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legitalicat · 2 months

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Sweet Sister (Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon)

AN: Oh gosh guys. I did it. Thank you to @zaldritzosrose for being my workshop partner (I also got the amazing dividers from her) and to my spiritual twin @foxyanon for reading a bit of it when I needed to make sure it was okay. Also this snowballed very hard very fast I am sorry.

Masterlist here!

Summary: It wasn't the fault of them that this was their lot in life. Aemond and YN could only make the best of a marriage they did not particularly want. Yet Jacaerys does not see it as an obstacle. The gods made her for him. She was meant to be his.

TW: Language, characters are over 18, AFAB reader, use of YN in 3rd person pov, use of she/her pronouns, SMUT SMUT SMUT, oral (fem!receiving), a smidge of dry humping, lactation kink, tiddie sucking, masturbation, cuck!Aemond, threesome, Dom!Jacaerys, switch!Aemond (mostly veering on subbing), sub!reader, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, Jace's monster cock, NO DANCE, canon typical Targcest, Jace grinding his cock on Aemond, Jace cumming on Aemond, cum eating, spit, political marriage, Jace kinda teaching Aemond to proper fuck his wife, I think that's all

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon Niece!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x younger sister!Reader

Word count: 6.2k

It wasn’t his fault.

It was a thought that lived consistently in her mind in the years since her marriage. Both of them offered to each other’s mother as a solution to the growing rift between them. A marriage made in desperate hopes to avoid an ever looming annihilation.

It was good, she supposed, that it was to a man she was so familiar with. Her Uncle Aemond, while never particularly warm, had always been kind enough. He usually spared her the vitriol he shot at her brothers. Even when making it clear he knew the truth, he was less violent in his hatred. Queen Alicent raised him to be better than that.

A spat between boys here and there was acceptable, expected even. Training together, he got plenty of chance to beat on them, to spill the vile whispers that invaded his ears. Nobody but Ser Harwin ever said anything, but Aemond figured it was only because he was too stupid to pretend as everyone else did.

YN was different. Between his mother and Ser Criston, he knew that every woman was meant to be seen with a certain amount of respect. Despite who her father was, or wasn’t, YN was a princess. She was not like her brothers, who antagonized him at every step. And so he would hold his tongue.

As children, they were polite to each other. If he and the Velaryon boys were arguing, he went quiet when she would walk into the room. He would hold the door for her and in the same motion let it slam on Jacaerys.

It was this politeness that allowed Alicent to see reason. She couldn’t marry her only daughter to one of Rhaenyra’s sons, yet the King made it clear that it was his will their lines would converge. She made a counter offer to Rhaenyra’s, Aemond wed to YN. The Princess of Dragonstone denied for many the same reasons The Queen denied hers. But the Driftmark Incident all but forced her hand if she wished for Lucerys to remain unharmed as a consequence.

He was a good husband to her when they married not long after her coming of age. He stood by her side at court, always keeping her close. Over the moons they spent at each other’s side, a natural affection was felt between them. It may not have been a fairytale romance, but he at least could be counted as her friend. And for a girl who was without her family for the first time in her life, a friend was exactly what she needed.

It wasn’t Aemond’s fault that they were still expected to provide children to their line. They held off as long they could. Yet as they approached two years of marriage, rumors of infertility started hanging over their head. He could not bare to leave his wife to such scrutiny. It was only then they started laying together as husband and wife.

The affection they felt gave a solid foundation for their relationship in the bedroom. It was an awkward beginning in which he would blush every time his hand grazed her breasts and a small squeak would leave her lips when she saw him naked. Aemond, though, was a man of proficiency. He always planned to be the best in everything, the need in him increasing tenfold upon learning that bringing his wife to orgasm increased her odds of becoming pregnant.

“You looked lovely tonight at dinner,” he commented as they came from dinner.

“Thank you, husband. Your words flatter me always,” she told him.

He opened the door to their suite, the warmth of the fire already having filled the living space. When the door closed behind them, she let out a noticeable breath of relief. She always preferred the peace of their suite.

He stepped closer and began to unlace her gown. She reached behind her as he did so and took a hold of one of his wrists.

“Are you nervous?” he whispered. She hadn’t been nervous with him in months, but he always asked.

“Grateful, I suppose. For a husband like you,” she told him. Her dress fell to the ground in a pool around her ankles. She had forgone her slip and so she now stood naked in front of him. “I must admit though, today I am eager. I feel as though soon I shall be pregnant.”

He gave a small smile even though she could not see him. “A darling mother you shall be. How many do you wish us to have?”

“No less than two,” she told him. “So I hope you do not mind continuing this for a few years yet to come.”

“Never, my sweet niece. After all, I do still enjoy myself as a man should when I bed you.”

Satisfied, she released his wrist entirely so that he move as he wish. A feather light kiss to her shoulder as he began to undo his pants. A hand roaming the front of her body from behind, grabbing and squeezing to elicit soft little hums of approval from her. With his pants off, he stepped closer to her.

“Settee or bed?” he whispered in her ear, his hard cock pressing firmly against her ass.

“Settee,” she whispered while a shudder moved through her. Within a heartbeat, he lead her to the sofa near them.

“I want to make sure my seed takes in your womb, little wife,” he whispered in her ear before he helped her into position.

His touch traveled from her hip to entangle itself in her hair. She turned her face to him to allow a single kiss before he pushed her head roughly onto the settee’s cushion. Any sound she made was muffled by the cushion, but it was how they preferred.

The blood rush provided by his delicate fingers created as many desires in her as it sated. Any looks of love he would give her would be fake, they didn’t love each other. Yet when his nails raked against her back as he prepared to grab her hips, she knew she was lucky in this.

His left hand rested along the curve of her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh to hold her where he wanted her. His right hand moved between her thighs before finding their home in her folds.

The fabric where her mouth was pressed warmed against her skin as she let out small, repetitive moans. In the months since their first bedding, his fingers had become experts at a quick orgasm. He would flex his thumb to rest against her pearl with fluctuating pressures in time with the speed of his middle and ring fingers thrusting into her cunt.

Her thighs trembled as Aemond curled his fingers, coaxing her orgasm ever closer. A faint sound of her moaning made it to his ears as her walls tightened around the digits. She came hard, only getting a second’s reprieve before his hand moved away and it’s presence replaced by his long cock.

His hips repeatedly moving into her turned him into a desperate man. Watching himself disappear into her cunt while her ass melted against the muscles of his lower abdomen was a sight made of sin. She was soaked around him, her juices dripping off his cock.

Aemond was a restrained man until he was on the precipice of orgasm. It was when she felt his fingers return to her swollen pearl and his hips start to stutter that she cried out. She could feel him pawing at her back, his once anchoring grasp becoming a desperate touch. His movements were no longer careful and considered as he rubbed his thumb eagerly against her pearl and fucked into her with abandon. She could feel the tension begin to build within her as she whispered his name into the cushion again and again.

She came for a second time, squealing into the cushion as she attempted to move forward. The pleasurable band that had snapped inside her belly increased how much she felt tenfold. Every movement of his cock was like the sweetest torture. The head pushed against that spongy spot inside of her, making her whimper with every brush. Her walls gripped even tighter, like he was the missing piece of her.

He groaned out her name as he released his spend, ropes of white coating her walls. She was certain, as he pulled out of her while trying to steady his breath, that this was it. This would be their luck.

Within two moons she had confirmation she was pregnant. She wrote letters to her family immediately upon telling Aemond. Together, they would walk to Her Grace the Queen’s apartments and tell her she would once again become a grandmother. One would think they had divulged the secrets of the universe with the way the Queen became so overjoyed.

She was approaching her fifth month of pregnancy when her family returned to King’s Landing so that her mother could take the Throne. With the passing of King Viserys, many had anticipated war. But neither Rhaenyra or Alicent wanted to risk losing their grandchild. If war had broken out, both knew that the baby would be torn between the desires of both it’s parents. That was enough.

YN stood in wait for her family alone at the Dragon Pit. The peace was tense already, and they had yet to arrive. But one by one, the elder members of her family landed on their dragons in front of her.

A journey by ship would take too long when there was a throne to take. Her mother dismounted Syrax with grace befitting a queen. Her eyes though did not fix themselves to her mother, instead the new Prince of Dragonstone capturing her full attention.

“My sweet sister,” her older brother said once he dismounted Vermax.

Jacaerys looked at her like she was his favorite toy. Two years her elder and that had never changed. She was his little sister, the one he knew the gods crafted from the heavens specifically for him. It was everything he believed to be true. She was meant to be his Queen, to be his.

That is why he was never too worried about her betrothal to Aemond when it was announced. Jace knew he didn’t necessarily need to be her first husband. Men run away or die every day, leaving their families behind. Knowing his uncle meant knowing how perfect the one eyed man had to be. He anticipated Aemond running away the moment he proved to be subpar at being a husband.

And when he did inevitably run, when he did abandon his wife, all Jacaerys needed to do was be there. He had told YN her entire life how he adored her, how he would give her a crown and a throne and nobody would doubt his devotion to her. She would be his equal in every way once he was King. No marriage to some lesser standing man would change that.

“Jace,” she said with a smile on her face. She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He was sturdy, lean but firm. There was no sway in his body when she all but collided into him in her excitement, her small bump pressing against him. He held her just as close.

Even her pregnancy could not dissuade him from believing they were meant for each other. Jacaerys knew she would have children from this marriage, he had long prepared for that reality. But this child was as much of her as it was of Aemond, and he would love every part of his beloved sister.

“You are stunning, my queen. The babe is not too much trouble, I hope?” he asks when he pulls away. But only enough to look at her.

“Oh none at all. The little bug has only just began kicking,” she told him.

“I was more referring to your husband, but I am grateful your pregnancy has been easy thus far,” he told her with a smirk, creating a giggle she could not hold back.

His eyes look over her face more times than he can count. He had never seen a beauty such as hers. From the way her lips stretched as she smiled, to the little furrow in her brow as she watched him look at her, to the subtlety of her eyes shining with a joy he doubted she had for years. Everything about her captivated him.

As his eyes raked further down her body he was a man in love. Her breasts already were beginning to swell with milk, looking deliciously full and ripe for providing his pleasure. The bump was small, he knew she wasn’t too far along just yet, but seeing evidence of a child growing inside her was enough for him to feel like a man gone mad.

His cock began to swell under his trousers. He could not resist pulling her in for another hug just to be able to rut against her for a mere moment. It was subtle, discreet, one would be forgiven for thinking it was the embrace of a brother who missed his sister. She knew what he was doing. She could feel his bulge pressing through his skirts and against her heat.

“I have missed you dearly, my queen,” he whispered in her ear.

“I have missed you as well, my dear brother,” she whispered, hugging him tighter to her.

Pregnancy had a way of clouding her judgement. She desired more than just this juvenile attempt at some relief. And while it was true Aemond would tend to her when her hormones became too overwhelming, there was a difference. Aemond was her husband, the man she was legally bound to. He was the father of the babe cradled safely inside her. He was allowed.

Jace was her older brother. Adore him as she might, he had no true claim to her. They had risked enough the night before her wedding when he made her ride his thigh to orgasm. It was his way of ensuring she knew pleasure before he would get the chance to properly give it to her. But now, to even do this was a slap in the face to her husband and an affront to the gods.

He pulled away, completely this time, and smiled at her. “Your presence has been missed deeply, sweetling.”

And with no other words he stepped away and allowed a proper greeting between her and their mother.

With Rhaenyra’s coronation and subsequent restructuring of the Small Council, life remained hectic for months. Rhaenyra was smarter than her father as a ruler, she understood that the only thing that posed a threat to her rule was the ambitions of one man in particular. The best way to remove such a threat was to understand the ambition and give it only enough power to remain useful to her.

Her first act? Removing Otto Hightower as Hand. He was still on the Small Council as Master of Whisperers, as he was a man best kept close and an expert of intelligence. In his stead she placed Jacaerys until such a time he was married and would move to his seat of Dragonstone. It would give him opportunity to learn the workings of ruling the country that would once be his. As a way to create good faith between her and her brothers, she offered them positions as well. She would appoint Aemond as Master of Laws, as she doubted there were any who knew more of Westeros’ histories and laws as him. And for Aegon she created the position of Master of Celebrations, offering no further explanation before he accepted.

Being as her husband was preoccupied with his newfound duties, YN spent many nights alone. The babe, due in the next month by now, made her ache and weep. It was all she could do to avoid such pains. If it wasn’t her back or hips hurting, both from the weight of her stomach and the way her body prepared for labour, it was the way her breasts were already filling to the brim.

Her only comfort was found in her baths. The water ran so hot it would be uncomfortable for many. She had the blood of dragons coursing through her, she carried a dragon inside her. A little extra heat did nothing to dissuade her.

In fact, she was sitting on the bed, waiting for her maids to bring forth the water needed. Her hands massaged her aching breasts to attempt to provide any relief for her. As such, she was hardly covered by anything. Only a thin sheet laid draped over her lower half.

There was a knock on the door. She beckoned them inside, assuming it was her maids. Yet when she opened her eyes, there stood Jacaerys. Her eyes widened slightly, though she made no grand attempt to hide herself.

“My sweet, are you okay?” he asked her softly. His voice was filled with a love she had mostly forgotten.

“Pregnancy is hard on the body, at it turns out,” she joked as he came closer to her. It was then she pulled the sheet up further, now hiding her breasts.

“And your husband is not here to attend to you,” he commented. He sat in front of her on the bed and repositioned the sheet, exposing her breasts and pregnant belly to him.

“He does as he can. His duties have been weighing more as of late, though, so I am typically asleep by his finishing hour,” she told him.

“A dutiful wife. Never speaking ill of him,” he whispered.

“He has been good to me, Jace. He cares a great deal for my safety and happiness. Better to me than I believe many would have been,” she said in response. Her words were soft and genuine. She bore no ill will for Aemond, truly she did not. And she would not pretend she did.

“I am grateful you were granted such a kindness by the gods.”

His hands moved now from the sheet he stilled gripped to roam her stomach. The babe kicked at his touch as if to say hello. The two chuckled at the sensation.

“She has never kicked so eagerly before,” YN told him.

“She?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Call it instinct,” she shrugged, smiling at his hand on her stomach.

“She has a fiery resolve, just as her mother and her mother before,” Jacaerys told her happily before leaning forward and placing a kiss to her stomach. “Such a beautiful mother already, my queen.”

“You are too good at your flattery, brother,” she whispered.

“Is it flattery if it’s true? Is it flattery if just the sight of you, swollen with a babe and practically dripping milk, make my cock harden?” he asked, looking up at her with his chin rested on her stomach.

When her jaw slacked and her lips parted, he knew he had her attention in the way he needed. He moved up her body, pressing gentle kisses along her stomach and breasts as he did. Her uptick in breathing was bordering on panting as she watched him. His mess of curls tickled her skin just as his lips did.

“Can’t wait until it is my babe in your stomach. But I will love this one just the same,” he murmured against her skin.

“I am married, brother,” she whispered as she attempted to move his head away.

“You think the gods care for the law of man when they have crafted you for me?” he asked. His body did not budge at her insistent nudges.

“Jacaerys,” she whispered.

His hand flew up to grip her wrist. It did not hurt but it was a former grasp than Aemond ever had. In a moment her hand was being held to the mattress by his own, his head unmoving. His face was nestled comfortably in the crook of her neck where he inhaled deeply.

“You know you were made for me, little one, just as I have known it always. And you said yourself our uncle cares for your happiness, yet where is he? Why does he not tend to you as you prepare for him the greatest gift?” he murmured against her neck.

“He is busy,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as he once again inhaled her.

“The gods themselves would have to bind me to the earth in order to keep me from putting my cock in you whenever you needed,” he told her before nipping at her skin.

His free hand found it’s way to her left breast. She whimpered a bit under his touch, the pain she felt earlier mixing with a pleasure from how much he desired her. She could feel his smirk against her neck as he began rutting his hips against her lap. His hardened cock pressed painfully into her thigh.

She should tell him to move. She knew he would respect her desires. But how could she focus on any desire she held save for him? She had always loved Jacaerys as he loved her.

Her first memory was of Jace promising her she would be his Queen. He doted on her from the moment she was born. He had always told her she was his, made for him by the gods to be his perfect match, even after her betrothal. And while she understood the role she was meant to play in keeping the peace, she believe it too.

“What is this?” Aemond’s voice said from the door.

YN was about to answer him, to insist that despite what it looked like she had only been waiting for her maids to draw her bath. She could only hope he would understand. Instead, Jace sat up. He smirked at his younger sister before turning to face Aemond, his hand never leaving hers.

“I am doing your job, since apparently you do not find my sweet sister important enough,” he said to the blonde man.

“Do not speak to me of my wife,” Aemond said darkly. “She understands the nature of my position.”

“You do not speak to me of my sister,” Jace commanded. “She is beauty in all she is, she is carrying your child, and yet you do not wait on her hand and foot? Instead leaving her to rot in this room while you pour over your books and scrolls.”

“I am a prince you do not get to speak to me this way,” Aemond said angrily, though not as loud.

“And I am Prince of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne!” Jace all but shouted. “I should have your cock removed since you do not use it as you should! Send you to the Wall for daring to deny my sister an existence of gluttonous pleasure!”

Aemond silenced himself and looked to his wife. His wife who, until this moment, he wasn’t aware could look at someone with such a burning desire. But she looked at Jacaerys the way he had once hoped they would looked at each other, when he thought there was hope they would love each other. He could see that for her, Jacaerys hung the moon and stars.

“Close the door and sit in that chair by the window,” Jace told Aemond.

Having no choice to comply, the older man did as asked. There was little doubt in his mind Jacaerys would send him to the Wall if for no other reason than to have YN to himself. And so, he shut the bedroom door and took a seat in the chair.

The bed was close enough he got a perfect side view of his wife. He could admit the sight of her displayed in such a manner stirred something inside him. He could feel his cock twitch at the sight of her full breasts, her rounded belly, but mostly? It was the way she wasn’t even concerned with him.

Her focus was solely on Jacaerys now. Her brother was back to pressing kisses against her body. It was the first time Aemond could see the faces she made with the slightest pleasure. How easily her face contorted the second Jacaerys took one of her nipples between his teeth was a sight he wished he could commit to memory.

“Some ground rules,” Jacaerys said after pulling away from her breast. He looked to Aemond. “Sit in that fucking chair until I tell you you’re allowed to move. Answer me when you’re spoken to. Stroke your dick or whatever, just do not leave that chair.”

“And if she asks for me?” Aemond asked him.

“She won’t,” was all Jacaerys offered him. But it was enough to make YN whimper beneath him. Aemond flushed as his cock twitched once again, hardening with every passing second.

Jacaerys turned to YN, smiling down at her. “And you, my beautiful, darling, sweet sister…all I want is your permission to love your body the way it is meant to be loved,” he said. His voice with her was soft and tender as opposed to how harsh and angry he was with Aemond.

“Jace,” she whispered. She began to turn to Aemond, but Jacaerys gripped her chin and kept her gaze on him.

“No, my queen, it is not about him. It is about you, and us. About you belonging to me, if you wish,” he whispered to her. His brown doe eyes made her melt before he sat up, finally releasing her hand to he could grab the bottom of his shirt.

All she could do is nod. She was speechless with the sight of him pulling off his shirt. His toned abdomen caused a gush of her arousal to pool between her legs.

She felt heat flood her cheeks when he removed the sheet from her lower half. Her face felt even hotter when he pushed her legs apart, eyes locking in on her cunt.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby,” he praised her, hands rubbing the inside of her thighs. “Doesn’t she have a pretty pussy, Uncle?”

For the first time, YN looked at him. Her wide eyes were heavy with lust. In all the nights they had spent together, he had never really allowed himself the chance to take in the beauty of her face. He wanted more. Needed more

“Yes,” was all he could manage to say. His eyes moved from her face to where Jace was touching her. In almost expert fashion, Jace removed his pants. His cock was longer than Aemond’s, thicker too. As husband and wife stared at the monstrous cock, they both couldn’t imagine how it would fit.

“Have you drank from these tits, Uncle?” Jace asked Aemond without turning his eyes from her pussy. He smirked at how wet his sister was, feeling more desire in him than he had ever felt before.

“Not yet,” Aemond choked out. His self restraint was out the window now. He pulled his cock from his trousers and gripped it in his hand.

“Seems fitting, I suppose. You were the first to fuck a babe into her, I shall be the first to drink from her,” Jacaerys smirked at the idea of claiming a part of her Aemond had not.

He laid his cock in between her slick folds, allowing it to rest against her clit while he leaned down and began suckling from her. His left hand held one tit while he suckled from the other. Her sweet milk flowed freely past his eager lips and onto his greedy tongue.

He moaned against her as he ground his hips against hers. Her slick aided his cock in sliding between her folds and creating a friction that caused her to whine out. She couldn’t hold the moans from her lips.

“Fuck,” Aemond whispered. His pupil was blown wide as he desperately stroked his cock. Pre-cum beaded on the head just to continuously be wiped away by a swipe of his cum.

With a loud pop, Jacaerys pulled off her tit. He kissed her hungrily. There was nothing he needed more than her. He couldn’t help himself. He pulled his hips back just far enough to readjust, pushing his cock into her. She groaned into the kiss, feeling the burn of stretching around him. His hips stilled when his cock was seated half way inside her.

He broke the kiss after several moments. He looked between her lips and her leaking tits. His cock throbbed at the sight.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. “So fuckable. So perfect on my cock.”

“Yours, Jacey, yours,” she muttered. She made a pointed effort to ignore her husband whimpering in his chair. The thought of him so hard at this sight made her pussy flutter around the cock inside her. “Want your fucking cock, Jacey. All of it.”

He kissed all over her face as he pushed further into her. She cried out his name repeatedly, moaning, begging for more in the same breath she cried it was too much. Jacaerys nearly busted inside her in that moment. Her full tits moving with just the slightest snap of his hips, her cock drunk expression written on her face, her pregnant stomach pushing against him.

With her beautiful sounds as encouragement, he began fucking into her with abandon. All that mattered to him was how perfect she felt around him. Her walls squeezed around his cock in a quiet desperation to keep him inside her. With every stroke, the tip pushed against the spongey part of her walls, causing her to cry out his name. She was more sensitive in her pregnancy, allowing for her orgasm to build quickly.

“Fuck, fuck,” she moaned out as the band inside her snapped and her orgasm washed over her entirely.

The gush of her release flooded over his cock. He wanted to hear her moans every day. It was all he could think about as his balls, heavy with his load, slapped against her ass. His grunts and groans of pleasure drowned her out until finally he cried out her name, spilling his seed deep inside her.

“Stop,” YN commanded Aemond after a few seconds.. He looked to her face desperately, obediently stopping his furious tugs of his cock just as he was on the verge of his own release.

“What do you wish, my queen?” Jace panted, pulling his still throbbing cock from her.

“Eat your spend from my cunt. Then when you pull away I wish Aemond to begin to fuck me, and you spit your seed into his mouth,” she told her brother, never looking away from Aemond. She watched as his cock twitched with anticipation. “I think that is what my husband wants, too.”

Jace smirked at her once more before looking to Aemond. “Come over here, then. Naked. My Queen wishes to enjoy you.”

Aemond had never moved so fast in his life. As Jace moved down his lover’s body, YN took her husband’s hand. It was a small moment of intimacy neither had allowed themselves before. Until tonight, a certain part of them remained duty. But now, there was no pretending.

Jacaerys lapped eagerly at her clit once he found his home between her thighs. She squirmed under his careful tongue, whimpering his name. Aemond felt desperate now, to make her replicate those sounds for him.

Jacaerys pulled away from her right before she came again. She was breathing heavy, eyes wide, as she looked down at him. Without breaking eye contact, he reached beside him and grabbed Aemond by his cock. Wordlessly, Aemond allowed himself to be lead, occasionally bucking his hips into Jacaerys’ hand. YN moaned at the sight.

With Aemond in position, his cock firmly pressed against her entrance, Jacaerys grabbed his uncle by the jaw and squeezed. Aemond instinctually opened his mouth. The brunette looked to his sister, who at this point was rubbing her own clit, before turning back to Aemond and spitting the mixture of his seed and YN’s release onto his waiting tongue. Just like a seasoned whore in Flea Bottom, Aemond swallowed eagerly.

