#elia x reader

[witchofhimring]

A name of your own

I was originally going to make some fics for mothers day but was really busy so I couldn't get them done in time. Since this the only one I finished I will be posting, just belatedly.

Hope yall enjoy!😘

Summary: You would make a name for yourself outside of your fathers prophecies.

Relationships: Elia Martell + daughter reader (platonic)

She sat across from him. The man she had once loved. But right now she felt nothing. 

Elia Nymeros of House Martell known that to be a Queen took strength. She had seen her own mother bend, but never break under the weight of her obligations. The obligations of a Queen were to support her husband, and have an heir. And yet, how does one uphold her husband's demands when they harmed her child? 

“You have to understand.” Rhaegar pleaded. His purple eyes were shining. But it did not move her as they once did. Once she might have melted under the sight. Now the only thing she could think about was her children, and how this man had endangered their lives.

 And for what?

Oh that's right .Because Rhaegar was so in love he just had to make off with Lyanna Stark, starting a war. Mad King Aerys might be dead, stabbed through the chest. But many good men and women had died. 

Lewin Martell. Dead, killed at the Battle of the Trident. 

Lord Stark and his son Benjin. Executed for tying to seek justice. 

Rhaella Targareyn. Died in childbirth on Dragonstone. 

Thousands of poor souls. Dead. 

“You have no right.” Her voice was oddly leveled. Elia did not need to raise it. He only had to look into her dark brown eyes to see the anger set in them. She would never forget, or forgive Rhaegar for all the lives lost. But most of all, it was the fact that he put her children in danger. Raeneys no longer slept well. These days she was up half the night in terror. Though Aegon did not truly know what had happened, the baby now had an anxious disposition. Whenever someone other than Elia held him, he cried. When the door opened, Aegon turned his head as if expecting to be attacked. No words could express an angry mothers rage that was strong enough. 

The door opened. It was as if time itself had stopped. 

So this was Lyanna Stark. 

“Aegon’s been-” She stopped, because it was at that moment Lyanna saw Elia. It was the world's most uncomfortable tableau. 

Slowly, Elia got up. Elia was rather taller than she looked. Her slender form and dress often gave Elia the look of a graceful willow. But to Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen thought they were seeing something else. Her dress was like a sea of red. Black hair cascading down in waves. The last time they had seen each other face to face, Lyanna was wearing a flower crown and Elia, heavy with her third child. It made Lyanna feel small. Less than. 

“Aegon?” Elia’s attention was turned to the baby in Lyanna’s arms. So this was the baby. 

Suddenly it clicked. 

“You named him Aegon!” Her voice tore the throat. Rhaegar seemed to shrink. Many times Elia had to resist the urge to smack some sense into Rhaegar. But never had she wanted to actually hit him. At least until he had left her to die. 

“You intend to replace our children.” She was no longer yelling. But it would have been better if she had. Instead it was the cold, angry voice she used when her rage was just brimming. The only time Rhaegar had even heard it was the time he crowned Lyanna Queen of love and beauty. It made Rhaegar shrink in his chair. 

Elia then bent down, almost nose to nose with her husband. 

“And let me tell you this. Any child you father with her, will never replace mine. I promise you that.” 

Y/n Targaryen was the firstborn to Rhaegar Targareyen and Elia Martell. It had rained on the day of your birth. That year had been unbearably dry. So the rain was a great relief. For the first time in months, the ground would be able to bear seed. With a clap of thunder you were born, crying overtaking the noise outside. Elia had always wanted an identity for her children. So when it was time to name you, your mother fought to have a name that was not tied to some prophecy. 

Y/n. No Princess or Queen had ever borne the name. It was all yours. Unfortunately, by the time Rhaeneys was born Elia had lost influence at court and so Rhaegar was allowed to name her whatever he wanted. As a little girl you had never understood why it mattered. All you knew was that Rhaegar’s attention was all for Rhaeneys and Aegon, leaving you and Jon behind. For you two fell outside the prophecy. 

But you would always have your mother. On the nights that monsters reigned your dreams, you ran to your mother. It was always her who caught you when you fell. Most of your days were spent indoors with Jon and Daenerys, your aunt. Unlike the conquering Queens, you could wield no sword. That was a severe disappointment to your father. Every time he would see you sewing in the corner, Rhaegar simply looked away. Rhaeneys was a true warrior, like her namesake. Elia had frowned when Rhaegar had boasted about this. She then reminded him that Rhaeneys was great in her own right, not just because she had a likeness of a long dead Queen. 

You were jealous of Rhaeneys and Aegon. Not that you didn’t have a good relationship with them. As siblings you loved one another. But it was hard when he would pass you by and only have eyes for the children who meet his standards. 

Rhaenys and Aegon didn’t love their father any more than you. Ever since they found out how he had tried to bastardize them, he was not truly their father. It was only because the idea was so popular, and your mother threatening to bring the Dornish down on him, that he relented.

It seemed that not even his secret wedding to Lyanna had panned out as planned. She was not his Queen. Only the consort. And he had no daughter. Another child by Elia would kill her and Lyanna had no luck with pregnancies since Jon. You could tell it frustrated him to no end. Consort Lyanna was in hiding these days. Barely seen by the public. You only saw her during state occasions. In their youth, Rhaegar and Lyanna had run away and married, sparking a war. Now, they hardly spoke.     

Destiny is never laid out in the stories of the past, but in the actions of the future. That much you knew. And you grew to be grateful for it. You would be known as Y/n, not some other distant figure that you must live up to. And as you lay your head down at night, you knew your mother loved you for who you were. 

You would follow Daenerys and Jon to Essos. It had always been your dream to discover far off countries. Elia had cried, but knew you were a grown woman. Rhaegar hardly noticed. From the docs Rhaeneys and Aegon gave tearful farewells. And so you were on your journey.

Three years later, a Prince and two Princesses arrived in King's Landing. Daenerys the Unburnt, Jon the Undead, and Y/n the merciful. During your time, you had helped spread medicine across many places. Together with other knowledgeable forces, you had learned and taught much. Now and forever you would be known as a great healer. As your feet landed on the docs, your family and Rhaegar were waiting. At its head was your mother. With tears in your eyes you ran towards her. She swept you up in her arms. 

“Welcome home, Y/n.”   

[blueroses789]

The Princess and her Knight

Elia Martell x Reader

Ps: reader is born from a previous marriage making the Stark siblings her half siblings.

Elia Martell had always dreamed of being someone's princess. Y/n Stark always wanted to be a knight.

In very unusual circumstances a viper and a wolf find themselves intertwined.

note: simply wish fulfillment for Elia to get the crown she deserves😤

She was the Princess of Dorne. Descended from Nymeria and Meria Martell. You had heard these stories from the cradles. On cold winter nights Nan would tell you of far-off places where there was no snow and the days were hot. They unnerved your brothers, who felt that women had no business wielding a sword or holding power. But you were utterly transfixed. More than once you and your sister Lyanna would sneak off, swords in hand. When everyone was asleep, the two of you snuck around, pretending to be Nymeria on her journey to Westeros. As the oldest child, you were expected to set an example. Well, that would explain why Lyanna and Brandon were so wild. The three of you were fresh young wolves, eager for a taste of life. Those days, however, were short-lived. One day a message arrived from Kings Landing. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was going to marry Elia Martell of Dorne.

You wondered what this Princess was like. Was she fierce like Meria? Alive with unquenching fire like Nymeria? They called her youngest brother a snake. Perhaps she was one too. Half expecting to find a woman with slits for eyes and fangs, a normal woman was slightly more surprising. She was smaller than imagined. With bundles of silky black hair and warm brown eyes. Sun-kissed skin was draped in flowing orange garments. She smiled as you curtsied. And a warm hand touched your cheek.

Elia Martell knew little of the north. It was a cold distant place, quite unlike home. She heard of the Northern Kings, the great walls and mysterious creatures known as the Others. Born sickly, Elia spent most of her time reading. She was encouraged to read books with filled with history and numbers. At night, when Oberyn finally left her room, she pulled out the other books. These were not books her family approved of. Not that they belittled her for it, but a Dornish Princess was expected to be more practical. “We are Princesses of Dorne, not some silly little southern girl. We are descended from warriors, not maids.” Is what Elia’s mother told her. She knew her family loved her dearly. But she wished they could understand. She wanted a world where she could be loved and love back. The stories where love conquered all. Her favorite was Aemon the Dragonknight and Princess Naerys. Even if the Targaryens were their centuries-old enemies, the story of Aemon loving his sister so fiercely it a fire in her. Of course, she was loved. But Elia wanted someone to hold her dear, just as Aemon held Naerys. So even as Elia got ready to marry Prince Rhaegar, there was an ache.

The Stark Banners flew over the procession. Like your sister Lyanna, you chose to ride on horseback. It was the day of Rhaegar’s marriage to Princess Elia. The procession was an endless line of Westeros’s greatest houses. “Look!” Lyanna pointed to a minstrel show on the side. It was a reenactment of Prince Aemon crowning his Naerys the Queen of Love and Beauty. The sept of Balor was packed to the brim. The crowd roared outside. Luckily, as the eldest daughter of House Stark, you had the honor of seeing everything in person. Elia was just as small as you remembered her. Rhaegar looked as though he could dwarf her.

Your next interaction with the princess was during the dance. Dancing had never been your forte. So as your father and oldest brother were busy, you slipped away. Eddard sat glumly in a corner as Lyanna and Brandon made themselves the life of the party. They could take care of themselves. You moaned in relief as you loosened your corset. A warm wind came up from the city. Your place on the balcony allowed you to see every light below. “Thank the Gods.” You sighed.

Elia was relieved to take a break. She loved dancing, but could only take so much of it. Oberon had offered to accompany Elia, but she refused. She needed to be alone. Every woman knew what was expected on their wedding night. Elia was ashamed to find tears behind her eyes. She was supposed to be the perfect lady, the perfect princess. But she was so scared. This act would be the last bit of her childhood stripped away. Oberon would leave, and she would be Elia Targaryen. The dark halls offered a brief comfort. It was a blessed moment out of the glare of court. Up ahead she saw a balcony. Quickly, Elia picked up her pace. Being a lady be damned she was going to get air.

“Thank-” She was not alone. A woman dressed in blue straightened her posture. Elia was stuck. There was a sort of wild beauty about her. It was so unlike the ladies at court, or even her own. But something so free and spirited. The girls h/c hair was let loose to her waist. E/c eyes, wild as the free forests beyond the walls. Maybe these thoughts were overly romantic. But Elia couldn’t help feeling them. “Your Grace.” She quickly jumped into a curtsy. “May I inquire about your name?” “Y/n of House Stark, Your Grace.” “Well, Y/n of House Stark, would you accompany me to the gardens?” The girl looked shocked, but not displeased (much to Elia’s relief). Y/n offered her arm, much in the way a knight might to his lady.

“It must be a very long way from Dorne. Do you find it cold here?” “Not much. Dorne is not always so hot. Do you find this too warm for you?” “A bit. It has been a cold winter.” The two of you had walked to the Weirwood Tree. Elia walked towards the tree and placed thin fingers upon its branch. The bark was like nothing she had felt before. It was both rough yet soft to the touch. “Isn't it beautiful.” Y/n’s fingers brushed the leaves. “Are there many of these trees up north?” Elia asked. “They're not all that common. You know we have one up at Winterfell.” A longing look passed over the girl's face. “Is everything well Lady Stark?” “It's just that this tree looks so lonely here. Weirwoods belong in the north.” At that moment, Elia knew this girl was as homesick as she herself was.

You had only been back at Winterfell for two months when Queen Rhaella sent for you. Lyanna had snuck up some lemon cakes from the kitchen. Benjin, Lyanna, and yourself were quite happy to finish. “Do you think we should share these with Brandon and Eddard?” Benjin took a bite out of the cake. Lyanna shook her head vigorously. “They’re too old for lemon cakes anyway.” Said you, older than Eddard and Brandon. That was when it happened. All three of you heard your father's footsteps down the hall. “Quick!” You covered the lemon cakes and shoved them under the bed. Not a moment later Lord Rickard Stark burst in, pride all over his face. “Y/n, you have been summoned to serve Princess Elia.” All three of you stood there, thunderstruck. It was Lyanna who burst out first. “What!?” She howled. Richard sent her a look and focused on you. “Y/n, may I speak with you?” It was with ill grace that Lyanna and Benjin left. Your father took a seat by the fireplace. You followed his example. “Y/n, as much of an honor this is, I want to make sure this is alright with you.” Lord Richard had always intended to sow roots in the south. But giving his eldest daughter to that pit of dragons, known as the Red Keep, made him pause. This was to be expected. You always knew one day you would leave. The court was stifling. You didn’t want to go. But you also didn’t want to let down your father. And then there was Princess Elia. She seemed sweet the last time you met her. “If it is your wish, so be it.”

Elia didn’t know why she was fussing over her appearance. Today she wore a Targaryen red. Elia didn’t like the colour. She wanted her oranges, yellows and whites back. King Aerys had a habit of giving unwanted comments regarding her Dornish style. She sat on a throne-like chair in her quarters, surrounded by her ladies. Among their numbers were Ashara Dayne, Malaria Sand and Nymeria Martell. At least she had been allowed to keep three of her friends. The doors swung open and Y/n entered. This time, her hair was done up. She wore soft blue fabric with wolves along the edges. “Your Grace.” You dipped into a curtsy. Elia stood up. “Lady Y/n, it is a pleasure to see you again.” Elia’s lips touched Y/’s cheek. It was cold as ice.

Despite how cold Y/n may have felt, everything else about her was warm. There was something about her voice, eyes and gentle hands that reminded Elia of the warm wind rolling over the sand. She was quiet, rarely voicing her opinion. But there was a tenderness Y/n showed that Elia had rarely felt. Perhaps it was the way Elia was used to being treated in Kings Landing. Y/n seemed to know what she needed. What she wanted. It was the small things. Like Y/n brushing her hair after a hard day, or making her a crown of Weirwood leaves.

Elia had never enjoyed rude health. That was what Nymeria Martell had told you. Though Elia tried to hide it, you could soon tell. She got exhausted quickly, sometimes had a delicate stomach and every month her period nearly made her collapse. Despite this all, she kept strong. That was what you admired about her. She truly embodied the words of her house. Unbowed. Unbend. Unbroken. She was a true lady. But you could tell that Elia wished for something more. One time, you had been training when Elia chanced upon you. At first you thought her angry. But you came to realize it was a longing. A longing to not be so constrained. So one day you decided to take her out for a ride. The rest of the ladies watched nervously as you helped Elia onto a steed. You had chosen a big northern horse. One that was stable and wouldn’t bolt. You got on behind Elia. Elia relaxed against you, black hair let loose. The wind whistled past you. Elia giggled as her fingertips brushed the leaves overhead. “Can you take me to the meadow?” “I am yours to command.” A laugh passed your lips. Just beyond this forest was a meadow owned by the royal family. “Over there!” Elia pointed to a warm spot with soft grass. Elia sat on the blanket you laid down. “I do think we have lost the rest!” It was another few minutes before the rest galloped into the clearing.

Later that night Elia found herself alone with Y/n, yet again. Elia, feeling better than most days, went for a walk with her. With laughter on her lips, Y/n gushed over the thrill of horse riding. Elia’s head rested against your shoulder, tired-eyed. Y/n sat down under the tree, bringing Elia with her. “Thank you Y/n.” Elia tangled her fingers with Y/n. “Would you like to do it again?” Elia nodded. Suddenly, she shivered. A wind had blown from the north. Not used to the cold, she shivered against Y/n. Immediately Y/n tossed off her cloak and put it over Elia’s shoulders. Her fingers went over the fine needlework. Despite their differences, one thing both girls were good at was sewing. On the back was the head of a dire wolf, the sigil of House Stark.

Elia’s first birth had been hard. You were woken by the feeling of something warm and wet against your thighs. At first, you thought Elia simply had an accident. But the metallic smell that reached you told a different story. Quickly you lit a candle and pulled back the sheet. Blood pooled between Elia’s legs. Gently so as not to alarm her, you woke Elia up. Before you could say anything Elia clutched her pelvis and moaned. You shook awake Lady Ashara and she in turn woke the midwife. Soon the room was bustling where once it had been quiet. You weren’t sure how long it lasted. Elia clutching your hand all the time. She bore the pain remarkably well. That was the price one paid with Elia’s condition. The midwives had Elia walk from one end of the room to the other. The sun was well in the sky when the midwife laid Elia down. “Y/n… if I die..” Your hand smoothed her black hair back. It burned to the touch. “Don’t say that. You’ve done so well.” Under your breath, you muttered old Northern prayers. Even a few to the Seven and Mother Royne. Finally, the baby came. A little girl, small and perfect. The midwife placed her in your trembling arms. “Elia, you did it.” Too weak to hold her baby, Elia touched the baby's chubby cheek. For one blessed moment, it was just you and Elia. Together in your world with the baby. Your serenity was broken. Rhaegar burst in. “My daughter! It’s a girl, right?” Relief swept through your veins. At least he would not be disappointed. Rhaegar took her from your arms. “We shall call her Rhaenys.”

Was it alarming how quickly Rhaegar had chosen the baby's name? Elia liked Rhaegar, perhaps even loved him. She took pleasure in their couplings, and he was kind. But recently something dark had settled over their lives. He spent more time at his desk reading rolls upon rolls of paper. Elia had tried to help, but he rejected any attempt. Rhaegar naming Rhaenys without her consent was the most startling. While most wives did bend to the will of their husbands. But even so, to make a decision like this without so much as consulting her was worrying. It also tickled her pride. Was she not his wife, a princess, and future Queen? Elia didn’t voice her frustrations, but the beginnings of resentment were starting to take root.

Elia had been absolutely bedridden. While Elia slept, you took Princess Rhaeneys outside to the courtyard. A wet nurse and nanny followed in your wake. The baby was swaddled in layers of soft fur. The baby took after Elia the most. With delicate features and short black hair. “Aren’t you the cutest little thing, hm?” Your finger brushed her forehead. “Lady Stark.” It was the King. The three of you sunk down into a curtsy. “Lady Stark, how is my wife?” “She is getting better, your Grace. Though still very tired. Would you like to hold your daughter?” You held out the baby. Rhaegar pressed himself very close. So close in fact that his nose was just inches from yours. Uncomfortable, you stepped back.

The Prince Who Was Promised. It was the prophecy passed down from ruler to heir for three hundred centuries. One day the Song of Ice and Fire would come, and the night of darkness driven away. He had correspondents in the North. And things were not looking peaceful beyond the wall. In fact, events progressed alarmingly fast. Wildlings were starting to form groups, and corpses rose where the sun did not dare shine. He needed the three heads of the dragon. He needed the Prince that was Promised. Elia had done well to fall pregnant quickly. And better yet, it was a girl. From the delicate look of her features and gentle purple eyes he knew her to be a Rhaenys. But there was always one part that bothered him. It said the Song of Ice and Fire. The fire aspect came in. But where the ice? Perhaps it would be his future Aegon’s wife, an ice bride. But could they wait that long? Would the Song of Ice and Fire come true in time? It had been another long night of scroll searching. After only a little sleep, he set out. The cold hair did well to rouse him from exhaustion. Rhaegar was strolling in the courtyard when he saw her. He recognized the lady as Y/n Stark, eldest daughter of Lord Stark. The second their eyes met, Rhaegar's chest contracted. Now this was a Visenya. With a wild, harsh beauty and muscles defined by years of training. Almost without thinking he walked up to her. He didn’t even hear what she had to say. This was ice.

Rhaegar was visiting more frequently. It was sweet to see him hold his daughter and sing to her. He even spent time with her ladies, dancing and singing to them. At first, like many, you found this change quite nice. Who wouldn’t want to be sung to by a prince? But Rhaegar had an ulterior motive. You never liked the way he gripped you. It was like vines over brick. Like he might bind himself to you. At first, you convinced yourself it was all in the head. But Rhaegar had a habit of suddenly popping up in unexpected places. Before, you had hardly exchanged a word. Now, he seemed to be everywhere.

