years pass , Sirius Black , James' best mate starts falling hard for his best mate's sister. Will she feel the same or will it be a one-sided love story ? Read more to find out.

A/N: PS: I am gonna publish this in 10 or so parts spanning over the 7 years of their Hogwarts education. I will post the link to the next part in this part when I publish it. So do check it out.

Warning : mostly fluff , James being protective , and a little angst between James and Sirius , Remus being a brotherly figure to the reader.

Navigation / Part 1 / Part 2

The Potters'

The name was embedded in red and gold on the wooden plate which was hung on the front door of the house.

Inside , lived two children , James and Y/N with their parents , Fleamont and Euphemia.

Fleamont and Euphemia were proud parents to both their kids. James being the elder one of the two , Y/N being the younger one.

Fleamont and Euphemia were way more protective towards Y/N as she was a premature baby and fragile at birth. She had been in the New-born care unit in St. Mungo's for a total of two months before her mother and father had brought her home. Back then , Euphemia had cried onto Fleamont's shoulder everytime she saw her little one in a little glass box , her body inserted with tubes.

Once , James had seen this and since that very moment , he had made a mental note to himself , always protecting his sister and being her guardian angel.

"Mum ! Dad ! Jamie ! Where are you all ?" She asked around the house.

Upon no response , she entered the living room only to get startled by the sudden burst of confetti on her.

"Happy birthday Niff !" James ruffled her hair and brought her into a bear hug.

"Happiest birthday , Little one !" Her mother and father wished her at the same time.

She freed herself from James and thanked him as she went to her parents to give them their fair share of hugs.

"Thanks mum ! Thanks dad !" She exclaimed.

Fleamont and Euphemia started peppering kisses all over her face as she giggled.

~time skip~

"Niff , you have to walk straight through the barrier and you will find yourself on the platform. Look at me and James , how we do it , then you can follow us with your mother. Alright ?"

"Yes dad. " She looked at her mother who , in turn , gestured her to look at her brother and father.

Y/N walked through the barrier with her mother as she stood on the Platform 9¾ with her trunk in the trolley and her owl Ozwald hooting happily in the cage.

Her head snapped at the voice of the sound of a trunk getting loaded onto the train , when she saw James and Fleamont load James' trunk onto the train.

She picked her trunk and started walking towards the train , trying to not fall flat on her face. Her mother wasn't very happy with Y/N dragging her trunk on her own because apparently , according to Euphemia , 'The Trunk is too big for Y/N. '

"Let us help you , dear. " Fleamont requested her as James scuttled over the the other side , to help her.

"I can - help myself - dad !" She dropped her trunk onto the train and heaved a sigh of relief.

Y/N heard the train horn as other students gradually boarded the train.

"Now come and give your old mum-dad a hug !" James and Y/N ran towards their parents as she said ," you aren't old mum-dad. "

Fleamont and Euphemia both took Y/N to the side as they crouched down to her eye level.

"Mum ! Dad ! Don't cry now. Else I will cry and then Jamie will never let me live through it !"

"My baby is finally going to Hogwarts !" Euphemie wiped away her tears.

Y/N gave both of them a kiss on their cheeks and went off towards the train.

Euphemia and Fleamont turned to James.

"James , take care of your sister. Never leave her alone and most importantly write to us twice a week. "

"Don't you worry , mum and dad. I will always be there for her. " James smiled at them as both of them hugged the boy and he ran towards the train.

"Niff , stick to me. No loitering around. "

"Why ?" She whined.

"Because I say so. "

"But you are going to find your friends and have fun with them. So let me find kids of my age. "

"I am going to include you in all the fun I do. Besides my friends are gonna be just an year elder than you. So do as I say. "

James pulled his trunk down the corridor and entered the 2nd compartment.

Y/N followed him as she saw her brother and 3 other boys hugging each other.

"Come in , Niff ! These are my friends. Remus Lupin , Peter Pettigrew and -"

"Sirius Black. " A boy with jet black hair stretched his hand forward for Y/N to shake but James glared at him , causing him to pull his hand back.

"I am -"

"Y/N Euphemia Potter. " The three boys spoke together.

"You know about me ?"

"Ofcourse. We know everything about you. That - that how - dear -"

"How much of a pain you are - for me to handle !" James said just to tease her.

"Jamie !"

"Oh no ! Absolutely not ! He loves you so much that he can write a bloody Encyclopedia on you." Sirius said.

"Can you really turn a matchstick into a needle ?"

"Oh yes I can. " Remus said to her as her jaw dropped literally on the floor.

"Can you perhaps show me how to do it ?"

"Yeah sure !" Remus pulled out a matchstick out of his pocket as he did a fair bit of wand work and turned it into a needle.

"Jamie !! Did you see it ?"

"Calm Niff. It is about few months that you can do it too. "

She looked at the four of them with a very excited expression , her and Sirius's gaze lingering for a bit longer.

As she wanted to do it on her own , she insisted Remus to teach her.

"No ! It doesnt work for me !" She whined.

"You're doing it a bit more aggressively , Niff !" Remus said.

"What did you say , Lupin ?" James said turning at Remus.

"What ?" Remus deadpanned.

"Only I get to call her Niff !"

"Stop entering your overprotective brother mode , Jamie !"

They quarelled for a few more minutes as Sirius looked at her with a grin on his face. Peter noticed that and said ," Stop smiling Sirius. They're fighting. "

Sirius snapped out of his trance as he looked between both of them and said ,"I wasnt smiling , Peter. "

~time skip~

"James , I think it is about time you should change into school uniform. "

"There still is half an hour. " James said.

"James , mate she is right. Even I have changed. "

James thought about it for a moment before standing up ," if you say so. " He fetched his clothes and headed out of the door.

"This is not going to end well. Think about it again. "

"Remus , don't be a spoilsport. This is just a prank. " Sirius spoke.

The prank they were going to play was a silly little one - as per Sirius and Y/N. Sirius was going to have his arm around Y/N's shoulder and mutter something in her ear as she was supposed to giggle and look at him.

