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jsluvtzu · 10 months

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strawberry kisses (pt. 1)

park jihyo x fem!reader

summary: sweet reminders of who you belong to

cw: smut!!! men dni, cheating-ish?, jihyo’s realll jealous and realllll possessive, choking, marking

wc: 2.9k

a/n: i got this idea while listening to mina’s bridge in first time 😭 everybody say thank you jihyo for putting that pen to work!

the lively restaurant was filled with laughter and half-sober words all around you.

your girlfriend brought you along with her to a dinner with her biker friends: nayeon, momo, and sana.

jihyo had always been a motorcycle enthusiast — she and her friends would constantly go on late night rides together at times that no normal person would be awake.

but recently, things at work had been so hectic that her bike was instead left to collect dust in your garage.

hectic enough to the point where you two hadn’t fucked in three weeks.

any time you wanted to initiate anything intimate with her it was always “i’m too tired”, or, “maybe tomorrow”.

obviously, this meant you were beyond horny.

you were desperate for any form of relief — even just a simple thigh ride while jihyo typed away on her laptop would have sufficed.

but, meeting after meeting, file after file, the work was never ending for jihyo.

your girlfriend’s career had officially stolen her away from you.

until you decided to drag her up from the deep ocean of stress she was drowning in that night.

—

“come onnn, y/n! stop being so lame, ‘js take the damn shot,” nayeon slurred, hoping to encourage you to be on the same level of drunk as her.

“one more shot won’t hurt you, y/n..” sana’s sweet voice joined nayeon’s drunken one in peer pressuring you.

you sighed out dramatically and scoffed at the way you were so easily influenced around them, “alrightt, alright. i’ll do it.”

cheers erupted from the both of them who excitedly poured peach soju in your empty shot glass, spilling a quarter of the bottle in the process.

as you downed your now fourth shot of alcohol, you glanced to your right to see jihyo and momo engaged in some business talk.

momo was like jihyo’s advisor, always giving her pointers and tips about how to manage her substandard employees.

even at a dinner party she can’t seem to get her mind off of work, you thought — slightly disappointed, but also worried.

you shook your head and brought yourself back to your distractions for the night, tipsily conversing with jihyo’s drunk friends about what it would feel like to wake up as a man one day.

while nayeon and sana were debating with each other, the screeching of a scooted back chair caught your attention, your girlfriend suddenly getting up and leaving out the door.

slightly confused, your eyes followed her out into the window in front of the restaurant, only to see her on a phone call with her hand pressed to her forehead.

another fucking work call. you were somewhat angry at this point, and — who keeps rubbing on your thigh?

“you’re soooo fuckin’ pretty, y/n.. ‘wouldn’t even know what to do with all this.” nayeon snuck her way unnecessarily closer to you while you were focused on fighting your girlfriend in your head.

her hand trailed up your exposed thigh from the short black skirt you wore, rubbing at your soft flesh as she mumbled intoxicated things in your ear.

you turned your head down a bit to see nayeon resting her head on your shoulder, nibbling at your bare skin.

“nayeon.. what are you-”

“ ‘s okay, pretty, ‘s ‘js me.” nayeon interrupted as she kissed her way up to your neck.

you shifted yourself away from her touch, uncomfortable at her advances.

momo and sana scolded nayeon from across the table, “stop it before jihyo sees. and you know what she would do to you.” momo was currently the soberest one at the table, attempting to knock some sense into her friend.

“mmm don’t be ridiculous, she’s too busy with her dumb company to pay attention to us..”

nayeon inhaled the sweet vanilla perfume that jihyo loved on you, “god you smell good. ‘could eat you up right here..” she whispered the last part lowly, almost seductively.

it was hard for you to control yourself as the shots you took earlier were getting to you, and it wasn’t exactly a lie that you’d always found nayeon attractive.

but nayeon was right. jihyo was too busy to pay attention, so maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to make her pay attention for once.

sana and momo were eventually too occupied flirting with each other to see the smile forming on your face when you had your plan in mind.

from the angle the table was at, your seat was in perfect view for jihyo to see nayeon all over you.

whoever jihyo was arguing with over the phone, they had her pacing the sidewalk and getting visibly frustrated, gesturing her hands in the air to emphasize her words with venom laced behind them.

she faced you through the glass pane at the perfect moment when nayeon tucked your hair behind your ear and leaned in for a kiss.

you made direct eye contact with jihyo as you felt nayeon kiss you on the corner of your mouth, letting her messily peck at your lip gloss coated lips.

the way your girlfriend’s furrowed brows relaxed and her soft eyes turned dark only encouraged you to infuriate her even more.

and from the way it sounded, jihyo swung the door open with enough force to break it clean off the hinges.

her footsteps were heavy and intentional.

you slightly winced when jihyo grabbed your arm and forcefully yanked you out of nayeon’s grip.

“mm- the ‘fuck? heyyy.. jiii..hyo..?.. shit.” nayeon said, squinting through her drowsy eyes to make out your girlfriend’s hovering figure. she almost fell completely forward when you were pulled away as she was reliant on your body there to hold her up.

“y/n has to use the bathroom.”

“no i don-“

before you could even finish your sentence, you were already halfway on your way to the ladies’ room.

you were sure that jihyo’s grip on your bicep was strong enough to leave bruises later. not that you were complaining anyways.

she picked the furthest stall at the end of the room to cram the two of you in, pushing you in first and slamming the lock shut behind her.

immediately, you felt how cold her hands were from being outside as she wrapped her fingers around your throat in a tight enough squeeze to give you a rush.

your backside made contact with the flimsy wall, making a loud bang as she pinned you between it and her.

her leg was slotted perfectly between yours and you couldn’t resist the urge to lightly grind your clothed core against her denim covered thigh.

“thought you could get away with your little act huh? ‘tryna make me fuckin’ jealous or somethin’?” the increasingly tight grasp on your neck made your vision go blurry, “greedy slut just needs to be put in her place doesn’t she?”

you attempted to answer her, but you could only give her a lousy groan in response.

jihyo was eyeing you up and down with nothing but pure lust in her eyes.

weeks of not being able to taste you, touch you, feel you — jihyo was just as sexually frustrated as you were.

there was a moment of tension when her hands loosened and she carefully watched as you caught your breath, lips parted and eyelids half-open.

you broke the moment soon enough as you crashed your lips onto hers, moaning into the now sloppily paced make out session.

whines escaped your lips when jihyo pressed her thigh closer to your aching core, making your jaw drop even wider.

she took that opportunity to force her tongue into your mouth, claiming her territory and exploring you fully.

you stabilized yourself with your hands at her shoulders, her muscles insanely defined even through the thick leather jacket she had on.

your girlfriend broke the kiss with your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling away with a pop sound.

it wasn’t long until her lips found their way back to your skin, attacking your jaw and neck.

when you felt her sucking at your soft flesh in a pulsing rhythm, you remembered that you were still very much in public.

“w-wait- jihyo.. we still mmph- have to go out there-”

she laughed against your skin, biting at a new spot on your throat and soothing it with her tongue — the chemical taste of your expensive perfume teasing her tastebuds.

“am i supposed to care? you had no problem eating nayeon’s face in front of everybody,” her hand trailing up to unbutton your cropped cardigan, “more specifically, in front of me.” your collarbones now exposed and tempting her, “it’s only fair baby.”

jihyo left deep red hickeys on damn near every empty patch of skin on your neck — half of your chest and collarbones littered with bite marks and bruises.

she kissed over her last mark on you for now and leaned back to admire her work.

to her, it was better than any other project she had ever worked on.

“that’s good enough, love. let’s go, i’m not done with you.”

jihyo opened the stall door and walked out, running her fingers through her curled hair and leaving you to fix yourself on your own.

seeing yourself in the mirror was definitely a sight.

your hair was disheveled, clothes were out of place, lips were swollen, and the marks. god, the fucking marks she left on you should not have made you feel the way you did.

you were just relieved that nobody came in for the past 10 minutes as you hooked the last button of your baby blue sweater through its hole.

walking back out into the dining hall felt incredibly embarrassing knowing what you currently looked like — you tried sweeping your hair over your neck to cover up as best as you could.

jihyo was already getting your things together to leave when you got back to the table, ignoring the fact that nayeon’s eyes couldn’t leave your flushed face.

sana laughed in disbelief, “you guys are fucking nasty.”

you avoided prolonged eye contact with all three of them while saying your goodbyes and followed behind your still angry girlfriend.

her bike was parked alongside the curb next to the rest of theirs, but a special pink heart that she let you paint on the small windshield distinguished it from anyone else’s.

the wind kept blowing your hair from its designated spot and revealed your pretty marks to the people that passed by.

jihyo saw you hugging yourself as she set her bike up, taking off her leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

mumbling out a low thank you, you slid your arms through the sleeves and threw your leg over the seat, sitting directly and comfortably behind your girlfriend.

“helmet.” jihyo passed you a matching helmet that you two got for your anniversary last year over her shoulder.

you slid your head into its snug shell and adjusted it as jihyo revved her bike a couple times to warm it up.

wrapping your arms around her waist, you placed your feet up on the footrests and turned your head to the side, leaning down to rest it against her back.

the ride home felt like minutes thanks to jihyo’s aggressive speeding and weaving through crowded lanes.

you clung onto her for dear life when she would make sharp turns around a tight corner and gas it, a clear sign that you were in for a long night.

when you finally made it home, jihyo flipped the kickstand out with her foot and pulled her helmet off, her dark hair flowing out all at once.

you did the same, placing your helmet on the left handlebar and following her through your garage door.

jihyo headed upstairs without even looking back at you — she knew you wouldn’t be far behind.

when you reached the open door of your shared bedroom, you saw your girlfriend already shuffling through her nightstand, pulling out a pink silk tie that she only used when she intended on fucking you absolutely stupid.

“clothes off. you know what to do.” her tone sending chills down your spine as you stood frozen in place.

“no.” you said firmly — your heart beating out of your ribcage.

a deep sigh filled the room as she snapped her head in your direction, “no?”

jihyo walked towards you slowly, like a predator stalking her prey — her muscles flexing on full display with the black tank top she had on.

your breathing was sharp and uncontrolled, your fists clenched to keep yourself together.

you flinched when she raised her hand, landing it gently on your cheek and caressing your smooth skin with her thumb.

“sweet thing..” she mumbled, “but you don’t get to be a brat tonight.”

her hand suddenly left your cheek and found itself grabbing a fistful of your hair, forcing a yelp out of you as she dragged you over to your shared bed.

jihyo slammed you face first into the soft comforter, holding your head down with her hand tangled in between your messy locks.

“you’ve been pretty bold lately.” you squirmed under her and tried to get up, but your efforts proved pointless when jihyo forced you back down as she straddled your lower back.

she practically ripped her jacket off of you as she grabbed your hands together and began wrapping the silk tie around your wrists.

“first you kiss some other bitch in front of me..” your squeals unaffecting her, “now you wanna talk back?” her skilled knot tying skills leaving your wrists locked with no escape, “seems like my sweet girl forgot who she really is.”

your skirt rode up your ass during your pathetic attempt at fighting back, accidentally revealing a prominent damp spot left in your panties.

“oh, you fucking like this.” jihyo scoffed, groping your thighs and slapping your ass a couple times.

small moans left you unwillingly, your horniness completely blinding you from what your original plan was.

“please..” you whined, slightly lifting your ass up for her in hopes that she would understand your signal.

“hm? now you’re begging for me?” she laughed darkly, “you’re nothin’ but a pretty fuckin’ slut.”

jihyo hooked her fingers through your panties and slid them down your legs, throwing them off to the side.

your legs were hanging off the bed in such a perfect position for jihyo to just take you right there.

she bent down and kissed your ass roughly, practically inhaling your flesh into her mouth.

you felt her sink her teeth into your lower thigh, making you wince at the sharp pain.

the same marks she left on your upper half were now tattooed across your lower — purple bruises appearing evenly on each one of your cheeks.

“fuck, just fuck me please. ‘need you so bad-”

you had no idea when she strapped the harness across her hips — too lost in the pleasure of her mouth on your skin, but when you looked over your shoulder, she stood there — pants off, strap on.

without any warning, she slid the full length of her silicone cock inside your poor pussy, not even allowing you any time to adjust.

she held your wrists together with one hand as she mercilessly pounded your tight hole.

the way you clenched around her strap left your pussy aching as you cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain.

“ngh- wait! ji- stop.. ‘hurts too much..” you stuttered, desperately grabbing at her forearm, digging your nails into her skin.

the squelching sounds that echoed against the walls drowned out the chorus of moans that you and jihyo made.

your wrists were going numb from how tight the silk was wrapped around them, her hold on you preventing you from moving out of her grip.

“yeah? you wanna act like a slut? i’ll fuckin’ treat you like one.” jihyo groaned out in between heavy breaths, “ ‘js take it like the bitch you are.” she was using this opportunity to take out her built up stress on you.

she flipped your skirt up against your back, letting the flowy fabric wave erratically every time she thrusted into you.

in your fit of mewls and fucked out moans, you felt yourself getting close — your walls clenching around her strap, making it difficult for her to fuck you at the same speed.

“my bitch. tell me who you fucking belong to.” she growled.

your brain was beyond the point of functioning, coherent words impossible to form.

“y-you- mmph only you, fuck- ‘m all yours.”

the sound of your skin clapping against each other threw both of you over the edge, your struggled screams partially muffled as you pressed your head further into the sheets.

“only i can fuckin’ have you like this.”

jihyo fucked you through your orgasm as your back arched acrobatically, coming around her strap and soaking her lap with your juices.

you shakily cried out frantic begs and pleads as your legs went limp against the bed.

your girlfriend bucked her hips slowly a few more times to let you catch your breath, her ringtone suddenly blaring on the nightstand.

jihyo tsked at being bothered at such an inconvenient time, pulling out of you and reaching for her phone.

you whined at the emptiness, simultaneously slipping into a slightly drunken coma.

“you g’na answer that?” you asked breathlessly, expecting her to put her job first per usual as she you watched her stare at her screen, contemplating.

she shook her head and threw her phone back onto the wooden nightstand, “no. i have better things you to do.”

#twice imagines #twice x reader #twice smut #kpop x reader #kpop smut #jihyo imagines #jihyo x reader #jihyo smut #park jihyo

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myanmy · 6 months

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Unrequired feelings

I LOVE ANGST!!!!!!!

Summary: You fell for Jack and you thought he liked you too, only to be proven the contary.

Word count: 1720

Warnings: cheating? But not cheating because they weren't together. (as you can see I'm very good with warnings)

Your relationship with Jack had always been weird. In the beginning it was because you were a woman and he wasn’t used to having that just yet on his ship, but he felt obligated to help you, since he was partially the reason the house you worked so hard on building burned to the ground. You were rightfully mad and against all your survival instincts, went to have a talk with the famous Captain Jack Sparrow himself and let him hear a piece of your mind. When you somehow manage to find his ship the men on his crew refused to tell you where the goddamned pirate was, but you had previously heard a lot of stories about him and the most famous one was that he was a drunk who spent the majority of his money and time on rum and women. Luckily the rumors had been right and you found him in the second pub you search, mentally you ask yourself how the hell the hundreds of people searching for him didn’t already have him locked up, the man was as obvious as a rock. You ordered him to repay the damages for your house and he obviously didn’t have that amount of money on him, so instead he offered you a deal and now you are sure you weren’t in your right state of mind, because you had accepted.

Eventually your relationship had gotten better, the nasty looks you gave him stopped and you had even grown to like the dumb and yet so lucky bastard. Your relationship with the crew had also grown immensely, at first they seemed skeptical and even disappointed in their captain for bringing a woman on deck, but with time some just learned to accept you while the majority had become your friends and at some point you had began to see them as a family, a family that supported each other, saved each other asses while also annoying the shit out of you.

Your interactions with Jack had become strange to say the least, you would spend the whole night on the deck while drinking rum, him managing to drown a whole lot more than you, but still. You would talk for hours and hours and when there was nothing else to talk about, you would stare at the sky, laying on the wood floor of the ship while lost in your own separate thoughts, the silence always comforting and never awkward. That was until the next morning, where Jack would avoid you at all costs, when you asked a question he would answer with short answers and didn’t even bother looking at you, when he felt hungry and was planning to get something to eat, he wouldn't call you to eat with him as usual. The urge to punch his beautiful face was always huge, but you also wanted to understand what was going on with him. How can someone be talking all night about their life stories and the next day just act like you are a complete burden?

Then Elizabeth Swann came, you didn’t hate the girl, god knows she’s in a worst situation that you are, however you didn’t like the fact that now Jack had all the time in the world for this girl he just met. It was one of those nights, where the sea was quiet and for some reason sleep just didn’t seem to be your friend today, so you grab a robe beside the bed and wrap it around yourself. Jack had stolen the robe from a rich old woman’s house and gifted it to you, saying he thought of you as soon as he saw it. The rich fabric felt like clouds in your skin, making you warmer against the cold that was surely out on the deck. You make your steps as light as possible, aware that the wood creaked with the smallest of movements. You open the door to the main deck, only to hear voices on the quarter deck above you, two voices to be precise. One you had learned to like quite a lot, the other you were just growing accustomed to. You hear Jack telling Elizabeth one of his unbelievable stories he had told you, followed by her laughing and adding a few questions, only for him to answer them quite excitedly, just like he had done with you.

You feel a weird thing in your heart, the feeling traveling up to your throat and you felt like you were back to when you were a little child, holding the tears in while telling yourself how stupid you are and how you’re over exaggerating it. You stay there for a few more minutes, your body and mind telling you to stop and listen, maybe he would leave some details out while telling that story to her, maybe he wouldn't tell her the most sensitive topics he had told you, because he had said that he hadn’t told that story to anyone else and had only told you because he trusted you, right? Right?

You stayed long enough to figure he wasn’t leaving any part out and slowly closed the door, hoping they wouldn’t notice the sound of it closing. Luckily because you were a girl, the crew had agreed that it was better if you had a little place for yourself and didn’t sleep in the hammocks between the men, you thought they were being mean and just didn’t want to be close to you, however now you were totally glad they did it. You weren’t sure if they had done it because they just didn’t like you back then or simply wanted you to be comfortable and in the process make themselves comfortable, that didn’t matter now, but you sure were glad and thankful that you had your own small tiny room for yourself. You laid on the bed and let the tears fall slowly, telling yourself that it was okay to over exaggerate while you were alone. In the morning when you wake up you can go back to the non feeling and definitely not a sad person that had lost one of the most precious friends they had.

The next weeks kept going on like this, some nights you would awake late at night and open the door to the main deck slightly, hoping there would be no voices and while sometimes there weren’t, most did and you would go back to your room, each night crying a little less.

“What’s goin’ on lass?” Gibbs asks while you try to tie some knots to keep everything in place.

“Nothing.” You answer, swiping the sleeve of your shirt on your forehead.

“There’s definitely somethin’. You aren’t even looking at him with the angry stare.” He adds.

You sigh, talking about your feelings were not something you were good at, especially when you yourself wasn’t sure what exactly you were feeling. “It’s nothing Gibbs.” You feel his eyes on you for a few more seconds, making it obvious he didn’t believe you, but eventually gave up and walked away.

That night you couldn’t even close your eyes properly and decide to try the deck, praying to whatever god was listening that they weren’t there. When you open the door the slightest bit and don’t listen to their voices, you almost let out a long breath, only when you open the door a bit more and look up, you see them…kissing. One of his hands is around her waist while the other is on the back of her head and her arms are around his neck, their lips meeting in a hungry kiss. You normally would manage the tears until you were back in your room, this time however they flowed as you watched, watched as she had everything you wanted. When you come back to your senses, you simply turn around, not caring about the open door, a clear sign that someone had been there, though you were sure they wouldn’t figure it was you.

You always knew Jack had his affairs, I mean, he was Jack Sparrow. His life involved around rum, the sea and women, but for some reason this one felt different and it hurt, it hurt so much. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had fallen for the pirate, even with you knowing it wasn't a good idea falling for a pirate, especially one with so much of a reputation.

That night you spend crying and writing letters to your closest friends, Gibbs and some men in the crew you had befriended. You tried writing a letter for Jack, only to write his name and not a word surging in your mind after, so after hundreds of tries you give up and throw all the wasted paper on the trash. Tomorrow the ship would stop in Tortuga and you would wait until everyone got off before you put all the letters in the specific hammocks and then…you would leave. Leave this life behind, leave all the running and stealing, but mainly, you would leave him.

A short time after the sun had risen, the ship stopped in the port. Your hands were sweaty, your breath was short, and your pulse was pounding in your ears. You were nervous, and there was no way around it. This was a big moment, something you had been dreading for hours and now that it was here, all you could do was try to keep your head on straight. Your nerves were frayed, but you were going to do this, one way or another.

After all you could hear were voices from outside the ship, the soft wind and the calm waves is when you start doing everything you had planned. You place the letters, each one gaining a tear dropping from your eyes, then you grab the essential things you had already placed in a bag. You take one last look around, flashes of good memories appearing everywhere you look, but unfortunately memories aren't enough to keep you here. You step out of the ship, knowing this was the last time you would ever be seeing it and as childish as it sounds, you mentally say goodbye, goodbye to everyone and to everything involving pirates, but more specifically Captain Jack Sparrow.