“Tell her thank you for the gift she has bestowed in you,” Jacaerys whispered in Aemond’s ear. His hand moved to grasp his uncle’s cock, giving slow, lazy tugs. Between the heat of his wife’s pussy all but begging him to fuck her and the firmness of his nephew’s hold, it was almost painful to not begin to fuck her at a reckless pace.

“Th-thank you, for giving me a child,” Aemond stuttered out. Jacaerys began grinding against Aemond’s hip, his cock hardening with every passing moment.

“Apologize to her for not satisfying her enough,” the future king demanded. His eyes watched his sister’s fingers rubbing furiously against her clit, her body trembling. And then they traveled up her body. “Tell her what a goddess she is.”

“Such a goddess,” he whispered, looking down at her. “I am a fool for not worshipping every moment.”

“Mhmphh,” Jacaerys breathed out as he rutted against his uncle. “Slide your pretty cock into her and beg her to keep you. Beg our Queen to decide she wants to keep you when I marry her.”

As soon as Jacaerys’ hand fell away, Aemond buried himself to the hilt inside her pussy. But his hand was not unoccupied for long. He batted her hand away from her clit and replaced her fingers with his. He rubbed the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts against Aemond’s hip.

“Do not cast me aside,” Aemond begged her, his hips moving at breakneck speed as he pounded away at his wife’s pussy. “YN, my wife, please. Keep me by your side, fuck, fuck, and and I will worship you.”

“Slow yourself, match your thrusts to mine. Deeply,” Jacaerys whispered his ear. Aemond was quick to adjust his speed. He wanted to make both of them happy.

“Fuck,” YN whined out. Her thighs were trembling uncontrollably as once again she approached orgasm. “Want both of you. Want to be Queen. Want to be both yours,” she begged the two men. Her back arched as she screamed out, their names tumbling from her lips in a jumbled mess. Both men tried to maintain their movements as she rode out her eye.

Jacaerys came first, still sensitive from his first orgasm. His sticky spend painted Aemond’s pale hip before beginning to slide down the taut muscles and onto the mattress below. Aemond followed sooner after, his seed finding home deep inside his wife.

The three of them were breathing heavily. Jacaerys stepped back off the bed, finding a cloth so that he could wipe off Aemond’s hip. By the time the blonde prince had pulled out, his cock had softened. But neither man could avoid staring at her pussy as it leaked cum.

Aemond laid beside his wife, Jacaerys on the other. She giggled and pulled a sheet over their bodies.

“We shall wed in the Valyrian tradition, and our Uncle and I shall take turns fucking babe after babe into you,” Jacaerys whispered as he kissed her cheek.

“It is against the Faith, the law,” YN reminded her brother.

But Aemond saw the frown on her face and knew how much she wanted that future. And he wished for it too, wished for more nights in which the three of them could spend together. Something inside him shifted as he looked at the two of them. What was once a marriage to his dearest friend was now more. It was a chance at a happiness he would never have allowed himself.

“Lucky for us, we know the person responsible for the law,” he murmured as his hand rested on her stomach. “And I have it on good authority he wishes nothing more than to allow us this pleasure.”

She looked up at his face, her gaze soft. “Truly?” she whispered.

“Jacaerys is right. I have been a fool. A fool for not realizing the beauty that you are, the wonderful thing you are giving me,” he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “And this was the happiest I have ever seen you.”

“It is the happiest you have ever been either, dear husband,” she pointed out. “I have never seen you so responsive.”

Jacaerys rested his own again against her stomach, his finger tips grazing Aemond’s. “I am glad to have seen it from the both of you.”

“Marry her. And we shall all be together as we were tonight,” Aemond murmured. Jacaerys chuckled. “What?”

“Oh next time, I’m fucking your ass while you fuck her,” he smirking. “Or maybe we should see if both our cocks could fit in her.”

“Oh, I think she’s definitely a good enough girl to let us try. Aren’t you, my wife?”

She nodded eagerly before leaning up to kiss him. He hummed against her lips for just a moment before she pulled away and kissed Jacaerys.

When she pulled away, both men moved as close as possible to her and held her.

“I love you, sweet sister.”

Taglist: @alexagirlie

#aemond targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #aemond targaryen x reader smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #aemond x reader x jacaerys #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #use of yn #reader insert

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wooahaes · 13 days

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this love is full of fairy tales

pairing: non-idol!felix x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, established relationship au. engaged au.

warnings: food. talks of marriage. vague mentions about having kids in the distant future. felix and reader being dorks in love.

word count: 1.8k~

daisy's notes: kinda reflected on some personal stuff while writing this one oopsie!! its not in the fic tho dw

As cheesy as it probably sounded, Felix loved the fact that you spoke with your hands a lot. Right now, it meant your engagement ring would catch the light every so often, and he could quietly smile to himself with a giddy joy that he was getting to marry you one day. The fact that this restaurant had intimate lighting only made the experience better in his eyes.

The waitress had been politely chatting with you as she prepared a pot of cheese fondue for the two of you, talking animatedly about her own husband once you revealed that the two of you were engaged. She had her own wedding stories to share, and advice to impart on the two of you in order to ensure a happy day. Felix just kept looking at you, smiling to himself at how pretty you looked in the low light. When he told you where the two of you were going, you’d dressed up with glee over the fact you had an excuse to look nice. Most of the time, the two of you went to casual places—or a place where the most ‘dressy’ you had to get was maybe a nice shirt and pants. This place was expensive and filling (the best of both worlds, in his opinion) and he knew you loved it from a prior visit a while ago… So why not?

The waitress left soon enough, and the two of you began to dive into the cheese course. Felix offered you a piece of bread from his own fork, watching the way you pulled it off with your teeth after a moment. “So…”

You looked up, hand cupped over your mouth as you chewed. “Mm?”

“We’ve talked about it before, but since you brought up the wedding…” He absentmindedly picked at food for a moment. “I was wondering how dress shopping has been going.”

“Ugh.” You frowned a little for a moment. “I mean—I like the dresses. But… I dunno. There’s so many, and some of them don’t look good on me when they look great on other people, and…” You trailed off for a moment, frowning. “Sometimes I just kinda wish you were there with me.”

“Do you want me to be?”

Pressing your lips together, you nodded. “At least to help me narrow it down. If it’s important to you, I won’t show you the final dress… But I’d feel better if I had you there to help me narrow things down.”

He reached out just to take your hand, kissing your knuckles before letting it go. “Then I’ll be there.” He paused for just a second, “Oh! Seungmin said he’d take our engagement photos. I figured we’d get someone else to do the actual wedding, but—”

“No, that’s great,” you beamed. “As long as he doesn’t mind.”

The two of you kept talking casually, both about the wedding and about other day-to-day things. Yet Felix’s mind kept going back to the day he proposed to you. He’d been talking to so many people about it. To his parents, who told him to follow his heart. Getting married around your mid-twenties wasn’t a bad thing at all, even if it did feel young at times: the two of you still had plenty of time to do other things if that was what you wanted (which Felix later realized was their subtle way of saying that there was no race for the two of you to have kids right away). He’d talked to his sisters about it, and they’d teased him but basically told him the same thing. Eventually, he had lunch with Chris and talked to him about it… followed by the two of them going to look for rings. Felix had your ring size written down, after all, and who else to help him pick something than the person right there with him.

“I think she’ll like whatever you pick for her,” Chris had said to him while standing over glass cases, staring down at different designs.

He nodded along. Felix had known for years that you weren’t picky with jewelry, aside from preferring silver over gold. Yet he couldn’t ignore the way his heart seemed to race in his chest, the realization that this was real having set in. He was going to propose. The two of you had talked about marriage again months ago, and you’d basically said you could see yourself getting married to him. Whether that be sooner or later, you were fine with either… and something in his heart said soon. If he was going to spend his life with you like he wanted to, then why wait? No one said he had to marry you immediately, either. If the two of you wanted to have a long engagement, then you could do that. He stopped when he saw this small ring that had tiny diamonds along the sides of it, alternating in this leaf-line pattern, with one slightly larger gem in the middle of it. It made him think of fairy tales, if he were honest. Dreamy. Romantic. Things that he associated with you for so many reasons.

Chris came up beside him, looking down at it. “This one?” He pointed, just to be sure he was following Felix’s line of sight correctly. “I think she’d love that one, actually.”

Every day, Felix was glad the two of you had separate accounts for things like this. One joint one for things like bills and shared expenses, but he liked knowing he could surprise you easily by dipping into his own account. The ring practically burned a hole in his pocket for weeks as he tried to plan out the best way to propose to you. He knew he was going to get at least one or two of his friends to record it happening, just so the two of you would have that memory together. He’d thought about proposing at a nice restaurant, much like the one the two of you were in now…

“Felix?” You called out, and then giggled when he came back to reality. “Hi, sunshine. Everything okay?”

It was. With you in it, it always would be. “Yeah,” he said. “Just thinking.”

“Oh?” Your voice held a playful lift to it, and he wished he could kiss that smile now. “You wanna share?”

You would tease him if you knew. So he shook his head, changing the topic to how work had been treating you lately. Things had been rough before, and you seemed happier, so…

And then he let himself drift back into that memory. The two of you had gone on a picnic together by the river. One minute, the two of you were in deep conversation… and the next he’d been texted that Seungmin was in place and ready to record as soon as Felix took you down to the river. It’d been easy enough to get you to come with him (and Felix glanced back to see Jeongin had sat down at the picnic spot once the two of you were gone, just to protect it while Seungmin tailed you), talking about the early days of your relationship. You had been so shy with him, but that was okay. He had been shy, too. He didn’t want to mess anything up with you.

And then he turned to you. “I really love you, you know?”

It earned a giggle from you. “I love you, too, you dork.” You drew him in for a quick kiss. “You’re sentimental tonight, huh?”

He had a speech planned. He had so much he wanted to say to you. And then he teared up, pulse racing as he reached up to wipe his eyes.

“Lixie?”

“I’m fine!” He said, “I just—” Fuck it. He took a deep breath and then got down on one knee, pulling out the box. “I was going to say so, so much more, but… I think I should just ask you already.”

You ended up crying, too. But you said that one magic word when he asked, and he slipped the ring on your finger. You gushed over it for so long, and ended up taking him to a store to have him pick out his own ring.

“It’s only fair, you know,” you had said to him, looking into the cases. “You should show something off, too.”

Even tonight, he noticed the way you kept noticing how his own ring would shine in the light. He cared for it so carefully, never taking it off for long unless he was polishing it. It was a gift from you, after all: he always took care of the things you’d get for him, regardless of how big or small they were. He noticed your own subtle smiles over it, too.

“Hey,” Felix said at one point. The cheese course had been cleaned up, and the two of you were enjoying your salads. “I know this is kind of random, but… I’m really glad I met you in this life.”

Your gaze softened so much as you watched him. “Oh… Felix.” Your foot brushed against his calf, a safer way to let him know you were listening instead of your usual way of taking his hand considering the built-in cooktop between you was still hot from the cheese. “I’m really glad, too.” Then your nose scrunched as you giggled. “God, it feels like you’re going to propose to me again.”

“Maybe I will.” He smiled at you, turning a fork between his fingers. “If they didn’t already know… We could have probably gotten something for free.”

It earned another giggle from you, one that he never wanted to stop hearing. He’d trade everything if it meant he could keep you as happy as he could for the rest of your lives. “I’ll stop bragging, then.”

“No, don’t.” He rested his head in one hand, just to admire you for a moment. “I don’t think I could, so… It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Do you brag about me?”

You were teasing him, but he’d always be honest. “I do,” he said with this soft smile. “It’s kind of hard not to.”

You sputtered for a moment, face growing hot, and immediately went to take a long sip of your drink. The two of you had been together for so long, and still he found ways to mess with you like this. “Yeah,” you said after you’d composed yourself. “Uh. Ditto.”

He snorted a little. “Ditto?”

“Don’t poke fun at me!” You pouted at him. “You know being sweet like that scrambles my brain.”

Felix just smiled, stabbing his fork into another piece of his salad. “I think it’s my job now to poke fun at you,” he said. “You’ll do the same, though. I know you.”

Again, your foot brushed against his calf. “Yeah… You do.” You relaxed once more. “And I will.”He wouldn’t trade it for anything else. Especially if it meant he could kiss you at the end of each birthday, mumbling a soft “Happy birthday, my star,” against your lips.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

#wooahaes.fic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #stray kids x you #skz x you #felix fluff #lee felix x you #lee felix fluff #lee felix x reader #wooahaes.24

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

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𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙾𝙽𝚂 - chapter 10: all the love in the world. FINALE.

𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - the end is just the beginning.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - over 10k

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - SMUT (18+ only, I warned y'all from the beginning), emotions, angst, fluff, more stepcesty stuff, brief pregnancy mention/discussion, reader's mom gets a first name sorry if that breaks the illusion for anyone

(thank you to everyone who read this series, it's been such an adventure and I'm glad I could take you with me <3)

Eddie cleared his throat as he stood in front of the crowd gathered in the backyard— small, but still a crowd. "Well, um, hi," he waved at the seated guests, most of whom waved back. "Bet you never thought you'd see me in a suit, right?"

Scattered, polite laughs rippled through the group.

"Um, neither did I. And I never thought I'd see the day that my uncle got married, either, but here we are. Wayne's never had much luck with the ladies— I guess it's proof we're related, right?" he chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck briefly. "Anyways— I knew something was different when he came home from dinner with a 'friend' —" Eddie gestured with dramatic air quotes— "and couldn't stop smiling. I've got some pretty great friends but, they don't make me smile like that."

He glanced at you, and you offered your best reassuring smile-and-thumbs-up combo.

"He told me a couple days later that he'd met this woman,” Eddie continued, glancing down at the cards again. “Apparently he helped her find something at the hardware store. I was so happy for him that I resisted the urge to make an insensitive joke about if he was going to 'nail' her."

You snorted out an embarrassed laugh, and you caught your mom’s expression: clearly a little shocked, but thankfully, amused.

"And, uh, I met her a couple weeks later, and she said she liked my hair,” Eddie recalled. “So I knew she was cool. But most of all, I knew she was right for my uncle. He's a pretty stoic guy— and I don't think I've ever seen him laugh in my entire life the way he can laugh in one night with Donna. They're so right for each other it's nuts. It hasn't been an easy road to today for either of them. I think some people think you can only love one person in your life, but they're wrong: you can have an amazing life, and an amazing family, and an amazing daughter with someone…"

Your heart was in your throat already.

"...and you can still find happiness with someone else down the line. And I can’t think of anyone more deserving of that than you, Donna."

Shit. You were worried about crying during your own speech. You hadn’t even considered that you might cry over Eddie’s.

"Donna, you're too nice for your own good. You took me in just because you love my uncle so much— and that says everything about the kind of person you are. You've given me a roof over my head, you've given me way more credit than I deserve, and you've given me a really cool sister. She's actually cooler than me, which is annoying."

You laughed a little, but bit your lip when a sob almost came out.

"Wayne— I won't say too much because I'm not about to cry in front of all these people. I think everything I really need to say, you already know. But in case you don't… you're more of a dad to me than my father’s even been. I’d be in the clink or in a ditch somewhere if you hadn’t been there to straighten me out. I know I didn’t always make it easy on you… actually, I almost never made it easy on you. You taught me almost everything I know, except the guitar— and I’m gonna need you to teach me how to find such an amazing lady, and how to make it last. Deal?”

Wayne nodded at him, and the guests clapped politely as Eddie left his place standing in front of them to give his uncle a hug and his new aunt-slash-mother-figure a kiss on the cheek. On shaky legs, you stood up and hoped you could find some way to follow that.

Your heart raced as you found yourself facing all those guests; last time you’d been standing in front of them all, you’d been behind your mother at the altar, so they were all looking at her. Now you were alone and had all their attention to yourself; Eddie took his seat and shot you a thumbs up before you started.

You glanced down at your notes, holding onto them for dear life. Thank everyone for coming & joke about beer, the first line of the first index card read.

“Well,” you began, feeling your heart rate pick up, “I’d like to begin by thanking you all for coming. It means so much to us that you’re here, and I know you all wouldn’t miss an opportunity for free beer.”

It was a safe joke, and it got a safe laugh, and you looked at the next line for guidance: When Mom first met Wayne…

“When Mom first met Wayne,” you repeated, “she… actually didn’t tell me.”

That seemed to surprise a few people.

“I guess she was afraid that I wouldn’t approve, either of him or of her dating again at all. Sadly, her fears weren’t… totally misplaced,” you admitted, cringing slightly. “But only because, when it comes to any man who wants to be in my mom’s life, I have incredibly high standards. And anyone who knew my father knows why.”

You flipped to the next card. DAD it said at the top, with more notes of the points you wanted to cover beneath. You froze, wondering if you had the strength to go on with what you’d written.

“Um… after my dad passed away…” you started, voice getting a bit weaker— they were all staring at you, that was something you hadn’t properly appreciated when you were preparing this speech, that they’d all be staring like this. “It was hard, obviously. It’s not easy for anyone to lose a partner, or a parent. I know it was harder on my mom than she let on— she was trying to be strong for me. And I was just trying to pretend like everything was fine. But it wasn’t, and we were both hurting a lot. Our family was… broken, it was missing something. And, of course, no one could fill the space my dad left behind— but I didn’t know someone could make my mom that happy again.”

Shakily, you put the card at the back of the stack and stared at the next heading: WAYNE. Hard working, compassionate and passionate, nicer than he looks.

“Wayne, though, is truly a special man. He’s hard-working, compassionate and passionate, and I’ve learned that he’s not as intimidating as he looks,” you smiled. “I wouldn’t have blamed him at all for basically ignoring me completely— he knows I’m not a kid anymore, and he knows he doesn’t exactly need my approval to be with my mom. But, he also knows how important we are to each other, and he’s been nothing but supportive of me. Congrats, Mom, you might’ve gotten one of the last good ones.”

Again, polite laughter for an easy joke— if perhaps a bit more feminist than your average piece of wedding-speech-humor— but when you glanced up, you caught a smirk on Eddie’s face.

You looked down at your cards again, turning to the next one. EDDIE it said at the top… but the rest was blank. Fuck, you’d been putting off this part to the very last second— and the last second passed about ten minutes ago. You let out a nervous “um” as you stalled, trying to imagine what the fuck you could possibly say about Eddie. “A-and, well,” you choked, “what could I say about Eddie… that hasn't already been said over police radios all across the county."

They laughed, but you only cared if Eddie laughed at that one, so you'd know if you'd gone too far. You heard his laugh first and loudest, and you smiled to yourself.

"But, in all seriousness: Eddie, you're…" you trailed off again. You looked at him, which was a huge mistake; the way he was looking at you was just overwhelming. You glanced down at your cards again quickly. "You're definitely one of a kind," you decided, "and I'm… really, really lucky to have you in my life."

The crowd was filled with awwws, but you refused to look up from that blank index card. It was your only protection now— you felt terribly vulnerable in front of everyone, admitting things you hadn't even admitted to yourself. You took a deep, but shaky, breath in and out.

"They say you can't choose your family," you continued. "And even in this case, when we're not actually related, it's true. But— but I'd choose you anyways."

For a second, you almost thought Eddie was tearing up, but he was looking down and it was dark out already, so you couldn’t quite tell. You flipped to your last index card. Close out.

“It’s so special to be with you all here tonight,” you nodded, “celebrating Mom and Wayne— the hottest couple in Hawkins. Cheers!”

Glasses raised and clinked, and you gave your mom and your new stepfather a hug on your way back to your own seat.

As the night progressed, dinner turned to dancing and slightly heavier drinking— although it turns out older crowds don’t go quite as bananas for free alcohol as high school and college students do, shockingly.

“Can I get you a drink?” Eddie asked you after finding you keeping mostly to yourself in the corner.

“I’m, uh, not much of a drinker,” you informed him.

“Will you come dance with me?” he asked next.

“I’m not much of a dancer, either,” you laughed.

“Neither am I,” he assured with a laugh, extending a hand out to you. “Just come with me.”

You gave him a look. “What’s with the insistence?”

“I want you to have fun, is that so terrible?” he pressed.

“Since when is dancing with you ‘fun’?” you noticed.

He gave you a wide grin as one song faded out, and the next one began: Into The Groove by Madonna, the one Eddie had heard you singing along to loudly in your room however long ago. “I know you dance to this one,” he smirked.

Groaning in defeat, but smiling a bit as the guilty pleasure song played, you took his hand and let him drag you to the middle of the yard. Of course, for a song like this, dancing together is more just dancing near each other, but he was right— it was fun.

“I’m tired of dancing here all by myself, tonight I wanna dance with someone else!” the lyrics announced as you and Eddie bounced around uncoordinatedly; maybe you looked sort of stupid, but hey, you already had the uncomfortable fluff of a Pepto Bismol pink dress on so it wasn’t like you were ever at risk of looking elegant or anything…

Thankfully the weather was nice and the dark evening was getting even cooler, so working up some heat dancing this way actually served as a protection from the chilly breeze— Eddie had a flush on his face by the time the song was almost over, a rosy tint over his nose and cheeks and the slightest shine on his forehead from the exertion.

In a few minutes, the music changed, from fast and upbeat to something slow and gentle— you recognized it as soon as that familiar voice began to croon: “I can hear so much in your sighs, and I can see so much in your eyes…”

You smiled a little, remembering singing along to The Beach Boys when Eddie was practicing his guitar. You thought instantly that this song would sound so much better if he were singing it instead, even if you loved the original.

Some people left the dance floor, some couples got up to dance, but everyone had stopped the energetic dancing and had begun to move much more slowly, holding each other… it was all very romantic, except that you were just standing there staring at Eddie as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“There are words we both could say…”

He cleared his throat, and when he opened his mouth, you were so afraid he was about to make an excuse to leave. I’m gonna get a beer, you want one? or I should check in on the happy couple or something— and, hoping to stop him, you suddenly put your hands on his shoulders.

Looking at you again, he blinked those brown eyes quickly but stepped closer to you anyways. Your hands were still on his shoulders, but you never actually found the strength to push him away, so he put his hands on your waist and suddenly you were slow dancing. “But don’t talk, put your head on my shoulder…”

Your breathing was shaky and you hoped he wouldn’t notice; his thumb moved slightly where it held your waist through your dress, and you felt every touch amplified by your anxiety-awakened skin.

“Come close, close your eyes and be still,” the gentle singing played from the speakers, “take my hand and let me hear your heartbeat.”

Hesitating at first, you leaned your head forward and let it rest on his chest; he tilted his head down to look at you, but you didn’t look back at him, you just couldn’t take that right now. You really could hear his heartbeat, even without pressing your ear right up to him, even through the white button-up dress shirt; it was strong and fast, and your eyes fell shut.

“Being here with you feels so right, we could live forever tonight,” the song continued, “let's not think about tomorrow and don't talk, put your head on my shoulder—”

Swaying together, you felt Eddie hold you a little tighter, but he could never hold you tight enough. He could never hold you long enough.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and you blinked your eyes quickly so you could lean back and look up at him.

“For what?” you wondered.

“Being nice to me,” he replied. “Just for tonight— you can be mean again tomorrow.”

You laughed a little, looking down at where his shiny black shoes stepped in time with your pink kitten heels. But then you felt his hand on your waist squeeze gently again and you sighed. Silence returned, but it wasn’t awkward, just… quiet. Except for, you know, the music, which went on as you danced together.

“Don’t talk, put your head on my shoulder…”

When the song ended all too soon, you stepped back slightly and looked up at Eddie, wondering if he could see everything in your eyes— it felt like he could, it looked like he could with the way he was looking back at you.

There was only a second of silence before the next song came on, and the melody played on plunky synths gave it away instantly as Take My Breath Away by Berlin. You exhaled a quick laugh and Eddie took his hands off your back. “I hate this song,” you announced.

“Me too,” he agreed, “so cheesy.”

You nodded and crossed one arm over your chest to hold the other nervously, starting to awkwardly glance around the reception.