"Sorry mate , got late -" James stood shaken as he saw Sirius and Y/N sitting in such close proximity , his arm flung over Y/N's shoulder as she giggled looking at him.

James took two steps towards Sirius and grabbed him by the collar.

"I-told-you-not-to-go-near-her -"

"Stop it , James ! Leave him and first look at your sister. "

James turned around as soon as he heard Remus only to find Y/N standing between Remus and Petter and hyperventilating due to crying.

"Niff ! Don't cry. I am here and I am not angry on you ! " He stepped towards her as her figure grew smaller , holding onto Remus out of fear.

"James , sit down. Sirius , you too - Y/N sit and have this. " She looked up , at him and accepted the piece of chocolate he gave her.

Y/N looked at Sirius and mouthed him a 'I'm sorry' and he returned it with an assuring nod , mouthing her 'are you okay ?'. She in-turn mouthed him a Yes.

When the train came to a halt on the Hogmeade station , their trunks unloaded , James turned to her and said ," I'm sorry , Niff. I didn't mean to hurt you in any way. But you know how I am when it comes to you. I'm so so so sorry. "

"It's okay , Jamie. Talk to Sirius. Okay ?"

She gave him a smile and followed Hagrid as she was waiting for the Hogwarts doors to open for her , waiting for a whole new world which was filled with fun , excitement and ofcourse - studies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The banners and dividers aren't mine. The credits go to @cafekitsune. Thanks a lot for these banners. They helped me a lot.

Taglist :

@gaminggirlsstuff @turvi @dramaisthelifebloodofgoodstories

#harry potter #sirius orion black #james potter #potter family #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius×potter!reader #siriusblack×potter!reader

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rukia-writes · 2 years

Note

good morning/night :)

I hope you are well :) if you have time I wish to request odin x wife nordic goddess reader who wants to have another child (she is the mother of loki and thor) because her children are already adults and she loves her children loki and thor very much but she she misses having a little boy by her side and depending on her (with smut please <3) ps: your work is the most beautiful I've ever read, you really have a lot of talent <3 thanks for writing such wonderful things <333

Odin x (fem) Norse goddess

Warnings: 18+, no minors, pregnancy, breeding kink, rough sex, slow sex, sex, dirty talk.

A/N: I hope you like it ♥️ and thank you for your kind words they truly made my day.

“Perhaps, you just have baby fever.”

Odin, the all father, sat on his throne while talking to his wife who had just mentioned to him that she wanted another son to take care of.

Thor and Loki were now grown gods and were on their own doing whatever they saw fit, leaving (Name) alone with no baby boy to take care of. Odin heard her plea for a son but simply concluded that she was having a baby fever of sorts and that these feelings would pass in time.

However, (Name) was adamant that she wanted a baby boy to take care of and that it wasn’t baby fever. So, Odin agreed to wait for a few weeks and really see if that’s what his wife wanted. As the days passed, Odin noticed his wife still brought up the topic and still seemed to want another son.

Even when he was out doing business he would get hand written messages from his wife simply saying “Come back home soon, I’m very lonely.” Odin could read between the lines and sighed at how persistent his wife was but he also loved it.

Once night fell in Asgard, and Odin was sure everyone was asleep he walked into the bedroom the two shared and asked twice “Are you sure? Are you sure you want another son?” Odin asked being absolutely certain his wife wanted a baby, only to be met with a naked (Name) infront of him in all her beauty.

Odin always loved his wife’s body and it was truly his weakness.

With that, Odin knew he was in for a long night. Which was fine with him as he wanted a few more children of his own and if they were all going to end up as strong as Thor then Odin was certain he would be just as pleased. But of course, he first had to perform his duties as a husband.

Hunnin and Muninn were in a seperate room talking to each other waiting for Odin to come back but as time passed the two birds became tired and drifted off to sleep. In the morning, Odin still hadn’t showed up and the birds were getting anxious. That is until, Thor walked by telling them Odin would be busy for awhile, maybe all week. While Hunnin and Muninn were grateful Thor told them the news they asked what he could be doing, Thor only answered with “You’ll see soon enough.”

While (Name) was the one who wanted a baby, Odin was the one who make sure his wife got what she wanted, and so Odin wouldn’t let his beautiful wife leave until he was sure she had baby inside her. Over three days the sex consisted of slow yet passionate sex between the two and was the romantic yet sensual part. (Name) seemed to like this part of her husband as Odin was quite romantic and knew just what to say and when to say it. More importantly, he loved it when his wife took control and was ontop of him while pleasing herself on his thick and well endowed cock.

Even as many times as the two have had their passionate nights together, it always seemed like the first night of (Name) losing her virginity to the Norse god and of course he never failed fill her womb full of his cum afterwards. Which something (Name) looked forward to knowing Odin was going to leave her body shivering for more and more of his cum.

Of course, Odin left his wife feeling loved and wanted but he made sure not to waste a single drop of his cum as he now wanted her pregnant. At first, while Odin didn’t think (Name) wanted more children now it Odin made it his duty to make sure his wife would become pregnant soon. Which led to the next three days being completely opposite to the previous three days.

Odin became rougher while still retaining his love for his beloved wife, but he was rougher with everything he did. From the way his thrusts became rougher and faster, from the way he spoke causing (Name) to feel as though she was losing her mind. Rather, her mind was going numb as Odin fucked his wife with everything he had, no different from how Thor came into the world. However, knew his wife could take him, only she could. Odin chose her after all.

The sexual vigor Odin performed was better than most gods in Valhalla as he knew (Name)’s weak spots by memory and loved hitting them with his cock, no matter the position Odin made sure his wife was comfortable while getting dicked down by him and of course missionary and doggy style was part of it. Simple positions but the penetration was deeper and for sure (Name) felt all the sperm coming close her cervix. The feel made her mind numb as she felt so full from her husband’s cock and cum, which suited Odin fine as he enjoyed watching (Name)’s eyes roll back, toes curl, feeling her shiver, enjoying the tightness of her cunt as they climaxed together and of course hearing the words “I love you.”