I'm writting new characters yay. Don't worry, I'll still write for Rick, trust me when I say that my crushes always stay the same, so at some point I'll write for him again. I've noticed that there isn't a lot of Jack Sparrow fanfics out here and it's so sad, I mean, it's Johnny Depp, have writers really not seen him as Jack? Anyways, so I thought I'd give it a try. Hope you guys enjoy it. 💟

#pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow x reader #no use of y/n #jack sparrow #angst #angst with a sad ending #betrayal #unrequited feelings #johnny depp

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iocaisaint · 3 months

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Random things I'd change in ACOSF

Feeling particularly hateful, don't wanna see it move along

There's actually too many things to fix in canon!Nessian so it's not getting page time actually.

Figure out what Nesta's powers actually are/have 'Lady Death' actually mean something (in my mind she would be able to make things come to bring things back from edge of death, commune with the dead, kill people/parts of people like she can make a hand rot, summon the death trove etc.)

On that note instead of the imprisonment rehabilitation being about drinking /fucking have Nesta hurt someone accidentally (we know she was basically an atomic bomb levels of power AND was using alcohol to drown out powers it would make more sense)

She sequesters herself in Windhaven with Az (who's spending as much time as he can with mom post-war), the IC chooses not to be filthy hypocrites and listens to her when she doesn't want to be around Cassian

She meets Gwyn working in the library trying to figure out her powers. Gwyn storyline is mostly the same, only Gwyn has more of a desire to leave the library but hasn't reached the point in which she can. After their initial meeting Nesta starts helping Gwyn with her work.

Now Emerie! It's time to give my sister a storyline. So, one day when Nesta is out and about she finds Emerie like half-bleeding to death (in this version Nesta isn't in prison rehab so she can leave whenever she wants)

She helps her but Em is like tight lipped as hell as to what happened to her. We find out that Em basically runs an underground railroad type of situation where she takes Illyrian women and children from abusive homes to the more "progressive" camps; when Nesta found her her group had been intercepted and she chose to stay behind. Idk how old Em is but she's been doing this ever since her mother died at the hands of her Dad. I can't think of a better name so let's call them The Dropoffs™

Em and Az DO NOT get along in the beginning. His general feelings towards Illyria Vs her feelings towards the current leadership being functionally useless (she's right)

Em begrudgingly starts training with Az because he is the best and she wants to get better so that she can hold her own during The Dropoffs™ . Az also respects what Em is doing. Nesta doesn't train but offers moral support out 1. Fear 2. She doesn't want to

Nesta off-handedly mentions this to Gwyn, who asks whether she can join (same reason as in canon it would be something that Catrin would do. Nesta asks Az, he's like sure 🤷🏾. So slowly The Valkyries™ are born

Gwyn and Em butt heads initially because of the library. Emerie rightfully questions why she's risking her life when there's a sanctuary for this shit in her home that isn't offered to Illyrians

We find out that Beron & Briallyn are working with Koschei (we don't know the exact terms of the deal and won't find out until the next book)

Have Eris train her (I already know SJM gonna drag the shit out of Beron's death) he needs someone to kill his father, she needs someone who understands her powers.

This will include a side trip to GOT s3 known as the Autumn Court, we get Nesta being the courtier she was supposed to be, we get out of NC and we get Beron dead everybody wins!

We get some questions answered Mor, Jesminda etc.

Nesta & Eris kill Beron after much, much scheming and close calls. HL of Autumn Eris

While this is happening Az is whooping Gwyn and Em into shape decides to be dumb like in canon and show them off to the Illyria men. They get kidnapped for the blood rite.

Nesta is like absolutely not and goes to get them outta there.

She finds them with the bracelets, they've managed to climb Ramiel but Emerie is fucked up between having to basically carry Gwyn there and injuries they sustained along the way.

Nesta tells the Cauldron to go fuck itself in this version, has her one on one with the Mother and basically begs her to heal Emerie. The Mother does and everything including Emerie's wings are healed.

Sprinkled in for necessary character development Nesta coming to terms with her dad dying (we're sticking to the pre-acofas canon of her hating the man so she has actually complex feelings, also her feelings towards Feyre AND Elain, being turned into something she never wanted, her being really good at being courtier but also hating that she relishes in what her mother trained her in)

Also Modest Nesta in!

Lastly, Feyre is rightfully terrified cause her sister just came from murdering the oldest high lord to the blood rite, Nesta apologises for the cabin and also explains why she doesn't want to visit her dad's grave, she tells Feyre she loves her) AND SCENE

If I had to do a romance it would probably be Neris OR Nesta/Emerie cause why not

The only storyline I hate more than Nessian was Feyre's pregnancy so off-page Rhys got over himself called Tamlin and had him shift Nyx's wings so he could be delivered safely and then shifted Feyre's womb afterwards. A hard but ultimately peaceful delivery thank you!

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emilykaldwen · 5 months

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

Rating: Explicit

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

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

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

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Author's Notes: We are back from hiatus on APRIL 26, 2024 with Chapter 16! Hope you join us! These will continue to be crossposted so instead of seeing my usual AO3 link with snippet, you will see posts like these so you can continue to read on AO3 should you wish, or on tumblr!

we are now in the 'oh my god these two are so fucking feral for each other it makes them look dumb' era and SPICY SPICY! plus djkfhsdf some cute things I'm sure you've been waiting for.

Translations: Dhá chroí mar aon ní amháin - two hearts as one Prūmio ezīmus ñuhus - half of my heart

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Your Love Is Like Sunlight

Pride is taken and love is given.

Aegon had wandered through the mass of small folk without a care, a grin across his face as vendors hawked and goods were sold, as people came out to rejoice for his day. Alyn had fallen in step beside him, following him and Aemond into the tent where Daeron was waiting. His little brother, dark blonde hair mussed from sleep, was furiously polishing Aegon’s new armor.

Not even the thick, red and black canvas of the tent could block out all the sounds of the crowds pouring into the arena that morning, but once the flaps closed, there was a kind of muffling effect to it all that made Aegon feel like he’d entered another world.

“How lucky,” he’d told his baby brother as Daeron jumped to attention and went about his duties. “That I get Ser Gwayne’s prized squire for this tournament.” The boy had preened and glowed beneath the attention in a shy, nervous way that belied his newness to the position at large. Aemond posted beside the trestle table, helping himself to watered wine and the platter of cold meat and cheese while Alyn lingered near the rack holding Aegon’s sword.

“Two swords, hm?” he’d inquired, admiring the balance on the blades with a critical eye. Which was really only Alyn trying to pretend he knew exactly what he was talking about when it came to the elegance of worked steel. It wasn’t even Valyrian steel.

“Aegon’s rare moments of overachieving,” Aemond drolled. Aegon rolled his eyes, ignoring Alyn’s soft snickering, while Daeron went to work, his gaze drifting to the second rack where his suit of armor rested, the breastplate his brother had been working on reverently placed back where it belonged.

“You are the king’s eldest son. You think the men you’ll liege over would respect a lord who’d never donned a suit of armor?” The Tower had snapped at what Aegon thought was a simple question as to why. It was a strange feeling when he was a dragonrider of all things, bonded with the greatest creature to exist. He was a god amongst men.

Once, custom dictated that a dragonrider must always be in the Dragonpit should the call to arms sound, but his mother had put her foot down when Aegon had asked. Which hadn’t really mattered, since on days where his melancholy threatened to smother him, he’d sneak out to sleep with Sunfyre anyway. Days where he felt like he would burst from his own skin, rend his flesh with claws of his own, where he swore in his dreams he was Sunfyre himself.

This day, Aegon did not have claws and fangs, nor could he breathe fire. With both feet firmly planted on the ground, he would don the armor of his mother’s people, of mere mortals. He shifted as Daeron tugged on the red padded arming doublet he was wrestling him into with a kind of single minded efficiency that strongly reminded him of Aemond. They both poked their tongues between their lips, eyes squinted in focus. It took everything in Aegon not to reach up to ruffle his baby brother’s hair and instead kept uncharacteristically cooperative at the boy’s assistance.

Warmth spread through his chest while Daeron straightened the padding and examined the red fabric for wear and tear now that it was on him.

“Can you move, Aeg?”

He twisted at the waist and raised his arms up and down to show that he could and Daeron went to the pieces of polished black armor. The finely crafted plates layered together like dragonscales of his very own, edged in beaten gold, and over his chest, a dragon was etched into the metal. Aegon was still surprised how perfectly the armor fit. He flexed constantly under Daeron’s questions and it was so different from the training breastplate he wore that would have to last through the growth spurts of his youth. This suit of armor felt like a second skin, as if he was covered with his very bones. He flexed once Daeron had finished, lifting his legs and bending around to ensure that all was where it was meant to be and he grinned at Daeron.

“Well done, squire,” he complimented. Daeron’s beam made him look younger than his two and ten years, and as brilliant as the sun. “I think you’ve earned a place with us to go mucking around Flea Bottom, hm?”

“Thank you,” he said shyly, blushing at the praise, and preening a little even though the only audience was Aemond and Alyn. “I’d hate for you to make a fool of yourself on your nameday in front of everyone.” The cheeky look in his cornflower blue eyes had Aegon lightly swiping at him, the boy dancing away while Aemond made an annoyed sound.

Aegon snatched a piece of meat off of his brother’s plate. “You know, Aemond, if you’re going to be a miserable arse, you don’t have to be here. Go sit in the box with our mother, let all the pretty girls stare at you. I’m sure it would be more fun. I was certain that Maega Stokeworth was trying to figure out how to swoon in your arms.” Aemond had found himself beneath the center of attention in a way he’d never encountered since the court had begun to fill in the past few weeks. “Or better yet, let Karstark be your shield once more and you can swoon into her arms.” It hadn’t been missed that his brother had gone straight for Abby’s lady as soon as the proverbial sharks had begun to circle. Aegon would not deny his surprise, but he kept it to himself. It wasn’t everyday his brother and his violet gaze targeted someone he wasn’t intendending to declare an enemy.

Unless declaring Wylla Karstark his enemy was a form of foreplay. Perhaps a northern custom he wasn’t aware of but surely Aemond knew everything about. Mating habits and rituals and all that.

His brother rolled his eye but the pink that tinged his cheeks had Aegon smirking in satisfaction as he looked over the drink available. Cider had been his choice since Mother had forbidden wine. A carafe of it had made it into the tent, the Arbor red he preferred calling to him. His fingers clenched and he went for the water instead. He needed his wits about him.

“And miss your great debut? I hear Vance has been known to fight with a pollaxe and you’ve only matched against blade and the morningstar.” Aemond’s unimpressed commentary on Aegon’s resurgence in training for this event dripped through every word and he scoffed.

“Are you truly belittling me for participating in my nameday tournament while you peacock around going,” Aegon lilted his voice to match Aemond’s slightly higher tone. “Fuck tourneys, I want a war and a real fight, watch me jump around the training circle with Criston Cole.”

Daeron giggled, sweet boy that he was, and even Aemond’s glower was softened at the long missed sound.

“I’ll fight in the joust at Harrenhal,” Aemond declared, his mouth curling in satisfaction at the sound of surprise Aegon made.

“You? Joust? But you hate jousting.”

“I wouldn’t want to face him in a joust,” Alyn offered with a serious look. “You’ve met your brother, right?”

Aemond shifted in his chair, chin tilting slightly with his own hint of preening. The curl of his mouth turned deadly sharp with satisfaction. “Well, well, looks like you should be trusting Hull’s judgment more than I gave him credit for. It seems he’s not the fool I thought.”

“To finally be recognized by the One-Eyed Prince!” Alyn said, clasping his hands together in prayer. “Warrior, you have heard my prayers to have my statement of the obvious that I have eyes and know when to not engage with the scariest cunt in the room is taken seriously.”

Aegon veered to the left as Aemond chucked a piece of meat at his friend, Alyn’s locs swinging with the motion, and with an open mouth, he caught the piece in his mouth, but gasped and choked briefly from the speed at which Aemond threw it. His brother looked stunned, getting up to thump Alyn on the back. Aegon glanced down at Daeron, his brother only a scant few inches shorter and promising another growth spurt.

“So proud of the progress they’ve been making.”

“Aye,” Daeron said seriously. “But I’m still your favorite.”

Aegon tapped the side of his nose and poured Daeron a cup of wine and another for Alyn, who’d coughed up the projectile. Aemond was now examining the blades for himself now that Hull wasn’t in danger of expiring.

“I still think you should go with the single blade and shield.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“It’s flashy.”

Aegon’s face contorted into confusion. “Of course it’s flashy. What? I don’t get to be flashy, you twat? Is this because you’re jealous my dragon is lovelier than yours?”

“Don’t you compare anything to Vhagar, you golden peacock.”

“Oh please, Vhagar’s more wrinkled than Beesbury’s ballsack.”

Aegon saw a flash of light as the tent flap opened, but it was Alyn who startled to attention, cutting through the bickering loudly. “Lady Abrogail!” Aegon jerked his head around, watching as Alyn hurried up to the slight figure who just entered the tent. He sketched a bow before her, Abby’s eyebrows raised in amusement as he took her hand to press a kiss to it. “It is a pleasure to finally put a name to the face, my lady. The prince’s songs of your beauty do little to match the vision you present.”

Whatever demands Aegon was about to make for Alyn to stop with his charms died on his tongue when he took Abby in, lined by the sunlight coming through the part of the tent flaps. Her wrap gown was nothing she’d worn before and it took Aegon a moment to realize it was similar to Rhaenyra’s gowns. There was nothing of his mother’s influence or of the Riverlands about it. The silk blue as a robin’s egg, the lining of her belled sleeves a warm sunset orange-gold, and the belt cinched around her waist was a wrap of golden metal etched with decorative roses and weirwood leaves. A heated sensation curled through Aegon’s chest when he caught sight of the numerous golden dragons embroidered along her body: over one shoulder where the dragon’s head rested over her heart, wrapped around one arm, down along the drape of fabric and across her skirts.

Not just a dragon. It was his dragon. Sunfyre decorating his bride’s gown, so everyone knew she was his, his to protect, his to care for, his to hoard. The place inside his bones where Sunfyre fused into him purred.

Her hair was a cascade of copper curls, a loose knotwork of braids twisted along the crown of her head, the cinnamon sugar of her freckles were dark against her softly flushed cheeks. Woven into her braids was a strand of sea pearls interspersed with topaz gems that brought out the river blue of her eyes. His eyes darted to the necklace she wore, the warmth of it a contrast against her lightly flushed skin.

He still needed to get a necklace for her. One that was wholly from him.

“Off,” Aegon barked at Alyn as if he were a pup begging. “All of you out.”

“Mother said you’re not to be left alone with Abby,” Daeron chimed from where he was putting away his armor polish. “She was very insistent, but said I’m allowed to leave you two alone after you're married.”

Aegon stared at Daeron, blinking in confusion until he caught the scent of Abby’s rose and red currant perfume.

“It’s alright,” she reassured. Aegon felt his cheeks flush while Abby stroked her hands admiringly over his armor plated bicep. “I’m nothing if not a proper lady. Besides, I brought Aegon a present.”

“Would that be proper?” Alyn asked innocently, his meaning clear. Aegon growled, feeling Sunfyre huff in his throat, a heated thing in his chest. Abby’s cheeks flushed but she paid Alyn no mind, reaching beneath the fold of her gown. For a moment, Aegon thought he might catch a glimpse of creamy skin and the little freckle along the edge of right breast, but she pulled a folded scrap of fabric out instead.

Aegon thought of the tourneys they had watched when they were little, of knights coming to the stands and the royal box to curry a favor from one of the ladies. Ser Criston would wear his mother’s favor, Ser Harwin a boon from his elder sister. How daring they all looked, wearing those favors meant to keep them safe and bring them victory.

He didn’t see so much as heard Aemond’s low voice and the rustle of the tent fabric as he pushed Alyn and Daeron out of the tent, leaving him alone with Abby.

“You made me a favor?” he asked, so soft that he could barely hear his own voice. Abby’s teeth caught at the plump red of her lower lip and with careful fingers, unwrapped the gift.

The leather braid was multicolored, the red, blue and green of House Strong snaked with the black of House Targaryen, silver charms woven into it etched with tiny runes. On closer inspection, he realized they were like the runes on the gold chain that Lyonel Strong had worn. Aegon recalled how they danced in the candlelight as the two of them sat at the table on his nameday not long before he died, and Aegon had promised not to tell that Lord Lyonel was helping himself to the strawberry cream cakes that the Maester said he wasn’t meant to have. The favor was woven and twisted into a complicated knot, foreign in its design. It was familiar, tickling at some distant memory he couldn’t quite place, but knew he had seen it somewhere before. Abby held it in her hands and he touched it, taking it in hand and he could see that it hung on a leather cord to hang around his neck.

Emotions seized at Aegon’s throat. A sense of longing that he couldn’t quite place, grief at the loss of the man he had once known, and a strange sort of trepidation that curled through it. ‘I’ll protect her, I swear it’.

“It’s…” Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips and Aegon’s mouth watered at the sight of it. She looked up at him beneath her lashes, her eyes so blue they looked like sapphires. “Dhá chroí mar aon ní amháin.” She paused, and then said it once more with a scrunch of her nose as she pronounced it slightly differently. “Two hearts as one, interlocked with no beginning and no end… I worked on it all night!” she added in a rush. Aegon could see her hand shaking and the twitch of her fingers from nerves. “What hurts you hurts me and the charms are protection to ensure that you’re safe and-”

Aegon closed the distance between them, his hand cradled her cheek while the other held the knot between them. He took advantage of her parted mouth to lick his way inside, and steal the taste of her mint and honey tea she drank in the mornings, of the sweet cream she slathered on her bread, of whatever taste that remained that was hers. She whimpered into his mouth and he drank it greedily, a growl low in the back of his throat. He stepped closer so there was no space between them, and Abby arched into him, uncaring of the armor that separated them.

“Prūmio ezīmus ñuhus,” Aegon breathed into her. The words unbidden, a spell, a promise, a declaration. His hand was trembling and he could feel her shaking against him. When he dared to open his eyes, her own were heavy lidded and looking back at him, the slightest pull of confusion creasing her brow. Her heart shaped mouth was red and kiss swollen, trembling as he was. “Half of my heart,” he whispered, the very thing pounding in his chest, his throat, the blood rushing through his ears that he felt dizzy with it.

He loved her. He loved her. He loved her.

Three times to matter. Three times to make it true.

“Aegon.” Abby’s voice cracked on the end of his name and she reached up her free hand to curl against his cheek and pull him closer again. She nuzzled her nose against his and tried to speak, but her voice cracked again, wordless.

His words, however, did not fail him. Aegon’s fingers stroked against the soft curve of her cheek, brushing away the copper of her hair from where it had fallen into her eyes.

“I love you.”

Let him be the first to tell her, for she was always the first to say so many things to him.

Her eyes widened, the smile spreading slowly across her face, and Aegon felt as if the sun broke through the storm clouds, the warmth of her as reassuring as Sunfyre. Her eyes crinkled and Aegon could feel his own crinkle in return as he smiled back at her, basking in the warmth between them.

“I love you.” Soft voiced but there was no lack of confidence, no indecision in the return of the declaration. Favor still clutched in her hand, Abby’s fingers dove into his hair, pulling him closer.

Aegon tilted her head back, touch reverent and mouth hungry, to taste the words for himself.

The silver necklace Abby wore was one meant for the Lady of Castamere. It belonged, by rights, to her grandmother, Dalla Swift, and was meant to pass onto her uncle’s wife when he took the seat. It was, however, the necklace her mother had worn on her wedding day and Abby’s fingers toyed with flame hued carnelian. It hung, smooth and flat backed in a lay of silver along her neck. The delicate silver chain was deceptively strong, strung with smaller carnelians.

‘Strength and bravery,’ her mother had told her of the precious stones she would wear. ‘Courage and joy.’ Abby ran her thumb along the smooth surface. ‘Brave, my little river lion. The fire of my heart.’

Helaena tugged at the ends of the braid slung over her shoulder, clad in a pleated gown of midnight blue with dragon pins at each shoulder, the fall of blue silk brushing against her shoulders. Rubies on a twisted band of woven gold were braided around the crown of her head, a veil of sheer red falling around her like a shield. Her mouth was pinched, brow furrowed, and it was clear the princess was at the end of her patience with the crowds.

“I will leave after Aegon’s gone,” Helaena murmured when she saw the concern on Abby’s face. She sunk further back into the low chair she sat in, her left leg bouncing. Abby reached into the basket at their feet and pulled out the half done embroidery that she’d been working on. Butterflies and beetles glimmering in jewel tones. She pressed it into the princess’ grasp, stroking her fingers along the back of her hands with a tapping motion.

“I’ll let you know when it’s his turn. Just focus on this.” Helaena’s mouth twitched as she clutched at her embroidery hoop, and Abby chanced a glance in the row behind them.

The royal box was an elegant thing. Rectangular with four massive stone columns at each corner carved with snarling dragons circling around each one. The roof was made of terracotta shingles coming to three points for the two lower levels on either side of the main royal box. The Targaryen banner flew from the highest point, with three banners each on the other two: Stark, Tully, and Arryn on the left, and Lannister, Tyrell, and Baratheon on the right. The view of the pitch was unimpeded from either end, and allowed those in the stands around them to view their liege.

King Viserys sat in a padded chair like a chicken in a nest, his crown of gold heavy on his brow and a cup of wine in hand as he inclined his head towards Lord Otto and her grandfather. The Queen was resplendent in a gown of verdant green, braided cord across the shoulders of the gown and snaking down her bodice in a mimicry of flames. Her auburn curls were free down her back save for the delicate twists that held it from her face and held her crown of state in place. She was smiling at Lady Lysa beside her and Abby was startled with how young the queen looked. So used to the cold remoteness of her cousin, the laughter spilling from her mouth was a rare sound.