“I hear blue roses grow in Winterfell.” Elia had gone to change for bed, leaving you and Rhaegar in the same room. He had stopped you from leaving. It was awkward to say the least, sitting here so closely to the Prince, a married one at that. “Yes, they grow in our greenhouse.” You replied. He was looking at you so intently. “And I assume they are very beautiful.” “I think so. My sister likes to make them into crowns.” “Tell me about your sister.” “Lyanna has only just turned thirteen. You saw her at the wedding, brown hair and gray eyes.” “And does she use a sword like you do?” “Yes, and horse riding is a passion of hers.” Suddenly, Rhaegar’s hand came up to your face. He brushed strands of hair out of your face. “I wouldn’t mind bringing blue roses to Kings Landing, My Lady.” Your heart dropped.

You now knew what his intentions were. Despite your lack of romantic interaction, it was obvious. And why in the name of the Old Gods did it have to be you! Rhaegar, unlike most previous Princes, had the reputation for being faithful to his wife. So why is he focused on you?! Your greatest fear was that Elia would find out. Would she hate you? The thought made you puke.

Elia was pregnant six months after her ordeal. That was when Rhaegar had the brilliant idea that the best place for Elia was Dragonstone. And my Gods was it the worst place you had ever visited. It was damp and cold. Elia spent most days bundled under the furs of her bed. For once her work remained undone. Elia had truly hit her limit. One night, you had finished singing a sleeping Elia a Roynish lullaby, when Rhaegar came in. Your hands tightened. “Lady Y/n, I see my wife is asleep.” “Yes.” You hoped he would leave. Instead he walked over and sat on the bed. You didn’t know whether to leave or stay. “I hear you are unmarried, My Lady.” You knew where this was going. “My father intends for me to marry Lord Baratheon.” You wanted to squash any ideas he might have. “You need not marry him, or is that your wish?” Was he serious!? Of course you would! At that moment it became too much. “Please Your Grace, I am very exhausted and am unable to entertain you any longer.” Your voice trembled with suppressed fear and rage. Something in Rhaegar’s Valyrian purple eyes changed and he gripped your hand. “Meet me in the caves, tomorrow after breakfast.”

Breakfast was hard to stomach. You could feel Rhaegar's eyes on you. It became too much. You vomited. That was all you could do after breakfast. Stumbling to the lavatory you hunched over. “Y/n!” Elia caught you by the arm. Steadying yourself against her, it was hard to walk. She walked you out of the room. Unfortunately, someone followed you. “Lady Y/n, I’ve been seeking your company.” Of course, it was Rhaegar. Because he couldn’t help turning up at unpleasant moments. “I think Y/n better rest.” Elia lead you away. “Wait.” Rhaegar had seized your arm. What happened next shocked you. The second Rhaegar had you, Elia tore his hand off. “She is unwell.” There was a steely bite to her voice. Before Rhaegar could do anything more, Elia led you away.

Fire and Blood. The famous saying of house Targaryen. But what of House Martell? Was their sigil not the sun? Perhaps Rhaegar was under the assumption that the blood of Martell was not as hot as his. Well, he was about to discover otherwise. Rhaegar had been reading his scrolls when Elia burst in, without ceremony. Never in her life had Elia felt so enraged. For the first time it was impossible to bottle her feelings up. Her fingers itched to tear at his face. She actually hated him. Elia had noticed a change in Y/n’s demeanor as of late. Where once she had been happy and cherrful, now Y/n was like a shadow. How when Rhaegar visited Y/n shrunk away. Every time Rhaegar approached Y/n, which was alarmingly often, she recoiled from his touch. The day when Elia had fallen asleep in her arms, she woke to Rhaegar storming off. Y/n, still clinging to her, sobbing openly. Something akin to jealousy stirred up in Elia’s chest. But much stronger like a storm. It had a grip on her heart. It kicked at her stomach. This was a different sickness. Instead of being laid low, it made her want to rage “You keep away from her.” Elia’s hands slammed into the table, fingernails piercing its surface. “Whom do you speak of?” Rhaegar looked up at her coolly. “You know who. Do not play a fool with me, Rhaegar Targaryen.” Rhaegar set down the scrolls. “Elia, the purpose of this matter is much greater than you and I.” Elia let out a derisive snort. “Getting your prick wet is hardly a great matter.” “I believe it is time to tell you. Elia, I must tell you the Song of Ice and Fire.”

“He’s as mad as his father.” Elia lay awake that night. Did he truly need Y/n for this “prophecy”. No wonder the Targaryens went mad, if they all followed this. Elia turned over to where Y/n lay. This past year Y/n had been the one to sleep beside her when Rhaegar was nose-deep in scrolls. While it was not required, Elia hated being alone. Y/n turned, facing Elia. She looked so calm, so peaceful. Elia held her cold hand, she then moved closer. That night, Elia swore nothing would ever happen to Y/n.

And so Elia kept her word. She always had someone report on Rhaegr’s whereabouts. Elia’s first thought had been to dismiss Y/n. It would be painful, but Y/n would be safer there. Perhaps Rhaegar would forget about her and one day Elia could invite Y/n back. But Rhaegar would never let her. There was one alarming change. Rhaegar was now letting Elia in on his research. How there would be a great Prince to vanquish the Others. Elia hated thinking about it, but at least she knew what Rhaegar was up to.

“Elia look!” The morning you received a gift from your sister. Lyanna had taken blue winter roses and tried them, pressed between two pieces of glass. The picture was lovely.

Sister,

I hope you are well. I hope these roses find you soon. Given you are stuck on Dragonstone. There are many this year. When you visit, there will probably be more. Dad has currently grounded me because I poured wine on Brandon’s head. Which was unfair because he was making fun of me. The only satisfaction I have is that Brandon can no longer visit the whore houses, at least for the next week. But I don’t see why I need be punished.

Everyone is doing well. Benjin is still annoying, father and Eddard send their love. Ps. There are socks for the Princess Rhaenys.

Love,

Lyanna Stark

You pulled out a pair of socks. They were actually quite nicely sewn.

“Your sister wrote to you? What did she say?” Elia looked over. “She sends me her love. And socks for the Princess.” “Well I am very grateful. I shall send my thanks.” Elia picked up the Princess from her colt. “Shall we?” The two of you liked to take walks by the ocean. It was nice and soothing and briefly banished all your troubles. You had taken off your shoes, sand between your toes. “Would you like go to back to Winterfell?” Elia asked. “I do miss home. Father may call me back for my marriage.” You said. But you wondered if Rhaegar would let you. While he had left you alone, it was still scary. The fear that Rhaegar might resume his advances was frightening. “If at any point you wish to.” Normally you would have not thought twice about saying yes. But something didn’t sit well with you. Why was Elia so eager for you to leave? Usually, Elia was hard put to have you leave her side. And the timing was suspect in itself. You finally voiced your fears.

“Rhaegar’s been confronting me as of late.” You had to get it out. As much as you loathed it. The secret was banging against your chest, begging to get out. “I know.” Elia sighed. Your legs buckled, tears bringing themself to the surface. “I didn’t want it.” You sobbed. Your shoes dropped as tears spilled over. Your hands clutched at your chest as if that might alleviate the pain. Your body fell to the ground. Elia came down with you, one arm around your shoulder. Her lips brushed against you hairline. “I know my dear, I know.” But you couldn’t stop crying. The relief you felt was enormous. As stressful as the situation had been, at least you knew Elia didn’t blame you. The sea crashed in the distance and seemed to come to a standstill as you rested against Elia. You cried into her shoulder for what felt like ages. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotten my tears all over your dress.” You sniffed. Elia laughed and pulled you further into her embrace. “It’s just a dress, you're more important.” Baby Rhaenys cooed between you two. Elia ran a finger down the bridge of her nose. “I think Rhaenys needs to go inside.” Both of you stood up. “Elia, could I have a moment alone?” Her hand stroked your cheek. You wanted some time alone. Your emotions were so on edge you might explode.

You watched Elia walk back inside. It was only when Elia went inside that you continued on your way. Getting cold feet, literally, you slipped on your shoes and went to the cliffside. The wind whipped around like a tempest. You allowed the wind to ruffle your hair. Maybe this is why Targaryens came here. There was a sense of peace you got from the elements. It was as if the wind might carry your pain away. Your eyes closed, letting emotion take over. You fell, fingers digging into cold, tough soil. Your nails cried out from the strength in which they were forced into the ground. A cold, hard breath left your body, carried away by the wind. Throwing your head back, you sent a prayer to the wind. Only the gray sky above was witness to your cry. Or so you thought.

“Lady Stark.” A cold, shaking hand clasped on your trembling lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. He came closer, one footstep after another, the ground giving way to his wake. Legs became stiff as lead. A strong hand seized your shoulder. “Lady Stark, please turn.” Only doing so when he put pressure on the shoulder that you unwillingly turned. Acid rose up in your throat. “Your Grace…please.” Tears fell freely. You didn’t care about dignity anymore. Right now all you knew was exhaustion and fear. “Y/n, I know this is unprompted, but there is information I must divulge.”Rhaegar’s eyes looked desperate and wild. There was a flame in those dark purple eyes. It was like you could feel the heat emanating from them, like wildfire. “Elia is not ice. I need a child of fire and ice." “You’re Grace, the Princess has already given you a healthy daughter. And it would be beneath my honor to have a bastard.” “Not a bastard My Lady, a prince.” A wild laugh burst from your lips, arms breaking free from his grip. Alarmed, Rhaegar stepped back. You must have looked mad yourself, hair freely flying behind you, eyes wide and savage. “Make no mistake My Prince. You will never have me or my love if that is what you are after. And when I bear a child it shall not be with a dragon. Dragons do not fare well in the cold.” “Ice is just what I desire. The Prince that was Promised, the Three-Headed Dragon. Elia can not give me that.” You feel to your knees, angry tears tearing at your skin. “You would…… you would abandon your wife for what!? You are mad!” Rhaegar knelt down to your level, hand on your chin. You broke. Rhagar howled as sharp teeth drove into his pale skin. You were thrown to the ground with the state of blood overcoming the scenes. “So this is how it is. I shall leave you to your own devices then.” He spat. Rhaegar walked away.

The next few days were spent in silent terror. You had harmed a Prince, treason. Even the daughter of Lord Rickard Stark was not immune to the rules. Hiding under the covers at night, you expected guards to come in at any moment. But to your surprise and delight, Rhaegar had left you alone. However, that didn’t mean this was the end. Elia suspected something was wrong. She was constantly by your side, more than usual. In public you were side by side, arms linked. But soon news came that caused a flurry of excitement. A tourney was being held at Harrenhal. Soon everything was being packed up and ready to leave that dreary rock. Maybe you would feel better once off Dragonstone.

Arriving at Kings Landing was a blessed relief. Even the tall red walls were better than windswept Dragonstone. Two days later, your family arrived. “Lyanna!” Forgoing courtesies, you left Elia’s side to hug your sister. Since you had last seen her, Lyanna had gotten taller. Her dark brown hair was long and tidy, cheeks a rosy glow. Lyanna practically jumped on you in her excitement. “Y/n! I’ve missed you so!” One of Elia’s ladies made an “ahem” noise and the two of you quickly broke apart. “Princess, this is my sister, Lady Lyanna Stark.” Lyanna curtsied, you noticed she had improved. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lyanna. Your sister tells me much.” Lyanna blushed. “Good things, I hope.” Elia laughed at the jest. “Very. Now how about we enjoy these lemon cakes and you tell me stories about Y/n when she was younger.” The rest laughed as you groaned.

The mood in Elia’s solar was pleasant. Lyanna seemed to enjoy eating cake and telling ever embarrassing stories about your childhood. “And then she fell right into the pigpen.” Lyanna laughed. “Only because you pushed me.” You snorted, giving her a gentle swat. Elia looked happier than she had in a long while, baby Rhaeneys situated on her lap. For that short time, no one had any worries. Until Rhaegar arrived. Elia’s smile faded and the sun was put out. The rest of you shrunk back as if confronted by the plague. The only person who seemed to be unfazed was Lyanna. “Your Grace.” She said and then sat back down. He walked over and pressed a kiss to Elia’s cheek. “My Love, I hope you are well.” But Rhaegar’s eyes were not on you, but Lyanna's. “Fire and Ice.” You had not known what Rhaegar meant by those words. It was only now that he was looking at Lyanna did you realize. If he could not have you, he would have her.

Your maid had just finished brushing your hair when a knock sounded at the door. “Who is it?” The maid called out. “It’s me.” Lyanna’s voice called out. “Let her in.” The door opened and a muddy, flushed Lyanna stumbled in, a grin wide over her face. “Prince Rhaegar let me join in on the hunt.” Your blood froze. Even breathing took great effort. “Please leave us.” The maid curtsied and departed. It was only when her footsteps faded did you speak. “Lyanna, what exactly did he do?” “Well, I was in the courtyard practicing my archery when he saw me! Honestly, I thought he would tell me off, but instead, he let me hunt some stag! It was so much fun!” Poor Lyanna. At fourteen, the girl did not realize the Prince’s intentions were not so innocent. “Lyanna, I believe he is trying to court you.” Your insides squirmed at the words, but she needed to hear them. The thought of Rhaegar taking advantage of your innocent sister made you physically ill. At first, Lyanna laughed. But when she realized you weren't jesting, those laughs turned into sobs. You pulled your sister into a hug, hand brushing her hair. "I swear I didn’t do anything.” Her tears stained your nightgown. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you one bit.” You let Lyanna sleep in your bed that night. After a cup of hot milk and honey, she went to sleep. But you stayed awake all night, thinking about what to do next.

Lyanna was in your presence at all hours. However, your duties conflicted with your plans. During dinner, you had to leave with Elia. Ever since her second pregnancy quickened her breasts had been swollen and red. You had only left Elia when she was in bed. You’d gone for a walk when Lyanna ran into Y/n. She was pale with red eyes. Wordlessly she flung her arms around your waist, fingers clutching the fabric. “Has Rhaegar bothered you again!” “Yes, yes he has! I was riding by myself when he came up to me. I tried to shake him off when he caught up and insisted we ride together.” “Did he do anything?” “He touched my hand. “And that is all?” “Yes, I promise.” Relief. At least he had not taken her maidenhead. But that did not mean you weren’t angry. “Go to bed Lyanna, I will deal with him tomorrow. It was time for the dragons to realize wolves too had fangs.

Requesting a meeting with the Prince terrified you. But Lyanna being in danger was far more horrifying. So that was why on a cold night, you stood in front of Rhaegar’s large oak door, the three-headed dragon carved into its surface. The torches gave the entrance an eerie atmosphere. You heard him call you in. Into the dragon's den, you went.

You had never been to Rhaegar’s solar before. It was a quiet, mysterious place. The circular wall was lined with shelves. The only light came from the fireplace, above the mantel held a curved blade. “Lady Y/n. I admit, I had not expected you to request an audience.” Dangerous. That was the only word you could describe his voice. Each syllable dripped off his tongue like poison. A predator ready to strike. “I wish to speak to you regarding my sister, Lady Lyanna.” Your fingernails dug into your palms. “ Yes. Your sister is quite lovely. A credit to your house.” A slight smirk made its way onto his face. “I am aware, My Prince. But I worry that your attentions may be taken as…..something more than they should not be.” Rhaegar’s eyes flashed something fierce and a malevolent smirk stretched over his lips. “So now that another has my heart you want me?” Flabbergasted. Was Rhaegar so enraptured by the prophecy that he could not see sense?! “My Prince, she is my sister and engaged to Lord Tyrell. If you pursue her Lyanna;s prospects will be ruined.” Rhaegar’s purple eyes hardened as his elbows rested on his knees. “Lady Y/n, if you accept my proposal I would not need to pursue Lady Lyanna.” You seemed unable to breathe through your mouth. Lungs barely able to circulate air. Rhaegar got to his feet, walking towards you. His large hands placed themselves on your shoulders, his lips inches from yours. Warm breath hits your chest, the skin heating up. “Please…..she’s so young.” You clutched his hands imploringly.There was not even room to cry, every organ in your body was ice. His hand cupped your cheek, getting closer. You could now taste his breath. Before Rhaegar knew it, you had fled.

A snake and a wolf lay together in the darkness. The heaviness of your situation suffocating. “Lyanna needs to go back north.” Elia’s hand held yours. “I know. The tournament will be over tomorrow.” Elia attempted to console you. “But what if he tries to harm Lyanna before then?!” Tears choked your lungs. Elia hushed you gently and wrapped her arms around you. The snake coiled herself gently around her wolf.

It was only by pure chance that you figured out Rhaegar’s plan. You had woken early that morning, clad in a simple blue dress and shawl. This morning had a cold touch in the wind, reminding you of Winterfell. Oh how you would like to go back to those days. Harenhall still bore the marks from Aegon’s attack all those centuries ago. A man whose belief in his divine right to rule was so strong he took over six kingdoms. This castle was just a remnant of this pride. Targaryen's had always been this way, taking what they want. You walked out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Looking down below, you recognize a familiar curtain of silver hair. With haste, you made to disappear before he might look up and see you. That was until something caught your eye. Rhaegar had in his hands a crown of blue winter roses. Roses that only grew in Winterfell. This did not sit right with you. He must be making it for the tourney today. But why would he go to such lengths to get blue roses for this one occasion? Most would believe that this was a touching gesture from Rhaegar to Elia. But why winter roses? Why not flowers from Dorne? Rage choked you. How dare he. How fucking dare he! You wanted to claw his eyes out and feed him to the wolves. No matter what, Rhaegar would pursue his desires. He was a dragon. A dragon you wanted to defang. You looked down at the young prince. Had he cared to look up, Rhaegar would have seen a she-wolf staring right down at him.

You had gained sickness when Elia woke up. The sad look on her face made you ill, but this needed to be done. Once everyone was gone, you slipped out of bed and hurried to Benjin’s room. Only Benjin and Lyanna knew what you were up to. “I think this will fit you.” Lyanna held up a breastplate. Benjin helped put on your armor as Lyanna handed him pieces. “All done!” Benjin admired his handiwork. You ruffled his dark hair. Lyanna was rummaging under the bed. “Lyanna? Everything alright?” “Yes.” Lyanna grunted. She hauled out a shield and turned it over. On its surface was a Weirwood tree. “Shall we start?” Lyanna asked. Grimly, you and Benjin nodded.

All that could be heard were the horse's thundering hooves. All your energy was put into defeating this latest opponent. Though you had jousted before, never had your limits been pushed thus. Your left arm was screaming in pain. Every time the pain became too much to bear, you looked up to Elia, Lyanna and Benjin. Only Lyanna and Benjin knew the truth. Yet the way Elia’s eyes followed you made you think she knew. Finally, you made it to the final round. In all honesty, you hadn’t expected to make it this far. But this was it. This was why you had entered the arena and this fight. “I announce, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen!” A roar louder than the waves against Storm’s End came up from the stands. He was clad in true Targaryen armor, making him look like the dragon he was. But even dragons were not invincible. The Dornish had brought down Meraxes, and by all the old Gods you would take down this one. Your lances lowered, it had begun.

You and Elia saw under the Weirwood Tree. Elia’s head lay in your lap while you made a crown of weirwood leaves. You told her the story of Aemon the dragonknight and his love Naerys. Whether it was romantic or the love a brother had for a sister was unknown. But it comforted you to think that the sad Queen Naerys had someone by her side. The path of a Queen or princess was lonely, as you had witnessed. Elia had always been a princess from the day of her birth. In Dorne there were the vipers that never harmed their precious princess. The same could not be said of Kings Landing. Elia opened her brown eyes and smiled at you. “What's this?” She asked, eyeing the leaf crown. “Something for the tourney.” “For Brandon?” You gave her a sly smile. “Not so your grace.” If the vipers could not protect Elia, then this lone wolf would.