“Wanna get out of here?” he offered, and you looked up at him.

“Eddie, we can’t leave,” you said when you realized what he was suggesting.

“Yeah we can,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand, “just for a few minutes— they won’t even notice.”

You hesitated before nodding; “Y-yeah, sure…”

He grabbed your wrist and guided you across the yard to the fence, specifically the darkest corner of the fence where he took a cursory glance to make sure no one was looking before lacing his fingers together and holding them down for you. “Here,” he offered, tilting his head towards the fence.

You started to lift your foot before you put it on the ground again. “Wait. You’re not gonna look up my skirt, are you?”

He sighed. “Do you really think so little of me, sweetheart?”

Sufficiently guilted, you stepped on his hands and let him give you a lift up so you could grab the top of the fence, just barely getting the leverage you needed to pull one leg over.

“Ooh, cute lace,” he praised lasciviously.

“God damn it,” you hissed, flinging yourself over and managing to land upright on both feet on the other side— it was easier to get down this way because a hill was just starting and the ground was a bit higher. Eddie hauled himself up a moment later, jumping down onto the other side and dusting himself off afterwards.

You walked up the hill together as he promised to take you to some place he knew about— you just hoped it wasn’t too far, because these silken flats weren’t exactly built for distance.

It wasn’t far at all, actually; it was just past the treeline, over the highest point of the hill, and when Eddie guided you out to where he’d stopped, you gasped at the view. From here, you could see nearly all of Hawkins— twinkling lights in rows and columns, cars driving down streets, the old church, the town hall—

“Oh my god,” you breathed. “From here, it almost doesn’t look like the shittiest little town ever.”

He laughed. “I know, right?”

“When did you find this place?” you asked.

He sat down on the grass and patted beside him for you to sit, too. “Well,” he began as you tried to find a comfortable way to sit in the dress, “it must’ve been about a week after I moved in. I went on a walk and sorta just stumbled on it.”

You laughed and sighed simultaneously, shaking your head. “I’ve lived here for years, and never knew I was one hill away from the best view of the town; you’re here a week and you find this.”

“I think your problem is you have all these amazing things right in front of you,” he decided, “but you don’t know how to look for them.”

“Is that supposed to be a metaphor?” you pressed.

He shrugged. “It’s just something I noticed.”

A long lull fell in the conversation while the two of you looked out over the lights of Hawkins. The music from the reception seemed to follow the wind, and with a gust of breeze, you heard guitars and melodic singing: Josie’s on a vacation far away, come around and talk it over…

You laughed, just to yourself, but then started to laugh harder until you were holding your stomach and falling back into the grass.

“What?” Eddie laughed with you. “What’s so funny?”

You tried to tell him, but you were laughing too hard to make sense.

“Come on,” he whined, and you composed yourself enough to string a sentence together.

“I hated you,” you laughed, “god, I hated you in high school! You were so… loud! And you didn’t care what anyone thought of you— and back then, I thought that was a bad thing, I thought it was impossible. And now— now that nothing can ever happen with us, of course that’s when I start falling for you.”

You didn’t even care that you’d said it, you didn’t even care that he was looking at you that way or that it felt like getting stabbed in the chest. Your laughter stopped, and you bit your lip to keep it from turning into tears.

“And I just think that’s funny,” you concluded.

“Yeah,” he smiled, looking down at the ground, “yeah, it is funny.”

You were looking out at the horizon, the lights all over Hawkins going out as stores closed and families went to bed and your sleepy little town really slept, when Eddie scooted a little closer to you.

“One question,” he requested. “Uh… remind me why nothing can ever happen with us?”

“‘Cause my mom, and your uncle,” you sighed. Your eyes glanced down at your legs, seeing his stretched out beside them, one ringed hand resting on his bent knee as the other kept him propped up in the grass. “They’re married, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “they really love each other, huh?”

You nodded.

“Wayne told me when he was gonna propose to your mom,” Eddie said suddenly. “I asked him what he was gonna say, and he said, ‘I’m just gonna tell her the truth.’”

You smiled. “That’s why they work. The truth is exactly what she needs.”

“What do you need?”

You looked down at the grass. “I… I don’t know.”

"Maybe," he whispered, "I could finally tell you the truth, too."

You gave him an expectant stare, and he coughed a bit, but continued.

“Okay, well, the truth is,” Eddie began, “I like who I am when I’m with you. I know you don’t, really, but… I do. And when I’m not with you, I’m usually thinking about you. ‘Usually’ as in, ‘always’.”

As he looked at you, searching your expression for some reaction, he leaned in a little closer.

“And I had a bit of a thing for you in high school— I mean, as much as I could, without ever talking to you,” he added. “Except that one time.”

You remembered it well, normally, but suddenly you forgot everything you ever knew as he moved even closer, his face right in front of yours, his eyes giving you a look that made you shiver.

“And I love you,” he leaned in to kiss your cheek, “I love you,” he kissed the other, “I love you.”

He kissed just beside your nose, and you whimpered: “Eddie—”

He held your face in both his hands, pulling back to look at you closely. “No, don’t break my heart just yet. Let me tell you one more time. I love you.”

You took a shaky breath. “I thought you hated me,” you whispered.

He looked hurt, and as a tear fell from your eye, he wiped it away with his thumb. “No, no baby— how could you think that?”

“Because…” you trailed off. “Because the way I love you makes me hate myself.”

With him giving you that devastated look, you figured you had to continue before you made it too much worse.

“You’re everything I wish I could be,” you explained, “you’re crazy and you’re confident and you’re free. You don’t care what people think. And I’m—”

“Uptight, self-conscious, and perfectionistic?” he finished, and you frowned.

“Hey…” you mumbled defensively, looking down, but he lifted your face again.

“Those are all the things I love about you,” he explained. “I love everything about you. I knew how you felt about me back then— it didn’t stop me from having a massive crush on you.”

“First it’s a ‘bit of a thing’, now it’s a ‘massive crush’?” you noticed with a raised eyebrow, and he laughed as his cheeks tinted.

“Can’t get anything past you, huh?” he sighed. “Yeah, I was really into you. I told myself that you were really this creative, passionate, wild-and-crazy sort of girl beneath the goody-two-shoes shell— that you were just waiting for someone to break you out of that prison you built for yourself. And I imagined that it was me, that one day you’d ask me for something and we would start talking and you would end up begging me to take you away from it all. To steal you from that asshole Gary and sweep you off your feet— and we would get in the van and leave it all behind. Fuck Hawkins, fuck high school, fuck everybody.”

You sniffled, clutching at his tuxedo jacket’s lapel. “Eddie…” you whispered, not sure how to say anything more than that.

“We’d find shitty jobs and a shitty apartment somewhere in the middle of a town that actually matters,” he continued, “and we’d sleep on the floor the first night because there wasn’t time to pick out a bed. I could play guitar on a street corner and buy you flowers with whatever coins people toss in the case, and you could take enough pictures to cover the walls so we don’t need wallpaper. And we’d find a stray cat in the rain and bring it inside and name it something metal like Sabbath or Zeppelin. And it would all be so stupid, so massively irresponsible, but it would be our stupid irresponsible little life together. And it would be fucking beautiful.”

Biting your lip, you still couldn’t stop yourself from crying as tears fell down your heated cheeks. “Eddie, that’s what I wanted,” you sighed. “I didn’t know it then, but that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Then let’s do it,” he whispered, and it was you that closed the gap— it was you that kissed him, finally, holding on tighter to his jacket as you inhaled sharply and pressed your lips onto his.

They really were soft, just like you thought they’d be; but he tasted different than you expected, maybe because he hadn’t smoked recently. But he tasted like the way the air smells after it rains, and beer, and the leftover sweetness of wedding cake frosting. You breathed against his skin and tasted it more as he deepened the kiss, letting yourself really melt into it, letting him hold you tighter and move his lips with yours however he wanted.

His hand gently reached up to hold the back of your head; the other stroked your cheek one more time before drifting down to your waist.

It was surreal— it was hyperreal— it was Eddie, you were kissing Eddie. Eddie Munson, the freak, the loser, the delinquent; Eddie Munson, your technical-relative; Eddie Munson, that guy who wouldn’t sit still for the damn yearbook photo.

Somehow, thinking about it like that just made you smile a bit and kiss him harder.

What was originally gentle and comforting and sweet started to shift after a few moments, as he opened his mouth wider and gripped your waist harder and let you feel some of that hunger— god, you knew the feeling too well, and you scooted forward in the grass to press yourself to him a bit. He hummed, low and soft, and you whimpered in return as your noises were nearly lost in the kiss.

You held on tighter to his lapel, then reached up to squeeze his shoulders, and he groaned— fuck, it was the sexiest thing you’d heard since… no, actually, it was just the sexiest thing you’d ever heard.

Gasping against his lips, you pushed him down roughly by those shoulders, pinning him to the grass as you swung your leg and straddled his lap. “Fuck,” he muttered, pulling you down to kiss him again.

It was shameless now, all lips and tongue and teeth— when he gently bit on your lower lip you thought you might really go actually crazy— as your hands gripped at his shirt to feel his chest while his touch ran down your back, up your legs, basically anywhere he could reach.

Just when you thought this was it, you were really going to get it over with right here and now after all these years, he broke away. “Baby, wait,” he choked out, shrinking back, and you froze as you pulled away by sitting up slightly.

“What?” you asked, terrified you were about to get your heart kicked back into its cage when you freed it for the first time in years.

“Th-this is a rental,” he blurted out, motioning slightly at the tux he had on.

After a moment’s pause, you started to laugh. And he laughed, too. You relaxed slightly and sat back on his thighs; he sat up and pulled you into a hug, kissing the side of your head while it was nearby. The laughter died down, and the moment passed, and you let each other out of the embrace.

“We should probably get back now,” he decided, and you nodded in agreement.

He took your hand and you ran together through the grass, back towards the sound of the backyard reception, back to the real world.

The whole crowd of guests stood out front and waved as Wayne and your mom drove away — for all the effort you put into getting a nice vintage Cadillac for the send-off, it looked pretty tacky with the streamers and cans tied to it, clanking as it drove down the cul-de-sac.

When they were out of sight, you and Eddie took one more deep breath before turning to the guests behind you. “Thank you all so much for coming!” you announced.

And that was basically what you did for the next fifteen minutes: shake a bunch of hands, wave goodbye, thank everyone for their attendance and gifts. When they left, the rest of your work was only beginning, and it was nearly midnight! Eddie offered to wash dishes and take out the trash while you took down decorations and paid the guys coming to take back the rented stereo equipment.

Thankfully, with the two of you, it went pretty quickly. There was more to do, but it could wait until the morning; it’s not like having tables and chairs set up in your backyard overnight is a crime or something.

When you were done with your tasks, you leaned up against the entryway to the kitchen, finding Eddie drying the last plate. He looked over his shoulder at you for a second, smiling, before drying his hands and setting it all down to face you: his jacket was long gone and his bowtie hung untied loosely around an unbuttoned collar that exposed a hint of clavicle and chest hair.

“So, house to ourselves,” he noticed, glancing around. “We throwin’ a rager or what?”

You smiled softly, glancing down.

He approached you slowly and carefully, reaching up to hold your shoulders when he was close enough. Even now you felt a little shaky, a little nervous to be this close to him even when you’d already kissed, but his gentle smile soothed you; so you did it, you stood up a bit taller and kissed him.

It wasn’t as sudden as the last one, so it wasn’t as rushed, and yet there was a creeping sense of urgency to it because you both realized it could go somewhere— maybe it didn’t have to, but with an empty house and no time limit or deadline coming up, anything could happen tonight.

As you clutched his shirt and pulled him closer with an inhale through your nose, feeling his hands take your waist and press you to him, you realized that you wanted it to go somewhere. Not just anywhere— you knew exactly where you wanted this to go.

“Bed,” you blurted out, pulling back to look up at him. “We— we should go to bed.”

“Okay,” he agreed, sounding a little breathless, “top or bottom?”

You laughed as he started guiding you with him already. “Mine, for sure,” you decided.

“Aw,” he pouted as you walked through the bedroom door, “I’ve been thinking about getting you in my bed for ages— not gonna let me have my fantasy, huh?”

As you fell back onto your bottom bunk, pulling him down with you, he got the angle wrong and smacked his forehead on the wood between the mattresses; you laughed, covering your mouth when you felt guilty for it, and he scrunched up his nose as he held his head for a second. “That was my fantasy,” you joked, and he laughed in return as he ducked a little too dramatically now to join you in the bed.

The lower bunk could feel a bit like a cave sometimes, in a cozy sort of way— but with Eddie on top of you, it was like it was all closing in on you as his weight dipped you both deeper into the mattress than ever. That probably sounds horribly claustrophobic, but it was actually nice. You felt safe and shockingly not-vulnerable considering the circumstances, even as he started to unzip the back of your dress while he kissed you again.

For your part, you were absolutely flying through his shirt’s buttons, sighing when it was opened and you could run your hands over his warm skin beneath. His tattoos looked better than ever peeking out from under a tuxedo shirt, though you only got a brief glimpse of him before his lips on your neck all but forced your head to tilt back.

“Sensitive,” he noticed with a whisper, but just one word said like that made you mewl and work harder to get his shirt off. But before you could get it all the way over his shoulders, he managed to get your dress down enough to expose your chest— and he hungrily sucked on your breasts as soon as he could.

“Oh god,” you whined, hips rocking up into nothing.

“Here too,” he laughed as he kissed from one to the other, looking up at you for a second. “Are you always this… responsive?”

You almost laughed imagining that Eddie really thought Gary had ever gotten this kind of reaction out of you. You bit your lip and shook your head, and a little snarl curled his lips as he growled at you.

“Just for me, then?” he assumed, and you nodded. “That’s so sexy— you’re so sexy…”

“You too,” you admitted as he suckled at your chest again. “I-I thought about this.”

“Yeah?” he breathed. “I thought about this, too— a lot.”

You smiled proudly, before he broke away and sat up slightly to tug your dress off down your legs. He purred again as he admired you laying there beneath him, naked spare for your panties, but he surprised you by coming back down to kiss your stomach— not exactly where you expected him to start, but okay— and beginning to move lower and lower…

Oh, fuck. He looked up at you as he kept making his way down, fingers tucking into your panties so he could slide them down your thighs.

Even obviously knowing what was coming, you gasped loudly when his lips latched onto your pussy. “F-fuck!” you choked as his tongue lapped at you eagerly, suction tugging on your clit until your insides throbbed helplessly.

He held onto your legs and pushed his face harder against you, sliding his tongue deeper inside you, shutting his eyes tight while he seemed to feed on your need until you had to grab on to the support beams on either side of your head. You felt him smile down there— cocky little shit— and go even harder.

The pleasure was heavy on your gut, like a weight keeping you pinned down, even though you longed so much to rock up into it for more. “I— oh my god…”

He moaned against you, the most perfect sound muffled by your body, his fingers digging a little harder into your soft skin. He was ruthless, and when you were nearly screaming, he just took it as a sign to go harder on you— he chased your pleasure fast enough that he had it captured in just a few minutes.

“I— I’m— oh god, Eddie,” you whined. “I’m… I’m so close…”

He nodded and hummed against you but refused to slow down for even a second, just shutting his eyes tighter as he focused all his strength into keeping your hips still so he had total control over the way his mouth took you apart piece by piece.

One of your hands shot down and took a tight hold on his hair, but his groan of pain actually sounded rather pleased. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged, “oh my god—”

Your neck craned back and your spine arched so hard you lifted off the bed for a second, and he just opened his mouth wide and left his tongue stuck out so you could ride it shamelessly, the fireworks going off behind your eyelids as your orgasm shook your body.

You said his name a few more times, not really meaning to but needing to, and his heavy breaths fanned over your flushed skin.

Only when you shakily sank back down into the bed, loosening your grip on his mane, did he break away and sit up to look down at you with a swallow and satisfied sigh.

“What’d you do that for?” you panted, unable to fight your own smile at the sight of his: wide and sparkling with slick that dripped down to his chin.

“‘Cause somebody oughta,” he explained, finally taking his shirt off all the way since you never actually got around to it.

“But I didn’t mean to come so fast…”

“It’s better this way— I already know I won’t be able to last long with you,” he admitted, leaning forward and capturing you in a messy kiss that tasted like— well, I bet you can guess what it tasted like. Wedding cake, of course!

His breathing was heavy, too, as he tried to divide his mental energy between kissing you and unbuttoning his tuxedo pants; once that was done he pushed them down his thighs just enough that he could guide your hand to his aching cock, and you let out a long whimper of a breath as you wrapped your fingers around it. God, it was literally hot, he must be burning up, and the drip of arousal running down made everything all smooth as you ran your fingers over the delicate skin.

“Put it in for me,” he instructed you under his breath, so as he lowered his hips down, you lifted your own a bit and guided him to your opening. He gasped before he was even inside, just feeling your heat on the very tip of his cock; and as he delicately slid in, you groaned and dropped your head back.

A deep satisfaction filled you— literally— when his hips were flush with yours, full to the brim and gasping as he laid down on top of you.

“So perfect,” he breathed as he brushed loose hair away from your face. “I love you so much.”

You really didn’t wanna cry right now, it would be stupid, right? It would be too weird. You reached up and grabbed onto the back of his neck to make him kiss you again. “I love you too,” you replied only when you were ready to say it without your voice breaking.

He started to move, careful and slow, and for some reason you just needed to say it again, mumbled into the kiss.

“I love you,” you repeated, reaching up to hold onto his back. He nodded against you with a sigh of his own.

“I know,” he promised, “I know…”

And even if he knew, it just felt good to finally say it, and not even feel bad about it— not a drop of guilt or regret or self-consciousness. That could wait for the morning.

Holding each other tightly, you found a steady pace— and then it was Eddie’s turn to hold onto one of the beams by your head as he buried his face in your neck. “God,” he grunted, “so fuckin’ wet— you’re dripping for me, sweetheart…”

Whimpering, you let your nails dig into his back and your legs wrap around his hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned, kissing your neck hungrily. The stretch inside you was pleasurable enough, but then with his lips and tongue and teeth on your pulse, a tingling feeling danced up your back and you nearly sobbed from how good it felt. And then he let go of the beam to toy with your hard nipple, and you thought you might lose your cool again right away. “Fuck!” he said again, louder, as he picked up his pace. “Y-you squeezed me so tight, baby, did you feel that? Oh my god…”

You hadn’t felt it, until he made you do it again, and you noticed that time with a wavering cry of his name.

“Promise me something,” he panted as he lifted his head to look down at our face. “Never stop saying my name like that.”

He kissed you before you could properly agree to it, slipping his hands under your back the next time it arched so he could hug you tightly as he thrusted much, much faster.

“Fuck, m’gonna come,” he whimpered, “I’m sorry— I really wanted to last longer, but god, you’re so— you— fuck!”

“S’okay,” you insisted, “just come— oh my god, Eddie, I want you to come—”

“Baby, baby,” he whined pleadingly as his head fell onto your shoulder, “don’t say that, I don’t want it to end so soon…”

“It doesn’t matter,” you promised, “just come, please, inside me—”

“Christ,” he blurted out, taking a tight hold of your hips and tossing his head back as his movements became a blur against your numbing, sticky walls. “I— fuck, you’re sure I don’t have to pull out?”

You nodded as you gripped his arms. “I’m sure, please please Eddie—!”

He gasped loudly and gave you an extra sudden, sharp thrust— and you started to feel it, his cock flexing in you, his heat flooding you, both of you panting as you started to still.

A long sigh accompanied his collapsing onto you, catching his breath between kisses all along your neck and face.

“I really, really tried not to come that fast,” he laughed breathlessly, and you just hugged onto his torso tighter.

“So did I,” you promised. “I-it’s fine, really… I’m definitely satisfied, I mean, fuck— that was… fuck.”

“Yeah…” he agreed.

And you both fell asleep in seconds. Because it was nearly two in the morning and you’d been working on the wedding shit all day and it was actually kind of a miracle you stayed awake long enough to do that in the first place!

You woke up hours later, the only light in the room just slivers of moonlight leaking through the window; he was behind you, holding you close, breathing on the back of your neck. You held on tighter to the arm in front of your chest, leaning your head back into his chest, not expecting him to stir and sleepily plant a kiss on your head.

“Are you awake?” you whispered so softly there was any noise, but he nodded.

“Barely,” he admitted. “You’re so warm…”

He hugged you tighter, then kissed you again— then lifted his head to kiss under your ear, by your jaw, just over your pulse…

You didn’t even mean to grind your ass into him, it was just that what he was doing made your back arch. “Sweetheart,” he breathed, and that made you even hotter. “I need you again.”

It was so easy to slide right in, your body still leaking his come from before, but even without that he could get you wet in seconds; you moaned lowly and tried to arch your back deeper to angle his cock just how you thought you wanted— but he grunted and pulled your back into his chest, wanting to feel as much of you as he could. It made the angle of his thrusts a bit less natural and yet it forced him to rub right against your spot, and you shut your sleepy eyes tighter at the feeling. “Fuck— like that, Eddie, just like that…”

He nodded in agreement and turned his gentle pecks on your shoulder into a full-on assault of tongue on anything he could reach, getting more desperate for you by the second.

That one lasted much longer— maybe hours, you were totally unable to keep track of time, but at some point he rolled you onto your stomach and rutted on top of you slowly. He never had to pick up his pace to send you right into your first orgasm… or the second.

“Oh my god,” you sighed, “I’ll come again, oh fuck—”

“Good,” he praised roughly right into your ear, voice gravelly from sleep, “good— keep coming. Don’t ever stop coming for me, baby, I love feeling it… I love hearing you, sound so fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart.”

You whined and bit your lip, reaching up to grab a handful of your pillow— but his hand reached over yours and interlaced his thick fingers with your shaking ones, soothing kisses trailing the side of your face as you sobbed softly. He kept praising you and you, following instructions, kept coming until it wasn’t really a matter of counting them anymore— it was just this never-ending feeling that swallowed you whole, which would be scary if you were alone. But he was right there with you, promising he’d never let you again.

It ended as gradually and softly as it started, and he hugged you into him for you to fall asleep again much more easily than you’d think after a wake-up like that. When you awoke for good, the sun was high in the sky. You couldn’t see the clock, because you were too busy looking up at his sleeping face, but you guessed it was at least nine or ten. It was the latest you’d slept in years.

You didn’t want to wake him up, but staring at him and playing with his hair didn’t satisfy you forever, so you started to plant tiny kisses on his chest, and that stirred him from sleep with a happy groan.

“Hey,” he greeted, and you weren’t ready to see his eyes again, in the light of the day, knowing how easily you’d given in to him after trying to resist for so many reasons for so long. You weren’t ready to wonder if this was just getting out some pent-up energy before parting for as long as you needed to be regular step-siblings.

You just shut your eyes and laid your head on his bicep as he sat up on his side to look at you.

“Sleep okay?” he asked, and you snorted.

“I mean, I slept great,” you smiled, “when I was sleeping.”

“Me too,” he agreed as he kissed your cheek. “Open your eyes, baby, I wanna see you.”

“Mmm…” you groaned in protest, burying your face in the pillow when he tried to hold it.

“C’mon,” he whined, “I miss you.”

“I’m right here!” you promised, but you gave in and let him turn your face towards him as your eyes blinked open. You were right— you weren’t ready. The way he was looking at you was impossible to ever move on from, and you’d never be able to do it if he asked you to.

“So, are we—?” he started.

“Don’t,” you said quickly, reaching up to lay a hand on his chest. “Don’t ask me what we are, okay? ‘Cause I don’t even know.”

“I… was just gonna ask if we were gonna go out for breakfast or cook ourselves,” he explained, and you felt a heat on your face in embarrassment. “I kinda worked up an appetite there, believe it or not.”

“Oh,” you sighed, “um, I can cook something.”

You made a move to get up and he pulled you back down. “N-no, wait,” he frowned.

“I thought you were hungry,” you noticed.

“Yeah… but I don’t want you to go,” he sighed, keeping you close. There was a brief pause as you laughed softly, his arm wrapping around you. “And also I wanna talk about that thing you don’t wanna talk about.”