She swallowed and turned away, uncertain how she felt about the sight.

“Have you had a chance to talk with Lady Alys yet?” she asked Wylla to her left. She looked beautiful in her bronze brocade surcoat, striking against the black kirtle beneath with bronze embroidery along the arms. Her thick hair was braided into cauls on either side of her head, much how she’d seen Lady Lysa wear her hair. Abby wound one of her own red curls around her finger and wondered if she too could pull off such an elegant style. Pearls draped around the crown of her friend’s head, little treasures nestled in the expanse of raven wing hair.

“Briefly, during the feast,” Wylla said and the pair glanced down towards the seats to their left. Harrion was easy to spot with his height in the crowd, his head inclined to the smaller figure beside him. Alys Bracken, his bride to be, her dark red hair caught in a snood - less delicate than the nets favored in the crownlands and the Queen’s court. She was a tiny thing compared to her betrothed, and Abby smiled as she saw the woman reach to touch Harrion’s arm. “She’s nice. Quiet.” Wylla pursed her mouth a bit in the expression she wore when she was trying to find something tactful to say. “Are all girls from the Riverlands like that?”

“Mmm, not if you were speaking with Melony Piper last night,” Abby grinned. Wylla was brash, and Abby wondered if her mother was such a way as well. “It is difficult sometimes to find one’s voice when everyone is so loud.” She clucked her tongue and took a sip of the strawberry wine that had come in for Aegon’s nameday, feeling rather smug about engaging with House Buckler on trade agreements. It was good wine, less heavy than the Arbor Red that Aegon tended to enjoy that was too dry for her tastes. “Why, I do think you fell rather quiet when Aemond pulled you onto the floor.”

“Och! Are you going to start with me?” Wylla’s attention pulled from her brother to smooth her hands over her black skirt and her pale cheeks flushed a touch. “It was very nice of him to ask me to dance-”

“Nice, was it?” Abby would not forget how Wylla had teased her so, pulling the details of the clandestine affair that had gone on in Abby’s bedroom by the firelight. “Did his hand stay in its proper place, or did you encourage him.” She put on a low mimic of Wylla’s brogue, sounding more Riverlander than Northerner as her lilt came on stronger. “Oh, Prince Aemond, your hand is so warm-”

“Prince Jacaerys!” Wylla’s voice came out high pitched and a little strangled, loud enough to carry over the din. There was a chair that separated him and Helaena before the King, for when Aegon and Aemond came up after the melee, he would take it as his place of honor. In the meantime, Helaena was, as she put it ‘staking her claim until her brother proved himself worthy of it’.

Jace was reclined in his chair, his head bent towards Baela’s. His jerkin was dark red leather edged in black, the buckles were shining silver seahorses. “Lady Wylla,” he smiled, a look so familiar it made Abby’s chest ache.

“Are you not competing today?”

Baela laughed and Jace rolled his eyes at her before returning to Wylla’s question with a sly grin that she recalled from their youth. It generally predated some sort of mischief, Aemond often its target. “I would, but since it is my Uncle’s nameday, I thought it would be in poor taste to upstage him.”

“Upstage him?” Baela snorted, reaching down beside her to lift one of the little vases that the vendors were selling among other things. A crude painting of a yellow dragon was splashed across the red clay and a black figure holding a sword was positioned for battle. “How could you upstage the man whose liking is splashed across a dozen pisspots?”

“They’re too narrow to be pisspots,” Helaena said mildly. “But they’d be perfect for the foxglove and oleander growing in Visenya’s garden. I could show you, if you’d like, cousin.”

Abby gave the princesses a sidelong look, but was pleased to see Baela’s expression was one of amused appreciation and Helaena’s own smile was small. Jace looked confused and uncertain of what he was meant to do before huffing and helping himself to some more finger foods from the low table. Abby hummed, her own smile crossing her face as the trumpets sounded for the first round of contestants. Squires marched out onto the pitch carrying the banners of their knights. Warren Fossoway was no longer among their ranks - he’d been knighted only a few weeks ago and would compete in the melee. Many of the women around her cooed over the sons and brothers proud on the pitch with their standards.

“Oh!” Abby leaned forward, touching Helaena’s arm to draw her attention before pointing. “There’s Daeron!”

The youngest Targaryen’s blonde hair gleamed golden in the morning light, proudly bearing the blood red, three headed dragon upon the field of black for his eldest brother. Ser Gwayne had let the boy squire for Aegon this day, and Daeron looked so proud and so serious all at once.

“He looks like Aemond,” Wylla said with a soft laugh. “They both have that same serious look.” Abby giggled at the comparison. Even this far away, it was undeniable.

“He has my hair though,” Helaena chimed in, waving out to Daeron with a beaming smile amidst her discomfort of being in the crowd. Her hands clutched back at her embroidery hoop as a wave of cheers rippled through the crowd again as the standards were placed in pairs of who would face off against whom.

“What is it that you’re making?” Abby looked over to see Jace leaning over to admire her embroidery. He’d slid over to Aegon’s empty chair, while Baela remained in her own chair, speaking with one of the ladies that had accompanied her, Zara Celtigar. “Would you show me?” Helaena nodded and Abby was relieved to see her focus on Jace’s question and interest. She recalled when they were young, that Jace had joined them on their explorations into the mud and underbrush for Helaena’s interest, always asking her questions about what she’d found and what she was looking for. Tension riddled through her own bones at what Jacaerys and Baela’s arrival would mean, but the fear that Jace would have turned cruel over the years felt silly now. Hopefully it would remain as such.

First on the pitch was Ser Warren Fossoway, the gleaming gold and red of Cider Hall embolized on his shield. His squire, a sandy haired boy who had served as page for Lord Otto, bounded in front of him proudly as the heralds announced him with trumpet and drummed fanfare. She did not know the boy’s name, but his preening and excitement was adorable. Warren’s light brown hair curled along the back of his neck, his armor heavy plate that suited his broad frame well. As his opponent, Lord Ryam Merryweather, called for a favor from his lady wife, Warren approached the royal box, his helmet beneath his arm. The squires got out of the way, perching with the heralds

“Princess Helaena!” he called, cheeks flushed from the excitement and a boldness that Abby wasn’t entirely surprised by. Helaena’s head jerked up from where it was bent next to Jace’s, startled at the public address. “It would be a great boon to my spirits if you would grant me your favor on this day!”

Her round cheeks went flush pink, and Abby wondered when the last time Helaena had snuck off to trade favors with the knight before them. The princess handed off her embroidery hoop to Jace and reached into the basket for her favor. She pulled out one of the twisted bands of flowers and ivy wrapped with ribbon, normally used to crown the lances of the jousters than for a melee fighter but it worked all the same. Ser Warren would be able to hook it on his belt without issue. Helaena rose smoothly, approaching the railing and tossing the favor down to him.

“I hope this protects that pretty face of yours, Ser Warren!” she called down to him, anxiety pushed away and teasing in her tone. “It would be a pity to lose such handsome countenance to some knightly foolishness.”

Warren caught the woven circlet and sketched a bow, sending a wink up at the princess before going to meet Lord Ryam out on the pitch.

“I’m sure Warren appreciates your blessing,” Abby teased her sister. Helaena rolled her eyes and took her seat once more. Jace’s lavender eyes were narrowed, brow furrowed as he looked from Helaena to Warren as the knight swung his sword with a great yell and the bout started.

Abby winced at the first screech of Lord Ryam’s blade across Warren’s shield and the wave of excited hollering that washed across the arena. She was giddy with the excitement that it spurred on. Gone were the tangled snake nest of nerves that fostered in her belly from the feast. Here, there was comfort being in the relative privacy of the box. Yes, the eyes of the realm kept gazing up, pointing and whispering, but there were men drawing blood in the arena below, and Abby could pretend they were pointing at anyone else but her.

For his first tourney, Warren stood his ground. It took everything Lord Ryam, an experienced tourney knight with a decade and a half on the younger man to land each blow. Each white flag for the knights were slow to come. Twisting and turning, it was an exciting start to the melee events and finally, Warren struck the last blow: a clang of castleforged steel along the back of Lord Ryam’s shoulders. Lady Lysa, from her seat behind the queen, stood and cheered along with the applause of the rest of the court. Even Ser Westerling, stoic as he oft was, shouted, “Well done!” that carried over the crowd.

Helaena shifted in her chair and Abby glanced over at her. Teeth caught on her lower lip as her occasional paramour bowed to the royal box and Abby noted the flush on her cheeks.

“I didn’t know Warren Fossoway became a knight,” Jace said casually. Heleana did not clap, but held her hands before her, a broad and encouraging smile on her face, eyes dancing with curiosity.

Helaena shrugged. “It’s well earned, mind you. Ser Warren is the attentive sort. Not even Aemond could cow him.” She settled back in her chair to focus on the embroidery in her lap. “He’s worked hard for it and he makes quite a handsome figure in his armor.”

On her other side, Wylla muffled her snort into a cough and Abby silently handed her a goblet of wine with an amused shake of her head.

“What was it like twirling about the feast in Aemond’s arms?” Abby asked as the next competitors took the pitch. Her heart thrummed in her chest, her cheeks heated when her thoughts strayed to the feel of Aegon’s mouth on hers, the taste of him, the feel of his armored arms wrapped around her. She sighed, soft and distracted before her bright blue eyes landed on Wylla, who was giving her a knowing look.

“I will throw you from this box, lady. I’m not drunk yet.” She took a swallow of the strawberry wine, making an intrigued face at the taste and then another sip. “Did he get under your skirts again?” Wylla asked quietly, leaning her head closer so as not to be so easily overheard.

Abby’s cheeks flushed. “So did Aemond pull you on the dance floor to argue with you, or to be his human shield?” Their eyes met, both challenging, but there was no bite beneath their words. She would not be dissuaded from her line of questioning.

The crowd cheered as Ser Corbin Manderly knocked Ser Janos Farley’s helmet from his head.

Wylla’s cheeks, fair as the winter snow, flushed pink. “He said, rather dashingly, that he knew I’d be a good dance partner because I would not bore him with inane conversation. I then proceeded to tell him how I never, ever wanted to sew the beads upon your wedding slippers ever again. I did it for the love of you, but you better not ask for beaded slippers for any other dress or for your children or anyone else.”

“But I didn’t ask you for beaded slippers, you offered.”

“I will throw you from this box.”

Abby giggled and took her own sip of strawberry wine. “You’ve said that already. We need to get you new threats.” She glanced down at the pitch, clapping along with the crowd. “So you explained the intricacies of beaded slippers. You danced quite a bit, so he must not have been dissuaded.” Aemond and Wylla had danced several turns before he was pulled to dance with other maidens of the court. He’d not danced with anyone else even half as frequently as he’d danced with the northerner.

“He was quite pleased to discuss the original plans of the Aegonfort,” Wylla huffed, but there was a smile dancing about her red lips. The kind of womanly secret Abby had been jealous of in Cassandra Baratheon. The kind that Abby wondered if she held now. Wylla clapped politely as the knights finished, Ser Janos the victor this time around. The expression she wore was a pensive one, uncertainty creasing at the corner of her eyes. Reaching over, Abby stroked the elder girl’s arm, comforting if not sympathetic, as she was uncertain if Wylla needed sympathy so much as reassurance.

“Aemond is mercurial and moody, and knows everything, but he is, above all else, honest.” Abby’s fingers brushed at a loose thread on the bronze silk of Wylla’s gown. She had never been to the north, but Wylla had spoken of it lovingly, with a homesickness laced with the kind of frustrations one developed with a need to see the world. “I know this place is one of duplicity and confusion, but you can believe me when I tell you that Aemond plays no games. His intentions are what they are. He finds deception in such things to be foolish.” Abby grinned then. “Why be underhanded and duplicitous when he can simply threaten or show he knows more?”

Wylla snorted. “He knows everything about the Aegonfort.”

Abby shrugged, grinning. “He plans to be an unparalleled military man, you know.”

Their conversation was cut short as the trumpets sounded, louder now than they had been for the men who had come before. It was the Targaryen herald song, the drums thrumming through the stadium as the people rose, cheering for Aegon Targaryen, son of the king. Abby’s heart pounded in time with the beat, slowly rising to her feet with a grin, cheering along with the rest of the crowd that chanted his name. ‘Aegon! Aegon!’ They shouted. ‘Prince! Prince!’ Her feet took her to the railing, if only to get as close as she could, the breeze tugging at the loose curls that hung down her back.

Daeron looked so serious leading the way, carrying Aegon’s Targaryen standard to be hung, the breeze catching at his curls. This was not his first tournament, nor, Abby surmised, was it even his tenth. He carried his duties with the experience of a squire far older than he. As he hung the standard up and stepped back, Aegon grabbed his hand to tug him close, lifting their joined fists in the air together. Even with all his experience, the boy was not immune to the cheering and shouting chants of his own name as the brothers stood beneath the crowd, Aegon sharing this moment with his littlest brother. Daeron broke out into a grin, his own cheering as the people of King’s Landing, the lords and ladies of the realm who had come down, shouted out their wishes.

Aegon was so handsome. Everything narrowed down to seeing him standing there. His armor was a burnished black, the plates of it layered like Sunfyre’s dragon scales. The pauldrons were layered similarly, broadening his already broad shoulders. The gold chasing glimmered in the sunlight, his helmet beneath his arm. His silver hair shone golden beneath the light, pulled back from his face in a few small braids that Aemond must have done for him so his hair would not fall into his eyes beneath the helmet.

He turned from the crowd to approach the box as all the contestants did, his lilac eyes meeting hers. A flush unfurled beneath her cheeks even if all he did was smile so wide that his eyes squinted with it.

“My lady!” he called, his voice nearly lost to the noise of the arena. “The joy on your face could outshine the sun itself!” Abby heard Wylla scoff behind her, but paid her little mind, teeth nibbling along her lower lip. “Are you truly so happy this day?”

“I am, my prince,” she called down to him, feeling Wylla slide the braided ring of flowers into her hand. Abby toyed with the favor. She wanted to call down to him that she was so happy because he told her he’d loved her. He had said those words to her, confessed them to her first and she was drunk with it, giddy and incandescent. She wanted to kiss him again, to taste the promises on his pouty mouth, but all she could do now was toss the favor down to him. “And if you wish to keep me so happy, you will come back to me safe and victorious!”

Aegon’s smile took a mischievous edge, a rakish glint in his eye. “I do wish it, my lady. All you must do is command me.” He tucked the favor onto his armor, turning his gaze to meet his father’s. He crossed his arm across his chest in a sign of fealty and bowed before giving her a wink and going to stand by Daeron who held his swords in hand. Further down the pitch, Abby could see Aemond and Alyn Hull standing safely out of the way. Aemond looked serious, face pinched in concern as Alyn hollered his cheers of encouragement.

Abby watched as Ser Edmund entered, the cheers for him quieter than the people who cheered for their prince, but the sound of it joined the excitement of the match to come. His squire was one of the Piper boys, only a little older than Daeron and no less experienced. Edmund looked like a knight from a song, his light brown hair golden in the sun, the placid smile on his face making it seem as if the accolades of the crowd bored him. His armor was bright plated steel, elegant in its simplicity, but the strange eyes that made up the Vance coat of arms unnerved her. They reminded her of the unblinking eyes on the older carvings within the Red Keep: sightless, with their wide, frozen gazes.

His page carried his arms for him, the two handed greatsword nearly overwhelming the boy. Aegon stood with Daeron on the other side of the platform where the standards were set beside the officials for the match. He barely spared the elder man a glance, busy flexing his hands and adjusting his gauntlets. Daeron had his brother’s swords sheathed and ready.

Anxiety curled in Abby’s gut. Aegon had a natural talent with the blade, had found great joy in it when he was younger, like any boy would when they found themselves handed something sharp and deadly and taught to wield it from some of the best swordsmen in the realm. Regardless of natural talent, Aegon had not spent the past three years throwing himself into blade mastery. Not the way Aemond had.

A hot hand found her own and Abby blinked when Helaena appeared at her side and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You’re giving Mother lemons,” she whispered. Abby felt her cheeks flame deeper but she did not spare a glance over her shoulder.

“Let her. The realm enjoys my foolish childishness,” Abby murmured. Helaena chuckled, but her form grew tense as Edmund Vance’s eyes cut in their direction. The knight approached, bowing before the king and the court.

“Congratulations on your betrothal, Lady Abrogail!” he called up, his eyes flicking towards Aegon. “I do hope to deliver His Grace back to you in one piece!”

Her fingers scraped against the stone railing she leaned against, the smile still firmly on her face. She ached to claw at him again, to peel back the layers and reveal the ugliness that lay beneath.

“That is too kind, Ser Edmund. I only hope that you are prepared to fight your first dragon.” She tilted her head. “They are fearsome opponents.”

As if on cue, Sunfyre’s call came from the dragon pit, loud even as Aegon’s mount was confined. He’d broken out that night months ago when Aegon and Aemond had fought, and was under even more guard to ensure he did not break free again.

Aegon’s grin was bright and full of what might have been boyish innocence had he been anyone else. Instead, there was something invitingly dangerous about it. It made her belly feel as if it was turning circles, the embarrassed flush morphing into something wanting and excited. His eyes met hers, his lilac gaze bright as the pink streaked across the sky at night.

The herald called the start of the match and the two men were on each other like Braavosi dervishes. Vance, with his greatsword glinting in the light, and Aegon meeting each strike with the clang of his own steel. He wielded an arming sword along with a slightly shorter sword and it was a sight to behold to see him in true combat and not just in the training yard with padded armor. Abby exhaled slowly, too breathless, too anxious to shout for him, but her eyes did not stray.

Her heart was in her throat. Ser Edmund was fierce and well practiced, a tourney knight several times over. Each powerful swing had her gasping in fear. Each clang of Aegon’s swords against his had her trembling. Edmund had reach, but Aegon had a ferocity that was less polished, more wild than his brother. He dove under swings instead of jumping back out of harm’s way. Abby had watched him in the training yard sparring against Harrion Karstark, the northman a powerhouse of grace and battle readiness. Aegon had held his own, although different from how he did now.

The crowd was a wave and a roar of cheers and hollering as if this was the best fight they would ever witness. Let it not be said the people did not enjoy a drama, or the sight of the king’s son, a fierce warrior.

Abby’s teeth caught at her lower lip, worrying the pink flesh with her nerves and excitement. Vance swung and a scream caught in her throat when the sharp edge of that great blade knocked Aegon’s helmet from his head, sending it flying and skipping across the ground and too far to reach. Abby heard Alicent cry out in worry, but there was no tearing her gaze from him.

Sweat dampened his silver hair, the fine braids Aemond put in doing their work to keep his vision clear. A laugh escaped him and then Vance’s gauntlet knocked him about the face, sending him reeling back.

Aegon laughed as the knight before him advanced, spitting blood on the ground from his. He twirled his swords lazily, arms open as if he meant to embrace Vance. The man swung, and Aegon abandoned his right blade, tossing it behind him in the dirt. His left sword came up to block the swing as he stepped into Vance’s reach. This time, a wordless cry ripped from her, more inhale than exhale. Helaena gripped her hand tightly, reassuringly, but was otherwise silent in her observation.

She’d seen Aegon pull the move before. It was not something taught by Ser Criston. No, this was purely Aegon, who spent his time in taverns and brothels, coming home with split lips and bruised egos. As Aegon stepped into Vance, his left blade blocking the elder’s sword, he turned. It all happened so fast. One moment they were both upright, the next, Vance was flying over Aegon’s shoulder, his greatsword falling out of his reach and even from the dirt of the pitch, Abby swore she could hear the ring of metal armor as Ser Edmund Vance hit the ground so hard his own helmet careened off, leaving the man red-faced and gasping.

“I don’t need to take his hands.”

“And what have you decided to take instead?”

“His pride.”

Aegon still held his arm in his grasp, looking down at him. He shouted something but Abby could barely make it out over the roar of the crowd, louder than dragons. His hands jerked and twisted Edmund’s arm in a sudden motion, the knight howling in pain as his arm fell limply to his chest, broken. The herald was declaring Aegon the winner. Vance’s page was running out to the field with two other men as Daeron ran to his brother, cheering and pumping his fists in the air. Aegon embraced him, spinning him around as the pair cheered, shortly being joined by Aemond and Alyn.

Abby’s grip on Helaena’s hand eased and her whole body trembled as the tension bled out. The heat remained though. The twisted tangle low in her belly was warm and syrupy and this time she screamed out his name, like one of the small folk in the stands, her grin so bright it might have hurt if she even registered it.

“He really did it,” Baela said. “And fucked his sword arm while he was at it.” It was only then that Abby registered that they had been joined at the railing. Jace on Helaena’s other side, Baela beside him, leaning over the railing like she could get closer. Wylla was to her left, clapping and shouting along with the rest of the crowd. “Fuck. I owe Lannister ten dragons.”

“I won’t say I didn’t think he had it in him…” Wylla began, a teasing note in her voice. “But your betrothed was in fine form today. Lucky you.”

“Lucky me,” Abby repeated with a faint voice, her eyes affixed on the man below basking beneath the accolades and triumph. It was the second time in as many days that the realm cheered for him in a way he was so deeply unaccustomed to. Aegon reveled in it, blowing kisses to the crowd and waving both hands.

The favor she had publicly given him was still affixed to his belt and he unhooked it, twirling it thoughtfully around a finger before flinging it into a section of the crowd. Abby watched the scramble it caused but the crowd was too thick for her to see who had come out with the prize.