Whenever a servant knocked on the door, they were met with both Odin and (Name) saying “Come back later.” (Name) more so than Odin as he was enjoying his wife’s cunt to really care about anything else and even then it was hard for the queen of Asgard to respond as it apparent Odin had a tight hold on her cunt. Especially, when the words “daddy” came out of her lips, a button that (Name) knew that if pushed there was no coming back from as she throughly enjoyed Odin’s filthy talk and rough sex. While (Name) had the daddy kink, Odin had the breeding kink, both coming to a clash in their bedroom making for a wild yet loving sexual encounter.

Back and forth the two had their filthy talk as Odin simply fucked his wife doggy style on their bed while pulling her hair, “I can feel your cock pounding my pussy, so hard-cum inside me again sir-daddy, I need it."only for Odin to respond with “if you think, even for a second I’m pulling out…” there was no need for Odin to continue as (Name) received her wish as Odin filled his cum inside his wife’s cunt to the brim as both reached their orgasm in a mind numbing manner. Any tears (Name) had Odin gently wiped them all and then kissing her cheek.

Months later, Valhalla welcomed the arrival of a bright and cheerful baby boy named Baldr. On the day of delivery, the nurses and doctors claimed the boy was truly bright and cheerful. Odin was the first to hold his son and instantly knew the boy would do great things. Thor was the second and even though he didn’t say much it took everything Loki had to get his turn of holding him.

From the Greek pantheon to the Hindu pantheon all welcomed the cheerful baby boy, even Hades made a visit when he had time. Reminiscing on how his younger brothers were once as small he Baldr was. But of course, (Name) was the one love and dote on the baby boy the most. Now she had another son to love and dote on, three boys.

Being content, Odin knew his wife was happy now and that she would be content for awhile.

At least, until Baldr grows up and she wants another son.

🎃Rukia-Writes🎃

#Odin x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #record of ragnarok x reader

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depressedbagpipe · 2 years

Text

Silver (Prince Caspian x female!reader)

Epilogue

Words: 682 Warnings: none, maybe a little sad? A/N: so, this is it :( I wanted to properly finish this story by writing a short epilogue, also celebrating Ben Barnes' birthday today! thank you so much for giving me a chance, I really hope you enjoyed this story 💜✨🫶🏻 PS I may or may not have been thinking about a second part following The Voyage of the Dawn Treader... but I'll leave that up to you

Series Masterlist Previous chapter

Epilogue

Dearest Peter,

Twelve months. Your absence still hurts twelve months later. It’s gotten easier, indeed, but it still hurts nonetheless.

I’ve been writing letters to you all, even though I know you won’t read them. It makes me feel closer to you. I don’t know how much time has passed in our world, well, your world. For me, it’s been a year, yet it feels like a lifetime. So many things have changed since you left, and it still feels like you will all appear stumbling out of a tree in the woods any minute. But I know you won’t.

Caspian and I are together, officially. I wish you could’ve been there. Remember when you joked about walking each other down the aisle? You would’ve loved it, Trumpkin almost fell flat on his face carrying the rings. He swears he didn’t enjoy it one bit when we asked him, but even I know better. I know he misses Lucy, too. I was bouncing around with nerves, I couldn’t calm down at all. But it all went perfectly. Only you guys were missing.

We came back from our trip a few weeks ago. Life is peaceful, too. No wars so far, no poverty, no injustices. Caspian is an extraordinary king. He’s kind, he’s brave, he’s just, he’s loving. Narnia is thriving once again. Sometimes I look at him and see you. He always says I’m a great queen too, but I’m not so sure about that. I’ve been getting better, for sure, but the pressure is too much. I still need to get used to it, as well. But Caspian’s always there for me and wants me by his side.

Speaking of, he misses you all too. We talk about you all the time. He often asks questions about what we did in the old days. The Golden Age, they call it. Honestly, should they have seen us at Cair Paravel, I don’t think they would call it ‘golden’ anymore. Caspian asked me whether should we reconstruct Cair Paravel. I said no. I hope you don’t mind. That place belongs to you. The ruins remain, but the Narnians respect me enough not to wander around. I still do. At this point, it’s the only remainder that what we all had was real. I’ve moved on, but it’s the only memory I have of my family. Caspian’s been telling me about his father too. He’s mentioned a couple of times the seven lords that ruled alongside his father, and how they all disappeared after he died. A couple of rumors have been roaming around the lower port, about the evil that resides on the farthest island, but even Dr. Cornellious doesn’t know what to believe. Caspian says he will look into that, but that’s about it. We’re fine. I’m happy. He’s happy. That’s all I care about.

I truly hope you’re taking care of your siblings. I know it’s not fair, how you were forced to grow up quicker than the rest to become a father to them and a king to a world you didn’t know anything of. And I’m sorry that I can’t be there now, helping you through it. I still feel that pit in my stomach, you know, like a part of me is missing. It left with you that day.

Twelve months. Twelve months and one day, now, as it is getting late. Twelve months and one day since our lives changed completely, again. Twelve months and one day where you guys haven’t left my mind.

I really wish you guys are alright, that’s all that matters to me. Tell Susan I miss our talks. Tell Lucy I miss her hugs. Tell Edmund I miss our fights. Tell yourself I miss my best friend of all time.

Should you ever come back, Caspian and I will be here, waiting for you with open arms. You know, he’s even losing his accent, a little more every day. I guess he’s becoming one of us, at last.

Remember to chill, too. Stay safe. Love you.

Until we meet again,

The Queen of Narnia

The end

#prince caspian x reader #prince caspian #ben barnes x reader #narnia fanfiction #narnia #prince caspian movie #prince caspian fanfiction #ben barnes #bin bons #chronicles of narnia #prince caspian x you #prince caspian x y/n #narnia imagines

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theladyofdeath · 2 years

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The Viscount Who Loved Me {Sixteen}

TVWLM Masterlist

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.