“Ugh, Eddie,” you groaned, “can’t it wait a little longer?”

“Sure, but can I at least ask you to be my girlfriend first?” he requested.

“You know I can’t,” you sighed, “I’m already your stepsister.”

“See, here’s the thing— I was thinking about that earlier,” he explained, “and what I realized is that… I don’t actually… care, so—”

“What if I care?” you wondered.

“You can’t exactly make that argument when you’re naked in bed with me,” he noticed.

“Well, maybe it was—”

“Don’t tell me it was a mistake,” he interrupted firmly. “You’re not much of a liar— I was there, sweetheart, we both know that was the farthest thing from a mistake. All the time we spent not doing that was the mistake!”

You smiled, because you couldn’t deny that. Misguided? Sure. Poorly timed? Definitely. But nothing truly wrong could feel that right.

“We don’t have to call it, you know, that,” he offered, “boyfriend and girlfriend— if you don’t want to. As long as we’re together, it’ll be fine.”

“But people can’t know we’re together,” you insisted, “least of all Mom and Wayne.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“What are we gonna do when they get back?” you wondered.

“Guess I’m gonna have to go—” he reached up and knocked his fist on the slats above you— “back upstairs.”

“I’ll miss you,” you whined, cuddling harder into him.

“Okay, I’ll come down after they go to sleep,” he decided, hugging you tighter as well.

You spent the rest of your week alone together for the honeymoon very… similarly to a honeymoon, actually. Damn near every room in the house was defiled and you were so exhausted you ended up calling in sick to work most days. It was well worth it, obviously; Eddie had so much energy and lost time to make up for, meanwhile you were just happy to let him shower you in affection and bring you in an hour more pleasure than you’d had in the rest of your life combined.

“God, I can’t, I really really can’t,” he insisted as your lips latched onto his neck and your hips grinded in his lap.

“You said that last time,” you remembered.

“I know, but now I mean it!” he sighed, dropping his head onto the back of the couch. “What are you doin’ to me, woman? Trying to kill me?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, licking his neck and purring as you felt the muscles in it shift under your tongue. “Isn’t this how you always wanted to die?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “but I can’t croak so soon— you’d miss me too much.”

For all his insistence that he couldn’t go again, that ten times in four days was too much, he was guiding your movements in his lap hardly ten minutes later, watching with heavy eyes as you sank down onto his cock over and over.

“Fuck, so pretty,” he breathed, biting his lip while he drank in the sight. Thick hands ran up your thighs as you bounced on him, slipping around to grab palmfuls of your ass while you rode, and you moaned happily.

It’s easy to guess that you got a bit spoiled by that week. Eddie had you addicted to him in moments and kept you around his finger (sometimes literally) so easily. As such, it made you dread even more each day that you got closer and closer to the return of the newlyweds. You couldn’t even imagine going back to normal after this— and what even was ‘normal’ before? You never really had one.

Even if it was just a matter of keeping it a secret, you knew it wouldn’t be easy. Maybe if it had been easier, the plan would’ve lasted a bit longer.

They returned from their trip on a Wednesday afternoon, and you all sat at the table together to talk about how much fun they had and all the fishing and hiking and relaxing they did. It was good to see them again, but even just sitting across the table from Eddie felt odd. Even just being apart that night while you and your mom went out for dinner alone felt odd. Even just sleeping in separate bunks, after you chickened out on sharing from the fear that someone would burst in and see your cuddling, felt odd.

Eddie got up first, but he went to the bathroom to shower and shave before you got up so you couldn’t even try to sneak in a quick good morning kiss. Instead, you started preparing breakfast in the kitchen, taking a break to brush your teeth when the bathroom was free and he was watching TV. Other than offering to make him a piece of toast, you didn’t say much, mainly because you were still kind of waking up.

While you were finishing breakfast preparations you heard Eddie come into the kitchen and step up behind you, but you didn’t say anything, and neither did he for a second— not until he was standing just a bit too close.

“This is way too hard,” he whispered.

“Hm?” you wondered, shivering when his lips gently brushed against your neck in the next moment. “E-Eddie, we can’t—”

“I know,” he agreed under his breath, “that’s what’s so hard. Not being able to touch you, or kiss you, or…”

You were trying to resist, really, but his fingers were just barely tickling your sides through your shirt while his tongue teased your ear and it made your knees a little weak. Okay, a lot weak; you just had to let him spin you around so he could kiss you on the mouth, hard and needy.

You were so caught up by it that you didn’t hear the sound of movement on the other side of the wall. You just reached up to wrap your arms together on top of his shoulders and let him deepen it, tilting your head a bit as you fought back a moan.

He started to guide you back, and you barely questioned it, and the two of you all but fell into the dining room, nearly colliding the table; and it was a good thing you didn’t, since that would’ve put Wayne’s coffee at risk of falling off the table— he, by the way, was sitting at the table next to your mom, something neither of you had taken the time to notice, until the man gruffly cleared his throat to get your attention.

You pulled away from each other with a gasp; Eddie coughed lightly while you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, wide-eyed as you took in the way the two of them were staring at you from their seats at the table.

“Good morning,” Wayne finally offered, and Eddie nodded with a nervous laugh as you tried to decide where to start.

“S-sorry,” you decided to say first, “we were— it’s not— he was just—”

He was just what, helping me decide if I should get a new flavor of toothpaste? He was just saying ‘good morning’ the European way? He was just helping me butter my toast? Oh god, that sounds even worse…

“Oh, you don’t need to act so shy about it,” your mom promised with a tilt of her head, which made you switch from shock to bewilderment. “I actually always thought it was strange you never kissed in front of us before now!”

Eddie raised one of his eyebrows as he looked at her in confusion. “Um… well, we never kissed at all before— before, you know, a couple days ago…”

“Wait, really?” she laughed. “That’s a little odd— being involved all this time and waiting so long to kiss?”

You blinked, choking as you tried to reply to that. “We— we weren’t involved! Until now!”

Wayne tried to cover his smile with his hand, but it couldn’t hide his laugh. Your mom looked at him and then back at you. “What?!” she yelped. “Wayne and I— we were so sure you two were—!”

“No!” you blurted out. “We weren’t… why would you think that?”

“Because it was obvious,” Wayne explained flatly. “We’re old, not stupid.”

“You were so clearly interested in each other!” she went on. “We figured you’d started dating and just didn’t tell us because— well, you didn’t need to! You really weren’t?”

“Of course not!” you insisted. “Mom, we’re— you know… related! Kind of. That doesn’t bother you?”

“It didn’t seem to bother either of you,” she noticed. “But, you’re both adults, you can do what you like. You were classmates long before Wayne and I ever met. People marry their high school sweethearts all the time.”

“O-okay, to be clear,” you stammered, “we went to high school together— but we were not sweethearts.”

Eddie gave you a look, crossing his arms as if he was amused by all this, and you shook your head.

“But— okay, well, thank you, I guess, for your… blessing,” you decided. “And we’ll… try not to kiss in the kitchen too often.”

That night, after saying goodnight to Mom and Wayne, Eddie followed you into your bedroom and shut the door behind you. He sat next to you on your bed, even though you kind of expected him to climb up to his own— but you didn’t have any complaints when he pulled you into a kiss that built quickly in intensity.

You brushed your fingers through his hair (as best you could with how tangled it was) and hummed as he gently held your waist, but when you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself if it went on much longer, you had to cut it short.

“Wait,” you gasped, pushing him back gently until he stopped and looked at you with big, wide eyes. “We can’t…”

“Why not?” he wondered.

“Because…” you trailed off, finishing your sentence by pointing in the other direction.

“Because…” he repeated, squinting his eyes as he looked where you were pointing. “Because, the wall? Aw, babe, I know I get a little carried away but I don’t think the walls are gonna collapse.”

“No, the other side of the wall,” you sighed.

“The bathroom?”

“The other side of that.”

“...the water heater?”

“Eddie!” you whined. “The other side of that!”

“The master bedroom, final answer,” he nodded. “What— Mr. and Mrs. Munson? What about ‘em?”

“Um, their… presence?” you clarified, not sure what he wasn’t getting.

“If they know we’re together then we don’t have to hide it,” he pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean I wanna fuck with them in the house,” you returned with a frown.

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” he smirked, “you know— if the bunk bed’s a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’ or something like that.”

“That’s… not a saying.”

“Okay, but, close enough,” he pouted.

“Still not having sex with you while our parents are home,” you insisted. He didn’t seem too disappointed, though— actually, a mischievous smile grew on his face as he looked at you.

“I noticed something,” he informed you. You raised your eyebrows and waited. “Your mom said people marry their high school sweethearts all the time. You said we weren’t sweethearts.”

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“But you didn’t tell her we weren’t getting married.”

Your eyes went wide and you bit your lip; he looked way too fucking proud of himself as he leaned in closer and poked you teasingly in the stomach with his fingers. You tried to lean away or cover yourself with crossed arms but it wasn’t working, and neither were your attempts to stifle your laughter.

“You’re soooo into me,” he noticed in a playfully mocking voice. “You wanna get maaarriiieeeddd—”

“N-no, I don’t,” you denied with an eye roll, “I— I just didn’t notice she said that.”

“You wanna have my baaaabbiiieeesss,” he continued anyways, and you nearly choked on your own throat.

“E-Ed, we’re too young for any of that right now,” you insisted.

“Okay,” he nodded, pausing for a second. “How about now?”

You snorted, shaking your head at your own amusement with such a stupid joke. “No, I mean, like, the future.”

“Future,” he affirmed, “as in, tomorrow?”

“No!” you groaned. “Like, someday!”

“Sunday?”

You whined and dropped your head on Eddie’s shoulder in defeat, making him laugh and reach up to rub your back. “You’re horrible,” you mumbled.

“Mhm,” he agreed as he softly kissed the top of your head. “Just promise me something?”

You lifted your head to rest your chin on his shoulder so he could see your face; he reached up and held it gently, caressing the height of your cheek with his thumb.

“You tell me when it’s ‘someday’, okay?” he asked softly. “I don’t care if it’s ten days from now or ten years. You just say the word, and we’ll do all that boring grown up stuff we’re not old enough for yet. Deal?”

You smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

He hummed and kissed the tip of your nose before gently capturing your lips again, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh,” he said suddenly as he pulled back, “by the way— you can keep my ring you took.”

“I… thought you forgot about that,” you admitted sheepishly, and he grinned, shaking his head.

“Of course not,” he cooed, “but it’s better that you have it, since you wanna be the next Mrs. Munson so bad.”

“I don’t—!” you began to disagree, but he cut you off with another kiss.

Someday came January 19th, 1988. It was a quiet day, but otherwise typical for life in your little rental place up in North Hawkins by the lake, which was usually filled with Eddie's raucous practicing on the Warlock alongside the hand-me-down furniture and framed (award-winning) photos on the wall.

Nothing specific made you realize it— he was just laying back on the couch and fiddling around on his acoustic (specifically his new acoustic you'd gotten him for his most recent birthday) while you arranged and rearranged the magazine spread due in a few days— but you just… knew that it was time.

“Wanna get married?” you blurted out, and he looked at you with a tinge of shock on his face before he smiled.

“You know I do,” he grinned. “Hop in the van, we’ll go to the courthouse—”

You interrupted him with a laugh as he was sitting up and setting his guitar aside. “I figured we would just start, like, planning it…”

He groaned disappointedly as he flopped back onto the couch. “You make me wait this long and then you say we have to wait more?”

“You don’t want a wedding?!” you scoffed.

“I do, but I’d rather get married now and just do the wedding whenever we have the time,” he explained. “Doesn’t it sound fun?”

You smirked. “Well, I figured once we were married you’d want kids right away. And I’m not interested in a maternity-bridal gown.”

“Y’sure? I think you’d be real cute like that,” he cooed.

"I think you should keep dreamin', pretty boy," you winked in return.

He hopped up off the couch and crossed the room to kiss you suddenly— holding your face in his hands, keeping you close, saying so much with no words at all. You fell into it so quickly that you were the one leaning forward for more when he pulled back. He smirked at you proudly; "So, courthouse?"

You sighed. "How come you always get your way with me? Why is that?"

"'Cause you're just so wildly, stupidly, counter-intuitively in love with me," he answered confidently.

"Oh, right," you smiled. "I almost forgot."

Eddie cleared his throat as he stood before all your family and friends— Jonathan, the Hellfire club, your coworkers and colleagues, your mom and stepdad, and even Eddie's father who had been granted furlough so he could attend. A small gathering, but still a crowd. You could tell he was nervous; you were, too, of course, and you looked down at your white dress and your hands holding his to try to remind yourself that this was real.

"Well, um, hi," he addressed them before he began the vows he'd written and rehearsed a thousand times for today. "Bet you never thought you'd see me in a suit, right?"

THE END

#eddie munson x reader #stepbrother!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut

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separatist-apologist · 9 days

Text

Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read on AO3

Lucien was sent to the north two days after his wedding, leaving Elain alone at court. Her sisters were gone, her parents returned to Spring, which left Elain to figure out Autumn without her usual supports. Elain was tempted to isolate herself, but like the females in Spring, the ladies of Autumn stuck together, for the most part. They had branches, smaller groups within the larger one, and Elain wanted to get in with one, just for security.

Which was how she found Ayla.

Ayla clearly led one the smaller groups of females and Elain wondered if it was because she was so obviously beautiful. With long, thick hair the color of cinnamon that fell in heavy, ringlet curls and eyes like obsidian, and a wardrobe to rival the Lady of Autumn herself. If Eris hadn’t already been married, Elain would have assumed Ayla was a contender. She seemed born to rule in some capacity.

And rule she did—over a card game every afternoon in the parlor. It was invitation only, and Elain had been invited by Ayla herself as she’d wandered aimlessly through the hall.

“Elain, right?” she asked, plopping into the chair beside Elain. “I was at your wedding. You were beautiful.”

It was a lie, but Ayla made it seem sincere. “Thank you.”

“I was hoping you’d join me and a few friends this afternoon? We play a friendly game of cards,” she began, fingers twisting a gold ring around her middle finger. “You could ask Arina, too, if she’d like to join.”

“I will,” Elain said, needing to be on good terms with the ladies, especially if Lucien was going to run off every chance he got. Elain was certain he’d run off to meet up with a female and it made her hate him a little.

“Excellent,” Ayla said, clapping delicate hands together. She practically floated away, leaving Elain to track Arina down far, far within the bowels of the palace. She hadn’t realized she’d need permission from the High Lord to actually go inside the library. Beron Vanserra terrified Elain—she’d never ask. Instead, she politely begged one of the scholars to bring Arina to her, and moments later Arina herself appeared, the only bright thing in the gloom.

“We’ve been invited to a card game,” Elain said without preamble.

Arina wrinkled her nose. “By who?”

“Ayla.”

“Ugh–”

“Please come with me,” Elain implored, looking up at the only woman she could count on to be friendly to her. Elain understood that Ayla needed the future Lady of Autumn to appear, if only to enhance her own social status. Back home, the ladies had clamored for Nesta’s friendship and attention, much to their detriment. Nesta loathed social climbers.

“Fine,” Arina grumbled, gathering her skirts as the pair began climbing back up the stairs.

“Why don’t you like her?”

“There was a rumor, when I first came, that she and Eris…”

“Oh. Oh. Did they?”

“Well, I never asked,” Arina sniffed, chin lifted in the air. “I didn’t want him to think I was jealous.”

“But you are jealous,” Elain teased.

“He doesn’t need to know that. His ego is already unchecked without my help. It’s good for him to think he doesn’t quite have me.”

“You accepted the mating bond,” Elain reminded her.

Arina merely waved her hand, as if to say semantics. Elain doubted very much that Eris worried a whole lot about losing Arina given the fact that she’d so easily ingratiated herself into his life. Elain doubted very much Arina would leave him even if he’d slept with every available female at court. Eris was a lot older than Arina—of course he must have.

Though, it made her wonder who her husband had been sleeping with. Surely there must have been people before his murdered lover. Would it bother her? If Ayla slept with Lucien, would Elain avoid her, too?

She didn’t know the answer to that. In some ways, it felt like relief to know her husband had interests outside of annoying her and that he might discreetly pick up with someone else to spare her his attention. It was also strangely humiliating to imagine. Courts were small, insular, and the nobility of Prythian well connected. How long before rumors swirled of Lucien’s disinterest?

Elain could not win.

Elain shoved thoughts of Lucien from her mind. She didn’t want him, so who cared what he did or didn’t do? The pressure in her chest crested for a moment, thrumming with heat before she could settle herself down. Elain took three calming breaths and the feeling subsided, though it lingered just below her ribs, aching like a bruise.

Ayla’s card game was massive. Held in a large parlor papered in orange and brown flowers, the room could have held five hundred people comfortably. Tables were arranged with little placards noting who sat where. A long table held tea sandwiches and cakes, towers of little pastries and every beverage a person could possibly ask for. No one was eating, and when Elain and Arina arrived, the ladies already gathered hushed softly, eyes wide with excitement.

This would be the source of everyone's gossip for the rest of the week.

“You came!” Ayla said, disentangling herself from a group of beautiful women. “I didn’t think—but oh, this is delightful. Here, you’ll sit here.”

Elain didn’t bother to ask who got booted from Ayla’s table. Arina sat, nodding toward the two other women that were already there.

“Zoelyna,” she began pleasantly, smiling at the redhead. “Celeste.”

They looked like sisters, with the same shade of coppery red hair and bright, blue eyes. They smiled at Arina, launching into a thousand questions meant to occupy Arina’s time. Elain watched Arina with some awe, knowing that Arina did not like these functions or, really, any of the people in the Autumn Court. And yet she had this way of making people feel special—seen. Elain hoped to emulate that.

Maybe, she reasoned, she could make herself so beloved among the ladies they would refuse her husband out of respect or love…or fear, which seemed to be the tactic Arina had employed. There was soft reverence to the way everyone spoke to her that suggested their fear of crossing her. It was absurd—Eris was so besotted that anyone with eyes could see it.

Though, Elain supposed he had enough power to make him appealing, even with a mate. A mistress often wielded incredible power and if her husband wanted, he could elevate her to the position of a wife without care or concern to how his actual wife felt about it.

“Explain the rules to me,” Elain said once Ayla sat down, determined to make them all like her.

Ayla beamed. “It’s quite simple, really. Each of us will flip a card in our hand, and the highest suit wins.”

“That’s it?”

“We could make it more interesting, if you like,” Ayla suggested, reaching for a bracelet riddled with diamond on her wrist. “If you want.”

Arina sighed, taking off her pearl earrings while Zoelyna and Celeste both tossed rings in the center of the table. What did Elain have that she could trade besides the coins jingling in her pocket? Reaching within, she pulled out the little pouch and dumped them along with the jewelry.

“Excellent,” Ayla said with a shark's smile. “I look forward to taking your money, ladies.”

“In your dreams,” Arina retorted, picking up her hand of cards delicately. “I think I’ll buy myself a new gown.”

Ayla smiled at her own hand. “I think I’ll get a new pair of shoes.”

Elain didn’t know what she’d do with their things. Probably return them, truthfully. It hadn’t occurred to her until right then that Elain had no money at all other than what had been sent with her. If she needed things, did she ask Lucien? What if he said no? She knew men like that, who controlled the purse strings so tightly their wives had to beg for simple items like shifts and undergarments.

She didn’t hear what Zoelyna or Celeste wanted, lost in her own musings about Lucien’s petty cruelty.

Elain merely shrugged. “I won’t count my coins until they’re in my hand.”

“Smart,” Ayla murmured, eyes bright. “I suppose you aren’t terribly competitive like the rest of us.”

But Elain was competitive. Quietly so, which had always annoyed her sisters. They’d be fighting amongst themselves, battling to be the winner and Elain would sneak in and steal the first prize because they’d forgotten her.

Again.

It was her strategy in this game, too. She watched them watch each other, and threw her first few hands with an exaggerated, yet good natured sigh. Ayla and Arina immediately began going after each other much like Feyre and Nesta would. Elain’s first win was played off with a chagrined smile.

“What fun!” she declared as Ayla put a little mark in her favor. Elain threw her next hand just for good measure before taking the next five. Ayla and Arina chalked it up to a lucky streak, but Elain had just nearly pulled ahead and had no intention of giving that up. With a sweet smile, she continued to lay down her cards until Arina tossed hers down in frustration.

“You’re cheating,” she accused.

“I would never,” Elain protested, half laughing. “You’re simply a sore loser.”

It was the most fun she’d had since…well. Elain couldn’t remember the last time she had that much fun. So much of her time in recent memory had been spent trying to thwart, and later spite,

Lucien, that she’d let her friendships fall to the wayside back home. Here, though, looking at the shining eyes and bright cheeks of the ladies seated before her, she thought perhaps the worst was behind her.

After all, she was married now. There was no more thwarting Lucien outside of the marriage bed, no more spiting him when he slunk off to avoid her. Why shouldn’t she try and find some enjoyment in this moment. Elain smiled. Maybe Lucien would rarely be home.

Maybe she’d be able to enjoy herself.

LUCIEN:

He hadn’t intended to see Jesminda. Lucien had merely wanted to get out of Autumn for a minute, and Dawn was just far enough to clear his senses of Elain. His friend Nuan lived here, and had agreed to host him for a day while he bullshitted around delivering his fathers proposal for new tariffs on goods. Eris must have been monumentally stupid, or desperate, to relocate Jesminda here.

At first, Lucien thought he was merely hallucinating her in the market. But now—that was her light brown skin, her bouncy brown hair, and her wide eyes staring at him, lips parted in an oh. His legs began moving of their own accord, body vibrating with the need to just touch her.

“No,” she said, shaking her head back and forth as she held up a finger. Lucien’s heart shattered even as he kept moving. “I promised your brother. You weren’t supposed to come looking for me.”

“I…I didn’t know,” he managed, fingers brushing the long sleeve of her green gown. “You’re safe.”

“I was,” she agreed, glancing around nervously. Grabbing the front of his tunic, Jesminda dragged him past rows of vibrant market stalls to a darkened ally where they could talk. “Lucien, go home to your wife.”

“I won’t,” he said, reaching for her face. Jesminda let him, her agony a mirror for his own. “We could leave. We could board a boat right now and leave for the continent.”

“And what then, Lucien? Will you work like some common man?”

“You know I would,” he protested, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “I told you I would. My crown means nothing to me—”

“And your wife?” she pressed, pulling her face from his grasp. “What of her? You’ll leave her to the mercy of your father? I wouldn’t ask you to do that on my behalf.”

“She means nothing to me,” Lucien lied, cringing as he said it. Jesminda noticed, nostrils flaring.

“Oh, Lucien,” she whispered and of course she’d know. No one knew him better.

“It means nothing.”

“You’re lying,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth. “You…you think it won’t, but in ten years—fifty years—your mind will drift back to her and you’ll wonder—”

“I won’t,” Lucien said, well aware he was begging when he already knew the answer. He would have gotten on his knees if he could have, would have cut his own throat if she’d asked him to.

But Jesminda wouldn’t, and so Lucien remained standing before her, desperate for her to say the only words he wanted to hear.

I love you, Lucien.

“This is wrong and you know it's wrong,” Jesminda whispered, taking a step toward him. “I swore to your brother I would never speak to you again—”

“Fuck Eris!” Lucien exploded, his feelings all over the place. “Fuck all of it—”

“I want you to go home, Lucien. To your ma—to her. And I want you to treat her well…and…” her bottom lip trembled as Lucien shook his head no. “I want you to leave me alone. Don’t look for me—if you see me in the street, don’t acknowledge me. Don’t write to me. Do not…do not even speak my name.”

“Jes—”

“Swear it,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Swear that you will keep the memories of what we had and you will let me go. Swear it to me right now.”

“I won’t.”

“Then I might as well hand you the sword your father will use to remove my head right now. If you love me, you will let me go.”

Lucien swallowed his urge to cry right along side her. “I could keep you safe.”

“You can’t keep us all safe. You’d sacrifice your mate,” she whispered the word, as if it pained her to say it, “for me?”

Lucien started to say that he would, but the words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t make that promise and Jesminda knew it. She knew what all Fae knew—your mate was the other half of your soul. To lose Elain would be losing part of himself, even if they didn’t want each other or were a bad match.