“The Golden Sunfyre indeed,” Helaena grinned. “Although more like a Golden Peacock. Abby, you don’t seem to mind, do you?”

She glanced at her. “Did you enjoy dancing with Jace at the feast?” She was no longer the only one who could be teased, and she’d make sure the rest of them knew that. It was nice, getting to have something to poke at the others about.

Jace’s face flushed. Helaena raised her eyebrows, a smirk playing across her soft features.

As the boys below disappeared back to the tents, Abby turned to take her seat. Her eyes caught the Queen’s from where she sat on the right side of her husband. There was a vague air of annoyance on her face and Abby was immediately concerned it was due to her.

‘Why should I be concerned about cheering Aegon on?’ Abby thought. It would have been a poor showing indeed if she had not. She squared her shoulders, inclining her head. Aegon had shown up sober and ready to make a good impression, both things she thought would soften the queen’s edges.

“Quite the show,” her grandfather said from where he sat on Lord Otto’s other side, an indulgent smile on his face. “Prince Aegon is quite the creative warrior, and practiced with the crowd.” He raised his goblet to the king and queen and Lord Otto. “Congratulations on raising a fine young man. To Prince Aegon on his nameday indeed.”

“Ah, that he is. We’ve minded him well, and he’ll make a fine lord, having minded the example I’ve set.” Lord Otto choked momentarily on his goblet of wine. The queen flushed, plucking at her skirts while she hesitantly returned the smile, as if expecting a jest, but found none.

“Thank you, Uncle. He is… still a rambunctious boy in many ways. But it seems my hunch was right that a gentle hand was what he needed.”

Abby sucked in her lips to hide the smile that threatened at the uncomfortable looks that her grandfather was pretending not to notice while he commented on the taste of the wine. Her heart ached with it. The presence of Rodrick Reyne had been a balm to her soul. To have someone in power care about her wellbeing in such a genuine way as he had shown her in the days that he’d been there felt as if it had started to heal something she did not even realize was broken. He did not care about her becoming Aegon’s queen, or the games that were being played. He just wanted her to be happy.

She reached back, squeezing Wylla’s arm before looking over at Helaena. “I’ll accompany you to Aegon’s tent before you go back to the castle, now that the important show is done with.”

Helaena’s relief at escape was palpable, naked on her face and she shoved her embroidery back into the basket, smoothing her hands over her skirt. The queen’s brow furrowed.

“Helaena, darling, are you well?”

The princess plucked at her skirt as she bobbed a curtsy. “A headache from all the sound,” she said. It was a familiar statement and while it did little to ease the concern on Alicent’s face, understanding shone and she nodded. Lord Otto’s concern was also there as he noticed them moving towards the back of the box. He waved to one of the servants lingering along the side of the box.

“Have the cook prepare Helaena some sherbert and send it up to her rooms,” he ordered. Helaena’s gaze brightened at the prospect of the spiced compote and she shuffled over to press a kiss to her grandfather’s cheek.

Arm in arm, Abby and Helaena exited the royal box. Her heart thudded like the drums between her ribs and she felt Helaena tug her back when she walked faster.

“Give him time to get out of his armor first,” Helaena said softly.

Abby gave her a look, prim and proper. “And what if I want to help him out of his armor?” The princess scrunched her face up to hold back her laughter. The guards outside Aegon’s tent bowed and opened the flap to let them inside the dim interior.

Aegon was indeed in the process of getting out of his armor, Daeron tugging at the shoulder strap of the cuirass with a concentrated look so far removed from his boyish glee that he’d shown just moments before.

“I can’t believe you used the same move on him that Gabor put you through that table with!” Alyn crowed as if Aegon’s victory was his own. “I wish I could’ve seen the look on his face when you started laughing-” His words were cut off as Aemond punched his shoulder, drawing his attention to the tent opening. Alyn sputtered, jumping to attention and bowing like the most experienced of courtiers, rather than the smooth talker he’d been before. “Your Grace, Lady Abrogail.”

Abby tilted her head. “So I only get such gallantry from you if I’m in the company of the princess?” she asked, a soft, imperious tone to her voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aegon smirk. “Such a shame.”

Alyn blanched, mouth gaping like a fish. “N-no, my lady! I never mean any disrespect. I…” The poor man was at a loss for words. Aemond was also looking amused at Alyn Hull caught on the edge of the unexpected teasing. Abby moved further into the cool confines of the tent, folding her hands beneath the long bell sleeves of her lapis gown. It was her first foray into the Targaryen styles that had been popular when Princess Rhaenyra was at court and a gown that she found quite comfortable in.

“Leave us,” she commanded, a smile playing on her face. “I would like some time alone with my gallant knight, and the princess needs her escort towards the carriage to go back to the castle.”

Aemond’s gaze shot over to Helaena, concerned before understanding. He grabbed Alyn by the shoulder and hauled him up. “We’ll escort her, since Prince Jacaerys lacks such manners.”

“Wylla is still in the royal box. I’m sure she’ll be lonely since we’ve left her to fend for herself,” Abby piped up. Aemond’s cheeks turned so red she thought he’d burst into flames, and he growled low before following Helaena from the tent. Abby looked at Daeron expectantly as he undid the second strap and was removing Aegon’s cuirass. “You too.” Daeron frowned, opening his mouth to protest, but Aegon rested a hand on his head, mussing his hair and pushing him away.

“You did well today, squire,” Aegon told him. “Go have some fun before you have to help Uncle Gwayne for the joust.”

Daeron squinted at the pair of them before shaking his head with the most put upon sigh Abby thought she’d ever heard before he scampered away. The flap closed behind him, cutting off the shaft of light that came in, muffling some of the revelry outside. Heat flushed through her body and Abby turned, studying Aegon half out of his armor.

He was still smirking at her, a dark look in his lilac gaze, his lower lip cut and swollen from the hit he took. Aegon turned and pulled over the chair to sit and work on his greaves, and Abby came to undo the rerebrace that protected his biceps. He smelled of sweat and the lavender mint of his soap. There was the subtle scent of something warm, something inherently Aegon that she couldn’t put her finger on, but had her belly fluttering and rolling with heat. It made her fingers tremble, the only sound the clinking of his armor as the pieces were slowly removed.

Abby moved to his other side to work on the braces, her fingers stroking over the braids in his short hair. “Aemond?” she asked softly.

“They work, even if my hair’s…” He waved a negligent hand and she stroked her hand over his head again.

“I think it looks nice. I’ll learn, if you’d like,” she offered. Aegon made a soft sound and handed her the greaves for her to put on the table so he could work on his other leg. Once both his arms were free of the armor, Abby leaned against the side of his chair to stroke her fingers over his hair again. Aegon nuzzled his head back instinctively into the touch. She remembered the shadowy night on Driftmark, the trembling fear she felt as her brother was accused of fathering heirs to the throne, of Rhaenyra demanding Aemond be questioned. Of feeling so lost in the midst of dragon fire.

Flame that eventually consumed those she held dear.

She slowly worked the braids free, tenderly untangling the twists with a sigh, as if she could breathe out the bad memories that lingered and threatened. Abby inhaled, letting the scent of him fill her gaps and spaces. If only she could crack open her body and bring him into her, caging him into the space between her ribs and lacing herself closed. Perhaps then this newfound feeling of safety, of acceptance, would never leave her.

How warm he was. More than warm, Aegon, like his siblings, ran hot with the dragonfire in their blood, and she hungered for his closeness as she always had. To keep her warm and comforted. He tilted his head back to rest along the back of the high-backed chair, a lazy smile on his face, eyes still heavy with the dark look that blew his pupils so wide the lilac was just a rim.

“I should call you kēlītsos, shouldn’t I? You’ve been flexing your claws and baring your teeth.” His voice was low and rough in that way that she adored. It had her breath hitch and the ache inside her grew. Arousal was thick in her veins, pulsing through her with each pound of her heart.

“What does that mean? Kēlītsos?” She had finally asked Helaena what hunītsos meant, blushing so deeply at being told it meant little rabbit that she swore Helaena to secrecy upon her coveted orb weaver.

“Little lion,” he said with a shrug, heavy lidded with the attention she was paying him. “Technically, little cat, but the point-”

Fingers in his hair, Abby licked her way into his open mouth without hesitation. No tender, shy touch of her lips against his. No, she was parched as if she’d been lost in the deserts of Dorne and Aegon was the only spring she’d seen in days. He tasted like salt and strawberry wine, of the copper tang of blood from his split lip. He growled into her mouth and she moaned in response, fingers dropping from his damp hair to his sweat soaked linen shirt. He was eager, giving in to the way she yanked him up to feel him against her, to lean into him on her shaky legs. Aegon wasted no time, his arm hooking around her waist to hold her close to him.

Her teeth caught instinctually on his lower lip and Aegon grunted with a note of pain. “Sorry,” she mumbled into his mouth, not really sorry at all, and Aegon didn’t seem to mind, for he growled at her murmured apology. All that mattered was the slide of his tongue against hers, the way the heat of him sunk into her, nestled there, and the heat that pooled between her thighs, of the way her hips pressed into his without nary a thought for what it meant.

Abby bumped back into the edge of the trestle table, the armor on the other side clinking with the jostle and tried to hoist herself up, but her gown was in the way and she didn’t want to let go. Aegon handled it, his broad hands grasping her waist and dropping her down on the table top. He broke the kiss, flushed face and nipping at the tip of her nose, grinning as she giggled at the playfulness. His hands played along the decorative metal and chain of her belt, stroking around to her back to toy with the clasp. Her eyes darted to his, drawn to the heated darkness of his gaze and the concentrated furrow between his brows as he worked the clasp. He held her gaze and her lips parted with each unhooked chain until they were undone.

‘Eyes on me’ she recalled, uncaring as he dropped the belt to the table, the slide and thump as it slid off. Abby swallowed, a whimper escaping her, nipples peaked against the fabric of her gown with that needy sort of aching that was spiraling through her.

“Aegon,” she breathed and arched into him, his hands coming up to cradle her jaw and caress her neck, fingers diving into the curls that flowed about her. Her hands trembled as she grabbed at his hips to pull him closer with all the imperious demanding she was capable of. He laughed into her mouth, and Abby swallowed it greedily while her hands worked at his own belt, the back of her hand brushing against the hard evidence of his own arousal. She whined again and Aegon brushed her hair from her neck to nip along her jaw and down the pulsing flutter of her heartbeat beneath her flushed skin.

“Abby,” he breathed back, his prayer answering her own. Hands tugged on the gown she wore, kindly undoing the ties that kept the wrap of the dress closed. The air hit her when the fabric was pulled away, baring her body beneath the airy linen that protected her skin from the scratchy underside of the gown. Abby shivered so hard her teeth chattered.

The feeling overtook her. It was a heady thing, like she’d drunk too much wine. Her hand lifted to tangle into his hair, his mouth dragging against the crook of her shoulder. Her other hand came up, pulling aside the collar of the loose linen shirt and she sank her teeth into the crook of his shoulder, biting into the salty taste of him. She moaned and growled as if she too were a dragon and Aegon gave a shout, a growl that sounded too deep, too inhuman to come from a human body before he snarled, his teeth locking onto her shoulder to make a twin. The sharp pain of his bite spiked hot and she bit harder into his shoulder to muffle her cry, the copper taste hitting her tongue as she broke skin.

His hands were yanking into her hair and she cried out when he pulled her off him only to take her mouth with his. He was frenzied with it. There was nothing gentle in the kiss and her own hands pulled at his shoulders, tearing into the linen shirt. Her legs came up, now free from the confines of the gown to wrap around his waist and pull him closer, feel the hardness of him press into the soft heat of her. She wanted him. She craved him. ‘Fuck what the queen says’, she thought with a possessed need that had been coalescing inside of her since the first time Aegon had kissed her beside the lake. She would have her husband now, open her body to him so he could never leave, so he would never stop touching her.

The cry that escaped her was bereft when he broke the kiss, both of their mouths red from the exertion. Aegon looked wild, a man possessed, his eyes bright as he licked his lips and leaned back to take a look at her. Abby leaned back so he could see her, the way she wanted him. The fabric was only on this side of sheer, the shadow of her form visible beneath - the dusky pink of her achingly peaked nipples, the gentle round of her breasts and the way the neckline of the shift was tugged down over a shoulder.

He growled low in his throat and leaned forward, pushing her back so she had to brace herself on her hands to keep from falling back. Aegon cupped a breast in one hand, his mouth capturing the other, the wet of his touch soaking into the material as he tended to the aching peak. It was heated and she whined, helpless to his touch and unable to reach for him lest she fall. She pulled her legs up to hook her ankles to the small of his back and hold him close, digging her hips into him to feel the thick outline of his cock pressing against her. She instinctively wriggled like a caught cat, rubbing herself against him for a way to relieve the ache that was driving her mad.

There was a knot growing in the syrupy heat of her belly and she gasped out, “Aeg, please,” but Seven help her, Abby didn’t know what she was asking for. Aegon must have, for his hand came up to press against her back to hold her steady and she immediately looped an arm around his neck while the other hand clawed at the linen of his sleeve, so hard she might have torn at the seams. It brought her closer into him and he encouraged it, his thumb rubbing over her other nipple in soothing strokes that made her shake. She felt a pang of jealousy at the idea of him touching other women like this, possessive with the need to have him all to herself, to let him forget about the faceless women, to make sure Cassandra Baratheon was a flitting memory.

Let her be filled with the womanly secret. Let her be the one he was mad for. Let her always be the one that he fought stupid men for, whose favors he wore.

The woven knot had slipped from his collar, brushing against her and she smiled, mouth brushing against the crown of his head. She pressed herself further against him and Aegon’s hips snapped into her, the groan he let out filling the tent as he switched the breast he tended to.

She wanted his mouth everywhere.

Abby’s hand wormed back between them, tugging at the fastenings of his trousers, eager to feel him, to feel the warm weight of him, to imagine what it would be like once he was inside of her. “Let me,” she begged. Demanded. Whined for with all the impatience of a child waiting for a treat. Her fingers found him, the warm velvet feel of his cock and the violent shudder that went through him. She cried out louder this time, his name broken on her voice when his teeth bit down on her breast from the shock of it before he soothed it with gentle licks of his tongue.

He was as thick as she remembered, her fingers unable to properly wrap around him and the feel of it made her light headed to wonder at how he would fit, when his finger stroking in had felt like an intrusion. Yet, she was eager to find out, hungry for it. With a grunt, Abby pressed her free hand against his shoulder to push him back, her breasts cold from the absence of his mouth. She needed space between them so she could see, so she could take in the sight of him, heavy and warm and what he would look like wrapped in her cool hand. It was an image she had been robbed of before.

She had only touched him once before in the night when he had crawled into her bed like a demon from Asshai, the kind that crept into a maiden’s dreams. It had not been as easy as this and she had barely been able to touch him properly, but had thought about it often in the weeks since. Now she could look at him and so she did, Aegon still holding her up with his hand braced against her back. A kind lover.

She was not a blind nor sheltered girl. Abby had seen the tapestries that the queen had moved into the gallery. The lurid Valyrian ones of men and women copulating in all sorts of poses. Of women embraced with other women, groups of them all tangled in a mess like snakes. Books of anatomy snuck from the library had also done little to prepare her for this.

He was flushed and thick, the tip of him beading with moisture and he bobbed as if seeking her hand when she reached down to touch him. A nervous giggle escaped her.

“Are you making fun of me?” Aegon asked, curious and teasing. “It’s just saying hello.”

She gently wrapped her fingers around him, another giggle escaping her. “It’s soft.” She did not know whether to meet his gaze or to keep looking at him to hide her sudden nervousness that did little to wick away her needy giddiness, her insatiable curiosity.

Aegon grunted, his eyes fluttering as her cool fingers wrapped around him. “It’s very much the opposite, kēlītsos,” he said in a voice so gravely and raw that it seemed to come from somewhere else. It hooked down into the knot deep in her belly, tugging at it like she might peak at the mere sound of his voice. Her fingers could not properly meet, and she felt truly dizzy. Aegon’s mouth was warm on her forehead, nuzzling into her and she sighed, eyes fluttering closed as their mouths brushed, the laziness of the motion contrasting with the frantic need that pulsed between them.

Tentatively, Abby’s hand began to stroke and Aegon’s shiver was delicious to feel, the whimper that escaped him like a wounded animal, broken and gasping against her mouth. She swiped the tip of him, gathering the wet that beaded there, and licked at the cut on his lower lip. Aegon’s eyes fluttered, the growl he made before rumbling through him.

She gasped, an abbreviated kind of giggle. “You sound like Sunfyre,” she murmured and Aegon chuckled, groaning low into her hair.

“You love him more than me,” he complained as his hot hand bunched up her shift, pushing away her blue gown some more so he could stroke his fingers across her belly. The muscles clenched and it was her turn to groan, an indelicate sound that had her jumping, her hips shifting and seeking that pressure again, the delicious touch that she had missed. “There’s not enough time to taste you.” He shook his head in annoyance, a glance at the hourglass on another table.

“Take me instead,” she said, her cool hand reaching to cup his face and draw his attention back to her. She looked up at him, beseeching. “I don’t care, I want you. I love you.”

An agonized expression crossed Aegon’s beautiful face, the feral edge he had when they first begun and the softness that came after, the fondness and love.

“Not now, not like this.” He was shifting her back from him, removing her hand so he could use both hands to tug the gown away from under her, pushing her around to tug it free. “When I take you, I won’t stop. We’ll be in bed for days,” he told her, serious, his gaze heated, his tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip. “Just when I taste you, I need more than the little time we have. I want to feast on you, not rush.” He took her gown and carefully laid it over the back of the armor rack.

Abby swung her legs, her blue eyes large and heavy lidded, watching as his hand wrapped around himself, tugging with purpose. She committed the motion to memory, tongue darting out to lick at her lower lip in an expression reminiscent of his. Her hair was a mess around her shoulders, and she was shivering not from cold, but from the heat coursing through her, the achy want that she could taste in the back of her throat and feel roiling and twisting in her belly. She reached for him, whimpering, “Aegon, please,” on her trembling voice and hooked her fingers once more into the linen shirt and tugged him to her once he was within reach.

She wanted to die when he kissed her. She wanted to drift into the endlessness of oblivion where nothing else mattered, where it was just the taste and feel of her Aegon, the feel of his body against hers, the shape of him fit against her, the only fabric separating them the damp cloth of her smallclothes. It wasn’t enough and she canted her hips, and Aegon rutted against her, the thick of him sliding along the shape of her separated by her small clothes. Abby couldn’t breathe, all she could do was taste the copper and the strawberry wine, the imagined feeling of Aegon slipping in and filling her up, right where he belonged. She craved the touch, craved his heat in a way she never knew she was capable of. Her legs came back to press against his hips, her feet hooked at the small of his back to trap him to her where he was hers, and only hers, and she belonged to him.

The familiar feeling of something building came rising through her, the gathering of a great wave to crash upon the shore. Abby gripped him frantically, tugging at his hair, pulling at his shirt sleeves, fingers scratching against his shoulders to keep from falling, even when it was all she wanted to do. Aegon rutted against her with the abandon she wanted from him, no care at all except the chase of pleasure between them as he nudged that spot only recently discovered. Her head fell back, eyes squeezed shut as she frantically sought her end and dimly, she registered Aegon consoling her, his murmured words against her throat where he’d bitten her, the mark red and surely to bruise.

“You are so beautiful, look at me,” he commanded her in reverent tones. She forced her eyes open, heavy lidded, to focus on his own distraught and desperate look. There was a sensation of insurmountable feeling as she teetered on the cusp, the world focused onto the look in his bright eyes, their gazes locked to one another. Aegon’s hand dipped between them, his rutting ebbing to be replaced with hot, calloused fingers dipping beneath the mess soaked linen. Her cry was loud, strangled, and it took everything to keep her eyes on his while he rubbed at the aching of her, fingers dipping teasingly into the heat and then she clenched on nothing, unfairly nothing, the rushing and roaring of blood in her ears and the gasping of air as she fell from the pleasure washing over her. That great wave that crashed against the shore was crashing through her.

She was vaguely aware of the way he tugged her smallclothes away, words spilling from him, “You’re so beautiful, this cunt belongs to me now, look at you,” and she nodded, whimpering over and over, ‘Please’ and ‘yours yours’ and ‘love you love you.’ She felt the heat of him rub against her, the sticky sound of it and Aegon’s own groan loud before something wet and full of heat brushed onto her. Abby watched him stroke his cock, the milky white spend of him falling upon her cunt, caught in the thatch of red curls and the sinful, delightfully reckless feeling of it all made Abby squirm. The feeling of him sliding over her heated skin, the way she was entranced by it was a feeling she couldn’t describe.

She reached down, swiping her fingers through the mess to stick them into her mouth, the way she had watched him suck her own taste from her fingers, her eyes never leaving his. In turn, she shivered as he dragged his own fingers through the mess he’d made of her. Abby canted her hip, wanting him to press inside but instead, he licked the taste from himself as well.

It felt like a ritual. Like something strangely holy, reverent within the indulgence of it. ‘Fuck what the septa said. What the queen said’, she thought savagely to herself. ‘There is nothing wrong in this, and I won’t be denied.’ She opened her arms to him and Aegon gently tugged her smallclothes back over her, petting her softly before stepping into her hold and wrapping his arms around her. Abby sighed and buried her face against the crook of his neck, her mouth pressed to where she’d bitten him.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair and she shimmered and glowed in his hold, feeling his arms squeeze her in the clinging way he had not done for so long, like he was afraid she would slip through his touch.