Written alongside @snelbz

Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain - Feyre x Rhysand - Elain x Azriel x Gwyn

Summary: (see TVWLM masterlist!)

A/N: Thank you for reading! From now until the end, I'll be posting a chapter every night at 7pm EST! I cannot believe we are almost done posting this story. We hope you've been enjoying reading it as much as we've been enjoying writing it! x

ps this chapter includes two of my favorite scenes from the show...

Tag list is at the end. If you’d like to be added, please comment below or submit an ask. :)

Dear Readers,

Although I do love being a fly on the wall at all social events of the season, I have found that the best scandal can be found during an afternoon promenade. When in small groups, the people of the ton tend to speak more freely, not bothering to remember that others are just a few steps away.

It pleases me deeply.

Let us see what good gossip I come across today.

The Suriel

Summer had well and truly settled in Velaris, Elain decided, fanning herself as she and Cassian walked along the Sidra. Rhysand and Feyre had broken off on a stroll of their own and she hadn’t seen Azriel since they’d returned from Rhysand’s country home. Nesta was just a few paces back, her presence a balm to Elain, but something was still off about her older sister. She’d been acting strange ever since she and Cassian had announced their engagement and Elain idly wondered if it had to do with the fact that soon, she would be gone.

Once she and Cassian were wed, she would no longer live in Archeron house, with her sisters, as she always had. She would live with her husband, move into his home, an idea that thrilled her.

And terrified her at the same time.

As she tried to sneak a glance at Cassian, the sun blinded her. She squinted her eyes, staring up into the sky.

“I know it’s beautiful outside, but it’s unbearably hot during the day,” she said, fanning herself again. “I know we talked about having the ceremony in the gardens, but I fear the guests would overheat.”

Things were falling into place for the wedding, quicker than Elain had expected. Cassian, it turned out, had petitioned for an expedited marriage certificate.

The Queen herself had approved it.

In three days, she would be a wife.

In three days, she would Baroness Elain Nazari.

“We will make sure that no one overheats,” he promised her, strolling alongside her as the breeze from the Sidra cools them. “You will look lovely walking through the gardens in your wedding dress. I’ll have it no other way.”

Nesta let out a deep breath behind them.

Cassian’s shoulders tensed but they soon relaxed.

“I know you’ve been working hard to see that all is in order,” she assured him with a smile. “These next few days will pass too slowly.”

Cassian’s returning smile eased her worry. “Indeed. Are we still set for dinner with your father tonight?”

Lord Isaac Archeron had returned the night before and was set to stay until after the wedding ceremony. Elain was pleased, but it seemed she was the only one.

“Yes, of course,” she answered. “Father is thrilled.”

Cassian bowed his head. “As he should be. We are a good match, you and I.”

Elain opened her mouth to reply, but a man at her back caught her attention.

“Lady Nesta.”

Both Elain and Cassian turned around to find Eris Vanserra standing by Nesta, a sly smile on his mouth.

“Lord Vanserra,” she replied, curtly. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“And you,” he said, rocking on his heels. “You look as lovely as ever. I was hoping to join you on your stroll.”

Elain lifted a brow as Nesta hesitated, and when her older sister caught her eye, she urged Nesta forward.

“Certainly, my lord,” she said, and took his arm.

They continued to walk, Eris and Nesta trailing just behind them. Elain went on about the flower arrangements and her veil, hoping that Cassian was paying attention. Although he smiled and nodded, she feared his focus was elsewhere.

“Would you care for a trip about the lake?” She heard Eris ask. She turned to find Nesta hesitating, yet again, but she gave her a pointed look.

Nesta sighed. “Of course.”

Beside her, Cassian’s jaw ticked.

Elain frowned. “Are you alright, my lord?”

Cassian’s smile soon returned as if it had never vanished. “Yes, of course. I just realized I have not yet written my vows, is all.”

Elain gave him a forced smile. Hers had been written since she was thirteen. It didn’t matter who the man was that she would marry, she would make the same promises no matter what. Though, she would likely omit the part she added when she’d expected to be saying them to Graysen, the part about how he held her whole heart and always would.

Funny. He’d left it in pieces when he’d decided to marry Clare.

Lord Cassian was a far better match anyway.

“That’s alright, my Lord,” Elain replied, daring to lean her head against his shoulder. It was the most intimate thing she’d done with him and she worried it may have been too much as he tended again. “I’m sure they’ll come easily to you when you do.”

Eris had swept Nesta away and Elain could see them on the water, their boat milling about with the others in the pond. “Nesta hates the water, I’m glad that she accompanied the lord. I fear she’s lonely too often.”

“Yes,” Cassian murmured, following her gaze, noting how tense Nesta looked. “Why does she not like the water?”

“There was an accident when we were young,” Elain said, eyes shuttering. “We were swimming in a pond at our country home and Feyre swam out too far. Nesta saved her, but she’s never cared for swimming again.”

They were interrupted by more well-wishers before Cassian could ask anymore questions and by the time they made it around the pond again, Eris and Nesta were approaching the dock.

His focus on tying the boat up, Eris hadn’t noticed Nesta’s discomfort as he stood, fumbling with his knots. As the rope slipped for the third time, Nesta cleared her throat and said, “Lord Vanserra, if you don’t mind steadying the boat, I’ll step out so you can—”

“I’m almost done,” he interrupted, giving her a dashing smile.

A hand was suddenly in Nesta’s line of vision and she found Cassian waiting for her in the glaring sun. Her throat bobbed as she took his hand. Helping her out of the boat, his hand lingered after her feet were back on the wooden dock. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Nazari, shouldn’t you be with your fiancée?” Eris asked, eyes darting to where he’d left her. She was speaking with a few ladies of the ton, all three married within the last few seasons. They’d said they’d give her a few tips of what to expect in the coming weeks, and Cassian couldn’t stand watching Nesta’s unease in the small boat any longer.

He pointedly ignored him.

“Are you alright?” Cassian asked Nesta, quietly.