It all happened in one moment. People in the audience were not even sure what had happened. Two great beasts had launched at each other. In the end, it was the mysterious Weirwood tree knight who remained standing. And then a shriek arose from the crowd. Of shock, surprise, excitement, and wonder. This knight with no name had unhorsed the prince. The knight's white stallion trotted over the squire who handed her a crown of Weirwood leaves and orange Dornish flowers. And went right up to the Princess. Elia stood on the balcony. Instead of shock or horror, her face held something no one but the princess and her knight knew. Their eyes met and at least for that day, as Elia set the crown upon her brow, everything was right in the world.

[quintinh43]

Fucking Canada | Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke is out with an injury, Y/n is on break from school. Obviously, the only logical thing is for them to head down to Vancouver to visit Quinn.

Pairings: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Meantions of Anxiety, Drinking (drink responsibly kids), Some light suggestive content. Use of the name Mariana. Let me know if I missed anything!

Wc: 4.9k

This one's for @toasttt11, stay awesome 🫶🏼

---

Luke had been been out with an injury for a week. And it was driving him insane. He had begged and begged the trainers to at least allow him on the ice with the team. He'd batted his long eyelashes and given them puppy dog eyes and the famous Hughes pout, yet somehow they resisted and firmly told him he was not to touch a pair of skates until after his two-week check up.

And that was only if his check-up came back all ok. So in his boredom, he flew down to Michigan to spend time with you, and then decided that as soon as your break started he was flying both of you down to Vancouver for the week, because fuck he missed his big brother.

He rolled his wrist around in its brace, and you smack him in the chest. "Stop doing that. You're gonna aggravate your wrist and make it worse."

"Baby, I swear its fine," he whined, "The trainers don't know what they're talking about."

You snort, and grab his arm, pinning it beneath your torso, being careful to ensure that the strained part of his wrist was not under you.

"Baby, please," he whined, tugging his arm gently. "Let me up,"

"Only if you promise to stop rolling your wrist." You glare.

"I promise" Luke mumbles shifting towards you to run his lips along your jaw. Your stomach flutters, pink dusts across your cheeks, and you let him go immediately. He leans on his elbows and kisses down your neck.

"Luke" you whisper breathlessly.

"Hmm" he hums, nipping at the sensitive skin along the column of your troat.

You bite your lip, debating telling him off. But kissing Luke is much much better than studying physiology, and you haven't had a break in a while. You slam your textbook shut, and all but kick it off the bed.

"You're such a menace," you huff, he wraps his uninjured arm around you, and drags himself fully on top of you, kissing gently down your neck.

"You know you love me," he grins.

"You're lucky I do, Hughes. Now get back to kissing me,"

"Yes ma'am," he chuckles, lips dancing along your collarbones.

There's a knock on your door and before you can tell whoever it is to fuck off, your roommate and best university friend; Mariana barges in.

"Enough sexy time, kids!" she says, ignoring the murderous glares both you and Luke throw her way, "If you still want a ride to the airport, we are leaving in ten." She walks out, leaving the door open. You sigh, nudging Luke with your shoulder, to get off of you. He pecks one last kiss to your cheek and rolls off you, pulling you to your feet so the two of you can get all your things together.

You slide your laptop into your bag, grab all your chargers, and make sure you have an extra set of headphones. Because God knows the worst thing that could possibly happen is being stuck on an airplane with no muisc. After double and triple checking that you have everything, Mariana ushers you out the door hurriedly.

The ride to the airport is nothing special. You and Mariana sit in the front while Luke is banished to the back. You stretch an arm back to hold his hand, and he leans his head on your seat to be closer to you.

"Have fun in Vancouver Babe," Mariana says giving you a tight parting hug, and kiss on the cheek.

"Better take care of my girl Hughes, or I'm coming for that other wrist" She threatens, giving Luke a hug. Luke laughs, patting Mariana's back.

"You know it, Mari," he grins, winking at you.

"Text me when you land, ok?" She says, squeezing your shoulder.

"I will. Thanks for the ride, Mar." You hive her one last squeeze goodbye and take Luke's hand as you head through the airport.

Everything goes smoothly, thank God, and soon you and Luke are boarded the plane. It's a fight over who takes the window seat. You think Luke should have it cause he has longer legs, and Luke thinks you should have it because you deserve the best seat.

After convincing Luke that as long as you're sitting beside him, you do have the best seat, he reluctantly takes the window seat. And makes sure to tell you that if you want to switch at any time, just tell him.

You nod, knowing that you absolutely won't be doing that, but what Luke doesn't know won't hurt him.  You're set to arrive just before Quinn's game tonight, which means that the two of you won't get to see him until later. After going through your mental checklist, making sure everything is organized, you stick your headphones in and rest your head on Luke's shoulder and promptly pass out.

Luke is shaking you awake gently when it's time to get off the plane. "Wake up, Baby, it's time to get going," he says softly.

You sigh, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, "Alright lets go,"

You grab all of yours and Lukes belongings from the overhead compartment, much to his dismay. "Baby, let me help,"

"Luke Warren, I swear if you touch any of this luggage with that wrist, I'll chop it off," you say sternly. You hand him his backpack, and he slings it over his shoulder with a pout.

You grab his injured hand gently, lacing your fingers together as best as you can with his brace on, and head off the plane. As you step into the Uber, both your phones buzz with a text from Quinn.

Q: I left a key for you guys with the front desk, Luke just has to show some ID.

Q: You guys are coming to the game right?

Luke: Yep, excited to see you Q

You: Were just heading to your place now, to get settled and then we're on our way. See you soon!

Q: Excited to see you guys too.

You arrive at his apartment, and Luke shows his ID to the front desk, and they hand over the key. Quinn's apartment is nice, but it's so clean. It looks like a place out of a modern decor magazine, except for the photos of his family scattered here and there.

There's a two jerseys folded neatly on the bed with a sticky note that says 'Don't be a little bitch' on top. "Nope" Luke says as he immediately lays eyes on it, "I'm not wearing that, nither are you."

You roll your eyes at him, but don't argue. It makes sense that he wouldn't wear it. Players have a thing about not wearing another franchises merchandise. He unzips his suitcase and pulls out two black hoodies with white stitching that says Hughes 43 on the back. Except if you look carefully, the devils logo is stitched on the sleeve.

You shake your head with a smile and take the hoodie from him. "Let me just change into something better, and we'll head out."

Luke nods, digging around for a pair of jeans for himself.  The two of you make quick work of changing, and then you're on your way to the game. Quinn, smartly left the tickets under your name, lest someone spill the beans that Luke Hughes is in Vancouver to watch his brother play.

Your seats are right by the glass. When Quinn notices you, he skates over, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Bitches" he mouths with a smile, as he takes in the lack of Canuck blue in your outfits.

You grin and flash him a heart with your fingers while Luke flips him off, making sure he can see the devils logo on the sleeve. Quinn shakes his head at Luke and skates off to finish warm-ups.

Thankfully, no one really takes note of the interaction. Luke has a cap pulled low, so unless someone is really looking for Luke Hughes, then he shouldn't be recognized. The atmosphere is electric. Canadian hockey really hits differently.

The game is nerve-wracking, and for most of it, you and Luke are on the edges of your seats, grabbing at eachother hands, and slapping eachothers knees in excitement whenever something particular exciting happens. And when Quinn picks up a goal, the two of you are jumping and screaming.

The game ends with a canuck win, and as you two make your way down to the locker room to greet Quinn, you're chattering excitedly about all the good plays that were made. Especially Quinn's. He picked up a goal and three assists, making him the top point scorer of the game.

As he walks out of the locker room, he can't keep the smile off his face as he lands eyes on you and Luke. As much as he doesn't mind being on his own, seeing his family is always the best. You've been around the Hughes boys since you were growing up. From Toronto to Michigan. Your family's were really close and still are to this day.

He pulls you into a hug first, "Good to see you Y/n" he says, patting you on the back.

He goes to hug Luke, and in true brotherly fashion, he can't help but make a jab at him as does so. "I swear to God, you get taller every time I see you." Rather than standing on his tip toes to throw his arms around Lukes neck, he hooks his ankle around the back of Luke's knee and Luke's knees buckle.

Quinn catches him in a hug before he can hit the floor. You and Quinn are laughing, while Luke grumbles. He snatches Quinns hat off his head, making his hair stick up in every which way and holds it as high as he can. Quinn rolls his eyes, not taking the bait, and starts to walk.

Luke huffs and throws his hat back at him. "How did y'all get here?"

"Uber," you say, throwing an arm around Luke's waist as you walk. He drapes his arm around your shoulder, fingers brushing patters against your shoulder.

"The team is going out to celebrate. Do you guys wanna join, or do you want a ride home first?"

"Well, come with," Luke smiles, "Good game, dude, you made some nasty moves."

Pink dusts Quinn's cheeks, and he changes the conversation. "How's the wrist?"

Luke rolls his eyes, and before he can roll his wrist, you glare at him. "It's completely fucking fine."

"It's not" you say

"The trainers don't know what they are talking about." He mutters.

"They do" You add poking luke in the side.

Quinn scoffs, "Yes, im sure the people whose literal job it is to treat your injures don't know what they are talking about."

Luke pouts, "I can't believe my girl and my brother are ganging up on me like this,"

"Well, maybe if you weren't so stubborn." You and Quinn say simultaneously, looking at each other with a grin.

Luke grumbles unintelligiblly and Quinn throws his bags in this trunk. Luke takes the front seat, and this time, he's the one reaching his arm back to hold your hand. You smile, lacing your fingers together. Quinn rolls the eyes at the two of you with a smile.

The drive to the bar is filled with the light chatter of the three of you catching up about life. Unsurprisingly, Quinn has nothing interesting happening in his love life. The man eats, breathes, sleeps, and lives hockey. Luke teases him about becoming an old spinster while he glances at you lovingly. No doubt envisioning the magnificence that your lives will be together.

The bar is absolutely packed. Not surprisingly. It's a Friday night and the Canucks won. Some of the team is already there, in a roped off Vip area. They wave Quin over urgently. He grabs your hand and you grab Luke's so as not to get separated in the crowd of drunk people.

Quinn greets his teammates with hugs and back slaps and inside jokes. Some of them grin at you and Luke, wiggling their eyebrows at you and dragging Luke into hugs.

"So why are Mr. And Mrs. Huggy Jr. Here?" Brock asks, swirling the liquid in his glass.

Luke smiles at that, tracing his finger over the back of your left ring finger. "Luke is out injured, and I'm on a break from school," you shrug, playing with Luke's hand in yours.

"I'm going to get a refill," Luke hums, kissing the tip of your ear as he detangles himself from you, "want anything?"

"I'm good for now, baby," you say, kissing him on the cheek. When you turn back to the guys, they are all leaning close to you, batting their eyelashes like a group of High-school girls waiting to hear the latest drama about your crush.

Petey is the first to speak, "So when is he proposing?"

Millsy slaps him in the back of the head, "How is she supposed to know when he's proposing dumbass?"

"That man is so fucking whipped for you," Brock smirks, and you can't help the blush that colours your cheeks.

"You guys will have some cute babiess," Garland grins, just the slightest bit tipsy.

"Alright, alright, leave her alone. That's my sister-in-law you're bullying" Quinn says, coming to your rescue. He throws an arm around your shoulders, squeezing gently.

"You ok?" He asks quietly, the guys already forgetting the previous topic of conversation.

"Yeah, thanks Quinn," you smile, squeezing his hand back.

"Well, I'm absolutely beat, so I'm gonna go home. Do y'all wanna stay, or are you ready to head home?"

"We'll stay I think, me and Lukey are having fun, and I have yet to drag him to the dance floor. Are you ok to drive home?"

"Yeah, I haven't been drinking," Quinn says, smiling softly at your concern for him. "Sorry to leave y'all hanging."

"Don't worry about it, Quinn, we'll see you tomorrow. You played a good game, go get lots of rest," you smile, wrapping him in a quick hug.

He hugs you back and turns to address the guys. "I'm heading out if anyone wants a ride," Before the sentence fully leaves his mouth, Petey is practically throwing himself at Quinn. He stumbles into the two of you, and you both reach out to make sure he doesn't eat the floor. "I drank too much," he mumbles.

You laugh, patting his back, as Quinn stabilizes him. "I'm making you do bag skates next practice," Quinn says with entirely too much joy, as he practically half carries Petey out of the bar.

With Quinn gone, you dip out of the Vip section to find Luke, you spot him sitting at the bar, cheeks flushed, empty shot glasses littered suspiciously close to him. He's holding another glass that looks like soda, and there's a girl leaning much to close to him. He's leaning back slowly, looking very unimpressed.

Until he spots you. His megawatt lady killer smile appears as he all but pushes the other girl out of the way, and practically sprints to you, as well as someone can sprint in a crowded bar. Your hands rest on his arms, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Luke, are you ok?" You ask concerned, eyes flitting across his face, "have you been drinking?"

"Y/n!" He is way too giddy to be sober, "I know we said, we weren't drinking, but then I was sad about my wrist and someone said that the alcohol would make me feel better, so drank a little teeny tiny shot, and then another one cause somone got me another one, and then this group of girls asked me if I wanted to do shots with them, and I was gonna say no, but then they already ordered the shots and then-"

You cut off his drunk rambling, your voice laced with concern. "Luke baby, do you remember how many shots you took?" You ask, the calmness of your voice not giving way to the absolutely disastrous thoughts swimming in your head.

"Four, I think!" He grins, trying to count the glasses that were littered on the bar top in front of where he was sitting. There were five. Your eyes widen almost comically. He was barely gone for half an hour. He took five shots of straight alcohol in less than half an hour. Fuck.

Now it wasn't as if Luke hadn't drank before, undoubtedly he had. But definitely not that amount of alcohol in that span of time. Plus, it wasnt really recommended for professional athletes to drink anyways, so the amount of alcohol he'd consumed since the beginning of the season probably didn't even equate the amount that he'd drank tonight alone. Double Fuck.

And on top of all of that, Quinn had already left. "My wrist feels so much better!" Luke says happily, "I can take off my brace!" As he reaches for straps on his brace, you grab his hand.

"Absolutely not Luke." You lace your fingers with his to keep him from taking off his brace while you try to figure out what to do. Before you know what's happening, there's another full shot glass in front of you, and Luke is knocking it back. Triple Fuck.

"It burns," he pouts, shaking his head like he just ate something sour.

"Luke, how did you even get alcohol? we're underage!" The disbelief is evident in your voice.

The bartender hears your statement and decides that he'd better clear up that misconception before he gets into some kond of trouble. "No ma'am," he says, leaning over the counter. "I checked his ID, says he's twenty, that's legal"

Suddenly, you are very pissed that the bartender is telling you how old your own boyfriend is. Just as you're about to snap at him for clearly not being able to to his job correctly, if he thinks twenty is legal, you remember that you're no longer in the States.

You're in Canada. Fucking Canada. Racking your brain, you try to recall the legal age in British Columbia. You feel so stupid. It's nineteen. Ninteen year olds are legally allowed to drink in B.C. Luke is twenty. Fuck fuck fucking fuckitty fuck.

Before you sprial into a full-on panic, you take a deep breath. Luke is drunk out of his mind, and he needs to get home now, and you panicking will not help the situation. You slap your card down on the bar top and tell the bartender to close Luke's tab.

You don't trust Luke to be left to his own devices, so you sling his arm around your shoulder and half drag him to where you left your phone and purse with Brock. You gently guide Luke to sit on one of the chairs. He does so shakily and wraps one arm around your chest, pulling you flush against his body.

His knees are squeezing your hips, his fingers are tracing over your collarbones, and his face is tucked against your neck.

"Woah! is Huggy Jr. drunk?" Brock asks, grinning madly as he hands you your phone and purse.

"In the span of time that he disappeared, he took six fucking shots" you grumble, as you order an Uber to get home.

Brock almsot chokes on his drink. He stares wide eyes, "oh so he's fucking blackout," he takes his phone and snaps a photo of you and Luke. The glare that you send him is so murderous that if looks could kill he'd be six feet under.

"Sorry," he shrugs with a shit eating grin that says he's not sorry at all, "I need some proof of this for when he wakes up hating his life tomorrow."

"Alright, well, at least send it to me." You grumble, Brock laughs, and your phone buzzes with a notification from him immediately after. "And hey, please don't tell Quinn anything right now. He's probably home and in bed by now, and I don't wanna stress him out unnecessarily."

Brock nods, "Don't worry, kid, my lips are sealed." He sighs like an older brother, "if I was sober, i'd be driving you home."

"Oh Brock, don't worry about it. You guys had great games, and you deserve to celebrate. We'll be fine, I promise," you smile. Your heart melts a little, you've only met the canucks a few times but from the instant that you did they treated you like family.

"Alright, alright, just let me know when you're home safe, I'll feel much better."

"You got it, Brocky," you smile, standing on your tip toes to give him a friendly kiss on the cheek. Brock grins like a school boy who just got a kiss from his crush. Thankfully, drunk Luke doesn't decide to make an appearance. Otherwise, he might have absolutely decked Brock in the face.

Not that he would've succeeded, based on how drunk he is. You're almost sure he's fallen asleep. Until his lips start moving against your neck. Quadruple fuck. You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning out loud as he nips at your throat with so much care you'd think he was fully sober.

His fingers start to make patterns along your collarbones, dipping lower toward the curve of your breasts. You don't want him to stop.

"Luke," you whisper desperately, laying your head atop his gently.

His hum of response reverberates against your skin, and pleasure melts down your spine, stomach fluttering.

"Luke," you try again, voice strained as his teeth screen against the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, "not here baby, we're in public."

" 's go home" he murmers into your skin, "wanna fuck my pretty girl."

Your cheeks go red faster than you thought possible. What a time to find out Luke is a horny drunk.

"Luke," his name is a prayer on your lips. The fingers of his injured hand burn as they press into your waist.

" 'm starvin for you baby," he mumbles, the tips of his fingers brushing under the waistband of your jeans.

Heat coils in your stomach, and you bite your lip to keep a whimper from spilling from your lips. As if some Devine power is on your side, you get a notification that your Uber has arrived.

"Our ride is here." Your voice is practically a squeak.

"Want you to ride me." Luke says, and you can feel his lips turn up into a smirk against your skin. You have to cover your mouth with your hand. Luke chuckles darkly. "Pretty girl has to cover her mouth so everyone doesn't know what a dirty girl she is." he hums nosing at your neck. If you're here any longer, you might actually combust. You make sure you have everything because you can quite literally never return to this bar every again.

You help pull Luke out of his chair and drape one of his arms over your shoulder. You wrap your arm around his waist to keep him steady. "Gonna eat you up when we're alone," he mutters, his grin all teeth. He's so fucking beautiful it makes your troat go dry.

You're blushing like a school girl as you help him out of the bar. He's leaning most of his weight on you while he whispers dirty things in your ear. You're surprised that you even manage to get him out of the bar on your own, mainly because his comments are making you weak in the knees. And partially because he's a 6'2, 185-pound man.

You successfully get him into the backseat and give the driver Quinns address. Thank God he lives close. A ten minute drive at most. But unfortunately for you, it feels like hours.  Because Luke had been very perceptive as to how his advances were making you react and continues them with no mercy.

"So pretty f' me" he mumbles, hand trailing up your thigh, lips fluttering over your neck, "gonna let me fuck you pretty girl?"

"Not here, Luke," You whisper, grabbing his hand. You kiss the back of his knuckles and looks at you with such desire in his eyes it takes every ounce of self control not strip and let him fuck you in the back seat of this random car. Your eyes flick to the driver and you swallow the nervous lump in your throat, and say a prayer for forgiveness as your lips trail up his hand.

You close your lips over two of his fingers, and he groans, his head falling against your shoulder. "Gotta be quiet, baby," you murmer, squeezing his knee with one hand before closing your lips back over his fingers.

"m' quiet, m' quiet," he murmers against your neck. Then he's grinding his hips against yours, and there's a whimper caught in your throat. The car comes to a stop in front of Quinns building, and you are hopping out of the car like it's on fire and dragging Luke out behind you.