“I love you,” she whispered against his neck, trying to cast a spell that would embed the words into his skin, to be indelible, a tattoo that would protect him in the way her favor might not. “Can we stay here? I want to stay here with you.”

He chuckled, low and fond and stroked his fingers through the mess of her hair. “I’ll help put you back together. Pity there’s nothing to clean you with.” It was a lie, and he didn’t sound sorry at all, for her gaze drifted over to the barrel of water, soap and cloths in the corner. “You’ll just have to carry the mess for the rest of the afternoon.” Aegon sounded pleased with himself, and Abby squirmed deeper into his hold, blushing with it, shy and heady. “Come, let’s get you put together before Daeron comes back, and then we’ll go watch the jousting.”

There was a tenderness in the care he showed after it that warmed her, and Abby watched him with a soft, giddy feeling as he grabbed a comb from the table to start putting her hair to rights with unpracticed but eager attentiveness. She sighed and settled in to let him tend, and let herself drift into the afterglow.

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Please support by reblogging <3

I'd love to know your favorite bit: What did you think about Abby and Aegon telling each other their love? How great is Alyn Hull? He is my fave lil dude and I'm so happy whenever I write him. Or the way the group ended up watching the fight. I mean BAELA! she got involved! We love that for her.

[Chapter Sixteen]

#fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen x oc #hotd #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #house strong #aegon x abby #my fics

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ghostofmyth · 2 months

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Ermmmmm, chat I think I just unlocked some hidden meanings in Epic: the musical's song 'No Longer You"? And It reveals what already happened in the Thunder saga and what's going to happen in future saga's like 'Vengeance' and 'Ithaca'-

idk if it was intentional or not, but Mr.Jalapeño had REALLY outdone himself on this one 👍

Ok so there's a lot so let me break it down:

I was trying to figure out the chorus at the end of 'No Longer You' when I realized some things that are happening in the song.

The prophet is literally telling us what is going to happen (Thunder + Vengeance + Ithaca saga's), the chorus in the background at the end is giving us hints of when these events will happen in future songs, and the prophet is directly telling Odysseus that he will make it home and what is going to happen when he gets home.

1) Now most of the prophet's lines are directly referencing to the Thunder saga, that much is very obvious. Let me go through each one to show you.

"I see a song of past romance"

This line is referencing to the siren songs 'Suffering' and (maybe?) 'Different Beast', because the siren pretending to be Penelope is trying to lure Odysseus (and his men) into the water by singing, but since Odysseus and the crew had wax in their ears they were able to resiste the song and thus Odysseus commands her and the rest of the sirens to be killed right after he gets his needed information.

"I see the sacrifice of man"

This line is referencing to the third song 'Scylla', where Odysseus tells Eurylochus to light up six torches after he tells Odysseus that he was the one who had opened the bag, the fact that the 'man' is singular and not plural speaks volumes, that means that Eurylochus was going to be the sacrifice to Scylla but instead he passed around the torches, sacrificing six other men to Scylla unintentionally. Odysseus was, either way, ready to sacrifice his crew.

"I see portrayals of betrayal and a brothers final stand"

This line is referencing to the first half of 'Mutiny' and here's why. Eurylochus feels so betrayed by Odysseus because he gave up six of their men to Scylla that he decides to fight him to the death, Odysseus loses and almost dies while fighting Eurylochus (the two called each other brothers in multiple past songs, including this one), that is when the crew fully sides with Eurylochus, betraying their original captain for another, if not worse, captain. Also to mention it was Eurylochus that betrayed Odysseus first because he was the one that opened the bag that set them off course from Ithaca and right towards Poseidon.

"I see you on the brink of death"

This line is referencing to the second half of 'Mutiny', Odysseus almost dies but since he was healed by Eurylochus he lives. That's when things start to go down hill.

"I see you draw your final breath"

Now this line would be referencing to the very end of 'Thunder Bringer', where (as seen in a trailer to the Thunder saga) Odysseus is drowning after Zeus strikes a lightening bolt at the ship, thus killing everyone except for him.

"I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you."

Now the very last line has nothing to do with the Thunder saga. It has more connection with the 'Vengeance' and 'Ithaca' sagas (not the Wisdom saga though, that one is Athena trying to convince the other god's to free his dumb self from Calypso's island). All that we know from this line is that he is alive, he is going home, and that he is the monster rawr rawr rawr. (Also doesn't Scylla say that she and him were alike? Monster era fr 🦖)

2) Now to the chorus part, I can't really hear very well so I can't tell what have of it is saying after lighting bolt, but I do have a good theory on what it could be telling us.

At the very end, while the prophet is retelling his prophecy thing, we hear the chorus, which is telling us what events are going to happen in songs.

"I see you on the brink of death" is connected to the 'Siren song' and 'Scylla throat' part. In the first three songs of the Thunder saga, Odysseus is facing murderous monsters like sirens and Scylla who are actively trying to kill him and his crew. The monsters could be shown as the brink of death because of how dangerous both are.

"I see you draw your final breath" has the 'Mutiny' and 'Lightning Bolt' part of the chorus, the last two songs in the Thunder saga happen to have Odysseus draw his final breath twice, first in "Mutiny" while fighting with Eurylochus and second while he is drowning and passes out at the end of "Thunder Bringer" (as seen in the trailer).

It seems the lyrics are what is going to happen to Odysseus and the chorus is what songs its going to happen in. That's why we hear more than one word during the last lines "I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you". It's multiple song names that are going show the aftermath of Thunder saga through the not yet released saga's.

3) Now the very last one is a doozy so bare with me here-

In the beginning/middle of "No Longer You', after the prophet tell's Odysseus his future, Odysseus says,

"This can't be, we suffered and sailed through the toughest of hell's now you tell us our efforts for nothing?!"

You can tell in these lines that Odysseus is at the point of giving up, he thinks he might never make it home after hearing the prophets words. But the prophet continues.

"I see your palace covered in red, faces of men who have long believed your dead"

This line could be a reference to either the Vengeance saga or Ithaca saga, but what is happening is that the all the suitors are killed, hence the covered in red part.

"I see your wife with a man who is hunting, a man with a trail of bodies."

Again, could be referencing to either the Vengeance or Ithaca saga. But the prophet is saying that Penelope is with the man who hunted down and killed all the suitors, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake, and that they are reunited/are together.

Oh course, Odysseus doesn't understand what he is talking about so he asks "WHO", who is with Penelope? But the prophet DOES tell him who the mysterious man with blood on his hands is, who the man that Penelope is with. Multiple times in fact.

When the prophet repeats himself he is emphasizing his words. "I see you" is sung more stronger than the last time and at the end "I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you" the last word is sung more slower. The prophet is telling Odysseus that it's him "You".

Basically to sum it up, when Odysseus says "our efforts for nothing", he thinks that "om-gods this was worthless I'm never going to make it home". The prophet is like "Uh what, you do make it home it says right here?" Then Odysseus is like, "WHO IS THAT MAN WITH MY WIFE? I'LL KILL HIM!" Then the prophet is like, "DUDE CHILL OUT ITS YOU???"

The prophet is telling him that he will in fact get home, and tells him what's going to happen when he gets home.

Ta-da, that's what I figured out! Either that or I'm just going insane! (My thought process on this whole thing has been going on since 1am, it is currently 5:30am)

Now that I have shared my thoughts with the world, I shall now go finally sleep, night!

#epic the musical #epic the thunder saga #epic the underworld saga

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sadhours · 2 years

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neon lights pt. 3 | b.h & reader

18+ minors dni | prev chapter contents: adult themes, gambling addiction, angst, smut

“Oh, god, yes!” you hear through the paper thin walls of your apartment as you try to fall asleep, “Billy!”

You grab your pillow and try to cover your ears but it’s no use. They’re all so loud lately it was driving you insane. Billy was being cruel, bringing home a girl five nights a week. You had intended to bring someone home too, thinking two could play at that game but there wasn’t a single candidate at any of the bars you’d gone too that night. You know it’s because you’d started comparing men to your roommate and well, you found that Billy was so incredibly good looking that every man you looked at fell short.

The worst part of it is you feel like you lost your best friend. You two were so close before but now it’s different. If you carpooled, the whole ride would be silent but half the time Billy left before you were ready, forcing you to drive yourself. He gambled even more than before, he was late on every bill this month but you couldn’t say anything about it, afraid to push him out the door. A few of the girls even slept the night and he made them breakfast with the food you bought. It was infuriating and all you wanted was for things to go back to the way they were.

“Fuck me!” you hear the girl in the next room cry out and you feel physically ill, pushing yourself up from your bed and walking up to the wall.

You slam your fist into the it repeatedly, “Shut up!”

Then, you turn on your stereo loud enough to drown them out but there’s no way you can fall asleep with the music playing either. You just lie there and stare at the ceiling until Billy bursts into your room after the tape has flipped sides.

“Turn it off,” he calls into your room, you sit up to look at him. His skin glistens with sweat, curls stuck to his forehead and his face flush.

You roll your eyes, standing up from your bed again and stride over to your stereo. You hit the off switch and then stomp over to Billy, shoving him back so you can slam the door.

“Real fucking mature,” you hear him through the cheap wood.

God, you just wanna smack him right in his dumb face. But you take a deep breath and crawl into bed. You want to cry and you feel pathetic for it. You were the one who kept saying you couldn’t do this, he was just listening to you. The tears come and you can’t control them, seeping down over your cheeks until you have another miserable sleep.

When you wake up, you’re greeted with Billy and the girl from the night before sitting on your couch with coffee and cigarettes. You just roll your eyes when he says good morning, stomping over the kitchen to make your cup of coffee. You know he works today so you’re wondering why he hasn’t already sent her on her way. You’re very grateful you’ve got the day off and you won’t have to see him for the majority of it. He says something to you but you were deep in thought, watching your coffee slowly drip into the cup. You don’t ask what he said, instead deciding that it wasn’t important. However, you notice there’s no more creamer in the fridge and you see red. Billy drinks his coffee black, therefore this bitch sitting on your couch used the rest of your creamer.

“You’re fucking joking,” you seethe, picking up the mug and chucking it in the sink, hearing the ceramic shatter but you don’t give a shit.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Billy says but you stick your hand up.

“Don’t even fucking look at me, right now,” you say before stalking to your bedroom and slamming the door. Looks like you’d have to do the grocery shopping earlier than intended. You grab a pair of jeans and pull them up over your legs, reaching for a random shirt and slipping your shoes on. You reach for your Walkman, shoving it into your bag before exiting your room and out of the house without so much as a glance at the worst roommate in the world.

After you slam the door, the girl laughs, “Your roommate is a real bitch.”

Billy sighs, lighting another cigarette immediately after stomping his out in the ashtray. You usually weren’t but these past few weeks have been brutal. He was confused, he had thought this is what you wanted in the first place but then you were being so mean all the time. He figured he probably wasn’t being that great either but he started going to the casino more days than not just to be out of your hair and well, that wasn’t good for his finances. As fun as it was, Billy wasn’t a lucky guy. He still hoped he’d hit a jackpot or at least double his money but he was usually hitting cash out when he’d lost half of it.

“She’s not so bad, I think she’s just going through something,” he shrugs, looking at the tv.

“Maybe she needs to get laid,” his guest says, smoothing her over Billy’s crotch.

He chuckles, “Maybe. I gotta start getting ready for work.”

You did need to get laid and Billy thought it was unfortunate that it couldn’t be by him. He grabs the girls wrist and pulls it off of him, “Let me call you a cab.”

“Okay…” she pouts, and he walks to the phone, dialing the number he knew so well. He walks her out when the taxi arrives, but he turns his face when she goes to kiss him.

“Can I see you again?” she asks and Billy smiles awkwardly.

“I’ve got your number,” he says and waves her goodbye before going inside and hopping in the shower so he could start getting ready for his shift.

He hopes you’re back before he’s done so he an apologize for the whole creamer thing, he knew he shouldn’t have let her use the rest of it but he’d made the coffee and didn’t want to look stupid. He’d rather you look like a bitch, and he hated that. It wasn’t fair to you, and he thought he should be a little bit more considerate. He didn’t have to bring girls home every night, but they got his mind off of things and he was pretty much using them as a release- a kind of therapy.

He’s styling his hair when he hears that you’re home. He’d been frustrated with it, because he hadn’t had a haircut in so long it was just a mop of unruly curls doing whatever they wanted. He slips his boots on and opens his bedroom door, the front door wide open. He wanders out to your car and helps you carry the rest of the groceries in.

“I’m sorry,” he says when you start putting them away. “That was super uncool of me.”

“Everything you do is uncool,” you mutter under your breath, opening the cupboard to put away the boxes of rice you’d bought. Next, you pull dish soap from the bag and when you go to put it in its place on the sink. You look into it and notice Billy had cleaned up the mug you broke. That was cool of him, however he was the reason you’d broke it in the first place.

Billy groans, “Listen, we gotta talk. We have to work this out or I should move out.”

“No,” you sigh, finally bringing your eyes to meet his. “Don’t move out. I’m… I just need some space, okay? We can talk when you get home tonight.”

You glance over at the clock to see it nearing four, “You’re gonna be late.”

“I’m off at midnight, you’ll be awake when I get home?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “I work 4-12 tomorrow too, so.”

Billy grabs his keys from the counter, nodding to you before leaving you all alone. You finish putting everything away and figure you should take a bath, calm your nerves. You pour yourself a glass of wine and start on some self care.

The club is packed for some odd reason. It’s a Thursday, these shifts are usually pretty boring for Billy. In fact, Thursday’s he usually cleans the floor drains out of pure boredom. He worries he’s not getting out of here at midnight like he’d planned but fuck, he was two hundred short on rent and the first of the month was just around the corner. Well, he wouldn’t have been two hundred short if it weren’t for his trip to the casino. He had his half of rent tucked away in his wallet and when his tip money ran out, he used his rent without a second thought. Well, the thought was that he could make it back or even more. Alas, he didn’t but Billy had a talent for survival, and he knew everything would be fine.

“Hi, is Cherry working tonight?” Billy freezes when he hears your stage name, he looks up to see a young guy staring back at him with a hopeful look in his eye.

He was no regular, your regulars already knew your schedule. This guy was different, he wore a fucking polo shirt and pressed slacks.

“I went to high school with her, heard she was dancing here and thought I’d stop by to see,” the guy says, and Billy can tell his intentions aren’t friendly.

“No one named Cherry works here,” Billy lies, easily, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Shit, she lied to me?” the guy asks and sits down at the bar, “I’ll take a Jack and Coke.”

Billy grabs a glass, filling it with ice before grabbing the neck of the Jack Daniels bottle.

“Sorry, bud,” he gives him an apologetic frown before counting the pour in his head, reaching for the soda gun and simultaneously filling the glass.

“It’s crazy, she told me this morning when I ran into her at the supermarket,” he purses his lips,

“Yeah, that sucks dude, chicks lie,” Billy says with a roll of his eyes, “Plenty of other girls dancing tonight.”

“Huh, she really doesn’t work here, ‘cause if you’d seen her you’d know these other bitches just don’t compare,” he shrugs.

“What a shame. It’s 3 for the drink,” Billy says, looking bored when he’s really just pissed off.

The guy slides a five to Billy, “I’m Chip.”

“And I don’t care,” Billy winks, grabbing the bill and walking back to the register.

“Why do you look so peeved?” Becky asks, leaning against the counter next to the register.

“Just an asshole customer,” he say’s quietly to her, pulling two dollars from the register to put it on the bar top.

“Hey, excuse me, maybe you know her. Does Cherry work here?” Chip asks and Becky sells Billy out.

“Yeah! She’s not here tonight though,” Becky smiles at him before walking back to her side of the bar.

Chip gives Billy an amused look, a smug smile on his face that Billy wants to punch. He sighs at being caught, “Look man, I have an obligation to protect these girls and I have no clue who you are.”

“Seems like you’d be hurting the business lying to dudes left and right, what if I had a fat tip for her?” Chip counters, bringing the drink to his lips.

Billy tries not to read into the insinuation, instead turning to the group of men walking up to the bar and taking their order. Chip chuckles softly before finishing his drink in two big gulps and trudging out of the club.

When Billy finally gets home it’s a little after two am and he’s surprised to walk into you blasting Foreigner on the stereo as you scrub away at the kitchen sink. He kicks his boots off by the door and walks into the kitchen. You look adorable, he thinks. Bright yellow gloves covering your hands and forearms add a pop of color to your rather simple pajamas, a simple black singlet and tiny spandex shorts. The clip in your hair doing a miserable job of keeping the strands up, loose pieces dangling around your neck.

“I’ve been waiting! For a girl like you to come into my life!” he sings exaggeratedly, raising his fist in the air, “I’ve been waiting for a girl like you and a love that will survive!”

You turn to him, an entertained expression smeared across your face and a smile breaking at your lips.

“You actually have a really nice voice,” you compliment him, impressed.

Billy snorts, patting your ass as he walks to the fridge and grabs a beer. “Ya think I can get a record deal?”

You stiffen at the gentle smack, but you know Billy’s just a touchy guy and it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He walks over and turns the dial on the stereo, lowering the volume before walking back into the kitchen.

“Been cleaning all day? Place looks nice,” he muses.

Cleaning was something you did as a distraction, losing yourself in a good album and letting worrying thoughts fall behind. “Yeah, I got bored,” you shrug, rinsing the soap from the sink.

Billy smiles, “I saw the bottle of wine in the fridge, have a glass and sit with me. Take a break.”

That does sound nice, you think as you’re pulling the gloves off and tossing them around the faucet. “Have you eaten?” you call out, pouring a glass of moscato.

“I grabbed something on the way home,” he lets you know, sitting back on the couch and waiting for you.

When you sit, he wraps an arm around the back of the couch and coincidentally, your shoulders. He uses his other hand to pat his chest and you take the offer, leaning your back against him, holding your wine glass in your hand.

I Don’t Wanna Live Without You is the next song on your mixtape and it makes this whole thing feel so romantic. You’re not sure if you should just lean into it. Billy’s body feels warm against your back and you can feed his breath tickling your neck.

“So what do we do?” he asks, moving his hand to touch yours.

You sigh, “It’s been hard to push this stuff down.”

“Then why do it?” he wonders.

“Maybe it’s just lust,” you suggest, “Maybe all we really want is to just have sex.”

Billy laughs softly, “We could just do that then, who says we have to be together?”

You raise an eyebrow, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t sleep around the way you do.”

He snorts at that, not really sure how to respond. He didn’t want to admit he’s only been so overboard with it because he gets so sexually frustrated at the sight of you. He had to get it out somehow.

“We could try it, I guess. If it doesn’t work then we just stop?” you think aloud.

“It’s just fun, we stop when it’s not fun anymore,” Billy says.

“If.”

“Huh?”

“We stop if it’s not fun anymore,” you correct him.

Billy pushes his nose against the back of your neck, you can feel him smiling against your skin. “So it’s a deal then?”

His breath against your neck makes you feel hot all over, “It’s a deal.”

Billy bites you then and you yelp, spilling your wine on the couch when you involuntarily jump.

“Shit,” he says, sitting up all the way, “I’ll get it.”

He saunters over the kitchen, grabbing a towel and bringing it back to wipe the couch. It’s definitely not how you’d clean it but you know the wine won’t stain the brown upholstery so you let it go.

“Thank you,” you say as you sit up.

Billy leaves to toss the towel in with the dirty laundry and when he gets back he says, “Oh, yeah, a guy came by the club looking for you.”

“Who?” you ask, shocked.

“Oh, god, he had such a douchey name! What was it?” he looks deep in concentration before he widens his eyes when he remembers, “Chip!”

You roll your eyes and groan, “I fucking hated that guy so much. We went to school together. I ran into him today and he asked what I was up to.”

Billy smirks, “He said he might’ve had a uh, fat tip to give you.”

“I’d rather have yours,” you say without thinking.

He laughs though and collapses back on the couch with you, pulling you onto his lap. It’s so easy being there, perhaps because you sat in men’s laps for a living. Still, it was rare a man like Billy would walk into the club. He wraps his arms around your waist and starts kissing at your shoulder. Your initial reaction is to recoil, the walls you’d spent forever building up hadn’t cracked yet. He must feel you tense up because he whispers into your ear, “Hey, relax. Let me make you feel good.”

His deep voice melts you, but his hands cupping your breasts over your thin tank top force you to drop your mouth open. Your body lights up with anticipation, you’d actually be sober enough to remember this. To see what all the fuss was about, why all those women were so loud in his bed. You tilt your head back, eyes looking up at Billy and he meets you with an intense gaze. His eyes are dark with lust and you wonder if he’d been desiring this as much as you have. He grazes his thumbs against your peeked nipples, biting his lip as he intently watches your face. You whine out his name and his lips turn up into a satisfied smile. Funny thing is, he’s not doing anything you’ve never experienced yet it feels like first time you’re being touched like this.

“Talk to me,” you demand softly, eyes fluttering shut as his hands move lower and rest on your stomach.

Billy laughs at that, tucking his fingers into hue waistband, “So you like dirty talk, eh?”

You blush as you admit, “I like your voice.”

It was one of the first indicators that you were attracted to him, when you’d hear his voice your entire body would ignite in arousal. Billy kisses against your temple, hands inching dangerously close to your aching core. He still isn’t talking, though so you look back up at him and see his face deep in concentration.

“What are—“

“I’m thinking!” he exclaims defensively, nudging your head with his chin.

A giggle erupts from you, “You can literally say anything. Your voice makes me so wet.”

You hear him groan softly, your self confidence raging from the confirmation that you turn him on too. “That works,” you pant, arching your back to try to wiggle his hand lower.