Cheeks flushed, she nodded. “Yes, quite.” As if realizing her hand was still in his, she snatched it back to her side. Cassian, shocked and cold by the absence of her touch, stumbled back a step to get that distance she so eagerly wanted, and ran right into Eris at the edge of the dock. Unsteady from finishing tying the little rowboat to the dock, Eris fell into the water.

Taking Cassian in with him.

Nesta’s body stilled as she watched them disappear and there was a collective gasp from those that witnessed it.

Elain included.

When Eris came back up, he shook out his hair and helped himself back on the dock, bidding Nesta a good day as he walked away.

But Cassian came up with far more anger. She wondered if he was embarrassed or simply hated having wet clothes, but Nesta watched his hazel eyes go dark as he mumbled curses under his breath. As he approached the dock, he yanked off his jacket and slapped the wet fabric against the wood. When he pulled himself up, Nesta could see every damn muscle of his flex beneath the thin, soaked white fabric of his shirt. She couldn’t even tell herself not to look, couldn’t even attempt to avert her gaze as he hauled himself onto the dock and ran a hand through his loose, dripping hair. He aggressively untied his cravat and undid the top few buttons of his shirt before he looked up and met her gaze.

He froze, although his eyes did not leave hers as he suppressed a devious grin.

Nesta’s back straightened. Of course he knew what she was thinking, how could he not when he was staring, practically drooling?

Cheeks red, she spun around to stalk away, only to find Elain looking at Cassian with raised brows.

Nesta cleared her throat, snapping her sister’s gaze away from the soaked, nearly half-dressed man.

“It’s not proper to stare, Elain,” Nesta said, trying to keep the snap out of her voice and failing significantly.

Even as she took her sister’s arm, leading her away, Elain still stared. “But he’s my husband-to-be.”

“Exactly,” Nesta snapped, panting. Why was she breathing so heavily? And where the hell was Feyre. “Husband-to-be. You aren’t yet married, so you shouldn’t be…ogling him.”

“Ogling?” Elain’s laugh was sharp as they were back on the path and headed towards their home. “I’ll be looking at him with far less on than some wet clothing in just a few days time, sister.”

The words drew her up short. She turned, Elain clearly not expecting her harsh gaze. “Yes, Elain, in a few days time, you will be his wife. But right now, you are not, and you are still a lady. And it’s not proper to stare.”

Elain’s smile faltered before disappearing completely. Although her arm remained looped through Nesta’s, she said no more as they continued their walk.

Due to her own stupidity, Nesta took one last look over her shoulder and found that she was the one Cassian was staring at.

Her head quickly swiveled back around and she cursed that stupidity of hers, and all the ways her heart was reacting to it.

To him.

<.>

Rhysand sat across from Feyre in one of the rowboats on the river.

She had just seen her sisters leave and she wondered if something had happened to make them forget she had accompanied them to the park. Hopefully Rhysand would walk her home. She had no doubt that he would.

“Are you alright, Feyre darling?” He asked, and her eyes trailed back to his. “You haven’t spoken in quite some time.”

Feyre smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes, of course.”

His frown deepend as he nodded, but he didn’t let it go. “If something is the matter, you may speak to me.”

She nodded, but she was still trying to sort her emotions. She had been so excited to see him that morning, but with everything going on, she just felt…like something wasn’t right.

“We are hosting dinner for Lord Cassian tonight,” Feyre said, looking at the couples who walked together on the banks of the river. “To celebrate he and Elain’s upcoming marriage.”

There it was, that little thing that had been weighing her down that morning. Marriage. The season would soon be coming to an end and that word, marriage, haunted her the closer the wedding of her sister and Lord Cassian came.

She knew she had to find a husband.

Yet, she couldn’t even think about any other man than the one sitting across from her.

“He did mention that to me,” Rhys said, looking out over the pond and she could have sworn there was hesitance in his tone. As if he knew where her thoughts had gone.

“Would you care to join us?” She immediately regretted the words when his head swiveled back to her, eyes snapping to her own. “I know you aren’t his brother by blood, but you are his family nonetheless. And it is a dinner for our families, after all.”

Rhysand said nothing and that may have been worse than him outright refusing.

As the seconds ticked by, both her anxiety and embarrassment ratcheted up. Gods, she should have just kept her mouth shut.

Finally, he shook his head, averting his gaze from hers. “Thank you, Miss Feyre, but I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

Miss Feyre? Rhysand hadn’t been so formal with her in weeks, not when they were alone. Quickly, she looked around, but there were no other boats anywhere around them. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because it is a special dinner to celebrate two families joining, welcoming one another into their lives.” His gaze was set firmly on their surroundings, as if he weren’t even speaking to her. “Because our families will never be joined, Feyre.”

She didn’t know which was worse, the formal way he’d spoken to her a moment before or the way he’d snapped her name just now. The sharp gasp that left her was involuntary.

His jaw ticked and for a moment, she thought she saw regret but it quickly dissipated.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said, quietly. “I just thought…”

Her words drifted. She knew of his intentions and he only solidified them when he said, “I am never to marry, Feyre.” His voice was hard. Every word hurt. “You knew this when we began. I cannot sit with your family, with your father, as if I am a serious candidate for a husband.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she hated herself for it. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene in front of the ton. The last thing she wanted was to cry in front of Rhysand.

She lifted her chin as she said, “Forgive me. I thought something had changed between us in recent weeks, but it seems it has not been as it had seemed.”

She thought she saw him flinch.

“I must have been foolish,” she continued, unable to stop herself. Atop her lap, her hands shook. “To think that you would have wanted to call me your wife.”

His eyes snapped to hers. Something like pain and anger brewed in his dark, violet eyes. “Do not,” he said, and his voice was low, hard. “Do not do that, do not make me feel guilty for not wishing to marry you. I told you before we—“ he stopped, and took a deep breath. “I told you in the beginning how I felt. We both knew how this would end.”

A tear fell and Feyre angrily wiped it away. “That was when we were simply dancing and walking through the park together,” she snapped, and Rhysand’s jaw locked. “You can at least respect me enough to admit that what has gone on between us has gone beyond our damned pact.”