He stumbles into your back, an arm wrapping around your waist, his lips reattach to your neck, and you can't help the moan that slips out. As soon as the elevator door shuts, Luke pins you to the wall with a knee between your legs, and you drag him down for a desperate kiss.

He tastes like alcohol and cinnamon and home. And you never want to let him go. Then he's hissing with fire, a yearning, pleading fire as he grinds his hips against yours. All you want to do is let him have his way, but he's so so drunk. And no matter how many years the two of you have been dating, and how many times you've slept together, you made your decision way back at the bar that you wouldn't go further than kissing and grinding.

The elevator opens on Quinns floor, and the two of you stumble out. You pat your pockets for the keys to his apartment, and fuck- they aren't there. They must have gotten left in his car on the way to the bar.

You knock on the door nervously. One hand wrapped around Luke's waist, and the other braced against his chest. His uninjured hand is tracing up and down your side and in a way that makes it hard not to squirm as he places tender kisses along your jaw.

Quinn opens the door, looking oh so tired, a toothbrush hanging half out of his mouth. Clearly, he didn't expect you back so soon. His eyes go wide at the sight in front of him, and he resists the urge to gag, lest his toothbrush fall out of his mouth.

"Whad da fack!" He exclaims, spitting into the kitchen sink and closing the apartment door behind you. "Is he drunk?"

"Yes, just let me get him into bed, and I'll explain," you say urgently.

"Only going to bed if you're coming with me," he murmers, squeezing your hip, "need m' pretty girl."

"Do you have advil?" You ask Quinn, ignoring Luke's statement, Quinn wisely chooses not to comment as he grabs advil and a glass of water.

You deposit luke on the bed, huffing from his weight. He pulls you down with a smirk. "Wait, baby, let me get your clothes," you say quickly.

Luke wiggles his eyebrows and lets you undress him. You strip him of his jeans and t-shirt leaving him in his boxers. "Be good and drink this for me," you say, sliding the advil into his mouth.

"I'm good for you, baby," he mutters after he swallows.

"So good for me," you assured as he slipped under the blanket. As soon as his head hits the pillow, his eyes are fluttering. " 'm tir'd."

You stroke his hair back from his forehead softly. "I know, baby, I know,"

"Still want you," he pouted.

"I know, baby, and you'll have me tomorrow. It's sleep time now, ok?"

"Mm'kay," he mumbles, barely audible. You stroke his hair and mutter sweet nothings to him as he falls asleep. You change into a pair of sweats and one of Luke's devils' hoodies before shutting the bedroom door with a quiet click.

Quinn is sitting on the couch, with two mugs of steaming tea. You flop onto the couch, leaning your back against the armrest and tucking your feet under his legs. He hands you a mug of tea, and you take it gratefully, holding it close to your face and letting the steam warm you.

"So what the fuck happened?" Quinn questions.

"After you left, Luke still wasn't back and I went to find him, I don't know what really happened on his end, but he said he was sad about his wrist, and someone convinced him alchool would make it better." You sigh, taking a sip of your tea.

"Anyways, by the time I got him, he had had six shots in the span of a half hour."

Quinns eyes practically bulge out of his head. He looks like he's running calculations in his head, and his jaw drops. "I know," you grimace, "I'm sorry, I should've watched him better, I knew he wasn't happy about his wrist, and I let him -"

"How did he even get drinks?" Quinn asks, "He's not 21."

"Hush, Y/n, it's not your fault. He's a big boy he knows what he's doing." Quinn says softly, drawing you into his arms.

"Quinn, you don't feel bad either, ok?" You say softly knowing Quinn is beating himself up on the inside. He sighs, purses his lips and doesn't say anything for a long minute.

"It's Canada," you mutter like that explains everything. And to Quinn, it does explain it all.

"Fucking Canada" he mutters shaking his head.

---

Hi guys!! I was very excited while writing this, so I hope y'all like it. Comment comment comment! I love comments, I wanna hear all your thoughts! They always make my day a bit brighter.

On that note, I'm going on a bit of a writing break for a week-ish cause schools getting a bit busy with midterms and final papers and whatnot. I'll still be active, tho (unless i feel like it's distracting, then I might fall off the face of the earth for a bit).

Anyways, with that, I hope y'all have a lovely, lovely evening. Love Soph ♡

[incognitonoggin]

can u pls do sol from tkatb with a reader obssesed with him

Hi anon !! I love Sol omg I’m going to enjoy writing this (๑>؂•̀๑)

SOLIVAN BRUGMANSIA WITH AN OBSESSED READER

GN! READER

MINORS DNI

SFW

• Sol would be surprised but delighted!

• The fact that he doesn’t have to try to build up a relationship, he can just love you in a genuine way without holding back how he feels.

• Most would think he’d be uncomfortable, seeing how you cling to him and have him practically on your hip in public ( he’s too damn shy to do any PDA so he’s just THERE ), but he’s perfectly fine with it and encourages it

• He’d love being around you all the time. I mean, thats all he wants, right?

• If you’re going to be physically clingy like stated earlier, he’d always be stiff and flustered with how you touch him and be all blushy from the slightest touch of yours 😭

• You being obsessed wouldn’t bother him in the long run, because like the creator said, he’s very patient with his s/o

• He would LOVE keeping you away from Crowe and others considering the fact that he’s all jealousss🙄

• Yes. He’s a cutie pie and he loves you !

[gisellaswrld]

i look at you wondering where your mind is at; you’re the first choice in my heart always

bb6 | being selected as a celebrity captain along side your brothers for the nhl all stars games was a situation you never thought of. leading up to the games, you made jack and quinn promise that brock would be the first pick. but after a small fight the morning of the games, you decide otherwise.

a/n this was fun to write and i love brock so much so if you guys want more bb6, please send some requests!! i’ll write a more smutty part two at the request of you guys :)

There were many things you loved that you had to give up due to your brother’s successful hockey careers. Your parents were already stressed out with three boys who all loved hockey, but you added stress on top of that. All your life, you never really enjoyed playing hockey. You played one year, just to prove to your mom you didn’t enjoy it. Ellen took the news with a heavy heart, but decided to give you options of what to pursue next. That’s when the entire Hughes family pinpointed your special talent. It wasn’t hockey, or volleyball, or golf even. It was singing.

After the realization, Ellen quickly found the best talent coach in Michigan for you. Moira, your singing coach, helped you develop the skills necessary for being the next big pop star. Fast forward to now, 20 years old, and you were jumping the charts. After opening on the Era’s tour for Taylor Swift, then the release of your first album Emails I Can’t Send, you were the next big thing. The media loved it all, they ate the news for breakfast.

Every single Hughes child was successful. Ellen and Jim got tons of recognition for raising successful children.

Currently, you resided in Vancouver with your older brother Quinn. Throughout the past years of living with him, you grew to adore his teammate Brock. What started as a friendship between two people who would confide in each other during tough times, blossomed into the dream healthy romantic relationship.

When you received the invitation to be a celebrity coach for the NHL All Stars game, you quickly accepted under one circumstance. That you’d coach alongside your brothers. Of course when the news was released, everyone went wild. On top of that, you got to join one of your close friends Tate as a coach. Tate had reached out one drunken night, asking for either your brother or Brock to fight Cole during a Canucks vs. Blue Jackets game. Since then, your friendship with her was as thick as thieves.

The morning of the All Stars draft had been going smoothly. You made Quinn and Jack to promise to pick Brock first, and they listened. You knew of their planning schemes with some of the other coaches, practically planning the draft before it happened.

You sat on the hotel bed, shoving cereal into your mouth. Brock was showering, getting prepared for the red carpet he had to attend before the draft. He came out, dressed in black pants and a white sweater. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, a curious look forming.

“What happened to your other outfit?” You asked, setting the cereal down on the bed side table. Brock quickly looked up at you, then looked back in the mirror. “Decided not to wear it.” Brock nonchalantly answered.

“Oh?”

“Don’t be like that, doll. It’s not anything crazy. Just figured I’d look more professional.” Brock explained, walking to sit on the bed. You scooted further away from him, a glare settling on your face. “So your first outfit wasn’t professional?” You asked, eyebrows raised.

“Why are you making it a big deal?” Brock’s voice came across aggressive, causing you to scoff. “Because it was your idea? And I was excited to see you wear it.” You stated, quickly getting off the bed.

Brock watched as you gathered your makeup bag and other things needed to get ready for the entire day. You started to head towards the door when you heard his voice again. “Where are you going?”

Your hand clasped the door handle, pulling to door open. “To my brother’s room. I don’t want to deal with you or this right now. Just know you upset me and I’m angry.” You stated, leaving the room quickly.

Quinn and Olivia’s room was a few doors down and you were convinced you’d enjoy being around them more than Brock right now. You knocked loudly, hearing some shuffling before Quinn opened the door. Before he got a chance to speak, you shoved past him, setting your things down.

“What are you doing?” Quinn asked, shutting the door behind him. “Or do I even want to know?”

“Brock made me upset and I don’t want to be around him. I figured Olivia would enjoy having a friend to get ready with.” You answered, looking around for her. The bathroom door quickly opened, Olivia standing in a robe with curlers in her hair. “Y/N!” Olivia smiled.

“Hi Olivia, Brock made me mad. Now I’m here.” You greeted her, a smile on your face. Olivia gasped, crossing her arms. “What did he do?” Olivia questioned. You glanced up at Quinn, who was definitely more curious than Olivia.

“He changed his outfit, so now he isn’t wearing his special shirt.” You stated, shrugging. Olivia’s eyes widened, a scoff falling from her lips. “You mean the shirt he paid like $80 for? The shirt that has your face on it? The one he specifically bought for this?” Questions quickly fell from Olivia’s mouth as disbelief spilled through her tone.

“I’m going to Jack’s. You guys have fun.” Quinn left the room, hearing enough from the story. “Yes that shirt! He said he wanted to be more professional.” You exclaimed, a sad look forming on your face.

“What an asshole!”

You and Olivia finished getting ready, but you had to be at the Scotia Bank Area sooner than her since you were a coach. When you arrived, you were immediately swarmed and overwhelmed by the girls wanting pictures and autographs. You tried your best to speak to everyone and at least hold a conversation with them. Your agent, Thalia, stayed close by. She ensured you were making good time. For one moment she stepped away for a phone call.

“They want you for interviews now, sweet heart.” Thalia informed, ushering you forward. You were led to a room filled with reporters, players, the other celebrity coaches and captains. Once you were spotted by Tate, she quickly ran over to you.

“Oh my gosh! You look so good.” Tate gushed, pulling you into a hug. You smiled, quickly reciprocating the gesture. “Thank you, you look great yourself.” You replied, pulling away.

“I was surprised when Brock was brought back here without you. Are you guys okay?” Tate asked, her voice quiet as reporters were currently interviewing Auston, Morgan, and Justin.

“Got in an argument this morning, so I’m not speaking to him.” You shrugged, ignoring his stares from across the room. “Guess he should be reminded that even though the draft is planned, I can still have a little fun.” You added, a devious smirk on your face.

“You are evil. I love it.” Tate giggled, pinching your shoulder softly. “Oops, gotta go, it’s my turn.” Tate waved, walking over to Cale and Nate. You moved over to your brothers and Elias.

“Pst. Can we wait till after we draft the last Goalie to pick Brock?” You whispered, the plan already forming in your head. Quinn, already knowing of the argument, rolled his eyes. “They got in an argument over his shirt.” Quinn quickly explained.

Elias had a confused look on his face, but let out a sigh. “I guess, but don’t you think that’s mean?” He asked, his eyebrows pinched together. “Mean? Sure, but I could be writing a song about him so what’s a little harmless fun?” You answered.

All four boys stared at you, then looked at each other. “If you don’t do it, I’m going to tell mom.” You spoke harshly, staring directly at your brothers. “You know how upset she gets when her brothers don’t listen to her only little princess,”

“Fine, fine. He will go after the goalies. Just don’t tell mom.” Quinn shook his head, slightly annoyed at his sister’s antics. “She’s got a point. Shouldn’t we be sticking up for our sister?” Jack agreed, gesturing towards you.

The rest of the interviews went well, except for when a reporter requested for you to do an interview with Brock. The interaction was tense, only short answers given from the both of you. You were sure the clips would quickly be on Twitter from your fan base, but oh well.

The draft started quicker than ever, the Hughes team getting the chance to pick the first player. You already told Brock that he was the intended first pick, but after deliberating with your brothers and Elias, Nikita Kucherov was going to be your first selection. You requested to be the person to announce it, just to see the look on Brock’s face.

“Team Hughes, are you ready for your first pick?” Jamie asked, looking at the group of four. Everyone nodded, agreeing on their final selection. You took a small step forward, a smile on your face as some fans cheered. “We chose Nikita Kucherov from the Tampa Bay Lightening,” You announced, eyes quickly locking to Brock.

Brock rolled his eyes, running a hand down his face. J.T. Miller nudged him, a curious look on his face. You shook Nikita’s hand, letting him go grab his jersey.

Quinn ended up picking most of his team, along with Brady Tkachuk, Jesper Bratt, and Cam Talbot. After a commercial break, the choice was back to the Hughes Team. You took a step forward, waiting for Jamie to give you the go.

“I guess, we are picking Brock Boeser. Even though he didn’t wear his shirt with my face on it, then was mean to me.” You scrunched your face, watching as Brock skated up while shaking his head.

You held your hand over your microphone as he pulled you into a hug. “You are in trouble, doll.” Brock mumbled in your ear, then promptly skated off to receive his jersey. You had a small smirk on your face, clapping as he received his jersey.

The rest of the event went smoothly, thankfully. Now you were pilled into Uber’s that were driving you to the bar that Auston Matthews rented out for the night. You were squished in between Brock and Elias, uncomfortably squirming in the seat at some of the potholes in the road.

Brock’s arm hung loosely behind your seat, his hand occasionally tugging at loose strands of your hair. To which you’d return a nudge at his side, and he would always react with a low chuckle.

“Scoot over, I know you are uncomfortable.” Brock leaned over to whisper in your ear. Jack was blasting music loudly in the Uber so it wasn’t hard for Brock’s voice to get drowned out by anyone but you.

You glared at Brock, but still scooted over to sit in his lap. “You still mad at me?” Brock continued to speak quietly, his hand squeezing at your exposed thigh.

You nodded, continuing the fun ignoring game you liked to play when you were mad. Brock hated it, despised it actually. Yet, you still did it because Brock would always find a pleasuring new way to deal with your attitude.

“Come on, don’t act like I don’t know what you did. I’m sure you loved convincing your captains to switch the draft order, all over a silly argument.” Brock spoke, tugging at another strand in your hair.

You looked at him in confusion, wondering who snitched to him. “You think Pettersson would keep it from me?” Brock now had an amused expression on his face.

Thankfully the conversation was put on pause as you arrived to the bar. Brock tapped your ass as you pushed open the door. Tonight, your plan was to continue to be angry at Brock, just to catch a reaction out of him. And boy, would it be a fun night.

[threadsun]

If you watched Looney Tunes, then you know this reference. Scenario for SDJ boys and Bo, reader turns to them, looks them in the eyes with a dead serious expression then says. "I wanna start a family with you."

Which of the boys would 'take this as an invitation to fuck them stupid with the intention to start a family', 'takes this as an invitation to fuck you until you're a jelly-legged mess without thinking of a family' or 'actually wants to start a family without thinking of fucking first'

You decide how to word this out. U da best have a gold star bby ⭐

Fucks You To Knock You Up:

Jack - You don't need to ask him twice! You want a family? He'll put as many babies in you as he possibly can. I hope you like being pregnant, because he's not gonna stop with just one~

Nick - Look, the planning can come later. He needs to lock you down asap. He's gonna cum inside of you before you can change your mind and decide you don't want his babies anymore!

Barry - What you do with the baby once he's knocked you up isn't really his concern. You want a family? Go right ahead, he'll put a baby in you! Don't expect him to treat you well, though.

Bo - Look, he's always trying to knot you and put a litter in you. So when you're actually asking for it? He's pouncing on you immediately and trying his best to make sure it takes this time.

Fucks You To Creampie You:

Ian - Honestly, the moment you say it he sort of gets lightheaded and dizzy and can't think about anything but fucking you hard, and deep, and cumming inside of you. Ideally, more than once.

Jean - He's not super into the idea of having a family, but he's very into the idea of cumming inside of you. And watching you get pregnant. But mostly just cumming inside of you.

Rory - Is that an excuse to fuck? Because it sounds like an excuse to fuck to him! And he's always up for an excuse to fuck! If you actually want a family, tho, you'll have to explain that to him.

Taylor - He doesn't like thinking too hard about parenthood, so he's just gonna focus on the fact that you've just given him permission to fuck you raw and cum as deep inside you as he wants.

Starts Family Planning:

Shaun - He would love to have a family with you. The moment you bring it up, he's already talking about baby names, and good houses to raise a family in, and budgeting for children...

Joseph - If you're gonna have a family, you're going to do it right. He won't let another child come into this world to parents who are unprepared. He won't be the unprepared parent.

Elias - Having a family isn't something he takes lightly. He wants to make sure you're both on the same page about it, and that everything is ready before you even start trying.

[cheesy-cryptid]

Even death wont do us part 🥀🥀🥀

[moodriingz]

Waiting Room pt. 2 | Q. Hughes

Summary | part one it’s Quinn’s turn to pine over the reader while she tries to move on, but can she do that when she’s still in love with Quinn?

Pairing | Quinn Hughes x reader, Elias Peterson x platonic!reader, reader x oc

Warnings | Angst?, mutual (but blind) pinning, cursing maybe 

Author's Note | Thank you so much for all of your support for part one! I feel so bad that it took me forever to write part two, but this semester really kicked my ass. I hope this lives up to the hype. I honestly just wanted to get it done to move on if that makes sense? I’m hoping to continue writing so feel free to send requests! I’ve also recently gotten into F1 so you can send requests for that too!! xx

Masterlist

“You were so right, me and Evan got along so well. He’s great. We’re going on another date too.” 

Quinn felt sick to his stomach. Not only had your friendship dwindled out of nowhere, but now you’re with someone else. Worst of all there was no explanation to why you pulled away. Quinn racked his brain for any reason why you would stop hanging out with him. 

Now he had to watch you give your attention to someone else. He was so jealous of this random guy. Quinn wondered what made Evan better than him? All he knew was that the bright smile and light blush you seemed to always have was for some other guy now. 

A couple of weeks passed and Quinn barely spends time with the team outside of practice and chooses to spend his time going through old photos and videos of the two of you or watching anything you’ve ever suggested to him. He’s halfway through one of your favorite movies when there’s a knock on his door. His heart flutters hoping it's you, but is immediately let down when he realizes that it's Elias and Brock at his door.

“What do you want,” He asks begrudgingly, leaving the door open as he returns to his couch.

“We wanted to make sure that you’re alive,” Elias said.

“Well now you know bye,” Quinn quips at them.

“Dude something is up with you and we’re not leaving until we find out,” Brock said.

“Is this about Y/N?” Elias asked.

“Fine yeah it’s about Y/N. I just really miss her,” Quinn admits after taking a deep breath.

“We used to talk almost everyday and that all stopped on the last road trip and now she’s seeing that new guy. I was finally going to ask her out and she just shut down.”

“Wait you were? You told me you didn’t see her that way and she overheard,” Elias says confused.

“She heard me? Why didn’t you say anything?” Quinn asks as his heart shatters all over again. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“She was so upset and I didn’t think I could change your mind. She had been pinning after you for months and you never did anything, so I just believed you,” Elias said with a shrug.

“I didn’t think she felt the same way so I was just putting my feelings aside because I cared more about our friendship,” Quinn says, putting his head in his hands. “I think I royally fucked up.”

“Maybe not, Y/N and Evan don’t seem super serious yet. You might be able to wiggle your way back in with her,” Elias says sitting down with Quinn.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Maybe bring her coffee? Start there and see what happens,” Brock suggests and Quinn just nods making a game plan to get his girl back.