Billy licks against the shell of your ear and then bites the lobe, you feel it in your thighs as you moan out. He whispers against your ear, “You’re so fucking hot.”

Finally, you feel his fingers slide through your drenched folds and you bring your knees up and spread your legs further.

“Fuck— you’re soaking,” he continues and you’re head feels so fuzzy, the timbre of his voice only making his statement even truer.

“Mhm,” you moan out, “all because of you.” Your voice sounds foreign on your ears, higher pitched from the magic he’s doing on you.

“Yeah?” he breathes, sliding two fingers to your entrance and grazing the hole in circles.

You choke out another moan, much louder than the other ones and you get it. Those girls in his bedroom couldn’t keep quiet. It was impossible. His thick fingers were too damn perfect.

“Billy,” you pant, feeling his arousal present against your back.

He brings his fingers back up to your clit, scissoring the tender bud as he presses a sloppy kiss to your neck, his tongue feels so hot and certain against the skin. Your writhing against him, small moans and pants uncontrollably falling from your lips. His ministrations pick up an unbearably skilled rhythm, fast and then slow. It’s all so brutal.

“Take your fucking shorts off,” he demands as his free hand pulls your tank top up just above your breasts. You stand up to do so then turn to him.

“Yours too. Off,” you demand.

You wouldn’t dare tear your eyes away, watching as Billy kicks his boots off before hurriedly unbuttoning his pants and pushing them to his ankles along with his boxers. His cock springs out, slapping against his stomach and you groan at the sight of his red, leaking tip. You sit beside him this time, bringing your knees up to spread yourself for him. You lick your palm and reach down to wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, squeezing slightly as you turn to look at his face. He’s biting his lip, staring into you with those gorgeous blues. He then reaches down to rub your pussy again, groaning again at just how wet you are. You gasp out when he slides two digits inside, his actions a little more rough this time. You stroke him slowly, rubbing along his tip with your thumb every time you go up. He lets out a low moan. You turn your eyes forward and that’s when you catch it, you can see the reflection of you two on the empty TV screen. It excites you even more and your hips jerk forward.

“Billy,” you nod towards it, glancing to him to make sure he sees it too.

He laughs softly, spreading his fingers inside you and then pulls them out. He brings his palm up and slaps your pussy, clearly putting on a show for himself. And for yourself, you cry out at the strike, feeling as you clench around nothing. You squeeze his cock again, looking back to his face and smiling wide.

Billy moves to kiss you then, pulling his hands away and grabbing your wrist to pull yours away. He’s pinning you back on the couch and moving between your legs, deepening the kiss, grabbing onto your face as he does so.

You moan against his bruising lips, arms trapped beneath his strong body. His grip on your jaw is tight, his other hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling while he hastily licks into your mouth. You wiggle beneath him, desperate for him. Billy’s pulls back and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. He leans back down and licks up your neck to your ear.

“Do not move your hands,” he demands, voice low and breath intoxicating against your ear. “Do I make myself clear?”

You whimper, “Yes, sir.”

Billy pats the side of your thigh, “Good girl.”

You ache all over in anticipation, so eagerly ready for whatever he wants to do to you. Another gasp falls from you as he licks the curve of your cleavage and his tongue descends down your stomach but entirely skips where you desire it most. You instinctively bring your hands to his hair when he presses his tongue to your inner thigh. You quickly realize your mistake and pull your hands away and bring them back over your head. But Billy won’t let you get away with it, he sits up and looks down at you.

“What did I tell you?” he asks, “Tsk tsk.” He shakes his head and wraps his fingers around your wrists.

“M’sorry,” you mumble as you squirm underneath him.

“Do I need to tie you up?” he asks, his other hand wrapping loosely around your throat and you’re speechless, gazing back at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. You can’t say you’re surprised Billy’s into this stuff but you are surprised by just how much you are.

“Is that a yes?” he tightens his fingers and you shake your head.

“I’ll be good,” you pant out breathlessly.

He leans his face down to yours, kissing you almost too chaste for the sinister way he’s behaving. He pulls back to continue teasing your thighs with broad strokes of his tongue. It’s starting to become overwhelming, you know you’re dripping down your thighs and you feel him licking it up slowly. You need his mouth on your pussy this instant, you need some kind of relief or you fear you might start crying due to frustration.

“Please,” you beg, “I need… I—“

Billy licks around your core, so close yet not quite there. He places a kiss on your hip and looks up at you, “What do you need?”

“You!” you whine.

Billy laughs, low and devious, “I’m right here.”

You whine again, squirming underneath him and digging your fingernails into your palms.

“Tell me what you need, kitten.”

His tongue smooths against your hip and you moan out, rocking up at him.

“I need your mouth on my pussy,” you plead, feeling your cheeks heat up as he makes you say it out loud. “Please…”

“Good job, dollface,” Billy grins up at you, smoothing his hand over your stomach.

“Please,” you beg some more, hoping it’ll make him move faster.

He hums before trailing kisses back down to your core, spreading you with his fingers as he licks a broad stroke from your hole to your clit. You swear you see fireworks behind your eyelids, letting out a breathless moan and arching slightly.

“Billy, yes,” you whimper out.

He’s fervent between your legs, almost like he’s been desperate to do it and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. To be honest, you’d didn’t expect he was the type of guy to enjoy going down but you’re happily mistaken, feeling the pressure inside you pulled taut when he sucks on your clit.

“Ah—“ you moan out, the sound getting caught in your throat as Billy licks into your hole, his hands holding your thighs in place when he feels them begin to shake.

He looks up at you, “You gonna cum for me?” after he asks, he licks broadly through your folds and then begins lapping at your clit.

You pant out, “Yes, I’m…” then it crashes over you, hands diving into his curls and pushing his mouth against you as you ride his face. You cry out his name over and over, tears threatening to spill when he continues after you’ve climaxed, your hands pulling at his hair and you jolt up. He licks you clean until you’re whimpering and overstimulated.

Then his mouth is on yours, tongue pushing past your lips and you can taste yourself, you can feel how wet it is around his mouth, down to his chin. When he pulls back, his lips tug up and expose his teeth in a euphoric smile.

“Dear god,” you tell him, your breath coming out short, “I’ve never cum that hard in my entire fucking life.”

Billy laughs softly and you push his curls off his forehead, admiring his face hovering over you. His erection is apparent against your stomach, but he’s caressing your face and kissing your lips gently.

“Let’s go to my room,” you nudge his nose with yours.

Billy hums, kissing you again before pulling himself up to his feet and tugging you up with him. Your legs feel like jello and you wobble as you stand, so Billy lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you into your bedroom, flicking the light on before laying you down and settling beside you. You turn to him as he turns to you, staring into your eyes. You hook your leg over his waist and reach for his cock, guiding his tip through your folds before lining it up with your entrance. Billy bites his lip, pushing his hips up and you feel a few inches of him enter you. Your breath hitches up and your eyes fall shut, the girth of him a little intense at first.

He smooths his hand up the underside of your thigh, fingers feeling himself connected inside of you and he groans softly. You’re desperate to hear more noises from him, pushing him onto his back and straddling him. You lower yourself so he’s completely inside you, moaning hoarsely at the sensation. He makes a noise a little more higher pitched than you’re used to and it makes your head swim, palms pressing onto his chest as you start grinding against him, his fingers grip your hips.

“So fucking good,” he grits his teeth, tilting his head back slightly.

Your jaw falls open when he hits your g-spot with a particular swoop of your hips, fingernails digging in his chest as you try to recreate it over and over.

“You’re so fucking big,” you whine out, grabbing his hands and lacing your fingers. You press his hands into the sheets, above his head as you bounce up and down on his cock.

Billy licks his lips, “You take it so well.”

His voice drenched in pleasure surges more wetness from you and he groans low and husky. His eyes are scanning all over your body and face, enamored with all of it.

“Billy,” you pant out, “Oh, fuck, Billy…”

You let go of your hands and straighten your back, cupping your breasts and squeezing them as you ground down on him.

His hands are back on your hips, holding you still as he drills into you, his hips snapping up in reckless force. He hits your spot each time, causing you to arch your back and your hand to drop down to run quick circles against your clit. You can hear your skin slapping together and the little grunts and groans coming from him.

“Shit,” you curse, “I’m gonna fucking cum again!”

Billy grins up at you, “Thatta girl. Cum all over my cock, cum for me, princess.”

The praise does it, your body convulsing above him as you ride out your orgasm, dripping down his cock while you scream his name out.

He doesn’t give you any time to come down, flipping the two of you and pushing your knees up, hands on the backs of your thighs as he pounds into you from above. That’s got you screaming, hands grabbing onto any part of him you can.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans, pulling out and moving to the side of you. You turn over and wrap your lips around his cock, moaning as he empties into your mouth. You suck, wanting every last drop you can get from this man. He’s a whining mess before you and dear god, you’re already ready for more.

Never in your life though, have you tasted cum so delicious. It’s not at all bitter and you’re confused but even more so, incredibly infatuated. You think either he’s meticulous about his diet or you’ve met your soulmate. And you’ve seen what Billy consumes, his cum should taste disgusting.

You’re lying on your backs, panting and holding hands with the laziest and happiest smiles.

“Is that what you thought it’d be like?” you ask.

Billy’s tone is perplexed, “We’ve had sex before.”

You turn to him, “I don’t remember it. Do you?”

He scrunches his face up, out of hurt or realization, you’re not sure. But then he says, “I guess not. Like bits and pieces.”

You’re curious now, “What do you remember?”

Billy’s face flushes, “I honestly think we were too drunk to even finish.”

You grin, “Aw, good ol’ whiskey dick.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “Whiskey clit? You couldn’t cum either.”

“Whiskey clit is definitely a thing. Probably more frustrating than whiskey dick,” you counter, cuddling up to his chest and looking at him. “What else though?”

Billy looks like he’s thinking hard, “I ate you out, I think… I’m pretty sure you were slapping my face?”

You hum, “Sounds like me.”

He laughs, “Well you didn’t slap me once just now.”

“That’s cause you were the boss this round, just wait an hour or two,” you tease him, pulling him into a kiss.

“You’re gonna be too exhausted to go to work tomorrow,” Billy says playfully and you hum happily.

“You too.”

“My job is much easier than yours,” he admits and you like that he thinks so. The physical aspect of your job wasn’t the hard part, it was the mental gymnastics. Having to turn the charm on for men who didn’t even see you as a person, pretending you were the perfect fantasy. And now the added bonus of Billy watching. That’s why you knew deep down, this whole thing was gonna go up in flames. This never worked out. Boyfriends didn’t work. And that wasn’t even considering boyfriends who worked with you. Boyfriends who had to pour drinks bought for their girlfriend by men eager to see her tits. Maybe Billy was different. You worried still.

“And higher paying for a reason,” you reply and he mocks offense.

“You bet your ass if they had a ladies night, I’d be on that stage in a heartbeat,” he assures you, rubbing his hand over your bare ass.

“I’d throw all my money at you, too,” you smile.

Billy chuckles, “And I’d use it to pay our rent.”

“Ooh, meta sugar daddy?”

He laughs hard at that and you feel proud, loving when you could make a man laugh. It felt even better making him laugh.

“Are you ready to go again?” you ask which makes him laugh once more.

“Thought you said an hour or two?”

“Yeah, but your laugh made me horny again,” you admit.

Billy pushes out a breath, “We could try. My dick twitched at you saying horny.”

You grin and sit up, pushing his hair of his forehead and looking at him. “Oh, god, Billy… you make me so horny. I’m just so fucking wet anytime I see you.”

“Or hear me,” he teases and you glance down to see his dick filling out again.

“Would you look at that?” you point out with a humble smile.

“Keep saying naughty stuff,” he pleads, fingertips caressing your cheek.

You giggle, bringing your lips to his ear to whisper, “You make me so hot, you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Whenever I see you, all I want is for you to bend me over and take me. Wherever we are, whoever is around, I don’t care. I need your cock filling me up all the time, I’m so fucking desperate for it.”

“Alright,” Billy groans, pushing you onto your back and spreading your thighs against the sheets. He hovers over you, slapping his cock against your pussy and biting his lip as he watches.

“Need it,” you beg, wiggling under him, “Please, Billy.”

He slides inside you and you wrap your arms around his neck, moaning out at the feeling of being full again. You hook your legs around his waist and pull him flush against you. He grunts softly, rolling his hips excruciatingly slow. It’s nice and lazy, he kisses you and matches his rhythm, licking into your mouth every time he moves his hips back into yours.

“Mmm, you feel so amazing,” you muse, “Want you to be inside me all the time. Never wanna stop feeling this.”

Billy sucks in a breath, moving his hands to cradle your jaw as he peers into your eyes, the gaze intoxicatingly idolatrous. You feel panic creeping up but his loving smile diminishes it quickly. You gasp, moving your hand to his cheek and he drills into you particularly deep. Your moaning is breathy and high in tone, completely out of your control as he continues to pull them from you.

“Wanna make you feel this good all the time,” he purrs and it gives you the chills, your body trembling.

“Billy,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut when he speeds his movements up. The sensation in the pit of your stomach letting you know that you’re there again. You pull him closer, softly chanting his name as he pulls the third orgasm from you and he’s soon after you, pulling out to shoot onto your stomach. You sigh, body going limp as he pulls away. You manage to look down at his cum on your stomach and you’re stunned by how much it is. You think, God damn, this dude must be so fertile, as you wipe it up with your fingers and bring it to your mouth, loving the taste of him.

Billy leans down to kiss your forehead and then lays down beside you, pulling you to him and kissing your neck and shoulder.

You feel so elated, you feel so cared for and so in love. You know it’s not good but you can’t stop it, you cling to him and don’t let go for the rest of the night.

#billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove smut

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andreas-river · 8 months

Note

I’m in the mood for some angst in all honesty and fluff at the end, can I request a scenario where rodion and reader get in an argument over something small and dumb, reader goes out thinking it was just a small argument and didn’t mean much but rodion is panicking and slightly scared he lost the girl of his dreams because the argument was his fault, reader comes back with burger town for him as a peace offering only to find him crying which she’s never seen him cry

(Take as long as you need the way you write rodion is honestly awesome)

TEARDROPS

TW: angst and fluff, guilt feelings.

A/N: We should really talk about men's feelings. Why are tears seen as a weakness? Why does no one realize that tears are a physical and emotional reactions, and instead many decide to just spat nonsense? After my rambling, y'all, please enjoy.

There was something about the way you had left your house, something that left a bitter aftertaste in the back of your mouth that you couldn’t quite get rid of it, your mind distracted as you waited in line, finger tapping nervously your own arm as you stand with arms crossed on your chest.

It was the rush hour, the place littering with people of every age and kind, especially with kids running all over the place.

The moment you hear your number, you quickly grab the bag with the food, leaving the crowded place and reaching your car. You didn’t realize that you were fidgeting all the time, a sense of urgency overwhelming your senses as you drive home, checking your phone every few seconds.

It was right on the back of your head, it wasn’t like when you have that sixth sense and you know that there is something wrong, but it was a certain feeling, an abstract fear that it’s right there, but still quite far.

When your feet stepped inside the house, you felt a chill running inside you, slowly placing the bag of food on top of the counter, scanning the house with a frown in your face. Used to receive a warm welcome and a big bear hug from Nikodim, this time silence was your only companion.

His usual spot on the couch in the living room was empty, and as you dragged your feet to the bedroom, you started to think that there was definitely something wrong. Pushing the door, you met the sight of him sitting on the edge of the bed, red eyes staring into the void in front of him, hands clasped together tightly.

And that feeling came back at full force, realization seeping into your limbs as you step closer to the bed, sitting right on his side and drawing his attention. He sniffled, before trying to give you a smile, failing when you noticed how the sadness was stuck on his features, more than he could even notice.

With a guilty and heavy heart, you sigh, taking his hand and interlocking his fingers with yours, your teeth nibbling at your lower lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I was wrong,” he sniffled again, wiping almost angrily his tears with his hand, shaky breaths making his body slightly tremble. “I’m just jealous, and then I thought…”

A bell rings in the back of your brain as he trails off, pieces of puzzle finally finding their right place in the bigger picture, squeezing his hand in a terrible attempt to comfort him.

“I wasn’t… Nikodim, I just got a takeout..”

And the sob that escapes him makes your soul shatter, a mumbled curse escaping his mouth as every tear he shed you felt your heart being drowned by them. The wave of guilt was now mixed with the realization that you misunderstood each other, and between not understanding his real feelings after that argument, not even words were needed in that moment as he throws his arms around you.

With your fingers stroking his short hair absentmindedly, you both remained there for a bit more, immersed in silence as he occasionally sniffled.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful.” You muttered against his neck, his usual perfume lingering in his skin and making you feel home, more than you already were.

“I’m sorry too, I was being too jealous, the argument was my fault..”

You scoffed, shaking your head. A part of you already forgot about that stupid argument, and you didn’t even wanted to try and remember exactly how it went.

“Let’s not think about that anymore, okay?” whispering against his lips, you gently pecked at them, and finally seeing him smiling more genuinely, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as you wipe off some of the tears. “We should eat something… I got your favorite one.”

His face lit up at your words, his smile growing wider as you spoke. “You made them remove the onion?” he chirped, as you were both in each other’s arms.

“As always!” And you giggles as he instantly got up, dragging you in the kitchen, hand on hand.

And as you eat your own burger with a smile, you knew that the memory of him crying would forever haunt you. But for now, you just focused all of your attention on him. In the end, it wasn’t important trying to understand whose fault it was: mistakes were a part of a being, not something that should be ashamed or convicted.

#nikodim rodion egorov #call of duty #nikodim rodion egorov x fem reader #nikodim rodion egorov x reader #call of duty mw19 #rodion x fem reader #rodion x reader #cod #cod mw #request #request open

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thewritetofreespeech · 1 year

Note

Could I request Kazuki, Rei, and Kyutarou with a super sweet s/o losing it when she hears someone badmouthing or hurting them?

Buddy Daddy Boys + Protective S/O

Kazuki

He was too good natured for his own good sometimes.

Sure he’s a contract killer, but he wants to see the good in people too. Give them the benefit of the doubt. When someone is being rude or mean to him, he just tries to brush it off and keep going.

Which is a little hard to do when someone has his collar in their fist.

“Come on man. Relax. It’s just a game.”

“You owe me money!” The hulk of a man yelled in his face, as he demanded the money back from the bet he just lost. And for some reason blamed Kazuki for.

“I can’t really give you any money if you’re holding me here. Plus, I just lost all my cash too. Why don’t we use my last buck to grab a beer and drown our sorrows.”

“I don’t want a beer!” The blonde’s natural charms not working on him. “I want my money! Either you give it to me or I’m gonna take it out on your face.”

‘Aw geez….’ He really didn’t want to resort to violence in his favorite casino. He’d like to come back some day.

“Hey!” The two men look over the hulk’s shoulder at s/o standing there. “Put him down now.”

The man growled. “Or what?!”

“Or you’re about to feel what 800 volts feels like on your asshole.” An ominous chatter from their pocket taser, poised just at the brute’s backside, sounded. Letting him know that he might get one hit, but he wasn’t going to get another.

The man grit his teeth, realizing he’d rather not get intimate with their taser, and roughly let Kazuki down before stalking off. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did.” S/O argued. “You refuse to stand up for yourself. So I have to do it for you.”

“By threatening a man with a taser?”

“When the situation allows.” Kazuki smirked at their reply as they put the taser away. “Let’s go. I think your luck has run dry.”

“Yeah sure.” He agreed. And for once, left before he was completely penniless this time.

Rei

Unlike Kazuki, Rei never sees the good in people.

He always assumes that people are selfish, horrible, mean bastards who are only out for themselves. His childhood taught him that.

Because of this he’s never surprised when people act bad or cruelly to him. He just takes it and keeps it in before letting it go. His childhood taught him that too.

“Excuse me.” Rei glanced to his left when he realized [Y/N] was standing there. Her face scrunch in a fussy brow as they confronted the laughing group of teens that just cut in front of him. “The line is back that way.”

“Oh come on.” One of the teens replied, shrugging them off. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll all get to the front of the line eventually. No reason to make a scene.”

“But….controller…..” Rei muttered under his breath. There were two things that would willingly get him out of the house for the day: work and the release of the new Morio Kart: Race Across the Universe game. To promote it, the store was also giving away a commemorative controller with each new game purchaser for the first 100 buyers. Rei had gotten up early and been standing in line all day for the sale to start. Only to have these kids jump the line and mess up his precise count.

“There won’t be a scene if you just go to the back of the line.” [Y/N] told them.

“Ugh. God. Chill out ok. I’m just getting this stupid new game for my brother. We were just late because we were studying for finals. Our education is important.” The one and only girl in the pack whined.

“And yet you haven’t learned anything.”

The girl, with way too much makeup on in Rei’s opinion, frowned; making the creases in her makeup worse. “Listen, lady. I need to get this game for my kid brother or my parents will be pissed. Besides, aren’t you a little old to be interested in games like this?”

“Are you a little old to not know how lines work? Or color matching for that matter?”

The girl looked ready to boil, but then stormed off in a huff instead. The boys, who apparently were as dumb as they looked, didn’t know what to do so they just took off after her. Getting out of the line and letting Rei resume his properly counted place. “Thank you.”

“For what? I just can’t stand rude people.” Still, Rei smiled just a little at her and the line continued.

They each bought a copy of the game. Rei promised to pay her back, but he really wanted two controllers for him and Miri. Of course, [Y/N] couldn’t say no. “Next time someone cuts in front of you in line, why don’t you hip check them into the bushes.”