Shaking her head of curls, Jesminda offered him a brave smile. “I wondered why it didn’t snap for us. I wish…but it didn’t, and it's better to know now that it was never going to. You and I…we were…” She offered him a pretty smile that cracked his heart in half. “I’m glad I know. Some part of me will always love you, Lucien, but I’ve made my peace with how things ended. My family is still in Autumn and I’m hoping to get them out.”

“Are you happy?” he asked, voice cracking.

Jesminda considered this before offering him a bright smile. “I am. I always wanted to see the world…and Dawn is just one stop along the way.”

“I want you to be happy,” he told her, not bothering to add that he wanted her to be happy with him.

“Your brother was generous. I…I’m going to be okay, Lucien. And so will you. Trust me.”

She leaned up on tiptoes, pressed her lips against his cheek, and stepped back before he could do something rash. Jesminda offered him one last smile, eyes glassy and bright, before slipping out of the ally. Lucien let her, back against the brick, terrified that if he saw where she went he’d try and track her down. She’d asked him to let her go, and Lucien wanted to give her what she wanted.

Even if what she wanted wasn’t him.

Abandoning his plan to waste more time in Dawn, Lucien decided to return home for the night before spending the remainder of his time down by the sea drinking with sailors until he forgot his own name. Lucien winnowed onto the grounds, expecting silence.

Instead he found Elain at the center of what seemed to be a rowdy game with a gaggle of the well-bred ladies of court…and Arina, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed to slits.

“She cheated.”

“You’re a sore loser!” Ayla declared, half hiding behind Elain who was clearly trying to mediate the situation. Not far away, Tanwen lounged on marble steps leading up to the palace, wanting the whole thing play out with a furrowed brow. Elain hadn’t noticed him, which gave Lucien and his aching heart a chance to compare her to Jesminda.

“It’s simply a misunderstanding,” Elain assured them both, hands thrown out to keep Arina from swinging. Lucien was in a mood.

“Arina is simply sore that Ayla was promised to Eris before she came along,” Lucien said, silencing the entire lawn as he stalked away. He thought he’d gotten away with it, too, until something hard bounced off the back of his head. Lucien whipped around to find his wife standing there, wide-eyed and impossibly innocent despite the mallet held in her hand.

Arina burst out laughing, doubled over as Ayla pressed her fingertips to her lips.

“Did you throw something at me, wife?”

Elain only shook her head, the picture of chaste nobility. “I would never. Are you well?”

Lucien began to stalk toward her, so angry he could barely contain it. His rage must have shown because some of Elain’s mirth slipped and he saw her fear as she took a step backward.

“Brother!” Tanwen called, jogging toward Lucien before he could do anything rash. “Come inside with me, have a drink. You look like you need it.” It was a warning. Lucien exhaled as he nodded his head. Aware he was being watched by more than just Arina and Ayla, he looked at Elain and said, “You look pretty today.”

That was always an easy complement to give. Lucien couldn’t imagine there would ever come a time when Elain wasn’t pretty.

“You’re falling to pieces,” Tanwen muttered when they were out of earshot. “Too many outbursts and you’ll draw fathers attention.”

“Who asked you?” Lucien snapped.

“You know the consequences. You have a wife now, so you have a weakness. Elain doesn’t look as if she’s faced a hardship in her life. I can’t imagine how she’d fare in the dungeons paying for your fury. But no one asked me,” Tanwen replied, veering off to leave Lucien alone in the hall feeling guilty and angry and so, so empty all at once. Lucien went to one of the study’s in the palace—the one he and his older brothers typically occupied when they were trying to escape the noise of the place—and poured himself a drink. No one came to bother him, which was for the best.

Lucien threw the first glass back like a shot. The second and third, too.

The fourth burned as he pressed his back against the cool wood of the wall and sank to the floor, heart racing. Lucien finished his drink before abandoning the glass for the bottle itself. Eyes closed, all he saw was Jesminda telling him not to look for her ever again. That she was happy.

He wasn’t. She hadn’t asked, likely because she already knew what he’d say.

And she was right. Lucien buried his head in his knees, choking back the urge to sob himself hoarse. She was right. To chase after her was to condemn her entire family to death and his own mate. What kind of male was he?

A foolish one, with a foolish heart.

Lucien didn’t remember falling asleep, though he did remember throwing up in a vase somewhere around his seventh or eighth drink. Barely conscious, he felt cool hands on his face and the smell of honey and jasmine.

“Not you,” he slurred as another rougher set of hands hauled him to his feet.

“Take him to the kennels,” a voice that sounded suspiciously like Eris’s ordered. “I’ll have him hosed down and he can sleep with the dogs since he wants to act like one.”

“Don’t—don’t do that. Bring him to me,” came that melodic voice that could only belong to his wife.

“It would please me far more to see him sleep with the animals.”

“Well, it wouldn’t please me. And if you displease me, I’m going to tell your wife to punish you.”

“I love when my wife punishes me—ow, did you hit me?!”

Lucien peeked open an eye as he was dragged, but the world spinned violently, prompting him to close them again. Elain and Eris spoke more, mostly teasing if Lucien judged the tone of their words right, but in truth he was pretty sure he fell back asleep as he walked.

“You’re heavy,” he heard Elain whisper, fingers undoing the buttons on his jacket deftly.

“And you’re forward,” he mumbled, turning so he could lay on his stomach. “I don’t need your help.”

Elain said nothing, though the scent of her was overpowering.

“Elain?”

A muffled squeak caused Lucien to look down, where he found Elain panting against his chest, shoving him off her. “Please,” she breathed, unaware of how that one little word could fuel a thousand filthy fantasies. Lucien rolled to his side as Elain scrambled off the bed entirely, shaking out her hands as she took a breath.

“Do you feel it?” he mumbled, grabbing a pillow to cuddle it against his chest. Maybe he’d feel better if she, too, knew about the bond.

“My cracked ribs?” she asked, rubbing the side of her body. “I think I’ll be feeling that for days.”

Lucien chucked. “You will if I have my way.”

“Big talk for a man that agreed never to touch me,” she replied without malice, sitting beside him on the bed. “Do you want to tell me what all this is about?”

“No.”

Elain sighed, murmured “fine,” and started to move away from the bed. Lucien reached for her, dragging her against him.

“I was in love, once,” he whispered into her hair, wondering if this was all a mistake. He was simply too drunk to care. “And she’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry,” Elain replied, because of course she would be. She let him hold her against him, though she twisted on her side so she was facing him. “How did she die?”

Lucien exhaled sharply. “She’s alive. She no longer wishes to see me.”

“Oh,” Elain breathed. “I’m still sorry.”

“It’s for the best,” he said, opening his eyes to look up at the ceiling. “It would never have worked between us.”

“Why not?”

Because I was holding out for a mating bond that was never coming.

“We’re just…two different people, I suppose.”

“Is it my fault?”

“No,” he said, because truthfully it wasn’t. “No, this has nothing to do with you. I’m just…” Angry at you, because there’s no one else to be angry with.

They lapsed into silence. Lucien didn’t remember falling asleep, and when he woke, it was alone. Elain had been there—a pitcher of water sat on the nightstand beside a few slices of bread with jars of jam and jelly beside it. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting light against the shadows.

Lucien groaned.

“You’re an asshole,” he told himself, rolling onto his stomach so he could push himself up. He knew he was, knew he needed to try and treat Elain better.

But for the rest of the day, Lucien remained in bed.

Drowning in his self-loathing.

ELAIN:

“Hide me,” Elain whispered, grabbing Ayla by the shoulders and shoving her behind a pillar. Ayla squeaked, peering around Elain and Lucien strolled past a moment later, unaware they were hiding just out of view.

“Is the honeymoon over, then?” Ayla whispered once Lucien rounded the corner, unaware of the hiding women mere heartbeats away. Elain couldn’t face him, not after she’d been called to collect him by a nervous servant. She’d found him drunk, jacket half unbuttoned and droll sliding down his cheek pressed against the floor. She’d tried to rouse him, but Lucien was a solid mass of muscle and unmovable. Eris had done it for her, seething with silent fury.

Elain was simply nauseated. He’d gone to see his former love, who’d sent him away likely because it was dishonest and she was a lady of character. That didn’t make his rejection sting any less, even if she didn’t want him.

Everyone would know he’d been drunk over another woman and even if Eris and Arina squashed the ugliest of the rumors, they’d still circulate. He couldn’t go a full day without trying to embarrass her.

“We just…don’t get along well,” Elain admitted, smoothing out her skirts once she was certain Lucien was gone.

“No, I suppose not. I heard,” Ayla added, her face rich with sympathy. Elain swallowed the urge to scream. “I’m sorry. I think I might have killed my husband if he did that.”

“It’s tempting,” Elain admitted, allowing Ayla to walk her out of the palace and toward the apple orchard. Elain drank in the crisp air, catching a whiff of smoke in the air. Turning, she saw Tanwen in the distance, marked by the twin pair of axes he wore criss-crossed along his back. He was burning leaves—or something distinctly leaf shaped—causing curling tendrils of smoke to waft toward them. Ayla, too, had turned to look, those dark eyes narrowed just at the corners.

“Why does he dress like that?” Elain asked, desperate to shift the conversation away from herself. “Like he’s ready to march into battle.”

Ayla’s eyes never left Tanwen. “I don’t know. He’s never spoken to me.”

That seemed impossible. “Never?”

“The only Vanserra who won’t,” she said, finally turning back to look at Elain. Elain swore a wine colored flush crept up Ayla’s olive skin. “He rarely speaks to the ladies, though, so I take no offense.”

“He talks to me,” Elain said, wondering if he did so simply to irritate Lucien. Ayla glanced at Elain, an inch or so shorter than Elain’s already diminutive frame. If Ayla stood beside Tanwen, he would simply engulf her. It was had to picture what they might talk about, besides—Ayla was a purebred lady, with proper interests and from the little Elain had gathered, a keen mind. Tanwen, on the other hand, didn’t seem so inclined to play courtly games. Perhaps that was the point of the axes. Perhaps they served as a reminder that he solved his problem in a less elegant fashion.

“Well, you’ll have to introduce me then, won’t you?”

“What would you talk to him about?” Elain asked, not meaning to be unkind. She was merely curious why Ayla would care at all. If she was angling for a Vanserra, surely Connall suited her better? He was just as courtly as Eris but without the wife hanging from his arm.

More color overtook Ayla’s features and oh. “Perhaps nothing at all.”

“I’ll introduce you,” Elain said quickly, linking her arm through Ayla’s before she could race off in embarrassment, “if only so you can see how terribly dull he is.”

Ayla offered a weak smile. “Thank you. It’s…thank you.”

Ayla left Elain not long after, begging some excuse which left Elain walking through the neatly lined trees by herself. Kicking fallen apples with her boot, she tried to push everything from her mind and focus only on her surroundings. Think of the positives, she urged herself. Autumn was beautiful in its own, half-dead way. She was making friends, which was nice, and her husband’s family didn’t seem to hate her.

Even Lucien— “There you are,” he said, interrupting her as she tried to come up with something good about him. That was a fools errand, she supposed. The male standing before her looked like a prince, minus the dark bags under his eyes. Every inch of him was immaculate otherwise, which annoyed her. If only he was less handsome, she lamented. Of his brothers, he was easily the loveliest, which made hating him all the more difficult. He was appealing to look at.

In an obnoxious sort of way.

“Were you looking for me?”

“Yes,” Lucien said, taking a breath. It was clear he prepared a speech which wasn’t necessary. Elain had half forgotten—or, she wanted to anyway. No need for him to bring it all back up. “About last night—”

“This isn’t necessary,” Elain began, desperate to avoid this. She didn’t want to be confronted, once again, by the knowledge that he did not want her. It was bad enough they were together for an eternity, their marriage inked well before Elain had been old enough to have a say. To know he would always be drinking and thinking of another woman was far worse.

“It is necessary because my brothers inform me you are the spectacle of the morning's gossip. It wasn’t my intention,” Lucien told her, face paling ever so slightly. “I ah…I have a gift—”

“I don’t want your pity gifts, Lucien,” she snapped, rounding on him so quickly that he stumbled back a step. “What I want is for you to get yourself together. You aren’t the only one who wasn’t consulted when this marriage was arranged and yet you act like I somehow conspired to get you. As if you’re some kind of catch. I am doing my best to make a difficult circumstance tolerable while you…you throw all my work in my face. You may as well declare to all of court that you hate me and get it over with.”

“I…I’m sorry,” Lucien said, looking as if he meant it. Not that it meant much, because the damage had already been done. Still, his words stopped her in her tracks. Of all the things she’d expected to hear, an apology was at the bottom of the list.

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry,” he replied with just a little edge to his voice. It was a warning not to push things too far, and if Elain hadn’t been so tired, she might have called his bluff. “I was an ass, okay?

I’m sorry. Now, can I give you my gift?”

“Fine. Show me this gift of yours,” Elain said, certain a little trinket couldn’t undo the gossip that would trail after her for weeks.

“This way,” Lucien mumbled, beckoning for her to follow. Elain stayed one pace behind, arms wrapped around the blue fabric of her dress. How long would he make her wear the necklace, she wondered? A few days? Just long enough for everyone to know he was appropriately apologetic?

“Here,” Lucien said, standing outside the edges of an iron gate covered in ivy. “No one has used this in…since I can remember.”

Elain cringed at the creaking hinges before pausing to see what Lucien had brought her to. It had been a garden, once, before decay took over. The once lovely path was made of crumbling, weed eaten stone and gnarled trees swayed in the breeze, ghosts of their once former beauty.

A little earthen pot held a bloom of yellow and red marigolds, peering up at Elain cheerfully.

“Your sisters told me you like to garden,” Lucien said, drawing a small box from somewhere on his person. “They said you do it by hand.”

Elain took the little box, bound in a pink ribbon, to find enchanted gloves. “To protect your hands,” Lucien said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with clear embarrassment. “I thought…” Elain hated the thoughtfulness he’d displayed. How a few days of knowing her, alongside scant pieces of information likely hurled at him between insults, had allowed him to put together the perfect gift. “Thank you,” she said, tucking the gloves into her pocket. Lucien stared for another moment, as though trying to come up with something to say.

“Well, I…should we head back, then?”

Elain allowed Lucien to walk her back, taking the most conspicuous path so everyone would see his hand laid atop of hers resting in the crook of his elbow. The ladies nodded approvingly—including his own mother, who Elain suspected had put him up to the whole thing—while the males watched, their expressions guarded. Perhaps they understood how Lucien felt. Perhaps they simply cared less about these sort of things.

Elain knew, as she made her way back to their shared bedroom alone, that the news of his gift would drown out his humiliating behavior. He was clever—calculated. A Vanserra, she supposed. Elain stomped into their bedroom, opened the top drawer, and flung the gloves inside.

She’d take the cut up hands over absolving him. Let him see her cracked nails and the dirt caked in the pads of her fingers and let him see she wasn’t some delicate flower he could trample all over.

Nature was fierce, and so was Elain.

LUCIEN:

His wife would be the death of him.

“Elain!” Lucien shouted across the lawn, for all the good it did. He’d simply alerted her, Lady Ayla, and Arina of his presence, which sent the three of them hiking up their skirts and shrieking with laughter as they disappeared over another hill. Lucien was tempted to leave them to the brewing storm and let them come inside, bone chilled and soaked.

He had also sworn to his mother to be a better husband when she’d come looking for him and boxed him around the ears, declaring she’d raised him better. No one had that conversation with Elain, who was determined to punish him for the humiliation.

She cavorted with Tanwen, letting him teach her to throw axes at trees. She danced with Connall at private parties he wasn’t invited to, and let Eris explain the complicated politics of Autumn when she was bored. And when she wasn’t with her brothers, she ruled court as one of the more fashionable ladies all the others hoped to be like. They copied her hair styles, wore their dresses like her, styled themselves as she did.

And Elain paid him no mind at all unless absolutely forced to. She was in bed most evenings before Lucien, back turned to him and breathing steady. Elain was making a point—he’d humiliated her in service to another female, so she’d treat him the same way. And it irked him. He was trying, even if it was coerced but clearly no one was demanding she treat him well.

“Elain!” he yelled again, voice drowned out by the sound of rumbling thunder. She was still running, unconcerned with the danger. Only Ayla had begun to hang back, the only one of the three who’d grown up in Autumn. She knew how quickly a lightning storm could come and how dangerous they became.

Please turn around, he prayed softly, not wanting to get caught in the frigid rain. Behind him, Tanwen and Connall followed, arms crossed over their chests. No one wanted to go and get Eris—but they would, if they had to. Better Eris’s wrath than Berons, and he’d be irate if he learned Lucien couldn’t control his wife.

Ayla yelled something none of them could hear, hair whipping wildly around her face as she tried desperately to convince Arina and Elain to come back. Arina would never be used to the kind of storms they got here—Lucien heard when it rained in Day, the winds were so brutal they could take the roof off a building. And for Elain, the water was warm, nourishing.

Everything in Autumn was volatile. There were no new beginnings, no rebirths—it was all death and ruin, retribution for an unforgiving world. There was nothing Autumn liked more than to swallow something beautiful whole.

And Elain, Ayla, and Arina were exceptionally beautiful.

Lucien took a step toward Elain, thinking he’d haul her over his shoulders if he had to, reputation be damned. Maybe she’d learn to listen if he embarrassed her a little more. It wasn’t as if she was receptive to his gifts. When he’d seen her torn up hands, Lucien had thought perhaps the gloves hadn’t worked and gifted her a second, enchanted pair.

He’d found both tossed in the top drawer of their shared wardrobe, half buried under her things. Lucien had changed tacts after that, bringing her a pair of pearl earrings to join the gloves. She thanked him with a pretty smile and never wore them which grated on his nerves. How long did she mean to punish him, anyway.

Elain turned just as the skies opened up overhead. Lucien heard Connall swear loudly, stomping past him to demand the females return. Not that it mattered. Shrieking, all three began to run back toward the Forest House as Lucien watched, hair plastered to his face. Elain was quicker than he would have guessed, making her way toward him with eyes he couldn’t read.

Lightning streaked from the sky, illuminating the gray world a violet purple. It missed Elain by mere inches, though Ayla wasn’t as lucky. Elain and Arina screamed as the third female crumpled to the ground, causing them both to turn for her.

Panic flooded Lucien, his thoughts tinged red. They didn’t like each other—and she was still his mate. She was in danger. Instinct overrode all other thoughts as Lucien raced toward her, catching Elain just as she reached Ayla.

“She—”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he snarled in her ear, pulling her against his body. Connall and Tanwen were just behind, hovering over Ayla with nervous hands. They weren’t healers—if they picked her up, would they hurt her?

Lightning streaked again, this time closer to Arina than anyone felt comfortable with. Eris was going to lose his temper when he learned of this. Connall yanked Arina by the arm as Tanwen slid his hands beneath Ayla and lifted her lifeless body into the hair. They moved quickly, battling the wind and rain for the warmth of the Forest House.

“This is my fault,” Elain said through chattering teeth as Tanwen stalked off, not bothering to look back. “I said—I told her to keep running even when she wanted to turn back.”

Lucien almost snapped at her, agreeing that yes, she’d been a pretty little fool. It was the tears, mingling with the rain water on her cheeks, that stopped him from saying so. Elain would punish herself without his help.

“Come on,” he said, guiding her by the elbow. “You’ll catch your death.”

In his mind, every time Lucien blinked he saw the scene unfold differently. Saw the lightning streak toward Elain while he stood too far away, helpless to get to her in time. His heart raced at the image.

“She’s dead—”

“She’s not dead,” Lucien interrupted, heart in his throat. “It struck the ground, not her. She’ll be okay.”

“She looked dead,” Elain lamented as Lucien all but shoved her in their shared room. “She looked—”

“She’s in shock,” Lucien said, unsure if that was true or not. “Tanwen will take her to a healer, she’ll be fine.”

“This wasn’t how they were supposed to meet,” she mumbled, lips blue from the cold. Lucien all but dragged her into their bedroom, throwing flames at the fireplace to bring it roaring to life. Would she let him undress her? Did he even want to undress her? Lucien thought better than to try his luck and instead turned his back, making a show of offering her privacy. Lucien’s fingers itched with the urge, body taut with interest as the rustling sounds of wet clothes slapped to the floor. He could smell her stronger—she reeked of fear, the scent so cloying it helped clear his senses.

Lucien didn’t move, even when he caught a glimpse of fair skin from the corner of his eye. Look at her, just look—and touch and taste and—

The mating bond would be the death of him. If he didn’t get control of himself, she’d smell his desire which would only make things worse between them. Forcing air into his lungs, Lucien counted slowly as Elain dressed, turning only when she gave the word. Her hair was still limp, the ends dripping as she stood in front of the fire, but she was clothed again and Lucien could relax.

“What did you say?” he asked, some of the fog clearing from his mind. He’d forgotten she’d spoken to him.

“I promised Ayla I would introduce her to your brother,” Elain said, chewing her bottom lip with worry. “I meant to do so at a dance, not…”

“Tanwen doesn’t dance,” Lucien said, bewildered. Ayla had been marked for Eris back when she’d first come of age and likely would have been married to him by now had Eris not accidentally met Arina and messed everything up. Tanwen could not have been more different from Eris. He’d gotten the same education, but Tanwen liked blood covered blades and showing his teeth, not fine clothes and sharp words.

Elain was simply mistaken, he decided. She didn’t know these people the way he did, had misinterpreted and was going to create an embarrassing—yet hilarious—moment between his older brother and a lady at court.

“Here,” Lucien said, pulling the blanket from the bed and draping it around Elain’s still trembling shoulders. “You’re freezing.”

Elain said nothing, though she wrapped the corners around her neck as she stared into the fire. “I’m trying,” she murmured after a moment while Lucien hesitated, unsure if he should stay or go.

He sighed. “I know you are.”

He wanted to say that he was trying, too, in his own way. Even if it was bad, or didn’t seem like he was at all.

Lucien was trying.

#elucien #you asked for a vanserra brother romance so this is me trying

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emilykaldwen · 1 month

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

Rating: Explicit

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

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

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

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Author's Note: And we're back! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I took some time away. I'm honestly glad I did. TL;DR (or read the update in the previous chapter) I lost my job, things were rough. I'm feeling a lot better now and here we are with the final Aegon birthday chapter! As I stated as well, we'll be moving to something closer to a three week posting schedule for the last few chapters of this fic and continue on that posting schedule for the sequel.

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my eternal love to @vampire-exgirlfriend, whose been my rock. I love you. Please go join her as she finishes up her Aemond fic, They Say I Killed You (Haunt Me Then)!

Warnings: Larys Strong Jumpscare, and MURDER!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Flew Like a Moth to You

Aegon's birthday hunt includes some fantastic girl action and some murder! OH! And Some Jacelaena biting. You love to see it.

Floris Baratheon could not sit still, clutching her bow and quiver, peering out the carriage window as they approached the Kingswood. “A-hunting we shall go, a-hunting we shall go-”

“Hi-Ho the derry-o, a-hunting we shall go,” Abby sang in turn, the song a familiar one from childhood. The Baratheon girl had been quite annoyed that she could not ride a horse the way the other men did, but with the promise that she would not have to sit with her sister in a carriage, she had been content enough.

Abby sat beside Lythene Ryger, who had been quite speechless at the invite to the carriage. Wylla would have normally been with them, but with her soon to be good-sister, Alys Bracken, coming along, she was off playing chaperone and overly curious and mischievous younger sister to Alys and Harrion. Abby was glad she had the opportunity to do so, for her dear friend was giving up much to stay in the south as her Mistress of Keys instead of returning home to the Karhold.

On the other side of Helaena, Margaery Crane of Red Lake sat. Her lush, light brown hair was braided in a crown around her head, and her face was square with large, unnervingly green eyes. Her head was bent towards Helaena’s, threads of evergreen and butter yellow woven in her fingers as she taught the princess how to finger knit. It was an easier pastime during the long carriage ride to the camp than Helaena’s embroidery. Her twin sister, Desmara, sat on Abby’s other side. The only difference between the pair was her dark, chestnut hair and the scar across her full mouth.