The next morning he gets up early for practice to go pick up your coffee from the cafe you always go to. He knew where to go because the cafe printed their logo on their cups and he had plenty of time to take note of it. As he walked in he immediately recognized your silhouette waiting in line.

“Looks like you beat me to it today,” Quinn says walking up to you in line.

“Beat me to what?” You ask confused why after not talking to each other for a month he decided to come to your cafe.

“I was going to bring you coffee today,” He says awkwardly with a small smile on his face.

“Oh well you can still pay if you want,” You suggest as a joke.

“Yeah I guess that’s true,” Quinn says, hoping a conversation would start on its own. After a minute of silence he gives in and asks, “So what’s new with you I feel like we haven’t really talked that much recently.”

“Nothing much, you know filming you guys all day,” You say wondering if you should mention Evan. It’s still so new and you don’t know if it's going to work out, but he makes you so happy.

“I actually just started seeing this guy. His name is Evan, I think you would like him actually, he's really nice,” You say, deciding to rip off the bandaid.

Quinn knew he wouldn’t like Evan because he was getting with the girl of his dreams.

“Yeah maybe you should bring him out with us after a game or something. I'd love to meet him,” Quinn says kicking himself because that’s the last thing he wants, but anything to get back in your good graces. 

You give him a smile at his comment thinking of what to say next. Luckily for you the barista calls for you two to order. And just like you suggested, Quinn paid. He offers you a ride to the arena before you even start walking back to the metro station to get to work.

You both sit in silence trying to think of anything to talk about. You finally start the conversation by mentioning that an author you had recommended to him a while ago put out a new book and how excited you were to pick it up. 

Just like that the two of you fell back into conversation like you hadn’t missed a beat. You arrive at the arena way quicker than you thought you would and almost don’t want to get out of the car and leave Quinn again. You walk inside and as you are about to separate, but Quinn stops you.

“Would you like to go stop at a bookstore after work today to pick up that book? I could take you home after so you don’t have to take the metro home,” He asks hoping you would say yes.

Yeah that would be really nice. I’ve really missed hanging out with you,” You say with a smile and leaving to go get your work started.

“What’s got you smiling like that? Evan?” Megan, your coworker, asks jokingly.

“Actually no I ran into Quinn this morning when I was getting my coffee and we just talked for a while. Now we’re hanging out after work,” you say, taking a sip of coffee. Hoping to hide your smile behind your cup.

“Wait, really I thought you two were going to avoid each other forever.”

“Well I guess not. He said he was going there to pick up my coffee which was really sweet of him.”

“Oh he’s so into you,” Megan says sitting back in her chair. 

“No he’s not, why would you say that?”

“Think about it, he stops talking to you right after you start seeing Evan and out of nowhere he’s doing all of these nice things for you?” 

You stop and think about it, but there’s no way he told Elias that he could never see you that way. You brush it off and get on with your day. You didn’t have to shoot any content today so you didn’t see any of the guys during their practice, but Quinn was waiting for you after work to take you to go find your book.

You try not to think about what Megan said to you today, pushing it to the back of your mind. Once the two of you get to the bookstore you feel like a kid in a candy store showing Quinn all of the books you had on your reading list but haven’t gotten yet. Without you paying attention he grabbed a basket and started throwing them in there to pay for them himself.

He finally leads you up to the counter and insists on paying for all of the books he grabbed for you. You try to convince him that he didn’t need to but you were cut off by the clerk.

“Girl just let your cute boyfriend pay for your books. That’s what I would do.” You try to deny the accusation from this random teenager, but before you could they were announcing the total and Quinn was inserting his card. He grabbed the bag and walked you back out to the car.

“Sorry if what they said was weird, but just think of it as a payback for all of those coffees you got me,” Quinn said, trying to make you feel better.

“No it’s fine I think it’s kinda funny actually.” You say finally realizing you were there for several hours and were too tired to make dinner.

“I think I’m just going to order take-out for dinner if you want to keep hanging out at my place,” You say with a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Yeah that’d be great,” Quinn says as you start ordering. He stops at the restaurant while you run in to pick it up. He decides to text Elias and Brock an update and that he’ll tell them more later. 

The drive to your apartment was filled with playful banter about what you should watch and Quinn just watches you as the streetlights illuminate your face. The two of you finally arrive and settle on a new movie you just saw. It really didn’t take much convincing for him to give in; he just wanted to push your buttons a little bit.

Later, they are surrounded by take out tins and you’re starting to drift off. At some point during the movie your head ended up on Quinn’s shoulder and you started to doze off. Quinn wasn’t complaining, but felt like it was time for him to go as the credits started to roll.

“Hey Y/n/n wake up,” He says quietly as you groan and cuddle into him further. “Y/n/n you have to get up-the movie’s over.”

When there’s no sign of you moving he decides to just pick you up and bring you to your bed. Thinking you’re asleep he decides to give you a “friendly” kiss on your forehead and says goodnight. You feel the butterflies that you thought were now reserved for Evan coming back all over again. Quinn grabs the trash from the takeout and sees himself out, and can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. On his way home he decides to call Elias.

“Elias I’m in so deep I don’t know what to do,” Quinn says concerned because he doesn’t want to break you and Evan up and ruin something else for you.

“Wait what happened?” Elias asked confused because all Quinn had told him was that they were heading back to her place.

“I kissed her-” Quinn said before Elias cut him off.

“You what? You move fast, man.”

“Well I kind of kissed her. She fell asleep on my shoulder and wouldn’t move so I carried her back to her room and then I kissed her forehead. Now I’m going home,” Quinn says still with a deep smile on his face. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“I guess act like nothing happened. She was asleep right? Just leave it be for now and still hang out with her. I can talk to her and see what’s going on with Evan and then you can go from there.”

“Yeah good point thanks Elias, I’ll see you later.”

The next day you walk into work reminiscing last night with Quinn hoping you could relive it again soon. Silly crush aside, you missed your best friend and wanted things to go back to normal. 

Elias practically corners you just to ask questions about Quinn.

“Quinn told me you two hung out last night, so you aren’t ignoring him anymore?”

“I was never ignoring him I just was busy,” You say trying to move around him to get to his office.

“Yeah alright. Anyways, how is it going with Ethan?” Elias asks, teasing you.

“Evan is great. I think I might invite him to a game or something soon,” You say, rolling your eyes.

“Oh wait, really?” Elias asks as you start to walk away. “For the record I think that would be a great idea. Maybe next week against Winnipeg?”

“Yeah I’ll have to ask him. Now if you will excuse me I have to go to my desk.” You say finally walking away. 

You set your things down and open your computer and Megan starts questioning you about your evening with Quinn.

“It really wasn’t anything crazy. We just went to the bookstore where he bought all of them for me and then we went back to my place and got dinner,” You tell her leaving out the fact that he brought you to your bed and kissed you goodnight.

“The fact that he bought all of your books is enough to tell me that he’s into you. I know you had a long list you were slowly buying for yourself.” Megan may have set you up with Evan but she wasn’t blind to how much Quinn was into you and vice versa. 

“I’m thinking of inviting Evan to a game. What do you think?” You ask to change the subject.

“I think it would be a good idea if you weren’t afraid of what your work husband would do,” Megan says, teasing you.

“I- what are you talking about,” You ask, hiding your blush.

“Y/N you can pretend to be oblivious, but Quinn really likes you and you should think about his reaction to having your new boyfriend at a game.”

“Who even knows if Evan would want to go,” You say before locking in on your work for the day.

You had already made plans to go out with Evan later that night so you figured it would be the best time to ask him then. You go home and get ready for your date thinking about what Megan said to you earlier in the day. 

Soon enough you leave to go meet Evan at some new restaurant you would never pick out because it was too fancy for your taste. He greets you with a kiss to your cheek asking you how your day was.

“It was good I just had to deal with Megan and Elias berating me all day,” You say, aiming to leave the questions about Quinn out.

“Why would they do that?”

“Oh I was just thinking about inviting you to a game soon and they were just making fun of me,” You say sheepishly.

“That would be so cool! Would you be able to hang out with me or would it be like a wag situation where I just watch you do your magic,” Evan says with a chuckle as you start to look over the menu.

“I could probably get the night off and sit with you. Do you think you’d be free for the game next Saturday against the Jets?”

“Yeah that would be great! I’m looking forward to it!” He says closing his menu to signal he’s ready to order.

You continue to hang out with both Quinn and Evan, but choose not to tell Quinn about your invite for Evan to come to the upcoming game.

Saturday’s game finally rolls around and Quinn notices your absence during the warmups. You usually can be found on the bench shooting content but tonight it’s Megan in your place. 

“Hey Petey do you know where Y/N is tonight?” Quinn asks hoping Elias might have some insight.

“Yeah she’s in the crowd tonight with Evan,” Elias says pointing towards Y/N and Evan in their seats.

Quinn’s heart drops. You had mentioned that you were thinking about inviting Evan but didn’t think it would be so soon. He tries to forget that you brought your boyfriend to the game, but he can’t forget the fact that you’re wearing his jersey. He can’t help but feel a fire ignite when Evan leans in to say something to you. The sense of jealousy does not go away, but there is a sense of pride knowing his name is the one on your back.

You spot Quinn looking at the two of you and give a shy wave like you had been caught. Evan leaves to go grab some water and you are stuck worrying about what Quinn is thinking about you bringing Evan. 

Honestly since you started hanging out with Quinn again you just felt like your heart wasn’t in it with Evan anymore. You were planning on ending it but he kept talking about how excited he was for the game, so You decided to wait until after to end it with him.

There were no goals by either team after the first period, but something about Quinn seemed off. He was checking the other team left and right and was obviously agitated. The crowd is electric even though the Canucks are down 3-2 half way through the third, but it doesn’t seem to help his mood.

Quinn continues to instigate against the Jets and eventually gets himself into a fight against some player who was aggravating him all night. It doesn’t last long, but enough to get himself a penalty. He looks even more upset than before watching over the play.

Y/N was worried for Quinn. He never was this short tempered and she couldn’t figure what made him that upset. Evan can feel the nerves radiating off of her and rubs her shoulder to try and calm her, but he can’t help but feel like he is the last thing she needs right now.

“Hey Y/N I hate to do this here but I think we should probably end this,” Evan says and you finally take your eyes off Quinn. There is nothing you can do but sigh.

“Evan I’m so sorry I really wish I could’ve been better for you.”

“No it’s ok we had a great time and I’m happy being your friend I just think you have feelings for someone else,” Evan says with little to no hurt in his voice.

“Yeah I would love to still be your friend,” You say with a small smile as he gets up to leave.

Quinn sees Evan get up, but he just assumes that Evan is getting you something from the concessions. He realizes he needs to stop focusing on your date tonight and lock in for the rest of the game.

Unfortunately the Canucks lose 4-2 and Quinn looks like a kicked puppy, but luckily he isn’t assigned to interviews so he can just clean up and get ready to head home. He hopes he can just forget this night, especially seeing you with Evan. 

Little does he know that you’re already waiting for him in the hallway all but pacing the area hoping he’s not too upset to talk to you. Quinn keeps his head down not wanting to see all of the sweet reunions of the couples and families until he hears you call his name. 

He almost doesn’t want to stop worrying Evan would be with you, but you ran up to him to get his attention. Quinn turns around surprised to see you alone with a worried look on your face.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He asks, his voice laced with annoyance. His comment leaves a sting in your chest.

“Um we actually ended it, but I just came to see how you were doing. I was really worried about you. I've never seen you so upset,” You say with worry lacing your voice.

“Well thanks for checking on me but - wait you ended it with Evan?” Quinn asks, lighting back up.

“Yeah we were better off as friends. I honestly wanted to end it a while ago because I kind of have feelings for someone else, but he was really looking forward to the game,” You say rubbing your arm hoping he might start catching on.

“Oh?” Quinn says with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, but still guarded in case it is someone else.

“Yeah he’s some goofball who was stupid and got himself a penalty tonight,” You say, stepping closer to Quinn.

“Well hopefully he can get that under control for the rest of the season, I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck with someone spending time in a box the whole game,” Quinn says with a smirk and leaning in.

You decided to close the gap and the kiss was all you had ever hoped for. There was a mix of fireworks and something that just felt like home as he grabbed your sides to pull you in closer. Neither of you wanted this feeling to end, but unfortunately you had to come back up for air. 

Quinn has the slightest pink tinge and smile on his face as he pulls back far enough to scan your face for any regrets.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for so long,” He says.

“Finally!” Elias says as he rounds the corner to see the two of you still wrapped up in each other's arms.

“I never thought he would make a move,” Elias adds as Quinn tries to hide in your neck.

“Well maybe we should get out of here and talk a little bit,” You suggest and Quinn excitedly nods, grabbing your hand to lead you out.

The two of you get into his car and you leave the arena stealing kisses from each other at stop lights and looking forward to your future together.

[angelyuji]

smart, genius yanderes making their obsession feel stupid and dumb so they rely on them for everything???? bimbo reader is one of my fav tropes becuz... i am stupid :)

tw // yandere content, emotional abuse, just being mean, yandere stuff u guys know the deal

constantly belittling you, demeaning you, as a way of lowering your self-esteem. making you second-guess everything you do as a way of making you depend on them for the simplest of tasks. snapping at you and immediately turning around and comforting you.

"don't be stupid. you should know better than that." he snaps, snatching the pen from your hands.

"what? what did i-" you feel your face heat from embarassment.

"(y/n), this is a job application." he snatches that paper from your hands.

"i know what it is..." you try to reach for it, but he holds it away. "i just want to help you."

"help me? i don't need your help, (y/n)." he grabs at your hair, pulling you off your chair to the ground. you yelp in pain as his fingers tangle in your hair and yank at your scalp. "why would they hire you? what qualities do you have that they would want? you're an idiot, a fucking idiot. you can barely cook a decent meal without my help." his voice was laced with venom. you feel tears slip down your face.

"i'm sorry." you meekly whisper. "you're right, i'm too stupid." you choke out a sob. he smiles before shushing you, letting go of your hair. he sits down next to you and pulls you into a hug. you melt into his touch.

"it's okay, that's why i'm here. to take care of you."

definitely: spencer reid (post-prison), bruce wayne, tony stark, 707, elias bouchard, gojo satoru

maybe: dick grayson, sam winchester, charles xavier, jason todd

[wineauntie]

evie making friendship bracelets and giving them to everyone on the canucks 😭❤️ that would be so cute. and they’d all have each players initials and number and every bracelet would be unique for each player :(

FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS — family is family au

au masterlist

Six year old Evie nervously clutched onto Quinn’s hand as they walked into the Canucks locker room. It was just a normal practice, but Evie had recently taken up a new hobby— bracelet making.

And this new hobby led to her discovery of friendship bracelets.

Both, you and Quinn’s, wrists adorned at least 3-4 bracelets made by Evie at any given time.

She’d grown bored of making them solely for you, Quinn, Jack, Luke, Ellen and Jim, that naturally her next port of call was to make friendship bracelets for the Canucks.

Quinn had been more than happy to support Evie's new endeavor, knowing how much it meant to her. As they entered the locker room, Evie held a small, colorful bag filled with bracelets, each one carefully crafted with different patterns and colors, and each player’s initials and number woven into the design.

"Hey, everyone," Quinn called out, drawing the attention of his teammates. "We have a guest here, who has a present for you.”

All eyes turned to Evie as she squeezed Quinn’s hand tighter.

“Hi,” she nervously waved, her small voice echoing around the room.

A chorus of hellos erupted as Evie giggled at the volume. Majority of the team had known and met the little girl on various occasions and each of them grinned upon seeing her.

“Evie has something for you all,” Quinn continued, glancing down at the girl.

The room fell silent once again as the players looked over, curious smiles spreading across their faces. Evie re-tightened her grip on Quinn's hand, flushing with a mix of excitement and shyness.

Elias Pettersson was the first to speak up as he approached Quinn and Evie. Evie had met Petey multiple times, even calling him uncle Petey every now and again.

"Hey there, Ev,” he grinned, crouching down to face her as his hand briefly reached out to ruffle her hair. “What do you have for us?"

Evie took a deep breath, summoning all of the courage she could.

"I made friendship bracelets for everyone," she spoke quietly, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a bracelet with his initials and number, handing it to him. "This one’s for you."

Petey’s eyes lit up as he took the bracelet, immediately slipping it onto his wrist. "Wow, Ev, this is so good,” He smiled, fist pumping the giggling girl. “Thank you!"

One by one, Evie handed out the bracelets, each player accepting their unique piece with genuine delight. She paused in front of Conor Garland, who examined his bracelet with wide eyes filled with admiration.

"This is so cool,” he praised, sticking out his hand for a high five. “You did an amazing job!"

Evie beamed and high-fived Garland, her confidence growing with each player's praise. She handed one to Boeser, who grinned widely.

"I'm never taking this off," he declared, showing the ‘Boeser 6’ blue and green bracelet off to the rest of the team.

As Evie finished distributing the bracelets, Quinn knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"You did great, Bug," he whispered proudly as the team gathered around Evie, and showered her with more compliments and high-fives.

"Looks like you’re apart of the team now," Petey playful saluted her.

Evie's eyes sparkled with joy, her nerves completely dissipated as she looked up to Quinn with a wide grin, tugging his sleeve to get him to bend.

"Thank you, Dad" she whispered once he’d bent down to listen to her.

Quinn chuckled, ruffling her hair. "You’re welcome, Bug." He whispered back, pressing a quick kiss to her hairline.

The players resumed their preparations for practice, each one proudly wearing their friendship bracelet.

The friendship bracelets remained on for the following few games, causing an uptake of curiosity amongst the press and fans.

Quinn, on his way back to the locker room after a game was stopped by an interviewer to talk.

"We've noticed a trend on the team lately—many of the players have been wearing these colorful bracelets. Can you tell us more about that?"

“Yeah, those bracelets were actually made by my daughter, Evie. She recently got into making friendship bracelets.” Quinn smiled, glancing down at his own wrist, which was adorned with several of Evie's bracelets. “I ran out of wrist room so she decided to make one for each of my teammates."

"That's a sweet gesture. How did the team react when they received them?"

"They loved them. It’s not every day you get a handmade gift from a six-year-old.” Quinn chuckled, recalling the day. “Each bracelet was made with the player’s initials and number. It really lifted the spirits in the locker room.”

"That's wonderful to hear. Why do you think it had such a positive impact on the team?"

"Well, I think it's a reminder of what really matters," Quinn said thoughtfully. "It’s hard to be in a bad mood when you’re wearing a bright, colorful bracele."

"It sounds like Evie has made a big impression on the team. Do you think she’ll keep making bracelets for your teammates?"

"I’m sure she will. She loves making them.” He explained with a faint smile, “She’s even talking about making more for other people too."

"That's fantastic, well, it's great to see the impact such a small gesture can have. Thank you for talking with us, Quinn.”

"Thank you," he nodded and retreated to the locker room.

The interview went viral, with many people commenting that they’d never seen a Hughes brother talk as much as Quinn had in the interview.

Many commenters also acknowledged how his eyes lit up at the chance to talk about Evie.

[witchofhimring]

The Princess and her Knight

Elia Martell x Reader

Ps: reader is born from a previous marriage making the Stark siblings her half siblings.

Elia Martell had always dreamed of being someone's princess. Y/n Stark always wanted to be a knight.

In very unusual circumstances a viper and a wolf find themselves intertwined.

note: simply wish fulfillment for Elia to get the crown she deserves 😤

She was the Princess of Dorne. Descended from Nymeria and Meria Martell. You had heard these stories from the cradles. On cold winter nights Nan would tell you of far-off places where there was no snow and the days were hot. They unnerved your brothers, who felt that women had no business wielding a sword or holding power. But you were utterly transfixed. More than once you and your sister Lyanna would sneak off, swords in hand. When everyone was asleep, the two of you snuck around, pretending to be Nymeria on her journey to Westeros. As the oldest child, you were expected to set an example. Well, that would explain why Lyanna and Brandon were so wild. The three of you were fresh young wolves, eager for a taste of life. Those days, however, were short-lived. One day a message arrived from Kings Landing. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was going to marry Elia Martell of Dorne.