“My hips aren’t big enough for that.”

Kyutarou

Owning a bar was a lot of work. People often stayed away, since it was more off the beaten path, but every now and then he’d get a crowd looking for that and be packed. Kyutaro tried his best to maintain, as the only bartender, and was very grateful he had a supportive significant other willing to pitch in and play waitress when need be.

“Hey! Barkeep! More beer!”

Kyutaro sighed as he settled up the tab of one of the customers, before going over to the drunk patron at the end of the bar. “I think you’ve had enough sir. Why don’t I get you a complimentary coffee while I settle your bill.”

“Coffee?? Who the hell wants coffee? I drink enough of that crap at work.” The drunk pounded down what was left in his glass and slammed it down on the bar. “If off the clock. I want beer!”

“I’m not giving you anymore.”

The bar fly glared at him (or as much as they could with how drunk they were). “Listen four-eyes!” Kyutaro was taken aback. Not only was it rude, but no one had called him ‘four eyes’ since grade 3. “I said I want more beer and you’re gonna give it to me! I got money. You got beer. What’s the problem?!”

“Besides you’re completely sauced?”

The men look up at [Y/N]. Tray of empty glassware in one hand and the other on her hip. “Come on man. Time to call it a night before this gets any uglier. You’re not gonna talk to the owner like that.”

“Oh yeah?!” The man tried to get up off his bar stool. He did, but with legs about as shaky as a new born deer. “I’ll…talk to whoever I want however I want. You’re not gonna stop me!”

[Y/N] huffed and sat their tray down. “Look,” she told him, “either you can leave on your feet or leave on your ass. Pay your bill like a man and go. Otherwise, I’m gonna throw you out of here like a cartoon character. Ever literally been thrown out of a bar? There’s no coming back from that.”

Despite his brain being pickled, the man seemed to realize that this wasn’t a good idea and surrendered. Although loudly as he continued to grumble as he pulled out some cash, threw it on the bar, and wobbled his way out. “Think he’ll be ok?”

“Who cares?” [Y/N] replied as they counted out the bills. “After that four-eyes crack he can getbuddy his by a cab for all I know.”

“That’s rather cruel.” Despite this, Kyutaro still chuckled at the remark.

“So,” [Y/N] said as they looked up at him through their lashes. “I like your glasses. He shouldn’t have made fun of them.”

Kyutaro smirked and started cleaning the glasses she’d just brought over. “Well, thank you. And thank you for your help.”

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#rei suwa #rei suwa x reader #kazuki kurusu x reader #kurusu kazuki #kyutaro kugi #buddy daddies kyutaro #kyutaro kugi x reader #buddy daddies scenarios #buddy daddies imagine #scenarios #imagine #buddy daddies

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quickienewyork · 1 year

Text

“Why is it that I always see men getting blown in alleys and bars? It’s always some pretty girl kneeling and doing the hard work while he stands there and moans dumb shit over and over again.”

“As oppose to?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a guy on his knees for a change? Maybe, just once, a guy would drag his girlfriend into the bathroom so he can taste that pussy he’s been thinking about all night. Maybe, just once, a guy would stop walking, pull a girl into a dark corner and instead of pushing her to ground she’d push him?”

“I’d eat your pussy in an alley.”

“You’d eat anything in an alley.”

It took me a moment to realize that despite her quick comeback her cheeks were red and her hand was tightly clenching her dress. I leaned in closer and whispered to her.

“Let’s get out of here,” she finally said as she took me by the hand and pulled me out of the bar. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking and I definitely wasn’t sure what she was going to do. When we turned into the park I got excited and she started to walk faster. Somehow the lights got dimmer, and before I realized it we were hidden in shadows. We stopped walking and she let go of my hand. She looked up at me, and her face changed.

“Kneel.”

The ground was hard on my knees but she leaned back against the stone wall and grabbed my hair tightly. She pulled me towards her and as she started to slide up the hem of skirt I realized how badly I wanted it. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to taste her. I wanted to devour her until she came and I wanted to do it now.

When her skirt rose to her hips and I could see the blue cotton beneath it, my wanting became almost impossible. I kissed her just at the top of blue and slid my fingers under the elastic. She gripped my hair tighter and with two hands I slid the cotton off her hips and down to the ground. I had never seen anything so perfect, and I moaned as I pressed my lips to her flesh. My hands found her thighs as she arched her back, pushing herself to me until I tasted her for the first time.

I pushed her thighs wider and pulled her against my mouth as I ran my tongue over her. I opened her wider with fingers and then pressed two of them inside her. Her clit rolled beneath my lips and tongue until I found just the right place to keep her moaning. She held my head tightly and I worked my fingers in and out as I kissed her. She was sweet and salty and tasted of sex that I could only dream of. I wrapped one arm around her and pulled her harder against my mouth as my nails dug into her ass. I pressed my tongue against her and she stifled moans into the warm night sky.

When she finally came I thought I might drown. I didn’t stop anything, and her trembling made me want even more. I could feel her clench around my fingers and shiver beneath my tongue, and I continued kissing and sucking until my muscles exhausted and she finally slumped back against the wall. I fell over next to her and she reached down and ran fingers through my hair as I sat there on the ground.

“Now that, is what I’m fucking talking about.”

-guy

#piper #in an alley #of course #mine #sometimes you can't wait until you get home

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thehyperfixationspeedrunner · 3 months

Note

so uh… thunder saga. are you alive.

Do not get me started.

I am not gonna lie when I got into this fandom (around January) and found out about the different sagas the one I was least excited about was the thunder saga (not for any reason in specific, it's just that I was most excited for the underwold, wisdom and Ithaca sagas, I love Circe with all of my strengths and the vengeance saga (I think that's the name) has Dangerous and another song that I'm always forgetting but that I am so hyped for and I hate fights between friends and this saga has a song called mutiny) so I did not have much expectations for this. Boy, did I understand that wrong. It is currently my favourite saga.

Suffering - SO DIFFERENT. Jorge always likes to play with old-fashioned and modern music, but he went all in for the synths. The melody was so pretty and the fact that in the chorus Odysseus picks up the you from penelope/sirens line "I will take my suffering from you". Also, fuck you Jorge, you made me believe that this wasn't sirens and I was already thinking of an alternative universe where he didn't go to war and spent his time with Penelope and instead of a son they have a daughter but because of his other self's shit he is also afraid of water (yes, I know, way too far but that's how my mind works)

Different beast - FUCK YES, I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH. THEY SOUND SO FUCKING BADASS THAT I ALMOST BELIEVED THAT THEY WERE GOING TO SURVIVE THIS EVEN THOUGH I KNOW HOW THE STORY GOES. FJENENRGKVKCDKSMSNEFNFJCJ IT MAKES ME FEEL POWERFUL. New favourite song from the musical in case it wasn't obvious. AND IT'S SO FUCKING CATCHY, I'VE BEEN SINGING THE CHORUS FOR THE PAST 2 DAYS

Scylla - this was the song I was most hyped for and it did not disappoint. Holy shit those harmonies were everything AND HER VOICE??? *chef's kiss* I do not have much to say because I was in awe the entire time (also is it just me or whe Odysseus says "the lair of scylla" it sounds weirdly like when Athena says "goddess of wisdom" in the first berse of warrior of the mind)

Mutiny - I was so scared of this one and I was right, it was horrible (<- in a this destroyed my feelings kind of way not in a this was a bad song kinda way). As I said before I hate when friends have fights, so this was... a struggle, but I got through it, barely. I absolutely love the fact that in the Odessey, Odysseus men were just dumb. They were warned by Tereseus and still did it. HOWEVER, in Epic, they just seem so exhausted and pessimist. It's just heartbreaking to hear. The do not have hopes of getting home and their too blind with hunger. Also, when they start singing "how much longer must we suffer now" and Odysseus starts overlapping? 😩👌 Perfection. Also, the men singing full speed ahead while Odysseus just screams faster is also everything to me.

Thunder bringer - holy shit this was so much better than I thought. When I heard in the snippets "If I were to make you choose/ the life of your men and crew or your own/ why do I think they'd loose" I thought it was just a reference to Odysseus' monster side NOT THAT ZEUS WOULD ACTUALLY MAKE HIM CHOOSE. Anyways I heard the last instrumental part of the song one (1) time, which was in my first way through the saga. I cannot listen to that knowing that Odysseus is drowning and his crew is all dead because of his choice, I just can't.

ANYWAYS, after this I just have to say one thing: CALL👏BACK👏SAGA👏. There were SO MANY references to previous songs.

BUT WHAT DID YOU THINK. WHAT'S YOUR OPINION????

(To answer your question the only reason I didn't perish is because I have to reach the end of this musical)

#epic the musical #epic #the thunder saga

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justageneralsimpindeed · 2 years

Text

Choke me as if you hate me:Chapter 2

Cw: Hisoka imaginary smut, switch Hisoka, mommy kink, more PTSD, mentions of rape and incest, mental illness such as possible schizophrenia depression or BPD.

Fresh sprinkles of morning drizzle trickled down your face. It wasn't hefty but it was surely not going to stay like that for long, remembering your fortune. You debated on whether or not you should plummet back into your siesta or get up and evade the oncoming meteors of H2O. Abuela had made sure to bore into your head that the hunter exams were no mockery the morning you set off on your journey, the morning before and the morning before that and so on. But her voice was drowned out.

YOU ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY'S WATCHING YOU.

WHY?

Shudders scurried up your spine as you wish to open your eyes but you can't. At that moment, you were a child abiding by the unconscious regulations when it comes to lights out:If you can't see it, it can't see you. Your skin crawled as a clawed digit traced its way from your cheek to underneath your jaw. You were scared but confirmed something as another talon on its other hand trailed your thigh and a hard object grew at the back of your head.

"This creature is so true I can already savour the reality I'm beating his ass"

With the split of your lids, you cared not who you touched or what touched you, your balled fist granulated its jaw, the bone seemingly softening from your bitterness. A boisterous but timely grunt was listened to, and before you could actually understand what came about, Hisoka was on the floor one arm keeping him up and the other holding his jaw.

He's glaring so intently at you, you're convinced it's hostility.

It's not.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 《》˚₊·͟͟͞͞➳❥

Subsequently noticing that you had 'uppercut from hell' Hisoka in the face and busted his lip, Gittarakur explained how you dozed off while playing cards with Hisoka and Hisoka the kind soul that he is let you use his lap as a cushion. You noted how he had never made eye contact the entire moment with you but instead with Hisoka. His mood indicated nausea you would never know about but it didn't matter because AFTER SO LONG YOU FINALLY HAVE REACHED YOUR DESTINATION.

Hisoka snatched you back as you were ready to dive into the ocean and paddle your way to shore if the boat didn't hurry up. How did he run into someone like you, such a kind, pure and yet opposingly chaotic girl. His bulge was now straining and stifling itself against his pants. After you had punched him, he capsized into an orgasm and your abrupt hurried, determined nature only spurred him on for a second time. You truly were remarkable to him. It was clear Gittarakur didn't pay much mind to you, but he knew for a fact you were too dumb to realise Hisoka's behaviour.

His hand fastened around your wrist the minute you were in distance to be tossed over. He had very much battled the seduction of just hurling you in the ocean but he didn't truly want that. He never did if he were to think. Your aura is the only reason why both of these men are known to you. Hisoka wanted to break you but it seems he'd rather hunger for you now. But, Gittarakur is much more sophisticated. He finds your upbeat and partially happy character bothersome. However, he comes to realise how quickly you altered Hisoka, yes he still has a high libido, but he wants to sleep with you and it's continued to the degree that Gittarakur wonders if he wants to fuck an infant into you and finalize.

The impression fends off Gittarakur. He won't allow you to do the same thing you did to Hisoka. He won't perish to your spell. He won't fall for you. He won't become weak.

Your ass is certainly blackened as Gittarakur did not lack distance or height and he must have heaved you 10 feet both ways. You struggle to stand as the rest of the passengers onboard make their way off, some occasionally hurrying to the side for one last visual declaration of how bad their ride was."Too bad they can't 1 star on yelp"You thought rubbing your coccyx, Hisoka scrambling to your side.

"Did it hurt that bad?"Hisoka rushed breathless."Nah, Abuela does worse."You reply throwing him the heart-melting smile that he gets so hard at. His erection will eradicate him if this persists. Gittarakur noticing this jerks you away from him and grumbles "Go sort yourself out" before he drags you god knows how far. Hisoka takes this as an opportunity to kiss your hand adieu for now before Gittarakur drags you away from him. The rosiness of your face, once he did that, has him scampering into the closest bistro restroom, into the closest booth already with his pants down, pumping away at his cock.

You leave with Gittarakur confused as hell and Gittarakur as attentive as he is, says "Hisoka needed some time alone, he felt a little queasy but was more worried about you."You wanted to blush and think it was cute but you can pick up on bullshit every so often, even though you are naive as fuck.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Hisoka's alone time ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Nobody was there; not because there was no one there, to begin with, but the fact Hisoka didn't wait to enter the stall before he had slid his pants down enough for his suffering cock to be revealed. It was lengthy and thick, his nearly blushing tip dripping misty-coloured drops of precum. His long, but thick finger smothered his hard-on before running to the base and back again. A loud, anguished and oddly high-pitched whimper left his pale lips as his efforts of self-relief evolve more untamed and hostile. He yearns for you here, not with Gittarakur, not with that assassin. His hips thrust into his hand as he cums. But it isn't satisfactory. You bent over underneath him, hands thrashing all over his back as your grasp diminishes with every thrust of his hips and yet you plead for more. His hand reaches to your ass, raising you and shoving you against the stall door. Your face is mutilated in pleasure. Your flawless skin is burned scarlet, your huge, gorgeous eyes are tearful and crossed over, and your mouth is agape with your lips swollen from the bruising kisses from earlier on he so wished to deliver you. His other hand extends to your swelled and delicate breast, clamping down on it harsh before tracing the perk nipple with the pointed nail of his thumb. His thrusts pick up as your wet, velvety walls clamp around him, every part of you stuck in between trembling and bouncing. He wants to kiss you but can't.

A hand knits its fingers into his fuchsia hair, heaving him back away from you. He doesn't need to look at who it is, the strength of your punch from earlier makes the abrupt tug familiar. His fingers run to the hem of his pants, disposing of them until required, before attending to Hisoka's rim. He consumes no time slipping his fingers into his ass and moaning out your name while he jerks off. However, too delusional to think he's sandwiched between a sub-you and a dom-you; the sub-you is begging for him, clenching around him so much his cock he feels like he almost can't cum, dom-you is grabbing at his hair humiliating him, using your saliva as lube in the midst of rearranging him.

His hips are pulled back to meet your silicon cock and yet he is pulled towards the stall door by your powerful thighs. Tears have fallen, the neediness, the overstimulation, he has issues he acknowledges it; he's been like this for over ten years and you are halfway through deteriorating it away, in less than 2 days. His hip stutters as he empties his cum into your womb and yet the other you behind him won't let him go before he comes entirely because of your silicon cock.

"You like that, big boy? You like mommy's cock doing you from the inside and turning you into an unfortunate slut? Come on tell me how much of a slut you are. Tell me how you can't survive without mommy's cock,"

An additional string of sobs is ripped from his throat as he succumbs to a new level of pleasure, the pleasure of being dominated.

" Please mommy, I need you! more, please!" he cries as his dick (now turning sore) goes erect again, he moves the hand now sticky from his hot, thick cum to act as a much bigger dildo you have in his ass.

He's at your mercy. But this is his doing.

He is the one to blame.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 《》˚₊·͟͟͞͞➳❥

You and Gittarakur continue to hike to wherever your meant to go but only he knows because he wasn't flung off the ship before he was notified. Your legs start charring, but you don't want to complain it never stopped you from making an excuse to stop." Gittarakur, what happens if Hisoka can't locate us?" you ask, trying not to show the weariness and overall giveaway your primary intention. Gittarakur doesn't stop he just goes on with casual spasms, holding up a walkie-talkie. But if anything he's sped up and he doesn't hesitate to hide it.

"I'm a calm person...BUT FOR DUCK's SAKE!" you think.

You recognize Gittarakur isn't all that fond of you, in fact, he probably doesn't even recall your name or that you exist. You know he's trying to lose you but because he flung you off the ship you know zero about your destination, he is the only one other than Hisoka that you know but Hisoka of someplace being 'sick' and you can't afford to tell Abuela that you didn't even make it to the hunter exams because you were lost.

Your limbs burn as you pick up the speed and all he does is do the same. You start uttering profanity under your breath, not recognizing that this is somewhat turning into an amusing game for Gittarakur. There are no people in the area other than you and Gittarakur, so he takes the opportunity to run at a pace you can watch him but can't take hold of him.

"Gittarakur why are your running?!"

But it's too late Gittarakur is already down a near alley onto another street and has disappeared off the face of the planet.

You now are alone in the alley and nightfall is coming quick. You don't understand where to go even if you did you would get misplaced. Your island is much smaller than this, so much the population isn't even 100. But you still remembered what happened after it was dark when everyone was sleeping. When you were all alone nobody remembered you. You plummet to your feet, your knees pushed up against your chest, despite the familiarity of the position . You don't want to remember what he did to you, how he touched you, how split you open; that's what you called it at the time.

It's not his fault though,right?

Do you not remember how he hurt us?

I know but daddy was just lonely.

If mama hadn't left he wouldn't use us.

WHO DO YOU THINK DROVE HER AWAY?

The sound of a nearby can being dropped and rolling your way frightened you, frightened you more than it should. Your life has been a black-and-white movie with the dialogue being almost completely drowned out by static and the voices. What you went through is traumatic, but you wonder why the voices are here. You hear them complain and bicker amongst themselves your own voice is completely drowned out even though it's your body. They bicker so often you don't even know what they bitch about anymore. They most complained about whose fault the incident is, yours, mama, daddy's, everybody you know, but they bitch tirelessly that for one you don't even completely remember what happened and two you still don't understand what happened with the little you remember. The whole fucking village knows about you, the daughter of the now banished butcher, who lost her innocence before three. They never educated you in school about sex because of what happened, they still probably wouldn't because you are the only one in the village who is younger than 47.

"How ya doin', dollface~"

Your eyes are large and exhausted, sparkling as you look up to see men.

Men who had the same look in their eyes as papa.

#hxh #illumi #illumi smut #illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck #hxh illumi #hxh hisoka #hisoka x reader #hisoka smut #illumi x you #illumi x y/n

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oh-surprise-its-me · 1 year

Note

Hi! I’m back. So I saw a thing earlier that said Tom is from Hawaii. If Tom and Ron are from Hawaii, does that mean they surf in their free time? Would Jake follow in their foot steps and take up surfing as a hobby? I’m betting Chris would be very for seeing his mean all wet and glistening from the sun even if he himself doesn’t go anywhere near the water and instead stays in charge of their beach towels and coolers, watching his boys surf. I love your and Aki’s writing of these boys so much ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Oh my god I love youuu. I know you’ve been following this since the beginning and I greatly appreciate it 💞 (sorry this is a late reply!!)

So in my au Tom grows up in New York but he does know how to surf. Chris loves to swim but thinks surfing is an idiot sport. Thanks to almost drowning with David when he was 18 ( this post )

Ron and Tom both learn how when they’re in the first year of the Navy. (Here’s Tom rescuing someone from drowning in case you missed Aki and I rambling at each other)

But here’s them surfing in California teaching like 16 year old Jake combined with Chris thirsting later on..

—

Jake slammed into the water again. He pushes off the bottom. “Goddamn it!” “Hey!” He glares at tata. “No this is crazy how do you two do this.” Tom shrugs from where he’s sitting on the board. “Long time doing it kiddo. You’ll get there.”

Jake pulls himself up on the board. “Or I lay on the beach with dad and watch you two be stupid.” Ron laughs from where he’s sitting a few feet away. “If you wanna be done for today go ahead I know you’ve got plans with Javy.” Jake whoops. “Love y’all even if you want me to die out here!”

He gets a combined love you back. He sighs. Sees where his dad is reading in the shade. Stupid lucky idiot who gets out of this every time by saying he almost drowned. Jake lands back on the sand and runs back to his dad. “Hey! They said I’m done. Gonna go put my board at home then go out with Javy if that’s cool?”

Chris blinks up at him. He was so absorbed in his book he forgot they were surfing. Jake looks so much like his dads it’s adorable. “Go ahead baby. Have fun be safe. Be smart.” Jake nods. He drops down so Chris can kiss his head. “Love you dad!” “Love you too honey.”

Chris rolls over, he props himself up. He scans the waves for a second looking for his husbands. He finds them. He smiles slightly when he sees two of the women surfers floating there talking with them. Oh she must be blind if she thinks Tom is straight.

Chris grins. He can tell they’re trying to escape them. They always were too nice for their own good some days. He watches as the paddle back to shore. They both slip out of the water.

Goddamn.

He picked perfect men. Those shoulders. The abs. The hair.

The dicks.

Chris shakes his head. If he gets turned on at the beach again they’ll never let him live it down.

The Tom reaches him first. He tosses the board down without care. He slams to his knees and grabs Chris into a bruising kiss. “Woah-!”

Chris moans. Tom pulls away after a few seconds. He sighs and lays on the towel. “What the hell baby.” Ron laughs. “The girl out there wouldn’t believe that we weren’t single. Guess he wanted to prove it.” Ron sits more carefully on the other side of Chris. “Your kid is like you with surfing.”