“I’m sure if you ask Daeron when he goes out with the party, he’ll retrieve the stag antlers for you,” Helaena said, her eyes focused on the thread between her fingers. “He’ll love the opportunity to prove himself.” Floris rolled her eyes in only the way a girl of one and ten could, her black braid wrapped around her head with stubborn tendrils escaping. She tugged on the ties of her raven black cloak.

“Nay, Your Grace,” she said primly. “I would show my own mettle, and face the stag myself.” Her cheeks were pink all the same. Abby bit her lip to hold back her chuckle, not wanting to tease the girl. She caught Desmara’s own amused look, the scar across her mouth pulling at her own smile.

“Well, I don’t think they’ll let you go hunting the stag, Lady Floris,” she said. Floris looked pleased at the kind address from the elder girl. “But we’ll be going hawking and the spoils are certainly yours. That’s how I obtained the rabbit fur for my gloves.”

“That’s true,” Abby chimed in. “And you are a child of Nightsong, are you not? I’m sure falconry is in your blood.” Floris’ mother was a Caron, with a lineage of fierce warriors nestled in the Dornish Marches. Lady Ellyn Caron had songs sung of her, and how she, in part with other lords of the Stormlands, defeated the Vulture King. It was exactly the kind of family lineage Abby could see Floris idolizing.

Floris nodded seriously, running her fingers along her bow. “This is true. I suppose I should practice.”

“Practice until you come back dragging the stag behind you,” Helaena continued. “My elder sister is said to have taken down a boar with her own hands, only a dagger as a weapon. I think you have that same mettle in you.”

Floris preened, leaning into Helaena’s side to watch the magical weaving of the yarn. Abby’s heart ached with fondness for the girl, pleased that she had been taken on as Helaena’s ward. The girl was not meant to be stuck behind her three eldest sisters. The Smallest Storm would blossom, she hoped, beneath Helaena’s care and attention. It did not go past Abby’s notice of Cassandra’s harsh attentions to her sister. It reminded her of her own sister’s lack of understanding; always critical, always focused on some perception that her behavior would reflect poorly upon her. Floris was exuberant and curious, but she was not into reckless mischief or excessive rudeness.

She’d be good for Helaena. More importantly, had been good for Helaena, who had taken on Margaery Crane as one of her new ladies, and Abby would take Desmara. The Crane twins had endeared themselves quickly, Margaery introducing herself by way of teaching Helaena a new fiber art, and Desmara had gifted Abby a book on Asshai, a knowing wink in her verdant green eyes.

As the carriage pulled into the camp, cheers had already started from the other gathered lords and ladies. “With all that noise, they’re sure to scare away all their quarry,” Abby laughed, peering out the window to look on ahead.

The boys had ridden on horseback, Aegon in the lead on Kostōba, Aemond, Daeron, and Jace on their own horses beside him, with their own small retinue. Their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, was with them, as were a few other lordlings that Abby was unfamiliar with. She spied Alyn Hull’s silver braids from where he was on his own horse, smiling at the sight of the brash young man there within Aegon’s retinue. He had been a true friend to the prince over the years and it was good to see him brought into the fold officially.

Alyn would serve as steward when they departed for Harrenhal, taking on the household duties from Uncle Simon and learning under him. Aegon had been pleased that he’d agreed to the offer, brushing off his mother’s gape mouthed indignation about it. “He’s the reason I still live, Mother,” Aegon had said, unusually mild in the face of Alicent Hightower’s anger that morning as they broke their fast. He’d brushed a kiss against her forehead, and Abby wondered if he had found strength in the security they were building between them, that not even his mother could shake.

Seeing Aegon’s confidence was intoxicating, so rarely did he come off so sure of himself, and she craved to see more of it. Her teeth scraped her lower lip, belly rolling with heat.

“Good tidings to Prince Aegon, second of his name!” came the booming voice of his Uncle Hobart, leading the call of cheers. “Good tidings to him on his nameday!”

“Good tidings!” came the call of the gathered crowd. “Prince Aegon!”

As Abby settled back in her seat to wait for the footmen, she caught Helaena’s gaze. Anxiety crackled between them, mixed with the joy and love there for Aegon’s nameday. After the hunt, Abby was certain Helaena would cocoon in her chambers, barring the door should anyone try to get her into another crowd. Abby didn’t blame her, and in fact, might even join her for a bit.

The cheers had begun to die down by the time Daeron’s smiling face helped them out of the carriage. Windswept, dark blonde hair fell across his forehead as he bowed. “Allow me, my sister, ladies.”

As he helped Floris from the carriage, their eyes met, both faces going pink at the cheeks, and Abby saw her future good-brother’s hand tighten slightly around the girl’s fingers for the briefest of moments before her feet met the ground and she pulled away, her eyes on her shoes. It was not often that Floris fell quiet and blushed so red, and it did not appear that anyone else had noticed. Daeron clenched his hands to himself and his eyes met hers, his own flush deepening before he quickly hurried away.

The king had stayed behind in the Keep, as did several lords and their families. Lord Grover’s health had also kept him behind. Lord Otto had stayed to facilitate court, leaving the festivities that day in Aegon and the queen’s hands.

Her hands, Abby knew, as young ladies of the noble houses began to approach her and the princess, a few mothers in tow.

“Baela’s a Targaryen too,” Helaena muttered. “Why can’t they flock to her?”

The lady in question had rode on horseback, her red leather jerkin fitted against her lithe form over a gray tunic and black breeches tucked into black polished boots. The rings in her hair glinted in the late morning sun, sparkling as she turned her head with a laugh and dismounted her mare by Jace. Abby shook her head.

“Because they’re afraid she’ll be a bad influence, I’m sure. How are they supposed to get husbands if they dress comfortably?” Abby posited, smoothing her hands over her riding jacket. It was a warm evergreen color, deep azure and crimson soutache snaking over her shoulders like the red and blue forks of the riverlands. The crimson lined wool jacket fell just past her knees, and she wore a pair of warm trousers tucked into polished black boots. Helaena was dressed similarly, her jacket the same shade of deep azure as Abby’s decoration, embroidered with silver dragons with black beaded buttons carved in the shape of dragon head clasps running down the front.

“Hasn’t Mother decided that you should remain here to entertain all those ladies?” Helaena asked, their arms linked as they headed to the main tent. Ahead of them, Alicent Hightower was resplendent in a warm cloak of the deepest verdant green lined in black fur, her gown not one for riding or hunting, but far more comfortable for the outdoors. It lacked excessive ornamentation, the black and green skirts swirling around the tops of her own boots. Her hair was much like Helaena’s, wound in a braided crown about her head. Lady Fossoway was a half step behind her with Ser Criston as they always were, with the rest of the ladies trailing after like a gaggle of geese.

“We’re doing the receiving line,” Abby said, the fingers of her free hand fidgeting against the fall of her jacket. “Aegon’s receiving his gifts and then we’ll have congratulations on the betrothal.” She flexed her fingers, the soft leather of her gloves creaking slightly with the movement. They were lined with soft fur, luxurious, indulgent, and while she was certainly never dressed in rags before, it was rare to accept and let herself have new things when they often felt so unnecessary.

It was a new feeling to be excited about the new clothes that she had, more sumptuous than what would normally be allowed at her station.

Wylla joined them as they passed into the pavilion, warm from the braziers placed strategically about the place, each guarded by a cage of decorative wrought iron to prevent unfortunate accidents. On one end of the great tent, a small dias with a simple, dark wood throne, crested with a dragon, wings spread in welcome.

It was the King’s chair, but the king was not here.

“Are we to accompany you while you receive them?” Wylla asked. Her long hair was bound tightly back and wrapped in a coiling knot along the back of her head. Her padded black jerkin clung to her over a long tunic of gray, black riding trousers tucked into a pair of matching boots. Like Baela, she was dressed for a day in the wilderness without the cumbersome dealing with skirts.

“You look nice,” Abby told her with a small smile. “Not quite the Wildling I heard rumor of,” she teased and Wylla snorted.

“It’s a hunt and the opportunity to ride and get the fresh air. We’ll be going hawking while the men go to shove their pricky things into…” She trailed off with a twist of her mouth, the small scar along her top lip pulling at it. “Men waving around their big pointy things.”

“In a far more acceptable manner than what it implies,” Abby added on, giggling at the silly implications of it all. “And yes, I think you should. We’re receiving gifts, so you best take Desmara and Lythene with you to Lady Fossoway for instruction.”

“And then we’ll go hawking,” Wylla said with a nod.

“I have to stay here,” Abby corrected with a shake of her head. “It is my duty to entertain with her Grace.”

The northerner’s brow furrowed and both of them looked in the direction of the queen, her cloak handed off to a servant while she spoke with Lady Johanna. Wylla shifted beside her and Abby could feel the questions and arguments flitting beneath her friend’s skin. She rested a gloved hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “As I told Aegon, these are some of our new duties, no matter how dull they seem to be. Hopefully there’ll be time for me to go exploring later.” Hopefully. Abby loved exploring the Kingswood, and she’d been looking forward to going hawking, even if she did not particularly hawk herself. However, fun and indulgence could not be had in favor of duty and responsibility.

No matter how much she craved the freedom of it.

Wylla gave her a long look, teeth biting at her lip before she nodded and getured for Lythene and Desmara to follow her. Helaena had already left with Margaery and Floris and Abby was left standing alone, for the moment, amidst the steady flow of nobility pouring in for refreshment and talk. Alone, Abby was relatively unnoticed. Just a small girl in the midst of a crowd, no crown on her head to shout out who she was.

“Abrogail.”

Larys was taller than most people realized, for he did everything he could to make himself small. Few knew that Larys was as tall as Harwin had been, for her elder brother preferred to have such a small cane, to shrink himself into spaces where he could slip in. It was strange, Abby realized, that she had never noticed that it was a trait she shared with him. No desire to be the center of attention, no desire to be noticed, both for their own reasons.

The smile he gave her was an awkward twitch, but Abby noticed that it did reach his eyes, which was a rare thing, and she found herself returning it. Small and shy, perhaps, as if she were still the somewhat muddy little girl she’d been who he’d look at curiously across the breakfast table in the family solar.

He was subdued in a quilted doublet of the same deep azure and brown leather, his cloak a dark green-blue to match, clasped at the shoulder with a firefly broach. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow of his free arm, languidly walking toward a clutch of plump seating not far from the currently empty dais. The smell of cooking food caught on the woodsmoke in the air, and Abby’s stomach rumbled with hunger. They’d only had some fresh bread and cheese on the ride over, and the idea of warm, spiced pumpkin soup and a turkey leg the size of her own face was rather appealing.

“You’ve conducted yourself quite admirably under all the attention as of late, little sister,” Larys complimented, taking a seat on one of the padded benches. She perched beside him, smiling her thanks at the servant who came by with mugs of hot, mulled wine. She inhaled the scent of orange and lemon, the warmth of cinnamon before taking a sip. “Even with your, shall I say, antics at the tourney, they were quite well received.”

“Antics?” she asked lightly, feeling the curl of heat spread across her chest. There was no way for Larys to know what sort of other antics they’d gotten up to. The bite Aegon had left along her shoulder had turned bruised and tender, the imprint of his teeth still deep in her soft flesh. That mark was quite well hidden beneath her jacket and shirt beneath.

Larys only hummed and took a sip of his drink. “The other lords have expressed concern at my choice of husband for you, but I have assured them there is no reason to fret. I simply wanted my sister to be cared for and happy.” He gave her a sidelong look, placid expression barely shifting, his dark eyes large and innocent in his expression. “And everyone can clearly see how happy you two make one another. The queen…” he trailed off with a sigh, “has not quite been pleased but…”

Abby looked down at the deep purple-red wine swirling in the silver goblet. Anxiety prickled through her, confusion at her brother’s attempt, it seemed, to try to bond with her on something more personal. “Her Grace has been very indulgent,” she said softly, mouth twitching into an awkward smile that her brother returned. He inclined his head towards her only just.

“We both understand how passionate the queen’s frustrations can run, little sister,” he said softly, the scent of him cold and clean, like a tomb. Abby blinked, the awkward smile falling from her face. Her throat bobbed, the sting of bile in the back of her throat was almost painful. Had the queen told him what had occurred? Or had Larys, with his strange talents, found out what happened himself. “You will not be her ward for much longer. I imagine, like any mother, she is feeling the maternal ache over the loss of her son to his wife, and the loss of you, who is like a daughter to her.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, busying herself with another sip of wine so she might find the words. They were receiving glances from the bustling court as they found their places, platters and great soup tureens being set out along the tables. Her stomach growled again. “She was quite concerned about… the dishonor I would bring upon the royal family.” Her voice was little more than a shamed whisper and the insinuation was as painful as the day she’d been accused when coupled with Ser Edmund’s harsh words in the gardens. She straightened her shoulders, trying to push past the hurt and shame that lingered still, tilting her chin up, refusing to be cowed. “Apparently some of the other lords are quite concerned about your heir marrying into House Targaryen.” She smiled at the passing servant, plucking a small apple tart off the platter he held. “I have made my own assurances that our children will be raised in the customs of our people, that regardless of dragon blood, we are the Riverlands.” Whether or not Edmund Vance believed her, if he mocked her to those he could find for such statements, well, she could do nothing about that. She could only mind herself.

“It will be a hard road, Abrogail, given that they do not see you as one of them. Lo, they barely see me as one of them, what with all my work here,” Larys said with a nod, looking at the cake he’d plucked for himself. “What matters is that you greatly impressed Lord Tully, and his son has been amenable and welcoming-”

“I may not have grown up in the Riverlands but even I know there’s only so much influence they have,” Abby cut in, chewing her lip after the words tumbled from her, her voice a soft, biting thing. Larys said nothing to that while he chewed on a bite of cake, and she shifted slightly in her seat and took another sip of wine. “It will not be a smooth transition, not for all. A prince? Becoming vassal to a mere lord?”

“Prince Daemon was Lord of Runestone through the dear, late Lady Rhea,” he reminded her after swallowing. “I don’t recall any such problems between him and the Lady Arryn.”

“Jeyne Arryn was kin to his goodsister,” she retorted. She had spent countless hours in the library with Aemond, taking meticulous notes of the lessons the boys had that her and Helaena did not. Part of that involved wiling away a week of stormy, frigid weather, tracing out the family trees of the Great Houses. The Targaryens rarely married out, even before King Jaehaerys, but there had been Aemon and Daella to houses Baratheon and Arryn, and Queen Aemma’s siblings and half-siblings. She’d even traced her own tree: Harwin’s mother, Lysa, had been Lord Elmo’s sister. Larys and Corynna’s mother had been a Frey. Abby’s mother had been a Westerlander, already outside, already suspicious of the clannish houses of her homeland. “And if all the mutterings and murmurings are true, he cared as little and less for them as they did for him.”

She’d heard the rumors of Daemon being responsible for his first wife’s death, and the occasional muttering that he was responsible for Laena Velaryon as well, but in the past few days being with the mercurial Baela, she did not think that was the case. Abby looked back at her brother again, briefly, before smiling in greeting as Lady Redwyne and her sister settled nearby. The queen had sat on the opposite end of the circle of seating, the corral of it split evenly between the pair of them. Her shoulders slumped minutely and she kept her genial smile as the older women settled in.

Laughter caught her attention, Helaena and Baela both with shaking shoulders near the pavilion entrance as other girls joined them. They would be going hawking soon. The sun caught upon Helaena and Baela’s silver heads, giving them a golden shine. A sigh caught in her throat. How nice it would be to join them, to frolic in the lack of responsibility.

Larys shifted, still sitting at her right hand as the rest of the guests filtered in, and her attention drew back to him. “Ah, yes, the princesses and the other ladies are going hawking. Did your grandfather not gift you a new hawk for your engagement?”

Lord Rodrik had indeed. Abby had hawked some when she was a little girl at one of the hunts for Princess Rhaenyra’s nameday, but had never had a one of her own. But Lord Rodrik and her Reyne family were prodigious hawkers and the beautiful Peregrine she’d named Caelus was a little wonder. He’d been trained by her cousin, Emrik, who had fancied himself a falconer, and had sent a kind letter that she was quick to return. Letters had been rare over the years, but there’d always been well wishes and tidings on her nameday.

“He did, and I know we brought him. The queen…” Abby trailed off, her eyes darting to the other side of the tent where Queen Alicent was smiling at the younger Lady Redwyne. “She said that it was our duty to host while Aegon goes hunting. That it’s my duty. To make friends, to comport myself as the future princess.”

“Oh, did she?” Larys asked mildly, cocking his head to the side and leaning on his cane. “Yes, I can see what she would want that. It was, after all, what has been expected of her when she was your age, already with two children. She had far more in common with the matrons of the court at that point. You are here when others who should be are not.”

Rhaenyra should be here. She was the King’s eldest, his heir. Discomfort prickled along Abby’s spine, a latent spike of anger at the woman who had put her family in danger, hurt at how quickly Rhaenyra had moved to Daemon Targaryen after what happened to Harwin. Her fingers curled against her knees before she forced them to relax and stretch. The Crown Princess had always been kind to her, but could Abby even trust that? After what happened at Driftmark, and what happened to her family?

Alone now, save for Larys.

‘Not alone anymore’, she immediately reminded herself, because Aegon was with her now; Helaena and Aemond cared for her too. They too were her family. Not alone, for she had her grandfather and he loved her truly. Yet, she had felt this loneliness for so long. Rhaenyra was not responsible for her loneliness, but in many ways she felt it keenly. It felt as if everything changed because of her.

This marriage, Alicent’s desire for control, Lord Otto’s keen and watchful eye were because of Rhaenyra. Aegon’s pain was because of Rhaenyra.

Her father and brother were dead and gone because of Rhaenyra.

“I am here when others are not,” she said softly, eyes watching those who watched her, her smile flashing as she murmured her greetings as the ladies began to gossip. Larys was murmuring his own greetings to Lord Piper’s wife, complimenting her on the recent betrothal for her son. Abby’s gaze darted towards the front of the tent, where the girls were still gathered as they prepared to go off for their own little adventures.

Alicent Hightower made sure she was there. She made sure that people saw her as queen, someone to be trusted and counted on, someone that could be reached. She was here, as Abby was here.

“If the Targaryens mean to exercise power in our realm, they will be in for a rude awakening.”

Abby was not queen. She wasn’t certain what that future held, but she did know, with certainty, that she was the future Lady of Harrenhal, and that Lythene Ryger, Melony Piper, even Sarra Frey who was lingering nervously with a goblet in hand, they too would be future ladies of houses that she needed to be friends with. Abby could not just rely on the fact that she held the title, not when she did not grow up in her home, not when people like Edmund Vance were so eager to tell her that it didn’t matter, they would see what they wished.

“Lady Sarra,” Abby called, rising with a smile and handing over her goblet. She could feel Alicent’s eyes on her, and that over the other ladies. “I did not have the opportunity to speak with you at the feast last night. Pray, will you join me and the others out hawking?”

Sarra Frey was a tall girl, broad shouldered with high cheekbones and dark hair bound in a twist of three braids down her back. She wore a simple but lovely jacket of deep blue and silver, the colors of her house. At being addressed, she straightened up, green eyes wide with surprise at being noticed. They narrowed slightly, mouth parting before closing. A flush crept across her cheeks.

“I don’t have a hawk with me, Lady Abrogail,” she said softly. At her full height, she was as tall as Aemond, more softly spoken than her severe expression might have said. Abby smiled.

“That is quite fine, there are plenty to go around.” Sarra nodded, handing off her goblet to one of the passing servants and Abby looped her arms through hers and tugged her towards the others. “My legs are exhausted from that carriage ride, shall we go?”

Even Baela’s mask of judgment faded as they walked towards the edge of camp where the Master of the Mews was minding the hawks and preparing to move out further from camp. She was stuck between Helaena and Wylla, the princess’ silver head shining beneath the sun. Lythene was laughing with the Crane twins and even Sarra was pulled into conversation with Zara Celitgar, who was eyeing the tall Frey girl appreciatively.

“Are we not taking a carriage?” Margaery Crane asked as Helaena led the way past the line of them set aside for their later return.

“It is not a far walk,” Abby assured her. “And it’s nice to stretch our legs after all that sitting.” She nodded towards the Master of the Mews and his apprentices carting the hawks ahead of them. Margaery hummed in agreement, confusion placated, and Abby was set to continue onto another subject when there was a commotion from behind them. She looked over her shoulder to see Cassandra Baratheon striding behind them.

“You all left so quickly!” she announced, censure and jovial all rolled into her crisp tone. A slight smirk crossed her sharp features as they approached. Among the three ladies that accompanied her, Lady Elinor kept close at her side. Cassandra’s dark eyes swept over Abby as they drew closer, and she felt picked apart by the gaze, something sharp stabbing between her ribs at the continued haughtiness of the eldest Storm. Abby straightened, offering her own wan smile. Like hell would Cassandra set foot into Harrenhal, but this?

This she needed to be easy with; this she could allow.

“Of course, Lady Cassandra,” she said. “We would be happy to have you.” Helaena made a soft sound that Abby ignored but felt deeply. Her eyes flitted to Lady Elinor at Cassandra’s shoulder, giving her a warmer look. It was her family’s strawberry wine that had been highly spoken about over the course of the festivities, and Elinor’s responding smile was kinder.

“Congratulations are in order, Lady Abrogail,” Lady Elinor murmured. Cassandra’s eyes tightened, her smile frozen on her face.

“Yes, congratulations on your coming nuptials,” she parroted, smoothing her kidskin gloves over the fall of her woolen hunting jacket. “How comforting it must be to wed one’s childhood playmate. No surprises or excitement to worry about.”

The words were harmless enough, but the barb beneath them was clear. Abby tilted her head slightly, her own smile still on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was Baela who spoke, angling her head between Wylla and Helaena to peer at her cousin.

“Not to mention wedding a childhood playmate means there’s no barrier to intimacy, and no secrets kept,” she said, then bit into the apple she had in hand. “Now let’s fucking move before I start hunting with my bare hands.”

Helaena was meant to be in bed but sleep eluded her. She waved away the maids and headed out into the night toward the great bonfire in the center of camp. There was no danger here, much like there was no need to fear in the Holdfast. Her slippers grew wet after only moments, the night dew soaking into the soft fabric and chilling her toes.

She wanted to dance around the fire, stare into the flames like she heard the Red Priestesses did, and wonder to herself if her dreams would make more sense then. Aemond said she was touched as Daenys was, a gift precious to their Targaryen line. It helped ease the fearful strangeness to know that her strange dreams were not simply the ‘odd workings of an overactive imagination.’ That they did mean something, but what? Helaena was never certain. Sometimes she never knew the outcome, other times they became starkly clear.

‘He’ll have to lose an eye’.

“Would you care for some company?” came a low, curious voice, a slight crack on the last word. She looked over to see Jace lingering at the edge of the firelight, his jerkin long discarded with just his gray linen shirt and trousers, a dark blue cape wrapped around him. The bright flames danced in his lavender eyes, giving them a shade of deep purple-red she found curious indeed. Did her own look the same?

“You’re not gallivanting with the boys?” Helaena asked, not meaning anything by it until the words hung in the air, and Jace’s gaze glanced to what he held in his hands. The only ‘boys’ for him to gallivant with were her brothers. Of course there were other lordlings about, but given that Jace was lingering around the bonfire caused her to wonder if he too liked the quiet.

Or if he were lonely.

“I didn’t want to…” Jace trailed off, rubbing his thumb over whatever he held in his hand. The motion of it reminded her so strongly of Abby, Helaena didn’t know how she was supposed to process it. The curl of unease and her mother’s frustration and anger coated her insides. Her own frustrations, deeply buried but still there, like the ever smoking fires of the Dragonmont, bubbled and burbled in response. The king who loved Jace more, loved him like he loved Rhaenyra more. The blind man who ignored Aemond’s nameday even though it had just happened, who only thought of Aegon’s day because of everything that happened.