You wondered what this Princess was like. Was she fierce like Meria? Alive with unquenching fire like Nymeria? They called her youngest brother a snake. Perhaps she was one too. Half expecting to find a woman with slits for eyes and fangs, a normal woman was slightly more surprising. She was smaller than imagined. With bundles of silky black hair and warm brown eyes. Sun-kissed skin was draped in flowing orange garments. She smiled as you curtsied. And a warm hand touched your cheek.

Elia Martell knew little of the north. It was a cold distant place, quite unlike home. She heard of the Northern Kings, the great walls and mysterious creatures known as the Others. Born sickly, Elia spent most of her time reading. She was encouraged to read books with filled with history and numbers. At night, when Oberyn finally left her room, she pulled out the other books. These were not books her family approved of. Not that they belittled her for it, but a Dornish Princess was expected to be more practical. “We are Princesses of Dorne, not some silly little southern girl. We are descended from warriors, not maids.” Is what Elia’s mother told her. She knew her family loved her dearly. But she wished they could understand. She wanted a world where she could be loved and love back. The stories where love conquered all. Her favorite was Aemon the Dragonknight and Princess Naerys. Even if the Targaryens were their centuries-old enemies, the story of Aemon loving his sister so fiercely it a fire in her. Of course, she was loved. But Elia wanted someone to hold her dear, just as Aemon held Naerys. So even as Elia got ready to marry Prince Rhaegar, there was an ache.

The Stark Banners flew over the procession. Like your sister Lyanna, you chose to ride on horseback. It was the day of Rhaegar’s marriage to Princess Elia. The procession was an endless line of Westeros’s greatest houses. “Look!” Lyanna pointed to a minstrel show on the side. It was a reenactment of Prince Aemon crowning his Naerys the Queen of Love and Beauty. The sept of Balor was packed to the brim. The crowd roared outside. Luckily, as the eldest daughter of House Stark, you had the honor of seeing everything in person. Elia was just as small as you remembered her. Rhaegar looked as though he could dwarf her.

Your next interaction with the princess was during the dance. Dancing had never been your forte. So as your father and oldest brother were busy, you slipped away. Eddard sat glumly in a corner as Lyanna and Brandon made themselves the life of the party. They could take care of themselves. You moaned in relief as you loosened your corset. A warm wind came up from the city. Your place on the balcony allowed you to see every light below. “Thank the Gods.” You sighed.

Elia was relieved to take a break. She loved dancing, but could only take so much of it. Oberon had offered to accompany Elia, but she refused. She needed to be alone. Every woman knew what was expected on their wedding night. Elia was ashamed to find tears behind her eyes. She was supposed to be the perfect lady, the perfect princess. But she was so scared. This act would be the last bit of her childhood stripped away. Oberon would leave, and she would be Elia Targaryen. The dark halls offered a brief comfort. It was a blessed moment out of the glare of court. Up ahead she saw a balcony. Quickly, Elia picked up her pace. Being a lady be damned she was going to get air.

“Thank-” She was not alone. A woman dressed in blue straightened her posture. Elia was stuck. There was a sort of wild beauty about her. It was so unlike the ladies at court, or even her own. But something so free and spirited. The girls h/c hair was let loose to her waist. E/c eyes, wild as the free forests beyond the walls. Maybe these thoughts were overly romantic. But Elia couldn’t help feeling them. “Your Grace.” She quickly jumped into a curtsy. “May I inquire about your name?” “Y/n of House Stark, Your Grace.” “Well, Y/n of House Stark, would you accompany me to the gardens?” The girl looked shocked, but not displeased (much to Elia’s relief). Y/n offered her arm, much in the way a knight might to his lady.

“It must be a very long way from Dorne. Do you find it cold here?” “Not much. Dorne is not always so hot. Do you find this too warm for you?” “A bit. It has been a cold winter.” The two of you had walked to the Weirwood Tree. Elia walked towards the tree and placed thin fingers upon its branch. The bark was like nothing she had felt before. It was both rough yet soft to the touch. “Isn't it beautiful.” Y/n’s fingers brushed the leaves. “Are there many of these trees up north?” Elia asked. “They're not all that common. You know we have one up at Winterfell.” A longing look passed over the girl's face. “Is everything well Lady Stark?” “It's just that this tree looks so lonely here. Weirwoods belong in the north.” At that moment, Elia knew this girl was as homesick as she herself was.

You had only been back at Winterfell for two months when Queen Rhaella sent for you. Lyanna had snuck up some lemon cakes from the kitchen. Benjin, Lyanna, and yourself were quite happy to finish. “Do you think we should share these with Brandon and Eddard?” Benjin took a bite out of the cake. Lyanna shook her head vigorously. “They’re too old for lemon cakes anyway.” Said you, older than Eddard and Brandon. That was when it happened. All three of you heard your father's footsteps down the hall. “Quick!” You covered the lemon cakes and shoved them under the bed. Not a moment later Lord Rickard Stark burst in, pride all over his face. “Y/n, you have been summoned to serve Princess Elia.” All three of you stood there, thunderstruck. It was Lyanna who burst out first. “What!?” She howled. Richard sent her a look and focused on you. “Y/n, may I speak with you?” It was with ill grace that Lyanna and Benjin left. Your father took a seat by the fireplace. You followed his example. “Y/n, as much of an honor this is, I want to make sure this is alright with you.” Lord Richard had always intended to sow roots in the south. But giving his eldest daughter to that pit of dragons, known as the Red Keep, made him pause. This was to be expected. You always knew one day you would leave. The court was stifling. You didn’t want to go. But you also didn’t want to let down your father. And then there was Princess Elia. She seemed sweet the last time you met her. “If it is your wish, so be it.”

Elia didn’t know why she was fussing over her appearance. Today she wore a Targaryen red. Elia didn’t like the colour. She wanted her oranges, yellows and whites back. King Aerys had a habit of giving unwanted comments regarding her Dornish style. She sat on a throne-like chair in her quarters, surrounded by her ladies. Among their numbers were Ashara Dayne, Malaria Sand and Nymeria Martell. At least she had been allowed to keep three of her friends. The doors swung open and Y/n entered. This time, her hair was done up. She wore soft blue fabric with wolves along the edges. “Your Grace.” You dipped into a curtsy. Elia stood up. “Lady Y/n, it is a pleasure to see you again.” Elia’s lips touched Y/’s cheek. It was cold as ice.

Despite how cold Y/n may have felt, everything else about her was warm. There was something about her voice, eyes and gentle hands that reminded Elia of the warm wind rolling over the sand. She was quiet, rarely voicing her opinion. But there was a tenderness Y/n showed that Elia had rarely felt. Perhaps it was the way Elia was used to being treated in Kings Landing. Y/n seemed to know what she needed. What she wanted. It was the small things. Like Y/n brushing her hair after a hard day, or making her a crown of Weirwood leaves.

Elia had never enjoyed rude health. That was what Nymeria Martell had told you. Though Elia tried to hide it, you could soon tell. She got exhausted quickly, sometimes had a delicate stomach and every month her period nearly made her collapse. Despite this all, she kept strong. That was what you admired about her. She truly embodied the words of her house. Unbowed. Unbend. Unbroken. She was a true lady. But you could tell that Elia wished for something more. One time, you had been training when Elia chanced upon you. At first you thought her angry. But you came to realize it was a longing. A longing to not be so constrained. So one day you decided to take her out for a ride. The rest of the ladies watched nervously as you helped Elia onto a steed. You had chosen a big northern horse. One that was stable and wouldn’t bolt. You got on behind Elia. Elia relaxed against you, black hair let loose. The wind whistled past you. Elia giggled as her fingertips brushed the leaves overhead. “Can you take me to the meadow?” “I am yours to command.” A laugh passed your lips. Just beyond this forest was a meadow owned by the royal family. “Over there!” Elia pointed to a warm spot with soft grass. Elia sat on the blanket you laid down. “I do think we have lost the rest!” It was another few minutes before the rest galloped into the clearing.

Later that night Elia found herself alone with Y/n, yet again. Elia, feeling better than most days, went for a walk with her. With laughter on her lips, Y/n gushed over the thrill of horse riding. Elia’s head rested against your shoulder, tired-eyed. Y/n sat down under the tree, bringing Elia with her. “Thank you Y/n.” Elia tangled her fingers with Y/n. “Would you like to do it again?” Elia nodded. Suddenly, she shivered. A wind had blown from the north. Not used to the cold, she shivered against Y/n. Immediately Y/n tossed off her cloak and put it over Elia’s shoulders. Her fingers went over the fine needlework. Despite their differences, one thing both girls were good at was sewing. On the back was the head of a dire wolf, the sigil of House Stark.

Elia’s first birth had been hard. You were woken by the feeling of something warm and wet against your thighs. At first, you thought Elia simply had an accident. But the metallic smell that reached you told a different story. Quickly you lit a candle and pulled back the sheet. Blood pooled between Elia’s legs. Gently so as not to alarm her, you woke Elia up. Before you could say anything Elia clutched her pelvis and moaned. You shook awake Lady Ashara and she in turn woke the midwife. Soon the room was bustling where once it had been quiet. You weren’t sure how long it lasted. Elia clutching your hand all the time. She bore the pain remarkably well. That was the price one paid with Elia’s condition. The midwives had Elia walk from one end of the room to the other. The sun was well in the sky when the midwife laid Elia down. “Y/n… if I die..” Your hand smoothed her black hair back. It burned to the touch. “Don’t say that. You’ve done so well.” Under your breath, you muttered old Northern prayers. Even a few to the Seven and Mother Royne. Finally, the baby came. A little girl, small and perfect. The midwife placed her in your trembling arms. “Elia, you did it.” Too weak to hold her baby, Elia touched the baby's chubby cheek. For one blessed moment, it was just you and Elia. Together in your world with the baby. Your serenity was broken. Rhaegar burst in. “My daughter! It’s a girl, right?” Relief swept through your veins. At least he would not be disappointed. Rhaegar took her from your arms. “We shall call her Rhaenys.”

Was it alarming how quickly Rhaegar had chosen the baby's name? Elia liked Rhaegar, perhaps even loved him. She took pleasure in their couplings, and he was kind. But recently something dark had settled over their lives. He spent more time at his desk reading rolls upon rolls of paper. Elia had tried to help, but he rejected any attempt. Rhaegar naming Rhaenys without her consent was the most startling. While most wives did bend to the will of their husbands. But even so, to make a decision like this without so much as consulting her was worrying. It also tickled her pride. Was she not his wife, a princess, and future Queen? Elia didn’t voice her frustrations, but the beginnings of resentment were starting to take root.

Elia had been absolutely bedridden. While Elia slept, you took Princess Rhaeneys outside to the courtyard. A wet nurse and nanny followed in your wake. The baby was swaddled in layers of soft fur. The baby took after Elia the most. With delicate features and short black hair. “Aren’t you the cutest little thing, hm?” Your finger brushed her forehead. “Lady Stark.” It was the King. The three of you sunk down into a curtsy. “Lady Stark, how is my wife?” “She is getting better, your Grace. Though still very tired. Would you like to hold your daughter?” You held out the baby. Rhaegar pressed himself very close. So close in fact that his nose was just inches from yours. Uncomfortable, you stepped back.

The Prince Who Was Promised. It was the prophecy passed down from ruler to heir for three hundred centuries. One day the Song of Ice and Fire would come, and the night of darkness driven away. He had correspondents in the North. And things were not looking peaceful beyond the wall. In fact, events progressed alarmingly fast. Wildlings were starting to form groups, and corpses rose where the sun did not dare shine. He needed the three heads of the dragon. He needed the Prince that was Promised. Elia had done well to fall pregnant quickly. And better yet, it was a girl. From the delicate look of her features and gentle purple eyes he knew her to be a Rhaenys. But there was always one part that bothered him. It said the Song of Ice and Fire. The fire aspect came in. But where the ice? Perhaps it would be his future Aegon’s wife, an ice bride. But could they wait that long? Would the Song of Ice and Fire come true in time? It had been another long night of scroll searching. After only a little sleep, he set out. The cold hair did well to rouse him from exhaustion. Rhaegar was strolling in the courtyard when he saw her. He recognized the lady as Y/n Stark, eldest daughter of Lord Stark. The second their eyes met, Rhaegar's chest contracted. Now this was a Visenya. With a wild, harsh beauty and muscles defined by years of training. Almost without thinking he walked up to her. He didn’t even hear what she had to say. This was ice.

Rhaegar was visiting more frequently. It was sweet to see him hold his daughter and sing to her. He even spent time with her ladies, dancing and singing to them. At first, like many, you found this change quite nice. Who wouldn’t want to be sung to by a prince? But Rhaegar had an ulterior motive. You never liked the way he gripped you. It was like vines over brick. Like he might bind himself to you. At first, you convinced yourself it was all in the head. But Rhaegar had a habit of suddenly popping up in unexpected places. Before, you had hardly exchanged a word. Now, he seemed to be everywhere.

“I hear blue roses grow in Winterfell.” Elia had gone to change for bed, leaving you and Rhaegar in the same room. He had stopped you from leaving. It was awkward to say the least, sitting here so closely to the Prince, a married one at that. “Yes, they grow in our greenhouse.” You replied. He was looking at you so intently. “And I assume they are very beautiful.” “I think so. My sister likes to make them into crowns.” “Tell me about your sister.” “Lyanna has only just turned thirteen. You saw her at the wedding, brown hair and gray eyes.” “And does she use a sword like you do?” “Yes, and horse riding is a passion of hers.” Suddenly, Rhaegar’s hand came up to your face. He brushed strands of hair out of your face. “I wouldn’t mind bringing blue roses to Kings Landing, My Lady.” Your heart dropped.

You now knew what his intentions were. Despite your lack of romantic interaction, it was obvious. And why in the name of the Old Gods did it have to be you! Rhaegar, unlike most previous Princes, had the reputation for being faithful to his wife. So why is he focused on you?! Your greatest fear was that Elia would find out. Would she hate you? The thought made you puke.

Elia was pregnant six months after her ordeal. That was when Rhaegar had the brilliant idea that the best place for Elia was Dragonstone. And my Gods was it the worst place you had ever visited. It was damp and cold. Elia spent most days bundled under the furs of her bed. For once her work remained undone. Elia had truly hit her limit. One night, you had finished singing a sleeping Elia a Roynish lullaby, when Rhaegar came in. Your hands tightened. “Lady Y/n, I see my wife is asleep.” “Yes.” You hoped he would leave. Instead he walked over and sat on the bed. You didn’t know whether to leave or stay. “I hear you are unmarried, My Lady.” You knew where this was going. “My father intends for me to marry Lord Baratheon.” You wanted to squash any ideas he might have. “You need not marry him, or is that your wish?” Was he serious!? Of course you would! At that moment it became too much. “Please Your Grace, I am very exhausted and am unable to entertain you any longer.” Your voice trembled with suppressed fear and rage. Something in Rhaegar’s Valyrian purple eyes changed and he gripped your hand. “Meet me in the caves, tomorrow after breakfast.”

Breakfast was hard to stomach. You could feel Rhaegar's eyes on you. It became too much. You vomited. That was all you could do after breakfast. Stumbling to the lavatory you hunched over. “Y/n!” Elia caught you by the arm. Steadying yourself against her, it was hard to walk. She walked you out of the room. Unfortunately, someone followed you. “Lady Y/n, I’ve been seeking your company.” Of course, it was Rhaegar. Because he couldn’t help turning up at unpleasant moments. “I think Y/n better rest.” Elia lead you away. “Wait.” Rhaegar had seized your arm. What happened next shocked you. The second Rhaegar had you, Elia tore his hand off. “She is unwell.” There was a steely bite to her voice. Before Rhaegar could do anything more, Elia led you away.

Fire and Blood. The famous saying of house Targaryen. But what of House Martell? Was their sigil not the sun? Perhaps Rhaegar was under the assumption that the blood of Martell was not as hot as his. Well, he was about to discover otherwise. Rhaegar had been reading his scrolls when Elia burst in, without ceremony. Never in her life had Elia felt so enraged. For the first time it was impossible to bottle her feelings up. Her fingers itched to tear at his face. She actually hated him. Elia had noticed a change in Y/n’s demeanor as of late. Where once she had been happy and cherrful, now Y/n was like a shadow. How when Rhaegar visited Y/n shrunk away. Every time Rhaegar approached Y/n, which was alarmingly often, she recoiled from his touch. The day when Elia had fallen asleep in her arms, she woke to Rhaegar storming off. Y/n, still clinging to her, sobbing openly. Something akin to jealousy stirred up in Elia’s chest. But much stronger like a storm. It had a grip on her heart. It kicked at her stomach. This was a different sickness. Instead of being laid low, it made her want to rage “You keep away from her.” Elia’s hands slammed into the table, fingernails piercing its surface. “Whom do you speak of?” Rhaegar looked up at her coolly. “You know who. Do not play a fool with me, Rhaegar Targaryen.” Rhaegar set down the scrolls. “Elia, the purpose of this matter is much greater than you and I.” Elia let out a derisive snort. “Getting your prick wet is hardly a great matter.” “I believe it is time to tell you. Elia, I must tell you the Song of Ice and Fire.”

“He’s as mad as his father.” Elia lay awake that night. Did he truly need Y/n for this “prophecy”. No wonder the Targaryens went mad, if they all followed this. Elia turned over to where Y/n lay. This past year Y/n had been the one to sleep beside her when Rhaegar was nose-deep in scrolls. While it was not required, Elia hated being alone. Y/n turned, facing Elia. She looked so calm, so peaceful. Elia held her cold hand, she then moved closer. That night, Elia swore nothing would ever happen to Y/n.

And so Elia kept her word. She always had someone report on Rhaegr’s whereabouts. Elia’s first thought had been to dismiss Y/n. It would be painful, but Y/n would be safer there. Perhaps Rhaegar would forget about her and one day Elia could invite Y/n back. But Rhaegar would never let her. There was one alarming change. Rhaegar was now letting Elia in on his research. How there would be a great Prince to vanquish the Others. Elia hated thinking about it, but at least she knew what Rhaegar was up to.

“Elia look!” The morning you received a gift from your sister. Lyanna had taken blue winter roses and tried them, pressed between two pieces of glass. The picture was lovely.

Sister,

I hope you are well. I hope these roses find you soon. Given you are stuck on Dragonstone. There are many this year. When you visit, there will probably be more. Dad has currently grounded me because I poured wine on Brandon’s head. Which was unfair because he was making fun of me. The only satisfaction I have is that Brandon can no longer visit the whore houses, at least for the next week. But I don’t see why I need be punished.

Everyone is doing well. Benjin is still annoying, father and Eddard send their love. Ps. There are socks for the Princess Rhaenys.

Love,

Lyanna Stark

You pulled out a pair of socks. They were actually quite nicely sewn.

“Your sister wrote to you? What did she say?” Elia looked over. “She sends me her love. And socks for the Princess.” “Well I am very grateful. I shall send my thanks.” Elia picked up the Princess from her colt. “Shall we?” The two of you liked to take walks by the ocean. It was nice and soothing and briefly banished all your troubles. You had taken off your shoes, sand between your toes. “Would you like go to back to Winterfell?” Elia asked. “I do miss home. Father may call me back for my marriage.” You said. But you wondered if Rhaegar would let you. While he had left you alone, it was still scary. The fear that Rhaegar might resume his advances was frightening. “If at any point you wish to.” Normally you would have not thought twice about saying yes. But something didn’t sit well with you. Why was Elia so eager for you to leave? Usually, Elia was hard put to have you leave her side. And the timing was suspect in itself. You finally voiced your fears.