Chris laughs. “He is my kid through and through. He’s smart enough to know it’s a dumb idea.” Tom nips his thigh. “Only cause you almost drowned you’re saying that.” Chris gently smacks his head “yeah you’re so right. I feel like I’m valid in that.”

Tom presses a kiss to where he just bit. “You’re right sorry.” Chris smiles at him and puts a hand in his hair. Tom leans closer like a giant cat. Ron smiles at the two of them. “You are so fucking cute.”

Chris grins at him. “That’s what the guy who I was talking to earlier said too!” Tom sits up and glances at Ron. “Someone asked you out?” Ron tilts his head, “do we needs to kill somebody?” Chris throws his hands up, he puts one on each of them. “All right cavemen no you don’t. He was very nice but about fifteen years too young and not two navy boys who fell for me.”

The two of them glance around for a second. They both shove Chris back onto the blanket. It’s late in the day. Most people are gone. They start licking and kissing his neck and cheeks. “Hey!” Tom pulls back he licks his lips, “you taste good. Let’s go home.” Ron nods. He pulls Chris up and kisses him again.

They all pack their things together. They walk back to the house. Chris catches them in a kiss when they’re walking up the board walk. “Jakey is gonna be gone for a while tonight.”

His two men grin at him. “Looks like we’ve got plans then.” Chris laughs. He pulls them into another kiss. “Alright let’s go.” Ron kisses his cheek with pinch to kiss hip. Tom follows with a kiss to his shoulder and then bite to his ear.

It’ll be a good night. Hopefully Jake will sleepover at Javy’s

#ron slider kerner #chris seresin #tom iceman kazansky #top gun #tom x ron x chris #ron x chris x tom #ron slider kerner x chris seresin #tom kazansky x ron kerner #chris seresin x tom iceman kazansky #jake hangman seresin #slider is jake's dad au #mac writes top gun #young jake seresin

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lovecinnatwist · 2 years

Note

As you well know, sex addicts anonymous is my favorite fic, but in the recent wip-a-thon game thingy I spied a title called beau and the beast?👀

Haha! Beau and the Beast is a very old wip that has been half done in my drafts for a while. The setting is a world where people are either dominant or submissive. While submissive are split into belles or beaus, dominants are split into master and mistresses with the derogatory for a 'wild's or 'low class' dom being a beast.

Dick has gone through a breakup and is looking to drown his sorrows with a beast from the slums. He ends up finding diamond in the rough Jason Todd!

If I'm honest it's one of my best wips. Everytime I reread it I get excited to finish and post it.

Here's a little snippet. Maybe you'll be excited too!

Jason’s one moment away from biting into his chilli dog when someone pulls his arm. The motion is sharp enough to make him stumble, his delicious lunch hitting the floor as he does. God, there goes his last couple of bucks. He wants to curse but the moment he looks at the person, gorgeous blue eyes stare back at him.

His mouth goes dry. He had no idea a man could have such long thick eyelashes. His gaze flicks down to where they're touching. He can feel the warmth despite the fact he’s wearing a long sleeve and the man has a full coat and gloves on. He doesn’t get to say a word however because two large burly doms are stomping towards them.

He brings the shorter figure against him by pure instinct. A tiny part of him is thrilled as his hand presses against the small of a firm back. He rolls his shoulders and stands up straight, both men immediately having second thoughts.

Jason knows he’s huge. He towers over most men and he’s just as wide. It’s a build that would have easily taken him to the top in wrestling or American football. Instead, he uses it for menial labour and whatever task the unemployment office gives him.

It’s never for very much money but at least he has some semblance of food and shelter. It’s the best an undesirable like him can hope for.

They stay in a standoff for what feels like a minute. Then, the rougher of the two men speaks.

“ He yours? “

Jason fights the flush that wants to crawl up his face. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the man. Besides the striking eyes, and long lashes. He wants to take another peek but doesn’t want to take his eyes away from the two adversaries. Instead, he fixes them both with an unimpressed stare. He crosses his arms for good measure, making sure to tense his muscles.

“ Yea, is there a problem?”

It does nothing to discourage either of them. If anything the malice in their expression’s increases. He’s fairly certain he can take both of them in a fight. Though the last thing he needs is a run-in with the law.

“ How’d a beast like you get a beau like that? “

It’s the smaller of the two that asks. Jason doesn’t flinch. He’s not one to bring up nature. Not when he’s spent his life with the worst label of them all. The man clinging to his arm tightens his grip. Jason can’t help letting his gaze flutter down. Like this, the submissive nature of the man is all too clear. Golden warm skin, perfectly rounded face, plump lips- all signs of a perfectly stunning beau.

Jason cuts his gaze away and hardens at the two men. With an appearance like that, of course, these two bozos were bothering him. He glowers at the figures, scowl dropping into something horrible.

“ Dumb luck. “

#Jaydick #Beau and the beast #Cinnatalks

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sometimes-i-write-good · 2 years

Text

alma perdida - chapter one (point five)

Top Gun: Maverick - original character insert

3.7k || Viper takes in Rhett Masters wild child.

===

Genre: angst

CW: abandonment, parental neglect

Author’s note: I'm super excited to do these .5 chapters where I go into the heads of Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick characters! Hopefully you all enjoy them too! || cross-posted on ao3

prologue chapter one

===

To say he had no clue what he was doing would be an understatement, and it caught him off guard. There had been several decades in between the last time he'd felt this in the dark. Every attempt to rationalize the feeling left him drowning in memories of war. Viper had seen shit. He had flown a McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II through a war he’d had no business being a part of and, in all honesty, wished he had never fought in to begin with. It wasn’t the war that swallowed him in a world of confusion, it was trying to reinstate himself into society that did it.

Maybe if he had never jumped on the opportunity to train as a pilot then he would have escaped the nightmares that plagued him for years after he’d come home, but, in the same thought, Metcalf knew he wouldn’t be in the same position he was today. A blessing or a curse?

The war had given him a lot. Friends, a status that led to his current position, and discipline many of these new soldiers might never understand. He was fine with that - to an extent. Having Maverick buzz the control tower could be excused. He was young, dumb, and, mostly, untouched by the true nature of their jobs. The American side of the Cold War served no better purpose to hype up a generation of soldiers waiting for war. A blind earnestness that would surely be wiped clean with a crash landing into a dense, foreign jungle.

Having a kill did something to a man. Having a kill then not being able to immediately return home and try to immerse yourself back into the normalcy of life was a completely different story. It was the soldiers that were young, dumb, and purposefully ignorant that wormed their way under his skin.

And none of them were able to push Mike to that sense of frustration faster than Rhett Masters. Someone who felt the need to arrive unannounced and unwelcomed, dragging his daughter up Metcalf’s driveway with a sense of urgency that Viper couldn’t place.

“You have to take her.” The words were said without leaving any room for argument.

“Nice to see you too, Rhett.” Viper kept his tone flat. Letting his aggravation take flight would cause more issues. “What can I do for you?”

It was the wrong question to ask. Viper cursed himself for not being able to tell from the look on Rhett’s face that it was the wrong question to ask. He should have known it would launch a conversation dispute that lasted for hours. Two grown men and a child burning up underneath the bright California sun.

“I don’t want her. I can’t have her,” Rhett said. At least he had the decency to whisper-yell those last two sentences in Mike’s ear, protecting that poor child in some convoluted way. She had drifted away from the pair about an hour into the argument, choosing instead to inspect the ground with the same focus Viper remembered heightening during adrenaline spikes in Vietnam.

If she did end up staying, though he could not imagine a world where he allowed Rhett to leave here without his child, Viper figured he’d be using all the parenting books he could find to carefully dismantle those feelings of… god he didn’t know where to start. This kid was going to be all sorts of fucked up.

Mike already had kids. He’d done this entire parenting thing already. Cleaning snotty noses, talking through temper tantrums, and pouring over math homework late at night. His kids turned out alright. They behaved with military discipline. As much discipline as young kids could have and, even as teenagers, Viper had worked tirelessly to create trust. So that when moments for sneaking out and relationships and other nerve wracking conversations came about there was no fear in coming to talk to Dad - this girl would have none of that.

She’d have nothing but a memory of her father pawning her off onto another family with no better reason than “you have to take her.” He couldn’t let her live with that memory. He couldn’t let her father leave her here, but what better fate would be awaiting her if he sent her back to Illinois with someone who held no hesitation in proclaiming he did not want her.

Viper had no clue what her childhood had been like up until she had been dragged onto his driveway with a haphazardly packed suitcase. There was a sleeve sticking out of the zipper and hanging uselessly on the ground. And he could not ignore the pity that had steadily rooted itself below his ribs over the course of the past hour and a half.

“I don’t see why I have to do you this favor, Rhett.” He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. “I respected the hell out of your father, but he would not be proud of this decision you’re making. This is your kid. You and Syd took the responsibility of keeping her a long time ago. I am not going to be the person to bail the two of you out because the two of you couldn’t think this through.”

“Her mother’s dead, Mike.”

He could have led with that. “When?”

“One month ago.” Holy shit. “Carjacking gone wrong. It… the cops almost couldn’t identify her.”

Bee kicked at a rock, altering the pair to her presence once again, and killing the condolences hanging on Viper’s tongue. He can’t bring himself to apologize to a man abandoning his child in the wake of losing her mother. Not after going home to visit families broken by the war. Kids whose fathers would never come home and mothers that clung to their babies a little harder at night because of it.

“And now you have to find somewhere long-term for her to stay,” Viper said, the pieces clicked into place. “I’m the only person you can ask?”

“Syd’s ma died a few years back and she never knew her father. My folks are long gone, and you know all we had was each other.”

They had each other, and this girl would have no one, Mike thought.

Rhett leaned in, turning his back on Bee. “I’m on track for rising through the ranks, Mike. If I keep her, I can’t reenlist.”

“Keep her? She’s not some dog you can drop off at the pound, Masters. It’s not as easy as just leaving your kid at my doorstep. That was your plan, wasn’t it?” There was an alternate timeline floating around in Viper’s mind where he had not been out front landscaping when Rhett pulled up, with Metcalf finding the kid on his doorstep hours later.

He ran a hand down his face. Every fiber of his being was leaning further and further towards the option of screaming, swearing, and kicking him off his property. But one look at that little girl had him sighing. “It’s going to be a lot of paperwork and meetings. You’re not allowed to drop off the face of the planet.”

Rhett nodded, enthusiastic at the steady crack he’d managed to chisel away into Viper’s demeanor. “I won’t, Mike. You’ve got to do this for me.”

Viper stepped away from him with a deep exhale. “No,” he said and the word snapped Bee’s head up to look him in the eye. Their first moment of eye contact with him since the first time she got out of the rental car parked on the street. “I’m doing this for her.” He waved her over. “C’mon sweetie. We’ll go inside.”

There was no ignoring the scathing iciness radiating off of such a small child as she pushed past her father and towards the front door, knuckles turning white on the handle of her suitcase. Without a word, Viper followed her towards the house. Bee wasn’t the only one holding back a white hot rage. It wouldn’t be a good look on adoption papers, or however Mike was going to get the green light to gain guardianship of this poor child, to leave the father with a broken nose.

“Oh, and Mike?” Viper paused to turn around, waiting for whatever bullshit was going to fall from Rhett’s mouth next. “She loves jets.”

“We’ll get along no problem then.”

—

To say she brought out the worst in him was simultaneously an exaggeration and an understatement. Masters’ kid served to challenge Viper in ways he hadn’t prepared for. There was no way he suspected he could prepare for having her in his life even if he’d been given the time to. Temper tantrums in response to life-altering decisions out of her control was one thing. Receiving a call from the Admiral that two children were found unattended in an F-14 was something else entirely.

Bringing his kids (he really had to stop sharpening that line) to base had never resulted in dragging one of them out of a fighter jet. He used to have to convince them to come watch the planes take off because “once you saw one shoot up into the air you’d seen them all.” It had upset him once, but now Viper hoped, for his own blood pressure, that Bee could have been more like his children… more like her older role models? No, that didn’t sound right. Clearly her older role models were Bradley and Mav. The latter being a great explanation for the reason she scrambled out of the jet with ease.

“What were you thinking?” The words had come out in a shout. Louder than Viper had intended, he was used to schooling people who knew better (hence the inclination Maverick had been influencing Bee). It could be argued the ten-year-old in front of him knew better. She might have only been living in his house for a few months, but she knew better. Even more, Bradley, who was climbing out of the jet after her, knew better. But it wasn’t his place to parent that child.

“It’s not Bradley’s fault,” Bee said. She stood like a soldier, back straight, face impassive, and eyes straight ahead. Emotionally unattached in a way no ten-year-old should ever have to be.

Her reaction almost made Viper want to reach out and pull her into a hug, but Maverick cut off his thought before he could act on it. “Don’t lie to get the kid out of trouble, Bee.” He crossed his arms and looked over at Mike. “He didn’t have to get in there after you.”

For the slightest moment the stony facade broke down, her eyes catching Viper’s with panic. “Mav is right. Bradley has to shoulder the weight of his decisions the same way you’re going to have to.”

“But he was only trying to show me the jet! It wasn’t his idea to get into it!”

“Bee,” Bradley said, stepping in front of Bee as her voice reached a heightened pitch. He reached out to brush a piece of hair behind her ear then turned to look at a Viper and Mav. And when Bradley saw the way Viper’s stern expression didn’t change, he relented, “You heard them. I’m at fault too, so cut it out.”

The tone in her shout, “Bradley, it’s not fair!” confirmed Mike’s biggest fears. This was going to be a meltdown in front of all his respected coworkers… and Maverick. Viper turned to look over his shoulder at the rest of the men lingering around the doorway, the Admiral being one. Without a word, they all exited the hangar, but Mike could feel his bosses glare long after he’d left.

“Bee.” Her head snapped over to look at him. Eyes wide and panicked. The lip quiver he’d been expecting when he walked into the hanger finally emerged. “Let’s go home.”

“Not until you promise Bradley won’t get in trouble.”

“He’s not my kid.”

“Mav,” she said, leaning to look around Viper at him. “It wasn’t Bradley’s idea to get in the jet. He just wanted to show me. He only got in to make sure I wouldn’t break anything or get hurt.”

Silence clung to the walls of the hangar. Bradley’s stare kept flicking from Bee to Mav to Viper, always lingering on Mike. He couldn’t blame the kid entirely. These past two months dealing with Bee had been instance after instance ending in a scolding. They had been smaller mishaps. Breaking things out of frustration, leaving the house without telling him to go down to the park, or racking up the minutes on his cellphone to try and place calls to her father. He wanted to pull Bradley into his side the way Mav always did. Anything to tell the kid that everything would work out okay.

Bee took a hesitant step forward, finally escaping from using Bradley as a newfound safety net. “You have to believe me.”

“We believe you, kid,” Mike said, “but this is a discussion we’re going have to finish at home. All I know right now is that you’re grounded. Seriously grounded and that’s not up for discussion.”

Maverick stepped forward, waving a hand at Bradley, and said, “It’s time to go.”

“Mr. Metcalf, sir,” Bradley cut in, shaking his head, and ignoring Mav as he got closer and closer. “I know what we did tonight was wrong, really, really wrong, but don’t be too harsh. We didn’t mean any harm-”

“That’s enough, Bradley.” Maverick grabbed him loosely by the arm. “Say goodbye.”

“No! Mav, can’t we just talk this out.”

“I know what that means, I invented ‘can’t we just talk this out’ to get out of trouble.”

Viper bit back a laugh. He'd been on the receiving end of that line more times than he could count. “We can come back to a bigger discussion after we’ve all cooled down.”

Bradley tried to pipe up more as he was more or less dragged out of the hangar getting his own talking to from Maverick on the way out. Viper, hands deep into his pockets, stood patiently until they were completely out of sight, and earshot, before turning to look Bee in the face.

“I’m disappointed in you.” He nodded towards the door. “Very disappointed, and I would like to know what you were thinking. You never answered that question.”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s obvious,” he said as they headed outside. If she were older he’d chalk it up to her being a reckless teenager, but she was still a child. Even if she’d been forced to mature more in her life these past few years than most people had to over a course of a lifetime. “Did you stop to consider the consequences?”

“I considered how cool and shiny it looked.”

“You owe Maverick and Bradley apologies,” he said, only to be met with a defiant, “That’s what I was trying to do! But you wouldn’t let me talk ‘cause you don’t care about me!”

Viper stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t hold her own emotions against her, but he couldn’t ignore the frustration that shot through him. If only she realized what he had truly been trying to do on the driveway all those months ago.

“We’re done discussing this for right now, Bee. You’re going to get in the car. We’re going to go home. Then you can sit across from Mrs. Metcalf and tell her exactly what happened today.”

She attempted to cut him off with a, “But-” but Viper shook his head and she shut her mouth. “She’s going to be more disappointed than I am. You’re going to have to work hard to regain our trust,” he continued. “This behavior will not be tolerated.”

Mike didn’t know what he was expecting, but Bee throwing her hands up with a scream and storming off in the direction of the car was not on the list. She threw curses that would’ve made a nun blush and angry, incoherent shouts out the entire time until he snapped at her to cut it out. The argument punctuated by the slamming of a car door. Their drive to the house was full of angry silence. Every attempt he made to talk to her again was met with her twisting away from him in the front seat. He tried to turn on the radio only for it to be aggressively silenced and he couldn’t help it… he yelled at her again.

“If you’re going to keep being a brat, you can spend this weekend in your room!” He gripped the steering wheel, trying to take deeper breaths. Mike wanted to sit down with his wife and talk this through. She was better at the discipline. He was military through and through. There was the constant urge to pull over and have Bee drop and give him 20. This punishment had been enough to put his kids through once and have them fall into place. That’s when he was no longer put in charge of laying the groundwork for what a ‘grounding’ constituted.

“You’re so mean to me,” Bee said, arms still crossed so tightly it was a miracle her collarbone hadn’t snapped. “I want to go home.”

Viper ran a tongue over his lips. A chance to gather his words before he said something he regretted to Bee. She wasn’t old enough to understand everything that was happening. Or she was, he couldn’t deny how bright she was for her age, but emotion still ruled her mind. “Kid, you want to be here, believe me. Otherwise you’d never know what it means to take consequences for your actions seriously and that’s exactly what you’re going to do. You’re going to be grounded for all that swearing you thought you could get away with. You’re going to be grounded for that stunt you pulled today. You’re going to be grounded until you realize how this behavior is unacceptable and we are going to go home so you can start thinking about why what you did today was stupid and dangerous.”

“You’re not allowed to say stupid.”

“That was your take away?” He asked, force still put behind it. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Send me to my room,” Bee tried to joke with him, but her voice broke halfway through.

He pulled into the cracked driveway with a sigh. That was something he’d been putting off getting fixed. There wasn’t time. Not with the long hours he’d been pulling at work and the time in between trying to work his way through the tormented mind of a ten-year-old. Clearly he and Mav’s idea to befriend Bradley and Bee after school had backfired.

“When you’re ready to apologize to Maverick and Bradley for putting them in a tough position you come find me, okay?” He turned off the car. “Coming in?”

She shook her head. There were still tears coming down her cheeks in full force and Viper watched her wrestle with trying to keep this meltdown under control. “No,” she said with a croak.

“I’m going to go inside. You come in when you’re ready.”

Whatever word Bee had planned to say came out as a sob instead. Viper reached across the center counsel to try and comfort her, but she jerked away quickly. So, he took his time exiting the car in the hopes she’d look over and beg him to say and ask him for help. But she didn’t. She just sat in the passenger seat of the car crying, and Viper felt that same tug of helplessness he did the same time his firstborn had come to him inconsolable. He’d known how to help his son. He wasn’t sure he’d ever know how to help her.

—

“Hey, Viper?” A voice, surprisingly meek, sounded from the door. He looked up from the paperwork scattered on his desk. Bee stood, half-hidden, looking shy. Not at all like herself at all. “Can you drop me off at Mav’s?”

“You want to go over there?” Viper asked. “You know you’re grounded.”

He drummed his fingers against the wooden desk. It had once belonged to her grandpa, signed to Mike Metcalf in his will as a thank you for saving his life all those years ago. She had never known the man. Maybe one day down the line he would tell her about her grandfather. That he would have taken her in without question and spoiled her beyond reason.

Bee nodded with hesitation. Viper could see the resolve behind her eyes. If he didn’t take her, she’d find a way there on her own. It was the mere act of asking Viper that had her so unsure. “I wanted to show Bradley this new edition F-14 user manual I found.”

He’d never met a pair of kids who willingly read user manuals. “The two of you have a weird friendship.”

“I also wanted to apologize to him and Mav for making a bad decision earlier. It was my fault.”

Viper smiled at her and said, “Then of course I’ll take you over there, kid..” He got up from his desk to clean up the incident report and formal apology letter he’d taken upon himself to craft. There were a lot of strings Viper had pulled since Bee showed up. He hoped there were enough left for him to be able to sweep this incident under the rug.

“I wanted to apologize for yelling at you earlier. I was worried about you. What you did today was careless and the way you reacted was unacceptable. We have to work on that, Bee.” He looked up at her. The clock over his door told him it was late, way too late to head over to Mav’s but Bee crossed into the room to wrap her arms around his middle

“I know, Mike,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Surely Maverick wouldn’t mind the interruption. Bradley had looked particularly distraught when he’d been dragged out of the hangar without the chance to see if Bee was okay. Mike was sure parenting a kid like her would allow for the slight bending of rules to better her life.

He rested a hand atop her head, relishing in this small step forward in their relationship. All he wanted for this kid was to be a little less stranger and a little more parent. “You’re still grounded,” he told her and she let out a wet, tearfilled, “I figured.”

===

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