The dead look in Mother’s eyes that was more and more frequent, when she stared out the window of her solar, her hands twisted and knotted into her skirts. The things that Sire-Father had done to her for no reason except his own dragon feelings, Helaena thought. His need for more and more, consuming him the way the anger would consume Aemond, and the drink would consume Aegon.

All of them pinned to boards in the king’s Freehold miniature; all of them frozen and set on display in his own gallery, for him to take down from time to time to play with.

The burst of a log in the fire startled her and Helaena realized, uncomfortably, that she’d been staring, vacantly, at Jacaerys, who was watching her, still as water, quiet as an orb weaver. He watched her, the fire throwing orange and red across his fine features, catching at the warm red in his dark, dark hair. His right eye was a sheen of red from the fire, his left cast in shadow. Half fire.

Her right side was chilled, when her left was so warm, mirrors of each other.

Half fire.

Jace held out his hand, palm open, offering to her the smooth stone that he had been fiddling with. The ridges of the sea creature who died in it caught upon the light, throwing its own little shadow as it was unable to in life, living in the sea as it did. Only now, in his hand, had this creature found warmth and light.

Helaena reached for it, her hot fingers scraping against his as she took it, feeling his own hot skin beneath her touch.

Half fire.

‘But I am full flame,’’ Heleane thought, for she was dragonflame and lighthouse flame. Lighting the way with fire in her wake. Jace was fire, yes, but he was river water, the way it rippled through him. Still and steady, but crashing and flooding with the ferocity of a dragon’s power. ‘Would this be what her nieces and nephews be?’ Is this what a union of fire and water entailed? Deadly and quiet, steady when they were full of heat and flame.

She rubbed her thumb over the fossilized creature and it felt pleasant against her skin. Soothing, tactile. Grounding. “Thank you,” she said softly and Jace smiled at her. “Pity it’s not another marchpane tentacle.” He laughed, a soft sound that sounded like water over stones and they came to sit on the bench. She shoved her feet closer to the flame and watched the steam rise from the fabric from how hot it was. There was a few inches between them, the warmth emanating, and they sat together, no words spoken. These were her favorite moments, ones she missed. It scraped at her insides, like pushing dirt away from the stone so she could find the worms beneath. They were the memories of the gardens in childhood, Jace beside her, mud and damp soaked into his knees, helping her push the rock up to find the pill bugs and the beetles and the centipedes in the dark, damp earth.

“It was nice to dance with you at the feast,” he ventured, and Helaena looked at him, the shadow along his jaw where he’d wake up fuzzy and prickly in the morning. She reached up to rub the back of her fingers against his jaw, looking at the slight pout of his mouth, the dark fan of his eyelashes. Freckles faint against his skin.

“You're a good dancer. I should know, I’m a good dancer myself.” She smiled at him and he shook his head, a flush on his face and she felt her own spread across her cheeks. He scraped the toe of his boot in the dirt and she nudged her foot against his. He was familiar, in the way Aemond was, but he was new in the way Warren had been. Someone she knew, but didn’t. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t pushing and probing at her, looking for a bruise to elicit feelings from, or the thrill of a princess. He didn’t look at her like she was odd, or startle at her staring, her distant sight.

Jace was simply patient, and he waited, and did not seek to chatter. It was new, it was old, it was like pressing against the ground and the dirt giving way, a little tunnel inside that one didn’t know was there, and Jace peered in and made his way inside. A dragon roosting in a cave.

His knee bumped against hers and she looked at him, their matching lavender eyes meeting. It was nice, Helaena thought, that they had this piece to share. Like two different butterflies, different colors and different patterns, but the markings were the same. The wings were the same. Simply… different.

“The mint winds and chokes like ivy,” she said, instead of what she meant to say, which was asking him if he would come looking for stag beetles with her the next day. “The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.” She blinked, startled, but the words that she had not known, had not meant to utter, remained heavy between them. “I-.”

He blinked back at her, brow furrowed. “Helaena, are you-”

A horrible scream ripped through camp and for the briefest moment, Helaena thought it might have been a fox shriek. But this was too loud, too close. Another scream, this time two high pitched ones and then a guttural yell. Jace’s hand gripped hers, pulling her to her feet and away from the fire. She tugged at his hold to move towards the commotion, but he tugged her back. “I’m taking you back to your tent, Helaena,” he said firmly. “We don’t know what’s- Ow!”

She had lifted their hands, sinking her teeth into the plump flesh at the back of his thumb so he’d let go and hurried towards the tents without a second glance, knowing that he’d be following her. She gripped her skirts, grateful for the warmth of Jace’s cloak around her shoulders and her heart sank, panic seizing her chest when she realized it was Abrogail’s tent that was the source of the screaming.

Three of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston, were already there, as were the gold cloaks that had been patrolling around the outskirts of camp. Their cloaks reminded her of Sunfyre’s scales in all the torchlight, and half-dressed nobility coming out of their tents, bleary eyed in confusion.

On the ground lay a servant with a blade in his chest, blood burbling from his mouth. Helaena looked at him, wide-eyed, Jace trying to get her to look away, and her gaze went up to Wylla Karstark. The northerner was shaking, gray eyes wide as dinner plates, her hair bound for bed, her dressing gown haphazard and sprayed with blood from where the man must have coughed it at her.

“He-he came in. He was on Abby so quickly-”

“I don’t know where he came from!” Abby’s trembling frame was right behind her, clutching one of the pokers from the tent brazier in her hands, still ready to strike. Her curls were twisted and wrapped around the crown of her head, shivering in the night air in just her own nightgown, sleep mussed and clearly straight from bed. “I don’t…” She gulped. “I don’t think he meant Wylla to b-be there.” Her free hand was gripping the back of Wylla’s dressing gown, and Ser Criston laid a hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“Give me the poker, Lady Abrogail,” he was saying in a calm, steady voice like he did when Helaena was younger, cowering in a corner and unable to flee the commotion. “There’s a girl.”

Harrion Karstark was shouting his sister’s name, just as Uncle Gwayne was calling hers. Helaena turned her head to see him coming up, half dressed with his sword belt slung over his shoulder. He reached for her shoulder, tugging her back. “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, and Helaena stumbled back into Jace as the crowd parted.

Then, Aegon’s shout of, “Abby!” came crashing over the gathering crowd, pushing his way through with Aemond at his back. She caught her younger brother’s frantic look, seeing the worry ease somewhat at the sight of her before going over to the girls. Abby surrendered the brazier poker as Aegon reached her, frantic over the state of her, pulling his cloak off to wrap around her, fear and fury warring on his flushed features. “What happened?”

The man on the ground was rasping, wheezing, but it was hard to tell if he was alive or not, or if this was how his body signaled death.

“This man came to attack Lady Abrogail, Your Grace,” Ser Erryk said. “Lady Wylla got him good.” His twin nudged the attacker with the tip of his boot as Aemond looked at the man, then at Wylla. His face was carved in hard lines, but his gaze was softened.

“Did you throw it?” he asked. “Or did you pounce on him?”

Wylla blinked, her brother’s broad hands holding her shoulders. “I stabbed him.” Her voice was faint and she took the blade handle, clutching it to her. “He… I was putting away our dresses and there was a commotion… I thought…” Wylla’s brow furrowed, shaking her head. “He came in through the flap beside the bed and crawled o-on top of her. Abby screamed and I just…”

Harrion’s hands tightened on his sister’s shoulders and the girl fell silent with a soft squeak. Aemond’s mouth pursed and he knelt beside the man. His hair fell in a curtain, the band of his eye-patch not holding it back from the vantage that Helaena had. He reached down, and twisted the blade, a wet crack sounding in the sudden hushed anticipation. The wheezing sounds the man was making tapered off as Aemond pulled the blade from his body.

It squelched, a gout of blood spraying, and a strange, hissing sound like wind through a crack sounded. Aemond jerked back as some of the blood caught on the ends of his hair and he rose slowly, wiping the blade of the dagger. “Well he’s dead now, Lady Wylla. Your bravery and quick thinking is to be commended. House Karstark should be proud to have such a brave daughter.” He handed her the dagger, hilt towards her. “Keep this close, since you can be well trusted to use it.”

Wylla’s brother held her tightly as the gold cloaks hoisted the dead man between the pair of them, dragging him somewhere.

“I was half asleep,” Abby said. Aegon clutched her to his chest as his gaze swept darkly around, hands rubbing her arms. “At first I th-thought it was Wylla…” Helaena watched Abby’s hand clutch Aegon’s arm tighter, her voice falling silent. Her other hand reached towards Wylla again, the girls clinging tightly to one another.

“How the fuck did that bastard manage to sneak into my lady’s tent?” Aegon demanded, his voice not a shout like Uncle Gwayne’s had been, but more of a warning growl, like Sunfyre. “Where were the patrols, Ser Criston?”

Their mother’s protector - and Helaena realized that Mother was not there and that Ser Criston must have commanded her to stay in her own tent - shifted only slightly. “The patrols largely keep around the outside of camp to keep people from getting in, my Prince. The patrol that was walking through the tents had not made it back around yet.”

Aegon’s jaw ticked, assessing what Ser Criston had said and knowing it to be true. Helaena knew that Aegon and the others had been lingering in Aegon and Aemond’s tent for whatever gossip and giggling boys got up to in the middle of the night.

“Lady Abrogail and Lady Wylla will share my tent,” Helaena broke in, for she was the princess, and her mother was not here. “And we will have extra guards stationed around our tents, so that our Kingsguard are not stretched thin.” She straightened her shoulders and closed the distance between her and the girls. “This is enough horrible commotion for this night, and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for staring so,” she said, frowning at the crowd that had gathered. “These ladies have been terrorized, and you gawk at them. To bed, everyone! Let us gather your things and get you cleaned up.” The last was said to Wylla, who needed a fresh gown and the blood cleaned from her face.

And like the princess she was, she did not wait to be obeyed, reaching for Abby’s hand to pull her toward her tent.

Thank you for being here! If you loved this chapter, please give a reblog and I would adore hearing what you thought about the chapter! What did you think about the Larys and Abby convo? Baela Targaryen continues to be a force to be reckoned with. I for one love the ladies that Helaena and Abby have been gathering around them. Man what was UP with that attack at the end? And also, Jace clearly doesn't mind Helaena biting him. Good.

Next Chapter

#hotd fic #hotd oc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fandom #house targaryen fanfic #jacelaena #my fics #oc: abrogail strong #otp: do not go far from me #aegon x abby #abrogon

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mylittleponyauprompts · 2 months

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An AU where Alicorns are deities and they are often known to choose a mortal as their favorite in one way or another. An Alicorns chosen gets a longer lifespan, stronger magic, and often become important religious and political figures. Whether this is a good thing or not is up to the chosen one, for how are you supposed to react to a god forcefully holding you back from the afterlife, forcefully keeping you alive to stay with them forever.

Optional additions-

An alicorns chosen do have a great chance of ascension. This has happened before. Other mortals can ascend as well, Cadence is an example of a mortal ascension without being a chosen. Discord is an anomaly

Celestia had always promised herself that she wouldn't hold a mortal back from their peaceful rest like her and Luna's old friend Discord had done to them. But she met her student, the closest thing she can ever have to a daughter. It wouldn't hurt if she lived a little longer would it?

Discord was friends with Celestia and Luna when they were merely mortals. He as a god couldn't bare to see the only beings that treated him with any respect die. So he just wouldn't let them leave. Eventually he got to see them become deities in their own right. His current friend Fluttershy....she is different from those two. He couldn't bare to see her stay, she wouldn't survive eternity like he knew Celestia and Luna could. She deserves to rest.

Cadence is a recently ascended goddess, who is rather new to the concept of the whole thing. She was never told of consequences that may occur if she married her husband shining Armor. She didn't realize the consequences until she and him noticed that he wasn't aging anymore. And that Shining's sister Twilight Sparkle isn't aging either.

Twilight's ascension either doesn't happen or happens much much later. It certainly doesn't happen in the main shows time-line.

Shining Armor has a decent chance of ascension as well. Sometimes deities just ascend in sets. The Celestial sisters, and Twilight Sparkle and Shining Armor.

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smok3r7 · 11 days

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One Door Closes & Another One Opens

Joel x OFC!Divorce Lawyer

Explicit, 18+

The Duality Of Life

Main MasterList & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and an old flame of Renae’s reignites in the same breath?

Chapter Summary: The reality starts to really set in for each of them, but for different reasons.

Word count: 2.1k

—

It’s been two weeks since Renae first met Joel and about twelve hours since their last consultation, all about Annie getting served divorce papers on a day that just so happens to be today.

She just knows shit is going to hit the fan. In other words, Annie’s going to throw one big, giant fit.

Joel told Renae the first time he and Sarah left to stay at Tommy and Maria’s place that Annie would nonstop call and text him - along with his brother and his sister in law - about how “unfair” he’s being. She even tried to break into his brother's home, multiple times. The woman has some screws loose, to put it politely, and Joel has told Renae more than she needs to know, but he wants to make sure she knows every detail of what’s going on - not just for the court.

Rather, because there’s not a day that goes by without her or Joel texting and calling one another. They can’t leave each other alone and the lines have been blurred many times already, by both sides.

Even at the gym, where Renae is currently working out with her cousin, Ally, who’s only a year younger than her. She’ll send him sweaty pump pictures in the locker room mirrors, clearly trying to show her ass and thicker hourglass figure, though with a bit of class. She’s not afraid to admit that she does feel something for Joel, but she knows how careful she must be - in the eyes of the law, the man is still married and Renae is not, and she will never be a homewrecker. But as long as he proceeds with this divorce - which she knows he will - then there’s no issue. Right?

You’re dangerous, you know that?

Renae reads Joel’s message again and again. She couldn’t hide the way her heart flutters or the heat that radiates from her cheeks, even if she wanted to. It’s a natural reaction after continuous texts and conversations that dwell into the deeper parts of one another. Things that Renae wants to learn about, not for her job, but for her to grow closer with him and be able to understand Joel as an individual. Not a married man.

Her thumbs playfully do a little dance above her keyboard while she thinks of a slick response to toy with him even more than she is.

Who me?? Neverrr ;)

“What are you over there cheesin’ about?” Ally questions as she unlocks her locker and starts grabbing her things. Renae and her have grown increasingly close since Gia left for New York, not a replacement by any means but definitely another sister-like relationship.

Joel. She one words Ally as she sets her phone down to pull her large graphic tee over her sticky, sweaty body. Renae’s brought up Joel to Ally before, only briefly - his name and that they met at the diner - but word gets around fast here. Even though she trusts Ally with her life, there are some things that she keeps to herself.

“What’s goin’ on with that by the way?”

The question lingers in the locker room for what seems like thirty seconds, while Renae tries to figure out how far she wants to divulge. On one hand she wants to tell somebody what’s going on because she has all these questions and feelings clouding her conscience. But on the other, she doesn’t want this to blow up in her face later on - with her job or her life - because something like this could mess with her reputation.

She does not want to be known as the sleazy attorney that sleeps with her clients. It would ruin her completely. So Renae decides to keep this to herself.

“Just havin’ some fun, is all.”

—

“JOEL!”

His eyes shoot open and his heart sinks, this can’t be good. He raises his right hand above his eyes like a visor so he can see the human figure that stands in the doorway. The raging sun beats down on him and Sarah who’s floating on pool toys in the water to cool off from the yard work they finished an hour ago.

Suddenly Joel’s eyes adjust from the brightness and he sees Tommy waving his hand, motioning Joel to come inside. Serving Annie must’ve not gone as smoothly as he prayed for. But in reality, he knew she was going to make it harder for him and Sarah because there’s nothing simple about Annie.

Small things such as asking her to do a simple load of laundry or dishes turns into a huge debacle in itself, so he can’t even begin to imagine how this went.

“Stay in the shallow end, please,” he reminds Sarah, who’s now swimming back and forth with her bright pink goggles on her eyes, as he pulls his white shirt over his head and wraps his large beach towel around his waist covering his bathing suit. Okay, dad, rings through the backyard creating this little song with the birds that hang out in the trees above her, causing Joel’s cheeks to glow.

Gliding his fingers through the curls that hang in front of his face so they slick back and stick to his drenched head, he builds up the courage to face Maria, who offered to serve the papers. Maria and Annie have gotten into it at least a dozen times before because of the way Annie has tried to create this havoc in Maria’s life, unnecessarily.

Annie’s lost every time.

“How bad?”

Tommy does nothing but spin around and stomp through the four-season porch, then push the screen door open that leads into the kitchen, leaving it open for Joel to follow. But his feet are almost melted to the boiling cement, he can’t move, or at least his mind won’t allow him to. It’s like the wires that connect from his brain to his muscles are malfunctioning, Tommy only acts like this when something goes haywire.

Maybe this divorce wasn’t a good idea…maybe I shoulda’ stuck it out just a little bit longer…I mean, was my life really that bad? I coulda’ faked it longer…but could Sarah? Joel only turns his head to take one more look at his daughter who’s now playing mermaid with her Barbie’s, nothing but a bundle of joy and cuteness. Her brown hair clings to her shoulders and face when she breaks the barrier of the water but quickly disappears when she dives again. No… I’m doing the right thing.

Finally grounding himself, he steps out of the warm comfort of the sun and enters the chilly house. Sliding the screen door shut behind him, he shouts into the empty kitchen asking where they are. “Bedroom,” Tommy responds. Joel inhales deeply through his nose and as he exhales he mumbles, the biggest steps are the hardest but that means you’re movin’ on. Words from Renae that have stuck with Joel and help him get through days like today, days that impact him more than people would think.

Without really preparing himself for whatever fresh hell he’s about to see, he strides to Tommy and Maria’s room where he sees Maria laying down with Tommy next to her. Her nose bloody, right eye swollen, and knuckles a mix of blood and bruises - fuck.

“I’m okay.” Maria reassures him instantly, then turns to her husband, “Tommy! You gotta calm down!” Joel rushes to her side of the bed and kneels on the floor, carefully folding his hands around her hand that lays on the comforter. Apology after apology flies out of his mouth, he never wants this to happen. It's not good for anyone, even if Annie gets put in her place - or an ass beating - because his life is now affecting his little brothers.

“Joel, stop. I offered to do it,” Maria tells him and she continues to reassure him that he has nothing to be sorry about. She’s actually really proud of him for taking this big leap in his life and it all being about Sarah, she finds it’s very admirable that he fights hard for his daughter.

“Thank you,” he mutters, standing up to leave them for the evening knowing that everything’s fine and is going to be. Halfway through the kitchen he stops, partially losing his balance he leans his right hand on the large wooden table to stable himself. His lungs grow and shrink in a slow rhythm, he finally feels relieved.

The biggest steps are the hardest but that means you’re movin’ on.

—

“Wait…so you’re tellin’ me he cheated on you?”

“Twice. I can’t believe I was that naive, but what can ya do? Just the way the world works I guess.”

Joel’s chuckle feels warm in her ear, like he’s laying next to her in bed letting her head rest on his chest, playing with her fiery hair while her arm wraps around his belly and she squeezes him. But he’s really on the other end of the phone, in his own home, his own room, his own bed. When all she wants is nothing more than to smell his musk and run her acrylics through his salt and pepper curls that lay on the nape of his neck.

Renae rolls onto her stomach, placing her phone between her elbows as she watches “Joel<3” scroll at the top of her screen with an hour and forty-nine minutes underneath. The longest phone call they’ve had yet and somehow, the most memorable. Renae’s finally opening up to him after three weeks, feeling that she can truly trust this man with things she rarely has told anyone.

For once she feels vulnerable and safe at the same time, which she hasn’t felt with anyone in years. It’s like the world is finally rooting for you instead of against, she feels she can maybe relax some more. Just knowing this man is here for her whenever she needs; to simply chat about nonsense or when something is bothering her to the point of irritation, helps heal parts of her she didn’t even know were still bleeding.

“Well, the bastards missed out on the fun one.” Renae can hear the hoarseness in his voice, getting more and more tired as the seconds pass. “The gals like you are the resilient ones. The ones who can make it through anythin’ ‘n may come out with some bruises, but you dust off the dirt ‘n grow from it.”

Her face flush from the genuine words and affirmations from Joel, her stomach bounces around that she rolls onto her back and covers her eyes with both her forearms. She tries to control her breathing from the adrenaline that pumps through her veins, which slows down a tiny bit - but not much.

“You gotta stop doin’ that thing!” She can’t help the giggle that follows her words, like a teenager on her first date.

Doin’ what, Rae? The lowness of Joel’s voice vibrates her phone on her mattress, one of her favorite things he does over the phone. She’s not sure how he does it or if he even knows he’s doing it, all she knows is that she loves it. The nickname started last week, all on Joel’s own and she hasn’t loved the way anyone has called her pet names, since Dominic - Mia Sole, My Sun.

“That right there!” She laughs, “You’re gonna get me in trouble old man.”

“Old man, huh?”

Mhmm, she smiles into her bedroom as she pets Frankie who’s just hopped up next to her. She can’t help herself from toying with him, especially since he bites back or at least he usually does, unless he just lets Renae have her fun taking shots at him. Like tonight, the man had a hard day at work today, he’s pretty sure he tweaked his back a bit - hence why he sounds exhausted.

“Well, young lady…this old man’s tired ‘n your sweet southern charm is rockin me to sleep ‘n I don’t wanna fall asleep while you’re tryna chat-“

“I don’t mind.”

She’s not sure why she blurts that out, it just did. This happens far too frequently for her to not know why her body naturally reacts to him like this, it’s almost like her body is set on matching them together. But nonetheless, she stands ten toes down on her feelings, Renae wants this man to herself.

She’s gonna get him one way or another.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel x oc #joel and sarah #joel the last of us #joel tlou #daddy joel #tlou joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x ofc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc

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maggiedanikka · 2 years

Text

Let Me Go

Pairing: Hangman x f!reader, (eventual) Rooster x f!reader

Warnings: none, very brief mention of sex, Angst, pregnancy

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Reader is married and shares a child with Hangman, Life and circumstance drives reader into Rooster’s arms, but Hangman isn’t giving up that easily

Author’s Note: Hi y’all, I am back from the dead. Truthfully, I haven’t written anything fiction for a freaking long time. I’m a political science major so I have been writing only research papers and journals for the past 3+ years. Please bear with me here, I don’t have an editor or anything, will probably just make my little sister read it (but she’s the meanest person ik so it would basically be like having an editor). Anyways, I have recently become OBSESSED with Top Gun: Maverick and basically fell in love with the characters and their universe. This idea came to me as I was getting ready for work and I disassociated the entire drive thinking about this specific plot/story. Next thing I knew I was at work with no recollection of driving there lol. But I am deciding if this will continue to be a one-shot or if it should be a little mini series, let me know!

Rooster Playlist:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4tS2I0YnKUSrBOMSUCqLgh?si=6a1898d0be474904

Hangman Playlist:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2z4lAcBPvbCx19NWni8DVS?si=f7da4ba91773424e

Italics is past

“Mommy! I can’t find my dress!” Your 4 year old daughter screams from her bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you have plenty of dresses, just pick one!”

“Not just any dress! I want the dress with daddy’s planes on it!”

You walk into her room, covered in pink pastel wallpaper with a gigantic pile of dresses greeting you and a missing 4 year old.

“Astrid! Where are you sweetie? Your dad is gonna be home soon and we need to clean this mess up.”

You see your daughter planted face down on the floor of her closet.

“Daddy is gonna hate me forever, if I don’t wear my dress!” She cries with a muffled voice.

You laugh as you shake your head, your daughter may look like you but definitely inherited her father’s flair for the dramatics.

You pick her up and sit on the ground, placing her on your lap.

“What makes you think your dad is gonna hate you if you don’t wear the plane dress?” You ask your daughter as you wipe the tears from her face.

“Because Daddy loves planes! That’s why he goes away all the time, so he could fly in the air! If I wear the plane dress then Daddy will want to stay here with us.” Astrid pouted.

Your heart breaks for your little girl. Jake’s job often took him away for sustained periods of time, often not knowing when or if he’s coming back. You never wanted to stand in the way of his dreams, and the arrangement was fine for a while. You kept busy with your job as an attorney at a large law firm, trying to pay your dues and work up to a partner. Then, on the special occasion that Jake would come home the reunion was always explosive.