Rhysand quickly looked away.

“Look at me,” she pleaded, knowing another tear fell but she did not wipe this one away.

When Rhysand met her gaze, there was only anger, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

“I will never marry,” he said, at last.

“Why?” She asked, and her voice broke. “Why would it be so awful to marry, Rhys?”

“I cannot marry you,” he said, quietly, as if that was answer enough for all of her questions.

“Why?” She pushed, voice full of pain and heartache.

“Because I cannot give you children,” he hissed, and she did not know that his voice could hold so much venom. “I cannot marry because my name, my blood, cannot carry on. I cannot give you my name. I cannot have heirs. I cannot bear for my fathers legacy to carry on, for I vowed that it would die with me.”

Silence. There was so much silence in her head and in her heart. She idly wondered if it may have stopped beating, because she could no longer feel it in her chest. Or maybe that was the numbness sweeping through her. Maybe it was beating and she just couldn’t feel it.

The words were whisper soft as she said, “You mean to tell me that you won’t marry me, won’t let yourself be happy with me, because of how much you hate your father?” Her chil wobbled and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop it. “I thought that your feelings had—”

“It does not matter what I feel for you or how much I care about you,” he interrupted, his voice raising for a split second, before he reigned it back in. “I will always hate my father more.”

Feyre’s throat bobbed as she turned away, blinking quickly, as if she could stave off any more tears. “Take me back to the dock.” He didn’t move, left the oars in the bottom of the boat. He just stared at her. She swallowed roughly meeting his eyes. Wetness coated her cheeks. “Take me back to the dock, your Grace.”

An emotion crossed his face that Feyre couldn’t name, but it was gone before she could study it, and she looked away as well.

Silently, Rhysand picked up the oars and began rowing them towards the dock, the sound of them breaking the water near deafening as the guilt grew. It was like a bubble, waiting to pop. Once it did, things would never be the same.

As soon as they approached the wooden platform, before Rhysand even had a chance to reach for the rope to moor the boat, Feyre called out, “Excuse me, my Lord.”

Head snapping up, Rhys looked to her and then realized she wasn’t speaking to him.

She was speaking to Lord Hybern, who immediately gave Feyre his attention, flashing her a smile that was supposed to be charming.

It made Rhysand’s teeth grind together.

“Would you mind assisting me?” She asked, offering her hand. “I’ve got the worst balance.”

Bullshit, Rhys had nearly spat. Feyre was graceful and light on her feet.

Nonetheless, Lord Hybern took her hand and she stood, taking her time stepping out of the boat and onto the dock. “Of course, my lady.”

Once she was safe, she said, “Thank you, my lord. I am most grateful.” She turned towards Rhysand but did not meet his eye. “Good day, your Grace.”

Lord Hybern offered Feyre his arm and she took it, leaving Rhysand staring after her in the boat, full of anger and guilt.

He didn’t know what he felt worse about: the fact that he had made Feyre cry, or the fact that he had meant every word.

<.>

Cassian sat around the table with the Archeron family in their dining room, right across from Nesta. Trying to avoid meeting his eye had been trying, but she had managed to do a decent job of it so far. The main course was about to be served and Nesta prayed to whomever listened that time would move faster.

Her father was thrilled. At last, one of his daughters was not a disappointment. He kept a steady conversation with Cassian, and Cassian replied cordially to everything thrown his way.

Feyre did not say a word for the entirety of it. Nesta knew that something was wrong, but now was not the time to address it.

There was only a minute of silence before Cassian said, “Not to speak business at the table,” he began, giving a comforting smile to Elain, “but I have yet to receive Elain’s dowry, my lord. Surely I’ll be receiving it before the wedding day.”

The sound of a fork scraping across the fine china filled the space.

For whatever reason, Cassian looked to Nesta first, before even looking at Isaac. Her eyes were firmly on her plate, her grip white knuckled on her fork.

The sight unsettled him.

He turned to Isaac, to his right, who still hadn’t replied. He had a casual smile on his ruddy face, but there was something in his eyes that had Cassian setting his own fork down.

“About Elain’s dowry,” Isaac began, taking a sip from his wine glass. “There was a slight…mishap with one of my ships. I’m expecting a full return after the most recent shipment I sent out is received, but I was hoping you would give me a couple weeks to get the funds together.”

There was no recent shipment. Once that ship went down on the way to Bharat, there was nothing else to send out, nothing else to receive. That had been his one and only ship, with almost their entire fortune amassed in gold, jewels, spices, books loaded down into it.

Now it sat at the bottom of the sea.

Cassian shook his head. “That’s not the agreement we made, Lord Archeron. I was to receive her dowry, in full, before we wed.”

Isaac looked from Cassian to Elain sitting next to him. Her brown eyes were wide with distress, seeing her future slip away.

His smile grew into a grin that resembled a grimace and he clapped a hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t marrying my beautiful daughter be enough until I can get our funds in order?”

Cassian shifted, causing Isaac to pull hand back.

“With all respect to Miss Elain, I’m afraid not.”

“I could well ask a bride price for you, Lord Nazari,” Isaac replied, sitting back in his chair. “After all, one of my daughters is the Diamond.”

“Father…” Nesta murmured, but quieted down when he shot her a withering glance. She glanced up at Cassian, finding him already watching her, having seen the way her father looked at her.

“Is Elain’s heart not dowry enough?” Isaac asked again, his tone biting now. “Your love for my daughter should supersede money, should it not?”

Turning to look at Elain briefly, not wanting to hurt her, Cassian gave Isaac his attention once more. He hated the words the second they left his lips, but they needed to be said. “I do not love your daughter, Lord Archeron. This has been a business arrangement from the start and we all knew that. I could see myself loving her one day, once I’ve grown to know her more, but as it stands, no, love does not supersede the agreement we made.” He stood, trying to ignore the quiet sobs he heard coming from Elain on his left. Looking Isaac in the eye, he added, “And you’re a bastard for making me admit it out loud.”