“Rhaegar’s been confronting me as of late.” You had to get it out. As much as you loathed it. The secret was banging against your chest, begging to get out. “I know.” Elia sighed. Your legs buckled, tears bringing themself to the surface. “I didn’t want it.” You sobbed. Your shoes dropped as tears spilled over. Your hands clutched at your chest as if that might alleviate the pain. Your body fell to the ground. Elia came down with you, one arm around your shoulder. Her lips brushed against you hairline. “I know my dear, I know.” But you couldn’t stop crying. The relief you felt was enormous. As stressful as the situation had been, at least you knew Elia didn’t blame you. The sea crashed in the distance and seemed to come to a standstill as you rested against Elia. You cried into her shoulder for what felt like ages. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotten my tears all over your dress.” You sniffed. Elia laughed and pulled you further into her embrace. “It’s just a dress, you're more important.” Baby Rhaenys cooed between you two. Elia ran a finger down the bridge of her nose. “I think Rhaenys needs to go inside.” Both of you stood up. “Elia, could I have a moment alone?” Her hand stroked your cheek. You wanted some time alone. Your emotions were so on edge you might explode.

You watched Elia walk back inside. It was only when Elia went inside that you continued on your way. Getting cold feet, literally, you slipped on your shoes and went to the cliffside. The wind whipped around like a tempest. You allowed the wind to ruffle your hair. Maybe this is why Targaryens came here. There was a sense of peace you got from the elements. It was as if the wind might carry your pain away. Your eyes closed, letting emotion take over. You fell, fingers digging into cold, tough soil. Your nails cried out from the strength in which they were forced into the ground. A cold, hard breath left your body, carried away by the wind. Throwing your head back, you sent a prayer to the wind. Only the gray sky above was witness to your cry. Or so you thought.

“Lady Stark.” A cold, shaking hand clasped on your trembling lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. He came closer, one footstep after another, the ground giving way to his wake. Legs became stiff as lead. A strong hand seized your shoulder. “Lady Stark, please turn.” Only doing so when he put pressure on the shoulder that you unwillingly turned. Acid rose up in your throat. “Your Grace…please.” Tears fell freely. You didn’t care about dignity anymore. Right now all you knew was exhaustion and fear. “Y/n, I know this is unprompted, but there is information I must divulge.”Rhaegar’s eyes looked desperate and wild. There was a flame in those dark purple eyes. It was like you could feel the heat emanating from them, like wildfire. “Elia is not ice. I need a child of fire and ice." “You’re Grace, the Princess has already given you a healthy daughter. And it would be beneath my honor to have a bastard.” “Not a bastard My Lady, a prince.” A wild laugh burst from your lips, arms breaking free from his grip. Alarmed, Rhaegar stepped back. You must have looked mad yourself, hair freely flying behind you, eyes wide and savage. “Make no mistake My Prince. You will never have me or my love if that is what you are after. And when I bear a child it shall not be with a dragon. Dragons do not fare well in the cold.” “Ice is just what I desire. The Prince that was Promised, the Three-Headed Dragon. Elia can not give me that.” You feel to your knees, angry tears tearing at your skin. “You would…… you would abandon your wife for what!? You are mad!” Rhaegar knelt down to your level, hand on your chin. You broke. Rhagar howled as sharp teeth drove into his pale skin. You were thrown to the ground with the state of blood overcoming the scenes. “So this is how it is. I shall leave you to your own devices then.” He spat. Rhaegar walked away.

The next few days were spent in silent terror. You had harmed a Prince, treason. Even the daughter of Lord Rickard Stark was not immune to the rules. Hiding under the covers at night, you expected guards to come in at any moment. But to your surprise and delight, Rhaegar had left you alone. However, that didn’t mean this was the end. Elia suspected something was wrong. She was constantly by your side, more than usual. In public you were side by side, arms linked. But soon news came that caused a flurry of excitement. A tourney was being held at Harrenhal. Soon everything was being packed up and ready to leave that dreary rock. Maybe you would feel better once off Dragonstone.

Arriving at Kings Landing was a blessed relief. Even the tall red walls were better than windswept Dragonstone. Two days later, your family arrived. “Lyanna!” Forgoing courtesies, you left Elia’s side to hug your sister. Since you had last seen her, Lyanna had gotten taller. Her dark brown hair was long and tidy, cheeks a rosy glow. Lyanna practically jumped on you in her excitement. “Y/n! I’ve missed you so!” One of Elia’s ladies made an “ahem” noise and the two of you quickly broke apart. “Princess, this is my sister, Lady Lyanna Stark.” Lyanna curtsied, you noticed she had improved. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lyanna. Your sister tells me much.” Lyanna blushed. “Good things, I hope.” Elia laughed at the jest. “Very. Now how about we enjoy these lemon cakes and you tell me stories about Y/n when she was younger.” The rest laughed as you groaned.

The mood in Elia’s solar was pleasant. Lyanna seemed to enjoy eating cake and telling ever embarrassing stories about your childhood. “And then she fell right into the pigpen.” Lyanna laughed. “Only because you pushed me.” You snorted, giving her a gentle swat. Elia looked happier than she had in a long while, baby Rhaeneys situated on her lap. For that short time, no one had any worries. Until Rhaegar arrived. Elia’s smile faded and the sun was put out. The rest of you shrunk back as if confronted by the plague. The only person who seemed to be unfazed was Lyanna. “Your Grace.” She said and then sat back down. He walked over and pressed a kiss to Elia’s cheek. “My Love, I hope you are well.” But Rhaegar’s eyes were not on you, but Lyanna's. “Fire and Ice.” You had not known what Rhaegar meant by those words. It was only now that he was looking at Lyanna did you realize. If he could not have you, he would have her.

Your maid had just finished brushing your hair when a knock sounded at the door. “Who is it?” The maid called out. “It’s me.” Lyanna’s voice called out. “Let her in.” The door opened and a muddy, flushed Lyanna stumbled in, a grin wide over her face. “Prince Rhaegar let me join in on the hunt.” Your blood froze. Even breathing took great effort. “Please leave us.” The maid curtsied and departed. It was only when her footsteps faded did you speak. “Lyanna, what exactly did he do?” “Well, I was in the courtyard practicing my archery when he saw me! Honestly, I thought he would tell me off, but instead, he let me hunt some stag! It was so much fun!” Poor Lyanna. At fourteen, the girl did not realize the Prince’s intentions were not so innocent. “Lyanna, I believe he is trying to court you.” Your insides squirmed at the words, but she needed to hear them. The thought of Rhaegar taking advantage of your innocent sister made you physically ill. At first, Lyanna laughed. But when she realized you weren't jesting, those laughs turned into sobs. You pulled your sister into a hug, hand brushing her hair. "I swear I didn’t do anything.” Her tears stained your nightgown. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you one bit.” You let Lyanna sleep in your bed that night. After a cup of hot milk and honey, she went to sleep. But you stayed awake all night, thinking about what to do next.

Lyanna was in your presence at all hours. However, your duties conflicted with your plans. During dinner, you had to leave with Elia. Ever since her second pregnancy quickened her breasts had been swollen and red. You had only left Elia when she was in bed. You’d gone for a walk when Lyanna ran into Y/n. She was pale with red eyes. Wordlessly she flung her arms around your waist, fingers clutching the fabric. “Has Rhaegar bothered you again!” “Yes, yes he has! I was riding by myself when he came up to me. I tried to shake him off when he caught up and insisted we ride together.” “Did he do anything?” “He touched my hand. “And that is all?” “Yes, I promise.” Relief. At least he had not taken her maidenhead. But that did not mean you weren’t angry. “Go to bed Lyanna, I will deal with him tomorrow. It was time for the dragons to realize wolves too had fangs.

Requesting a meeting with the Prince terrified you. But Lyanna being in danger was far more horrifying. So that was why on a cold night, you stood in front of Rhaegar’s large oak door, the three-headed dragon carved into its surface. The torches gave the entrance an eerie atmosphere. You heard him call you in. Into the dragon's den, you went.

You had never been to Rhaegar’s solar before. It was a quiet, mysterious place. The circular wall was lined with shelves. The only light came from the fireplace, above the mantel held a curved blade. “Lady Y/n. I admit, I had not expected you to request an audience.” Dangerous. That was the only word you could describe his voice. Each syllable dripped off his tongue like poison. A predator ready to strike. “I wish to speak to you regarding my sister, Lady Lyanna.” Your fingernails dug into your palms. “ Yes. Your sister is quite lovely. A credit to your house.” A slight smirk made its way onto his face. “I am aware, My Prince. But I worry that your attentions may be taken as…..something more than they should not be.” Rhaegar’s eyes flashed something fierce and a malevolent smirk stretched over his lips. “So now that another has my heart you want me?” Flabbergasted. Was Rhaegar so enraptured by the prophecy that he could not see sense?! “My Prince, she is my sister and engaged to Lord Tyrell. If you pursue her Lyanna;s prospects will be ruined.” Rhaegar’s purple eyes hardened as his elbows rested on his knees. “Lady Y/n, if you accept my proposal I would not need to pursue Lady Lyanna.” You seemed unable to breathe through your mouth. Lungs barely able to circulate air. Rhaegar got to his feet, walking towards you. His large hands placed themselves on your shoulders, his lips inches from yours. Warm breath hits your chest, the skin heating up. “Please…..she’s so young.” You clutched his hands imploringly.There was not even room to cry, every organ in your body was ice. His hand cupped your cheek, getting closer. You could now taste his breath. Before Rhaegar knew it, you had fled.

A snake and a wolf lay together in the darkness. The heaviness of your situation suffocating. “Lyanna needs to go back north.” Elia’s hand held yours. “I know. The tournament will be over tomorrow.” Elia attempted to console you. “But what if he tries to harm Lyanna before then?!” Tears choked your lungs. Elia hushed you gently and wrapped her arms around you. The snake coiled herself gently around her wolf.

It was only by pure chance that you figured out Rhaegar’s plan. You had woken early that morning, clad in a simple blue dress and shawl. This morning had a cold touch in the wind, reminding you of Winterfell. Oh how you would like to go back to those days. Harenhall still bore the marks from Aegon’s attack all those centuries ago. A man whose belief in his divine right to rule was so strong he took over six kingdoms. This castle was just a remnant of this pride. Targaryen's had always been this way, taking what they want. You walked out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Looking down below, you recognize a familiar curtain of silver hair. With haste, you made to disappear before he might look up and see you. That was until something caught your eye. Rhaegar had in his hands a crown of blue winter roses. Roses that only grew in Winterfell. This did not sit right with you. He must be making it for the tourney today. But why would he go to such lengths to get blue roses for this one occasion? Most would believe that this was a touching gesture from Rhaegar to Elia. But why winter roses? Why not flowers from Dorne? Rage choked you. How dare he. How fucking dare he! You wanted to claw his eyes out and feed him to the wolves. No matter what, Rhaegar would pursue his desires. He was a dragon. A dragon you wanted to defang. You looked down at the young prince. Had he cared to look up, Rhaegar would have seen a she-wolf staring right down at him.

You had gained sickness when Elia woke up. The sad look on her face made you ill, but this needed to be done. Once everyone was gone, you slipped out of bed and hurried to Benjin’s room. Only Benjin and Lyanna knew what you were up to. “I think this will fit you.” Lyanna held up a breastplate. Benjin helped put on your armor as Lyanna handed him pieces. “All done!” Benjin admired his handiwork. You ruffled his dark hair. Lyanna was rummaging under the bed. “Lyanna? Everything alright?” “Yes.” Lyanna grunted. She hauled out a shield and turned it over. On its surface was a Weirwood tree. “Shall we start?” Lyanna asked. Grimly, you and Benjin nodded.

All that could be heard were the horse's thundering hooves. All your energy was put into defeating this latest opponent. Though you had jousted before, never had your limits been pushed thus. Your left arm was screaming in pain. Every time the pain became too much to bear, you looked up to Elia, Lyanna and Benjin. Only Lyanna and Benjin knew the truth. Yet the way Elia’s eyes followed you made you think she knew. Finally, you made it to the final round. In all honesty, you hadn’t expected to make it this far. But this was it. This was why you had entered the arena and this fight. “I announce, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen!” A roar louder than the waves against Storm’s End came up from the stands. He was clad in true Targaryen armor, making him look like the dragon he was. But even dragons were not invincible. The Dornish had brought down Meraxes, and by all the old Gods you would take down this one. Your lances lowered, it had begun.

You and Elia saw under the Weirwood Tree. Elia’s head lay in your lap while you made a crown of weirwood leaves. You told her the story of Aemon the dragonknight and his love Naerys. Whether it was romantic or the love a brother had for a sister was unknown. But it comforted you to think that the sad Queen Naerys had someone by her side. The path of a Queen or princess was lonely, as you had witnessed. Elia had always been a princess from the day of her birth. In Dorne there were the vipers that never harmed their precious princess. The same could not be said of Kings Landing. Elia opened her brown eyes and smiled at you. “What's this?” She asked, eyeing the leaf crown. “Something for the tourney.” “For Brandon?” You gave her a sly smile. “Not so your grace.” If the vipers could not protect Elia, then this lone wolf would.

It all happened in one moment. People in the audience were not even sure what had happened. Two great beasts had launched at each other. In the end, it was the mysterious Weirwood tree knight who remained standing. And then a shriek arose from the crowd. Of shock, surprise, excitement, and wonder. This knight with no name had unhorsed the prince. The knight's white stallion trotted over the squire who handed her a crown of Weirwood leaves and orange Dornish flowers. And went right up to the Princess. Elia stood on the balcony. Instead of shock or horror, her face held something no one but the princess and her knight knew. Their eyes met and at least for that day, as Elia set the crown upon her brow, everything was right in the world.

[glorysbox]

hi it’s me elias 🙏🙏 i had an idea for a bot I wanted to make but I thought it would be way better if you wrote it ‼️ because I read the one where you’re in the jeep and… well. ANYWAYS

my idea is basically you and Leon are long distance and you barely see each other except for a few times a year, you barely even get to call because you’re both really busy with work. it’s Valentine’s Day and you’re alone (obviously) but you really miss him. he’s not responding to your calls and it’s worrying you, maybe he’s found someone else?? then you hear knocking at your door and there he is!!!! he’s flown to see you for Valentine’s Day to finally spend time with you again. his intentions aren’t entirely sexual at first, he also just really misses you and wants to make sure you’re okay. but then he quickly realizes what he wants (and what you want.) it’s been SO long since the two of you have had sex. like years and he’s been thinking about it so much like all the damn time

you really don’t have to include all the stuff at the beginning but I just wanted to give you like the backstory ig for my idea so you can write it like. so that it makes sense. i’m really not good at explaining things so I hope this makes sense and also i love your writing

this ended up being so long... i'm sorry. right after i said i would only do 1-2k fics

leon x gn!reader (i wasn't sure if you wanted anything specific so i made it as neutral as possible!) wc: 4.6k... warnings: explicitly 18+, cumming inside, hurt + comfort, Leon's a little bit of a jerk unintentionally, make-up sex

You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Leon.

You knew that you'd be alone. That he'd go on missions in foreign countries—dangerous missions—and that you'd be left wondering if he was okay or if he was even alive. But you still started dating him.

Because you love him.

Which is why today of all days is especially difficult for you. It's like the world is taunting you—everywhere you turn, there's an advertisement for Valentine's Day specials or a couple making out on the damn corner or a guy beaming as he walks down the street holding a box of chocolates and flowers in both hands.

You love Leon... but god do you hate Valentine's Day. It's one thing to only see your boyfriend a few times in a year, and it's another to be constantly reminded about just how lonely you are without him. Which is why you're currently sat on your couch, lights off, snuggled under the blanket that he bought you some odd few years ago. It still smells like him.

It's not something you've ever bothered to bring up to him. Just how lonely you are and how you miss him so often—he already has so much on his plate, why add more? That's what you tell yourself. Still, the feelings are starting to bubble over into... uncharted territory. Each time your phone buzzes, you find yourself excitedly grabbing it to see if maybe, for once... he'd call you on Valentine's Day. Or call you at all for that matter.

But he doesn't.

He never has.

He probably never will.

You really don't mean to be so upset about it... you knew what you were getting into. But still... at least one call a week, right? That's what he's promised you.

It's been two.

And it's far from the first time that he's skipped calling you. As much as it pains you to admit, there are more important things that he has to deal with—and as much as you want to be, you're unfortunately low on his priority list.

But again, you deal with it.

Because you love him.

Even if he doesn't always get the chance to call you on your birthday because he's so busy with work. Valentine's Day always goes the same. You're alone. Your boyfriend doesn't call you. You're left to watch the stupid, cheesy romance movies that you wish you could force Leon to watch and cuddle up with him on the couch like a normal couple would.

But... you're not a normal couple. You've long since accepted that... or, tried to. You've tried. Here you are, just as you have been for the past however many years, crying on your sofa as you imagine what could have been. What your relationship could be if Leon didn't have such an intensive job. It's not long before the tears start to flow freely down your cheeks.

The guilt eats you alive. You feel bad for wanting to demand some of Leon's attention. You feel bad for even feeling bad, for crying out loud. Even though, if Leon were here right now, you know that he'd comfort you and tell you just how appreciative he is of you for even sticking around for someone like him—a government agent with too much baggage.

"Damn it..." The frustration is evident as you speak to no one in particular—the noise coming out of your mouth more of a pathetic mutter than anything as you struggle to keep your emotions in check. Grabbing the remote, you very quickly turn off the scene in the movie where the two leads were about to confess their love for each other and share a kiss. God, you could use one of those right now. Being without Leon kills you. Not being able to feel his biceps around your body, squeezing the life out of you, kills you. Not being able to wake up next to him and see the way that he smiles when you're the first thing he sees opening his eyes.

It kills you so much, in fact, that as you trudge towards the front door after hearing a few short knocks, that you're not even bothering to mask your sniffles or the fact that you're feeling less than hot right now.

You hate Valentine's Day.

Opening the door with a sigh, you wipe your tears away with the back of your hand—again, not being exactly too mindful of the person who's at your front door. Cluelessness and a lack of situational awareness has always, truly, been your downfall. Of course. It's Leon. Now you're just feeling guilty again—having spent the whole day cursing him out in your mind only for him to show up at your door to surprise you.

"Are you..." You feel a familiar hand cup your face, the warmth of his calloused palm pressing and squishing against your cheek as Leon's fingers press into the soft skin. The sound of plastic wrap crinkling fills your ears; if you were to look up from your feet, you would be able to see the bouquet of flowers. Flowers. For you. From Leon. On Valentine's Day.

A part of you wants to jump into his arms. To plant kisses all over his face. To thank him for even thinking of you, even if what he's done is just the bare minimum. Another part of you just can't help but feel frustrated. Knowing that after this, after the one day that you stay together, he'll be called in to another other-worldly mission that leaves you up at night with knots in your stomach anticipating his next call to know if he's okay.

Leon's touch leaves goosebumps in it's wake. His thumb wipes the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, and then trails down to feel the skin of your neck. He can practically feel the heat radiating off of you.

"You're crying." A statement, more than a question. Your eyes are red, your pretty lips turned into a frown, and your red nose is enough of an indication of the truth. How are you going to get yourself out of this one? You really, really don't want to burden him with your feelings. You're happy, really. He doesn't need anything more on his plate.

"I...'m fine. Really, I'm just..." A sigh escapes your lips. An involuntary one. Looking up finally, you meet his gaze. Leon's icy blue eyes bore into your own, his brows drawn in and a taut frown visible on his lips. "Just was watching a sad movie." He hates to see you upset. Leon knows it's wrong of him to neglect you like this. But to see the effects of what he's done... to say that he feels horribly guilty and responsible would be an understatement. And he is responsible.

"A sad movie on Valentine's Day?" He questions, his tone slightly teasing as you step aside to let him inside of your apartment. Leon takes a deep breath—the scent of your apartment and warmth enveloping him, finally, after months. He always preferred your apartment over his... it feels like home, in his words. "I got you these."

You don't respond as he walks in your apartment like he owns it. You follow him as he makes his way into your kitchen, the silence thick and unbearable and equal parts uncomfortable. You missed him. Badly. And yet, still... you're finding it hard to open up to him right now. Maybe it's the years of bitterness of this specific damn day that are catching up to you. Leon opens your cabinet, taking out one of your mason jars to fill with water and put your hydrangeas in. As much as you want to appreciate them... and his presence, you find it hard.

"Leon, I—"

"I'm sorry." His voice cuts you off before you can continue; his tone low and just as apologetic. The mason jar full of baby blue hydrangeas is cast off to the side of your countertop as he makes his way towards you. The scent of his favorite aftershave (that he only uses to impress you) fills your nostrils as he breaches the distance between the both of you.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to. I want to apologize. I need to..." His hands reach, gripping the skin of your forearms as he speaks. Leon sighs after a few moments, one of his hands reaching to run through his dirty blonde hair in a rare display of uncertainty from him. He's not good in these situations. "I haven't been the best." That's... certainly an understatement. And he knows it, too, judging from the look of guilt on his features.

Silence fills the kitchen for a few moments. Leon struggles to find the words that he wants to say—and he does have so many things to tell you. He wants you to know just how much he's missed you. He wants you to know how thankful he is for you always sticking around. He wants you to know how sorry he is for not being the boyfriend he thinks you deserve.

But... Leon was never really that good at expressing himself. Communication is one of his weakest points—he's closed off. Hard to read. But he's trying. Very hard, right now, just for you.

Because Leon loves you.

"I haven't called you. I'm sorry. I've been..." Leon swallows, shaking his head for a moment, as he then lets out a sigh. "There's no excuse. I'm sorry."

Eye contact with Leon is something that you've always savored. He's the kind of man that makes you weak in the knees just from the looks that he gives you. Of course, yes—that extends to this very moment. His eyes are full of so much... love, is it? Appreciation for you? Whatever it is, it's making your face turn redder and your heart beat faster and your hands clammier than they have ever been for the past year.

"I know you're busy, Leon... you don't have to apologize to me." The feeling of his hands running along your arms has you breathing a little quicker than before. "I'm not upset at you for it." You are, though. And he knows it. And he knows that you're just refusing to admit it because you don't want to stress him out any more than he already is, considering the state of his job.

Another long, tense silence fills the room as the both of you struggle to find the words to say. This isn't how he wanted your meeting after God knows how long to go—even though, realistically, after being neglected by him for so long... this was the only possible outcome. Still, he savors the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. He savors the pretty color of your eyes and the way you look at him so intensely that it makes his knees weak. Not that he would ever admit that last part.

"I love you. More than you know... I'm sorry." Another apology slips from his lips as he continues to feel the skin of your arms. The way his thumb rubs circles on your shoulder makes you want to explode and melt into putty right then and there. "I want to do better. To show you how much you really mean to me."

"How do you plan to do that?" The question comes out softly; the tone of your voice unconsciously sweet as you find the anger and bitterness seeping out of you by the second. It feels good. He's only touching your arm, and yet, it feels too good. You needed this. He needed this more than you did.

Leon, once more, is not a man very adept at communication. He keeps his feelings bottled up. A defense mechanism—he has to, in the line of work that he's in. What is good at, though, is showing you. You barely register it at first, the feeling of his lips on yours. It's so familiar yet alien at the same time. It's been so, so long.

His lips are soft as they're on your own. Leon's hands gently wrap around your body: one clinging to your upper arm, the other perched right on your waist. His favorite place to touch when you're kissing like this—something you'd nearly forgotten. You respond nearly immediately, almost instinctively, as your lips match his own. The tears that were just falling from your face ten minutes ago are long since forgotten now. He pulls away, much to your dismay.

"I missed you." Leon's lips are back on your own before you can respond; his touch and kiss sweet and soft and loving and essentially everything you've ever wanted for the past however long. He pulls away again, hovering over your lips. "I love you."

"I missed you more." You respond, gripping to pull him closer. He leans in again, the ghost of a smile on his lips at the way you quip back at him. These are the moments that he truly relishes in. Being inside of your warm apartment, feeling your lips on him, being able to touch you all over without having to worry about the constraint of time. Just being with you. If he had his way, it would be like this every day. He'd wake up next to you. Tell you how much you mean to him. Feel you. Every day.

"The thought of you is the only thing that kept me going." Leon says softly, his hands riding up your arms to cup your face in both of his palms. He places one sweet, soft kiss on your lips. Then another. "Knowing that I'd be able to come back to you one day."

The admission has you speechless—you think, at least. It might just be the way he's kissing you, the way he's guiding you closer to him and the way his lips are beginning to move with just the slightest bit more passion. You’re putty in his hands, and he's equally putty in yours.

It's not long before his hands start to... travel. He can't help it. Leon is a disciplined man. His job requires it of him; self control is an aspect of his personality that's saved he and many, many of the other people that he's come to work with. When it comes to you, though, he finds it... particularly hard to keep himself in check. It's evident in his restrained motions against you.

The way his hands flutter to your waist, squeezing the flesh slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough for you to not be able to ignore it's presence. His breath quickens, the warmth fanning over your face as you swear his pupils are blown further than you've ever seen them. He doesn't want you getting the wrong idea, though. He really did just come to give you some flowers and apologize... but it's you.

How can he not want to lose control?

Leon is a very selfless man... times like this, however, he finds himself to become increasingly selfish. "I love you," he repeats, his fingers running along the hem of your shirt. Cold fingers press against the warmth of your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as they travel further up your torso. "Let me show you how much I love you."

"In the kitchen?" The question comes out more teasing than angry, the breathlessness of your tone making Leon's grip on your skin tighten. There's no response for a few moments—not because he's ignoring you, but because he's focusing on placing wet, hot kisses on your neck and lining them just below your ear. He knows you're sensitive there. He breaks away from your neck for a few moments.

The way his eyes are trained on your own have your heartbeat quickening even faster; the lack of a response making you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You're not even naked, and still he manages to make you feel so exposed under his gaze. One of his hands begin to bunch up your shirt, not enough to fully reveal your body.

You try not to focus on his arms too much—try not to focus on the way the veins line the muscles that he's built over the years. You try not to focus on the protrusion in his pants. His labored breathing. The way that he looks at you.

"In the bed." he uses the hand gripping your shirt to begin to guide you down the hallway. Towards the bedroom.

Leon makes good on his promise of showing his love for you.

It's been too long since you've been with him like this. Back flush against the bed, shirt pulled up just under your chin, his hands roaming all over the soft skin of your body, squeezing on the sensitive flesh of your thighs. His fingers ghost over the fabric of your underwear for a few moments, eyes trained on your reaction as he relishes in the way that you squirm under him.

"Just as sensitive as I remember," he muses, his knuckle applying pressure slightly—a smile on his face as he anticipates your reaction. "It's been too long."

"Mm," You can only hum in response, the sound of your own pulse thrumming in your ears as your body unconsciously reacts to his touch. "Yeah. I missed you."

The two of you have said the phrase at least a dozen times by now—and yet, still, the meaning of it isn't diminished in even the slightest. You missed this. And he missed this more than you could ever even know. So many nights of him staying up late, imagining you pressed up against him. Imagining himself between your thighs.. hands pressed under his pants, eyes screwed shut as he reminisced on the sounds that you'd make.

Leon can't wait anymore.

He's toyed with you enough. Propping himself on his knees, slotted between your legs, he begins to pull at his belt buckle. Your breath is shallow, paused even as you watch him unzip his pants. He uses one hand, tugging on the button as the other reaches for you. Leon's fingertips ghost along the curve of your body, feeling along the swell of your hip, reaching to the indent of your waist. His hand presses into your chest, feeling the flesh below him—his fingertips pinching your nipple and eliciting a whine from your lips.

"Leon—" The sound of his belt and pants crumpling to the floor cut you off. You tremble beneath him, body taut and awaiting his touch. The tips of Leon's ears are pink as he wraps his hand around his shaft, breathing labored as his thumb swipes over the slit of his head—collecting the precum that very freely seeps in need for you.

It's big. Like the rest of him. Big enough that each time you two have sex, he has to press inside you slowly, slow enough so that you could adjust to the size. Still, despite this, he splits you open each time.

He lines himself up. Your thighs wrap around Leon's hips, hands perched on his arm that rests on your own. The blunt tip of his cock presses against you, smearing his precum as your back instinctively arches again upon feeling his touch. Leon's breath is very, very audibly labored.

"You okay?" The worry in his tone is evident as his cock spreads you open, slowly but surely slipping into you. Inch by inch. One hand grips onto the skin of your hip, keeping you in place as his swollen cock splits you open. You can't respond, of course. The way that he bullies his way inside of you leaves you all but breathless, your nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in the skin of his forearm. All you can do is nod.

"Good," his eyes on you are full of nothing less than pure adoration, his voice raspy and low and full of desire. "You feel so good already."

You're caged between Leon and the bed. The scent of aftershave and his cologne engulfs you just as much as his body around you does, his lips hovering over yours ever so often as he whispers praises in your ear and tells you just how sweet you look under him and how well you take his cock. It's not long before he's fully sheathed inside of you, the imprint of his cock shaping your insides and filling you completely.

"You feel—" Leon sheathes the rest of his cock inside of you, the last couple inches pulling a drawn out whine from you as you take all of him. A groan escapes Leon's lips, his head hanging low for a few moments as he steadies himself and struggles to adjust to just how good and warm you feel wrapped around him. In the moment of respite, his hands roam up and down your body, dedicating the shape and the curve to his memory as he elicits whimpers from you by rolling the peaks of your nipples between his two fingers.

"Leon... please." He slides his length out of you slowly, a sigh to his voice that compliments the whine you let out at the overwhelming feeling of him slipping in and out of you slowly. He craves this; craves the feeling of you under him, the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him, the touch of your lips on his own. His obsession with you encompasses his thoughts every second.

"You're too good to me..." Rasp lines his voice as he looks at you underneath him. The way your hair is a mess, the expression of your face as he presses his cock back inside of you. The sight of your body, bare, for him. And only him. It's hard not to get lost in the feeling of you. The slow pace Leon sets only quickens with each passing moment, his hips snapping against your own as he makes a conscious effort to pull out all the way each time to slam his hips back and press inside of you.

The feeling is unrivaled; the sight of this handsome man—your boyfriend—sighing and groaning on top of you at the feeling of you around him. The way that he's splitting you open—his hips brutally pounding into you with all of the strength that he can muster.

Leon hungrily watches you. He watches the way your eyebrows are raised, the way your eyes roll towards the back of your skull with each particularly hard thrust inside of you. Watches the way your body ripples with each pounding of his cock into you. The way you look up at him, your expression so fucked out and pretty... it takes everything in him to not cum right then and there.

"C—can't—feels too good, Leon—" Your whines and moans come out in unintelligible babbles as the skin slapping sound reverberates in the small walls of your bedroom. Leon doesn't stop—he can't stop, even. The groans from his throat are low are raspy, each one sending a throb of need throughout your body.

"Fuck," His hands pull at your hips, lifting the bottom half of your body up slightly to better angle his cock as it slams into you. "Feel so fucking good. Needed this." The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust of his hips, the springs of your boxboard even creaking as he fucks you into the mattress. Leon is rough.

But you like it.

You like the underlying tender current in his movements, long for the way his hands pull as you and maneuver you as if you weigh nothing. You like the way you can hear the squelching sounds as he pounds into you. You're sure that he's going to leave little finger-pad shaped bruises on your hips by the time that he's done with you—not that you're actively thinking of it; too busy focusing on the mind-numbing pleasure that your boyfriend gives you as he fucks you harder than he ever has before. It'll be a reminder of the night you've shared together.

The pleasure is too much. It's all-encompassing, making your toes curl as Leon's eyes screw shut in response—head hanging low as he struggles to keep whatever semblance of control that he has left. It always seems to escape him when he's with you. Especially when he's with you like this: buried inside of you, making you remember who you belong to, and pulling those pretty noises out of your mouth that he touches himself to every night he's not with you.

Leon's memorized your body by now. He has to, to survive every night he spends away from you. Every crevice, curve, and every motion that you make. From the way your back is arching, the way that your hands claw at his own—leaving angry red marks—it's clear that you're close. The way that you squeeze around him, leak around him... it's obvious.

"Gonna cum in you," he states, doesn't say—doesn't ask, he tells. "And you're gonna take it all." There's nothing you can do but take it. He leaves wet, sloppy kisses all down your neck—drawing back for a moment to place another right on your lips. He swallows up your whines, the noises muffled by his lips spurring him onward. His hips twitch, and stutter—but he keeps the pace. Leon wants to show you how much he loves you, remember?

His hips drive into you, burying his shaft to the hilt inside of you every time. It's almost like a game to him—fucking you as hard as he can—the prize being the sounds you make each time he impales you with his cock. You grip at his hands, pulling on them—pulling on his arms, the sheets below you—anything. Anything to ground you.

He doesn't stop. Even as you're whining his name, babbling about how you're gonna cum, even as you're arching and shaking under him as you cum around him—hard. Your hands and fingers are nothing to the feeling of being filled by him. Leon fucks you through your orgasm, his own voice shaky as he talks you through it. Telling you how beautiful you are. How well you take him. Telling you to keep squeezing his cock like that, because he's so close.

Leon's hips sputter and twitch, his pace faltering as he groans—deep and raspy—his balls squeezing as he empties himself inside of you. He presses his hips into you still, buried to the hilt so that not even a modicum of space separates him from you. Thick, hot ropes of his cum spurt inside of you. You can even feel him shaking from the intensity of his orgasm.

Still buried inside of you, Leon leans down, pressing his body on top of yours as he seeks out your warmth and the comfort of your arms wrapped around him. He almost doesn't want to pull out—and in another act of selfishness, he decides to linger in you for just a few moments. You don't stop him.

A comfortable silence befalls the room. Save for the sounds of your breathing, the room is quiet. It takes a few moments of riding out the aftershocks and gaining your conscience back (since he did fuck it out of you) for you to speak.

"I don't want you to leave." Leon knows that you're always sappy after sex. It's why he spends extra time cuddling you. Reminding you that you're the only one for him. That only you make him feel so much love. Your hands hug him tighter, bringing him even closer down on to you.

"Not leaving." He mutters, voice slightly muffled as his face is buried in the crook of your neck.

That's all you needed to hear.

[incognitonoggin]

Hi wondering if you could do them together? If not do separate and what you feel comfortable with 🙏🏼

Yan proxies with an s/o that tried escaping and failed-nsfw if you can-again only if ur comfortable

SJSHSJEHEH ANON I LOVE YOU TY FOR THE ASK!!

YANDERE PROXIES WITH A S/O THAT TRIED TO ESCAPE

NSFW . MINORS DNI

GN! READER

Includes: “Ticci” Toby, Masky/Tim, Hoodie/Brian

TOBY

• You seriously thought you’d get away? How cute.

• The second you had kicked ‘em off of you and began to run, he was quick to yank your arm back and have you shrinking under his gaze.

• You could immediately tell he was kind of pissed, but you’re his sweetheart! He has to be patient with you.

• … Doesn’t mean he’s going to be gentle though.

• Will drag that same arm to the nearest flat surface (be it a wall for Christ’s sake) and off to pound town you go!

• Sex will be full of.. I guess.. Claiming???

• He’ll go on and on about how you’re his and how your hole(s) belong to him and how you’ll never amount to anything without him and you’re better off stuck with him (in a positive way, I suppose…)

• You’ll be left with dozens of marks afterwards and he wont hesitate to be passive aggressive and rough😭

HOODIE

• Have fun with this man!

• He’ll pull you back tightly by the waist, and drag you on into his lap

• Will yank your pants off right then and there, just barely giving you the time to process everything.

• “You want to leave? Really? How about we change that.”

• As i said in a different fic, he will be silent but you can tell by his never ending glare that if you fuck up he will NOT hesitate to get violent.

• Very fast and roughly paced. Gonna have your eyes stinging and your lips moving in a repetitive motion as you mumble your pleas

MASKY

• Why would you run away from this man WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU /HJ

• He’s running up behind ya and covering your mouth with his hands like he’s got chloroform or something on them

• It’ll feel suffocating at first, but similarly to Brian, he will just throw you down and start fucking torturing you 😔

• It’s worse compared to the others, he’d be VERY cocky (ha, get it?) about it and mock you whilst you beg.

• Lord, the repeated slamming into your hole while he yanks your hair back (damn near breaking your neck) must be so violating 😟

[sunkissed-zegras]

🍯 “eyes on me” with quinn hughes

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 | qh⁴³

♡ ─ word count | 266

♡ ─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion. oral (fem. receiving) but nothin else

♡ ─ ev's notes | i will say this til the day i die, QUINN IS A LEVEL 100 MUNCHHHH.

Quinn ran his tongue on your cunt slowly, watching your every reaction. Your legs were held open by Quinn as he delved his tongue on your pussy, making them shaking. Your whole body felt weak from his tongue, causing quiet whimpers to fall from your bruised lips.

Your eyes were blown out with desire as you watched him slowly lick up and down your cunt, your hand pulling on his hair as he began to go quicker. His eyes were locked on you as he kept his speed steady, your whole body putty in his hands.

"Fuck, Quinn. I wanna cum, please." You were begging him to go even a little faster, to make you cum. As Quinn gazed up at you, he couldn't deny you - you looked so fucking pretty with your legs spread just for him as he devoured you.

He obliged, his tongue going up and down your clit quicker as you gripped his head to compose yourself. "Fuck, Quinny." You cried out as your head fell back in the pillow, your eyes shutting.

"Eyes on me, pretty girl." Quinn mumbled, sending vibrations through your entire body. You forced yourself to watch Quinn and his tongue started sucking on your clit, causing your eyes to roll back. The pressure in your stomach became tighter and tighter as he kept up his quick pace, your whole body shaking.

You came all over his mouth, crying out as you pulled on his hair. Your legs shook harshly but Quinn didn't budge, he kept his tongue on your clit as he rode you through your high.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[threadsun]

Is it okay to request a reaction of the boys (SDJ, Bo, Elias and Taylor) seeing their beloved in their clothes (Like a shirt or something)? Either in public or private if that's fine!

Can't Speak:

Ian fully short circuits at the sight of you in his clothes. Especially if it's like a pair of his sweatpants and a graphic tee of his for a lazy day in. He's also immediately hard and trying to hide it.

Taylor's mouth goes dry and he stares. He can't really figure out what to say. The most you'll get is a hoarse "you look good" from him before he makes excuses to leave so he can jack off.

Elias doesn't really know what to say. You look so good and there's a thousand words pressing at his tongue, trying to come out. But he can't settle on any one thing to say, so he simply stares.

Flustered But Flirts:

Joseph is surprised and can feel his face warming at the sight of you, but he forces a teasing grin and makes some flirty comment. It's not that he doesn't want to flirt, he's just faking the confidence.

Rory loves it, of course. Especially the sight of you wearing his apron in the kitchen. He's making the flirtiest jokes, putting the moves on you as he tries to distract you from whatever you're doing.

Nick isn't used to getting close enough for people to take his clothes like that. But he loves it when you do. And he will make sure you know just how much he loves the sight of you in his clothes.

Shaun's heart skips a beat and it takes him a moment to really process it. But once he does, he's absolutely teasing you about it. After all, clearly you missed him so much, how cute~

Fucks You On The Spot:

Bo has no sense of self control or of appropriate timing. He sees you in his clothes and immediately tries to mount you. The whole time he's growling about how much he loves you wearing his scent.

Jack will drag you to the nearest surface he can fuck you over, or will just pick you up and slide you onto his cock. He needs to be inside of you now. He's waited so long to make you his, after all...

Jean doesn't care who's around or what you're both doing, he will stop everything and pull you into his lap to fuck you. After all, if you're wearing his clothes around like that, clearly you want it~

Barry will take any excuse to fuck you, in public or in private. Especially if he's staking a claim on you. So you wearing his clothes while he does so? Well, what screams "his" more than that?

[cheesy-cryptid]

“Together in unholy matrimony 🥀🥀🥀”

I wanted to incorporate more lore into this one by adding in the other members of the Gallagher family (The one in the middle is Elias’s grandmother )

And now that i finished 3 artworks all about Elias, should i make another one thats more Taylor-centric?