Isaac pushed up from his chair, outraged, but Cassian was already striding out the door. He had made it halfway down the hall when he heard footsteps behind him and he spun, anger rising as he prepared to tell Lord Archeron off, but it was Nesta who he saw.

He couldn’t read the emotion on her face, but it didn’t matter because she yanked on his hand and dragged his massive frame into the sitting room. As soon as the door closed after them, she dropped her hand away as if he’d burned her.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Nesta paced in front of him, and Cassian tracked her every movement, his broad arms crossed across his chest, his jaw locked.

After a moment, Nesta turned to him, and he sensed worry, panic in her eyes. “You cannot be angry with Elain.”

Cassian huffed, shaking his head. “I am not. It is clear she was as surprised by your father’s lack of dowry as I was, his schemes.”

“Schemes?” she repeated, incredulous. “There were no schemes.”

“But there will be no dowry,” Cassian said, quietly, not a question but a statement. Within an hour, everything had changed. He had yet to decide if it was for better or for worse. He probably should not have said what he had, but he felt instigated by Lord Archeron. He had been pushed to his limits and, after his emotions had built up from sitting across the table from Nesta all night, he could not contain the build up any further.

Nesta scoffed, that incredulous glare of hers growing. “You truly care about a dowry?”

“Clearly I have been misled,” Cassian snapped, “and it is best to call off this doomed engagement before it is the cause of any more strife. Of course I would never desmirch her reputation. We will make a plan—”

“There will be no plan,” Nesta spat through gritted teeth. “I do not understand. Why are you suggesting this?” Cassian started but Nesta did not give him time to reply before she carried on. “All along you have been set on marrying my sister, despite my every objection might I add, and now you intend to cast her aside. Why?” Once again, she gave him no time before she continued, which only made his anger and irritation grow. “And do not talk to me of dowries, sir, for we both know you have no need of it. So tell me, what has she done?”

Cassian waited a moment, thinking she would not give him time to answer again, but she remained silent, breathing heavily, everything she had held within her about to break free. In his silence, Cassian’s arms fell to his sides and he took a step toward her as the truth fell from his tongue. “She has done nothing,” he said, his voice low, surprisingly calm. “It is you. You have made this match impossible.”

Nesta’s back stiffened. She did not deny his implications. “But I am leaving Velaris—”

“And it is not far enough!” Cassian said, that calm facade fading into nothingness. “Do you think that there is a corner of this earth that you could travel to that is far enough away to free me from this torment?” he spat, and Nesta did not move. “I am a gentleman. I was raised by my mother to act with honor but that honor is hanging by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence.” She swallowed, and he realized that he took a step closer without even thinking about it. His voice lowered. “You are the bane of my existence. And the object of all of my desires.” She trembled, her breaths coming out in heavy, uneven pants. “Night and day I dream of you. And what I…” Swallowing, he took another step closer and he swore that she stopped breathing entirely. He was close enough now that she had to look up to meet his gaze. At her sides, her hands shook. He breathed, “Do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced?” Her eyes flared and Cassian longed to reach up, to brush his thumb along her bottom lip. “The things I could teach you.”

As if she could feel that phantom touch, her lips parted. A shaking breath left her as she stared up at him. “I did not ask for this. To be plagued by these feelings. Hiding from my sister. Being driven to distraction every time you enter the room.”

The silence grew around them, yet somehow the space between them lessened. With every panting breath, Nesta’s chest brushed his.

“Then you agree. It is insupportable.” His words spoke of an end, yet as he leaned his head down, towards Nesta, it seemed like something was beginning.

Her answer was a whisper. “Impossible.”

She could feel Cassian’s breath on her lips, her eyes slipping closed. He took a shuddering inhale and as if on instinct, Nesta did as well. In the short distance between them, Cassian reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair behind Nesta’s ear. She gasped, the touch sending a jolt through her body.

“If I were to wed your sister, it will bind me and you together for eternity and I will spend every day of my marriage wanting you, dreaming of you, dreading the day when my last thread of honor finally snaps.” The words rushed out of him so quickly that he nearly didn’t realize what he was saying, even though every damned word was laden with truth. His lips nearly brushed hers, and he swore her back arched into him, begging for his mouth to be on hers. It was too much, it was all too much, this emotion that welled up inside of him. It was more than want, it was more than desire, it was more than lust. Every inch of his body, every part of his soul, yearned for her. Meeting her gaze, he shook his head and with a humorless laugh, he stepped back, raking a hand through his hair before meeting her gaze, yet again. “Is that the future you want for us?” he asked, voice rasped with conflict, with anguish, with confliction. “For your sister?”

He approached her again and Nesta had not moved, her feet glued to the floor. The emotion in her eyes silenced him, her flushed cheeks and heaving chest calling to him. He stopped in front of her and rested his forehead against hers, her breath warming his lips, yet again. He could smell the wine on her tongue, could feel every ounce of truth that was just spoken between them.

And while it was truth, he had just ruined Elain, and he knew it. While his body was filled with lust and longing and trembling with adoration, guilt lingered in the background, and he remembered where he was, only a corridor away from the dining room, where the others surely still sat.

Although everything within him urged him not to, he whispered, “I must go.”

Before he could think better of it, he pushed himself away from Nesta and hurried towards the door. She did not move, those shuddering breaths of hers still filling the silence as he threw open the door and strode down the grand staircase and out of the grand foyer. The footmen opened the doors for him then he was out in the cool night air, unable to get far enough away from that woman.

He had meant what he’d said.

She could be on the other side of the world and her soul would still call to his.

____________________________________________________________

@mariamuses @photofeesh @the-regal-warrior @gracie-rosee @irisofink @strawberries-and-reveries @zeppelin-and-unicorns @live-the-fangirl-life @cassianscool @clacings @argentumstella @cuppamelia @chillspritecranberry @emilyrose111294 @awesomelena555 @gengen64 @dontbenddontbreak @blueunoias @liliput2203 @sleeping-and-books @kindofawalkingpoem @thebitchydonutcollector @shedoessoshedoes @cretaceous-therapod @emily-gsh @annie-laur @impossiblehistoryofquotes @midnightrose-reader @beanl1 @shniya-hiiragi @towhateverend87 @deezrmuhsheeple @pintas3107 @sarcasm-is-the-best-insult @santkazoya @lady-winter-sunrise @themoonthestarsthesuriel @story-scribbler @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @sv0430 @dreammoutlouddd @katlady13 @lokisllama @mrspettyferr @missannieshay @live-the-fangirl-life @headinclouds48 @secretlycressdarnel @awesomethreedragons @lokisllama @littlehoneyybee @vicioux @cest-la-vieve @lokisllama @thewinterroza @aching-for-distance

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ladykinrannoch · 2 years

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Hello Lady K, seeing your concern for Harris’s mental health. I came across a couple of You Tubers talking about Harry’s possible desperate attempt to end things. Here is BFG saying Tom Bower will have to delay or postpone the release of this book. She did another video back in late May or early June saying exactly the same thing. Bower will postpone his book due to a death. At the time she was speculating it would be Thomas Markle, as he’d recently had a stroke. I’ve attached her most recent reading of today, July 19th here and I hope to God someone in higher circles may se this video. Harry did not look to good at the UN, which is an understatement. Interestingly, he’s not concerned about the children’s origins coming out, but about how he met Meghan. Yeah Harry we know it was a paid for service, either in kind or as a gift. PS I don’t know if the video will attach at all, but it’s called Tom Bower Harry should we be concerned? Made by Bigfatpsychic.

The other tarot reader is Tarot By Andie and she posted her cards on Twitter. Again the cards were dire.

Sine the book is out on July 21st, it’s only a matter of days to test this. Again I hope at least some family member reaches out to Harry to check on him and talk him into getting help. This is where Eugenie or even Sarah and Andrew could be helpful. Or maybe William or Charles take a look at that UN video and sends in RF help. Fingers crossed it doesn’t come to pass. I don’t know the rules about sectioning someone if they are an adult. Is it the spouse that okays it? Or the father or brother. IDK. I just hope someone checks up on him. Maybe we can manifest that. 🙏

https://youtu.be/I1mYiHZacRc

Thanks I watched the first few minutes. Not to criticise another's efforts, but I don't find the reading to be very genuine or intuitive. Not every tarot reader is psychic. So I don't know what else she said, but I wouldn't worry about it. I also don't follow Andie anymore because she often makes fundamental mistakes with her card interpretations. I think when you are a Tarot Reader and you have a great knowledge of the card meanings, then it is very hard to follow someone who makes basic mistakes. My reading style is more aligned to Paula, Mad World Tarot, whose readings I find to be extremely intuitive and in my opinion quite accurate.

I just pulled three cards on a possible delay, if delayed why, and whether there was any danger to JH.

I got non-sensical cards about hard work (4 pentacles) and valuing what you have achieved. An untrustworthy, unreliable person hooked on the chase, a player, looking for romance elsewhere to continue the manipulation. Think of a narc moving onto to new fuel. (Knight Cups Rx). Also a message to be careful of people spreading misinformation and gossip. (page Swords Rx).

So I think the cards are saying Bower worked hard on the book and deserves his success. Rachel made an appearance in the spread to display her ego and narc attitude, like many narcs, I think she has intimacy issues (they can be sex addicted, because it gives them fuel) and I think she has someone in her sights. Regarding JH, the message is step away, I got this card before telling him to get out of there. I think very consistent with my recent reading on JH, only he can save himself. He needs to take off the blindfold.

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 2 years

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18th May >> Mass Readings (USA)

Wednesday, Fifth Week of Eastertide

Saint John I, Pope, Martyr.

Wednesday, Fifth Week of Eastertide

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

Acts of the Apostles 15:1-6

They decided to go up to Jerusalem to the Apostles and presbyters about this question.

Some who had come down from Judea were instructing the brothers, “Unless you are circumcised according to the Mosaic practice, you cannot be saved.” Because there arose no little dissension and debate by Paul and Barnabas with them, it was decided that Paul, Barnabas, and some of the others should go up to Jerusalem to the Apostles and presbyters about this question. They were sent on their journey by the Church, and passed through Phoenicia and Samaria telling of the conversion of the Gentiles, and brought great joy to all the brethren. When they arrived in Jerusalem, they were welcomed by the Church, as well as by the Apostles and the presbyters, and they reported what God had done with them. But some from the party of the Pharisees who had become believers stood up and said, “It is necessary to circumcise them and direct them to observe the Mosaic law.”

The Apostles and the presbyters met together to see about this matter.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 122:1-2, 3-4ab, 4cd-5

R/ Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia.

I rejoiced because they said to me, “We will go up to the house of the LORD.” And now we have set foot within your gates, O Jerusalem.

R/ Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia.

Jerusalem, built as a city with compact unity. To it the tribes go up, the tribes of the LORD.

R/ Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia.

According to the decree for Israel, to give thanks to the name of the LORD. In it are set up judgment seats, seats for the house of David.

R/ Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia.

Gospel Acclamation

John 15:4a, 5b

Alleluia, alleluia. Remain in me, as I remain in you, says the Lord; whoever remains in me will bear much fruit. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

John 15:1-8

Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit.

Jesus said to his disciples: “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. He takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit, and everyone that does he prunes so that it bears more fruit. You are already pruned because of the word that I spoke to you. Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing. Anyone who does not remain in me will be thrown out like a branch and wither; people will gather them and throw them into a fire and they will be burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you. By this is my Father glorified, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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Saint John I, Pope, Martyr

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Wednesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Revelation 3:14b, 20-22

I will dine with him and he with me.

The Amen, the faithful and true witness, the source of God’s creation, says this: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, then I will enter his house and dine with him and he with me. I will give the victor the right to sit with me on my throne, as I myself first won the victory and sit with my Father on his throne.

“Whoever has ears ought to hear what the Spirit says to the churches.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 23:1-3a, 4, 5, 6