What you had with Jake just worked for both of you. You were both deeply passionate and ambitious about your careers and it was comforting to know that you found someone who understood your drive. Most importantly, you loved Jake so intensely. Being with him felt like being on fire. It was the kind of love that had you screaming at each other at the top of your lungs at 3am, cursing his name, only to end with you under him as he fucked you on the nearest surface.

Getting pregnant changed that dynamic. Your mind wanders to when you first found out about your daughter.

The 3 ClearBlue Pregnancy tests sat on your bathroom sink, all adorned with the same terrifying word, “Pregnant”.

Your best friend breaks you out of your lull. “So no doubt, you are definitely pregnant, what are you gonna do?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” You reply. “This is coming at such a bad time, I’m up for an important promotion at work… and then I'm gonna have to go on maternity leave…and I can't drink alcohol or coffee!! I LOVE COFFEE. I can't stop drinking coffee! And then-” My bosses will NEVER Your best friend interrupts your tirade, “Okay (y/n) you need to breathe, stress is bad for the baby.” She says jokingly. You glare at her in response.

“Besides, you’ll have Jake right?”

“Oh shit, Jake. I forgot about that. What am I gonna tell him? This was not at all part of the plan. Kids were not even on the table!”

You suddenly hear the front door open and Jake’s booming voice as he travels up the stairs. “Hey sweets, I’m home!”

“Oh shit I forgot that he was coming back today. Quick! Hide the tests!” You toss the pregnancy tests to your best friend who fails to catch them.

“Eww no, I’m not touching those! You peed on them!”

“Come on work with me here! I don’t want Jake to see them!”

“What’s going on here? What don’t you want me to see?” You freeze as you hear your husband’s voice behind you. Jake looks on the ground to see the three discarded pregnancy tests scattered on the floor. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Are those pregnancy tests?”

“Well this signals my exit, call me later (y/n). Jake, always a pleasure.” Your best friend says as she leaves the room.

Jake looks back and forth between you and the tests on the floor, you stand frozen in front of his gaze. Both of you break out of your daze when you hear the front door close.

“Jake…” You begin to say

“(y/n), please tell me those pregnancy tests aren’t yours.” Jake interrupts.

“Well I can’t because they are…” You reply with a sigh.

“So you’re… we’re pregnant?” Jake asks.

“Yes…” You respond meekly, bracing yourself for an argument and possibly a yell. Instead you were surprised to feel a set of strong arms around you.

“I can’t believe it, Sweets! I’m gonna be a daddy!” Jake smiles into the hug.

“You’re…happy?” You were very, very, confused. “I thought you didn’t want kids?”

“I know we haven’t talked about it, but I want a family with you (y/n). And I know that things are hard because I’m always away and you’re busy kicking ass as a lawyer, but I think we’re ready” Jake admits, giving you a soft smile.

“Jake, I’m scared. What if I’m not a good mother, I’m too career focused and I can’t be the doting wife and mother that you and our future child deserve.”

“Don’t say that (y/n) you are the smartest, most passionate, caring…” “And the hottest woman I know.” Jake adds with a smirk “You have been an amazing partner and I know you'll be an even better mother.”

You smile as you embrace Jake and pull him down for a kiss. “I love you Jake.” You tell him after you pull away. “I love you too Sweets.” He replies “And I promise I will be around more, even if it means saying no to missions. I wanna be able to see our baby Hangman grow up”

Except he didn’t keep that promise. He did take a leave after finding out you were pregnant and was home throughout most of your pregnancy and the birth of your daughter. But when he got called back to Miramar for a special detachment, he couldn’t say no. He came back from the mission still the cocky and self assured man that you loved but something had changed. After not being chosen to fly the mission and left as reserve he felt like he had something to prove. So every mission, every detachment, anything the Navy would give him he’d ship out. He had to prove that he was a better pilot than Rooster. Bradley Bradshaw, of course you knew your husband's rival, but that’s something to think about for later.

This resulted in huge rifts in your marriage. You were passed on for promotions and big cases because you had to miss meetings and retreats to take care of your daughter. Everytime Jake promised you he would come home, a new mission would come up that he couldn’t pass up. He missed out on Astrid’s first steps, her first words, the first day of kindergarten. So when he told you a month ago that he was coming home you honestly did not expect him to actually come.

You were used to Jake not coming home when he said he would, but your daughter whose eyes were full of hope and adoration for Jake still believed his empty promises and you did not want her little heart to be exposed to disappointment just yet. So if Jake bails again, you will actually kill him.

You pull yourself out of your thoughts and reply to your daughter.

“Sweetheart, your daddy loves you too! Not just planes, and you know all he wants to do is spend all of his time with you. Your dad just has a very important job and he does it to keep you safe.” You tuck your daughter’s stray hair out of her face.

“Now no more tears, you don’t want your daddy to see you crying and think you’re not happy to see him right?” You teasingly say to your daughter. Astrid gets up with the renewed energy only a toddler could have.

“No! Of course not mommy!” She screams as she runs back into her bedroom.

You pull yourself off the ground and follow your daughter into the room. You spend the next 20 minutes folding the giant pile of dresses and your very eager daughter putting them back in the closet. This pays off because you eventually find the infamous plane dress. Your toddler breaks out into squeals after seeing that you found her dress.

“THANK YOU THANK YOU!! I'm going to put it on before daddy gets here!!”

You smile to yourself as you watch Astrid run to change.

You walk downstairs to make sure that the rest of the house is in order, while Jake never complains about the mess, you know as a Navy man, cleanliness and order is hardwired into his brain. When you see that the house is to your standard, you sit on the couch, happy for a minute of peace after a busy morning.

After a few minutes you hear keys unlocking the front door signaling Jake’s return. You watch as Jake pulls his pack into the house and takes off his shoes, he stops as he feels your gaze on him. He gives you his signature cocky smile “Sweets!”

You were about to reply but instead was interrupted by the loud boisterous yell of your daughter.

“DADDY!”.

Astrid runs down the stairs and throws herself into her father’s arms.

Jake catches Astrid and spins her around in his arms.

“Well hi there Pixie! Did you miss me?” Jake smiles at your daughter.

Jake had a big sweet tooth, he loved chocolates and candies like he was an 8 year old boy. It was something you noticed when you first started dating, which is why he gave you the nickname “Sweets”. He couldn’t resist a Hershey’s bar when he was on leave and his love for Reese's cups was unmatched. You later found out that his favorite candy (for the life of you, you could figure out why out of all the candies in the world this was his favorite) were pixie stix. He always told you that he avoided candy whenever he was on mission, leaving it as a sweet treat at home after a job well done. But you couldn’t help but sneak a pack of KitKats and of course Pixie Stix whenever he left for deployment, staying true to your nickname.

When Astrid was born, you couldn’t believe how much love he held in his eyes for the little pink bundle, and you knew that she would have him wrapped around her finger forever. He nicknamed her Pixie, after his favorite candy.

“Look at my dress daddy!” Astrid exclaims as Jake places her on the ground. She twirled and ran around the room and you wondered how such a small human can have this much energy.

“Are those F-18s?” Jake asks you. You chuckle while nodding your head. “Where the hell did you find a dress with F-18s made for children?” Jake asks amusingly.

“I think you seem to forget how good I am at online shopping.” You reply with a smile, “and your daughter here INSISTED that she just HAD to have a dress with her daddy’s planes on them.”

Astrid smiles as she hugs her father’s legs. “Well you have a good eye there (y/n)”

“Thanks Jake.” You reply before sitting up from the couch and patting down your work skirt.

“Well I have to head out to work, I have a big case with lots of depositions to go over so I probably won't be home until after 7.” You inform him.

You crouch down to your daughter's level. “You’re gonna spend the day with Daddy. Remember to not let him eat too much candy, and make sure you don’t mess up your room again, okay sweetheart?” Astrid nods in response.

“Why aren’t you spending the day with us mommy? Daddy just came home!” Jake gives you a sad look.

You open your mouth to reply but before you could answer Jake tells your daughter “You know how daddy has to go away for his job sometimes? Well mommy also has an important job defending good guys so she has to go away for a few hours, but she’ll be back in time to tuck you in.”

Astrid looks down in disappointment but nods. “I just want to be with both of you, it’s been a long time since you’ve come home daddy.”

Your heart stings in pain knowing that your daughter didn’t know the rift that is currently between you and her father.

“I promise, after I go to work today, I will spend the rest of the week with you and your dad, okay sweetheart?” Astrid’s pout finally turns into a smile “Okay mommy! And we could all play and watch movies and bake cookies…and-”

You laugh as you pull your daughter into a hug. “Of course! I love you and I will see you later okay baby?”

“OKAY!” Astrid screams as she runs to her room to get her toys to play with. You and Jake watch her run up the stairs and disappear down the hallways.

You start to give Jake instructions

“All her snacks are in the pantry, there’s some chicken nuggets and fries in the freezer, but if she doesn’t want that you can always get her pizza or get a can of chicken noodle soup, she loves soup for some reason..” You stop your monologue when you notice Jake staring at you.

“I missed you Sweets” Jake says softly looking at your face.

You finally stop to look at him, still handsome as ever with his muscles apparent under his white shirt. He looked good, a little sadness in his eyes but you remind yourself that it would be a mistake to ask any questions.

You offer him a small smile as you put on your work pumps.

You open the front door and walk out of the house. You hear him ask a question that stops you in your tracks,

“You’re going to see him aren’t you?”

You feel a heavy weight settle on your chest, tears welling up in your eyes. Gathering just enough strength to look back at him,

“I’ll see you later, Jake.”

#hangman x y/n #hangman x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman #jake hangman seresin #rooster #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #hangman angst #rooster angst #hangman x reader x rooster #top gun #top gun maverick

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augustinescruelsummer · 2 years

Text

you found me | j.seresin

In which everything at her job reminds her of the messy broken up engagement of her and Jake Seresin. What happens when the risk of him coming back is probable? This is inspired by You Found Me by The Fray and uses lyrics. F!READER X J.SERESIN. lyrics are in italics <3. Anyway lmk if you want a part 2 love u guys!

AN: im so proud of this. pls be nice to me im 16 so ofc its not gonna be like insanely crazy writing. but i genuinely had the time of my life writing this, and i want it to serve as a reminder that your feelings are always valid. thank you for reading!

WC: 6.3k. | GIF CRED TO @unicornships

You wiped the pool table down, preparing to open your shift. The feint sound of F-18s soaring far away could still be heard from the beachside location of The Hard Deck, and the sound of the planes made you think of him. Like it did every time someone wearing a Naval uniform sauntered in here, and every time you looked longingly at them like they were him. Every time someone walked in with piercing green eyes and ordered a beer, you thought of him and the way he would look at you when you were both on the verge of falling asleep after a long night. The way he would come home and instantly yell out, “Honey, I’m home!” was brought back to your memory every time someone at the bar used the nickname for you.

Every time someone brought up their fiancé or their upcoming wedding, you would subconsciously twirl the nonexistent ring on that specific finger. You would remember how it felt to have a ring on said finger. When someone would ask you if you were married, you would politely tell them no and find a way to excuse yourself from the conversation. Nausea would always overwhelm you when someone brought up the topic, and it reminded you of how you always said you would flush it. You told them you did that whenever someone asked how bad it affected you. Yet, It still sat in your nightstand, never to be moved. The ring was the exact same as it was the day you took it off.

The bar was bustling by the time it opened, and you had been having a good day so far. The people were being kind to you, but that was mostly because many of them knew who you were. Your regulars stopped by to wish you happy holidays and you figured it was because they were all going on their lavish vacations soon. Christmas was still two weeks away and the decorations sprung around the bar made you remember how the holidays used to feel. Your second Christmas spent by yourself, but this year it’d be with Penny and Amelia at least. But it wasn’t with him.

You spurred yourself from the thought of him, choosing to push his face out of your mind for at least one shift. You couldn’t help thinking of him when working, because it was how you met. Beer cans were opened and celebrations were held, people chanting that it was never too early to celebrate the holidays. You found that sort of counterproductive, since the holiday season had a lot to do with religious purposes usually. Nevertheless, it wasn’t any of your business what people did with their own lives. Penny slid behind the counter, giving your shoulder a tight squeeze. “You seem off in space,” she said nonchalantly while she poured another beer. The bar was beginning to empty out because of the late hour. She shifted her weight and leaned on the side of the bar, raising an eyebrow at your mellow disposition. “What’s going on, kiddo?” She prompted, her soft brown eyes staring at yours. She had always assumed the role of a sister or mother to you, which was probably the latter. You shrugged and made up a bullshit lie to try and shake her, but she was not going to go down without a fight. “Is it the decorations?” She asked jokingly, but when your face tensed her smile dropped. “Is it Jake again, honey?”

The mention of his name made you instantly freeze. You slowly nodded your head and nodded your head over to the pool table, where a small mistletoe was hung by the small table. The site of it, after three years, still being there was surprising. You thought that restaurants would usually change their decoration layout, especially this one. But there it was, after all those years, still hanging. Its leaves pristine with a white glint in it, but you had to assume it was fake. You hoped it was fake. Because everything that came after the mistletoe appeared fake. Maybe some selfish part of your brain hoped this year a girl would kiss an aviator under the mistletoe and end up just like you. To prove to yourself they were all like this to women. It’s not a you problem, it’s just them, everyone had told you when you’d gone completely offline the days after. You needed to prove that there was something wrong with them and it had never been anything about you, and you thought that you owed yourself that much. And you did.

“Do you want me to take it down?” Penny asked you, sliding over to be closer to you as you stared at the stupid plant. “Did you know mistletoe is poisonous?” You blurted out to her, and pushed yourself off the bar. You tried to busy yourself with cleaning, squirting the already clean bar top with spray again to distract yourself from Penny’s pitiful gaze. “So are the people that go under it,” you added bitterly after a beat of silence. Penny sighed and took the bottle out of your hands gently, before telling you that you were done for the day.

You clocked in the next day, your mind indefinitely clearer. You had gone home, thrown some shit at the wall, cried, and gone to bed. You were done being sorry for yourself and the shit he put you through. Why should he have an impact on you right now, presently? He was somewhere off in the world, perfectly fine without you. Penny didn’t comment on your lifted mood, instead choosing to go with the flow of the situation. The mistletoe was still there and you had to resist the urge to go over there and break it apart leaf by leaf. The night moved on consistently, and a certain visitor had caught Penny’s eye. Amelia had called you over to ask about them, because both of you knew Penny never held conversation with singular men at her bar without reason. Not after her own version of your story.

“Who was that, Pen?” You asked nonchalantly, taking the beer she had poured out of her hands. She chuckled to herself, knowing that you were nosy as all get out. It didn’t bother her though, in fact, she needed to talk to someone about what she had just been told. “It was a guy who was close friends with Maverick,” she said to you, her face falling even at the mention of his callsign. You swallowed the lump in your throat, selfishly thinking of him even though she was talking about Maverick. “They think he’s going to come back,” she sighed heavily as she said it, like a weight was lifted off her chest. You squeezed the dishrag in your hand, losing your concentration as you thought of Navial Aviators coming back to North Island. “Hon!” Penny said imperatively, snapping you out of your train of thought. You had squeezed the rag so hard old beer and water had dripped onto your pants, but you were so entranced on the thought of aviators returning you chose not to take notice.

“I just know about Pete,” she informed you softly. “I’m excited to see him if he does come back, I suppose. I don’t know if Jake will come back with him, but I presume not. There’d be no reason too,” Penny continued, grabbing the dish rag out of your shaky hands. She was right, there was no reason for him to come back all these years. As if you being here would stop him, you were nothing, your brain said trying to beat you down. You pushed the thought out of your head to the best of your ability and shrugged your shoulders. “If he does, he does,” you tried to say as stable as you could. “But you know I’m here for you, Pen, if Maverick does come back. It won’t be easy, and you dont have to think it will be.” She nodded her head, quickly wrapping you in a hug before going to attend to another customer.

There were couples everywhere, Navy couples, to be more exact tonight. Your guess was that their training had ended early today, so they chose to take their girlfriends and wives down to The Hard Deck to drink. Saltily, you wanted to say that they only chose this place so they could drink without excuse and beg their significant others to buy them more. Aviators, you thought with an internal eye roll. The old juke box was playing an array of holiday and love songs, due to the amount of couples in the bar. You had been serving left and right, trying not to think about how the male would buy the drinks. He never did that towards the end. Your favorite song was playing through the bar, and the sound of it made you stop. You Found Me by The Fray was coming through the speakers loudly, and couples were preparing to dance on the main floor. You divert your eyes somewhere else, and they land by the pool table. Right as a naval aviator and his wife kissed under the mistletoe, to your lyric. Yours and his lyric.

Lost and insecure, You Found Me, You Found Me, lying on the floor.

The rock on her hand told you they were married, a step you never got the privilege to experience.

Just a little late, You Found Me.

You looked right away as their lips separated, and the whistles from the aviators nearby was enough to make you throw a glass if you could. The song especially overwhelmed you, and you aggressively poured beer as the song continued to play, and happy military wives sang the lyrics back to their husbands. The happy glint in their eyes as they stared up at their counterpart was enough to tell you that they were truly happy. Just like you thought you were with him. You looked down at the dinghy bar floor as the song ended, blinking away tears. How come they were entitled to it, the happy ending, and you weren’t?

The afternoons you worked were always the worst. Slow days, grumpy customers who thought they were entitled to everything, it was truly the whole package. You were tidying up tables when a man walked in, and he was neatly kept. He looked extremely nervous and you took your spot behind the bar as he walked up. He was wearing a TopGun bomber jacket, and your mouth dropped open. Maverick. You tried to play it cool, hoping Penny would stay in the backroom. Or maybe some part of you hoped she came out, and Pete would admit his fairy-tale feelings for her. They could have their happy ending. Just maybe that would be enough for you. But deep down, you knew nothing would ever be enough to satisfy the heartbreak. His aviators dimmed his facial expression, but based on the fact he kept rubbing his hands on his jeans, you knew he was nervous. “Can I help you?” You asked sweetly, but loudly. Ok, so maybe you do want Penny to come out here. Right as he opened his mouth to speak, Penny came barreling from the stockroom. A basket filled with glasses in both hands, and she made eye contact with Maverick instantly. It was like an invisible string would forever tie their presences together, because their eyes found each other instantly.

“Pen–” “Pete–”

The moment was shattered by the basket hitting the floor with a lound clang, and you instantly rushed over to grab it from the floor. Pete got out of his barstool, but you shooed him away. “I’ll let you guys catch up,” you told both of them, trying not to let your jealous tone of voice show. You picked up the basket with more force than necessary, and flung the door out to the beach. You knew Penny could tell you were jealous, but she also knew it was understandable. She also understood that some part of you wished he would come back. That he would say sorry and ask for forgiveness. Beg on his knees and tell you that it had always been you, no one else. But that didn’t happen.

You busied yourself by putting glasses on tables, making sure that the forks were properly in proportion with the knives. You never did that. The fear of walking in on Penny and Maverick having a forgiveness session consumed you, and you would spend all night out here if it meant avoiding that fate. Because you wanted to have that conversation so bad. You wanted to share with him the feelings and words that were stolen from you when he left without another word. There wasn’t a last kiss or last words spoken. There was nothing.

Penny called you back in an hour later, not sharing the details of the conversation, Her eyes were brimmed with tears, and you placed the empty basket on the table before rushing into her arms. Her tears flowed freelt when you hit her embrace, and she sobbed into your shoulder. “I don’t know if I can run the risk again,” she told you through tears. “My heart couldn’t do it.” You comforted her to the best of your ability, but it had never been your strong suit. You took her shift, offering to close for her tonight. She had resisted the offer but eventually gave in when you promised her you had it all under control. “You need to tell Amelia,” you had said. She finally caved after those words and grabbed her purse before hurrying out. The memories of you and the bar all came flooding back when you were by yourself here.

–

THREE YEARS AGO, DECEMBER

It was a cold night in California, which was a rare phenomenon for the usually hot state. You had a scarf wrapped around your neck, which you told your friend beside you that it made you feel a part of the holiday season officially. He laughed before opening the door for you into your favorite place ever, and his. “‘Ma lady,” he said jokingly while holding the door, and you dramatically sauntered into the bar. The place was lively, and couples were everywhere inside the bar. They danced to the music playing on the jukebox, but a mischievous Rooster stood irkingly close to the plug. The sight of all the aviators and the lovers made you smile, and you instantly pulled Jake towards the makeshift dance floor. This was your one off day from the bar, and on that day Penny had put all the decorations up. She gave you a cheery wave and her face lit up at the sight of you and Jake. The December air was still detectable in the bar, but you were so happy it didn’t even get to you. Jake played his usual round of pool, and you stood near him admiring him discreetly. Or so you thought. A tipsy Phoenix fell onto the couch beside you, her unexpected weight on the couch making you snap out of your admiration. She took a long swig of her bottle, biding her time, before throwing an eyebrow up at you. Her lips quirked, “When are you gonna ask him out?” She crossed one leg over the other and placed her chin on her hands, looking at you expectantly. If the question hadn’t caught you so off guard, you would’ve smiled at the sight. Phoenix usually had a serious disposition and it was rare to see her so carefree. She giggled at your silence and stricken expression, before giving your shoulder a light shove. “Our secret,” she put a finger to her lips and made a hush sound. Before you could respond to the scene, she got up suddenly. “Bob! I’m calling you for a dance, my wingman!” She took a last sip of her beer, shoving it into Fanboy’s hands before dragging Bob through the crowd to the center.

You sighed as you watched them become the center of attention, two of the top naval aviators having the time of their lives at a bar somewhere off the beaten path. “Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?” His charming voice asked, and you cursed yourself for your cheeks warming up at the pet name. “Just thinking about all the dancing people,” you told him honestly, leaning back on the couch. Your hands were empty, choosing to be his designated driver for the night. You knew it was rare he got a day off, and you wanted him to have a couple drinks. He grinned, “You want to dance?” You shrugged, choosing to stay silent. He placed his chin on the pool stick, his smile growing as he stared down at you. After a couple more moments of staring, he held his hand out for you. You took it happily, standing up to face him. He threw his stick to the side before taking his hands in yours and swinging you around the pool table.

Where all my days were spent by a telephone that never rang.

“This is my favorite song!” You told him, and he smiled down at you not saying anything. He spun you around the pool table, and his dancing skills highly impressed you. This would be your favorite song, was all he thought as he led you into the center of the dance floor. All the couples were slow dancing, and even Phoenix and Bob had cleared the floor for this one.

And all I needed was a call that never came.

You leaned your head on his chest and let the lyrics swim in your brain. There were so many situations that came to your mind when you listened to this song, and it made tears brim to your eyes. “Eyes on me, pretty, this is a sweet moment.” You danced around the center before he led you back over to the pool table. His eyes looked into yours softly, and he tightened the arm around your waist. His thoughts were racing about if you thought this was simply a friendly dance, but he thought it was pretty clear there was more.

To the corner of First and Amistad?

He had your back against the pool table, his arms around your waist now. The pressure and tension in the situation was making your thoughts cloudy. His sharp jawline scanned the people nearby before letting his eyes locked on you. His eyes went above you guys, where a plant was hanging from the ceiling. He smirked down at you, and over the loudness of the song told you, “The plant never lies, sweetheart.”

Lost and insecure, You Found Me, You Found Me.

He kissed you. During your favorite line of the whole song. The entirety of the situation made you feel like you were floating on cloud 9, and you clawed at his naval uniform for something to grab. Something for you to ensure that this was real. That this was happening. You grabbed onto his collar, letting the lyrics be the only thing flowing through your mind. The powerful chorus that you had sobbed to many times before was now being woven with one of the happiest memories. He kissed you deeper with every time your lips met again, you slowly being pressed harder against the pool table. You pulled away finally when the chorus ended, both out of breath and in a haze. “We should do that more often,” he joked when he saw your face. You laughed at his humor and took his hand again, leading him through the crowd of the bar. You laughed your way out of the bar, letting the memory be created with the flow of the night.

For years and years and years and years, and you never left me no messages, you never sent me no letters.

The final faint lyrics, the sad ones, were the last ones to be heard as you and Jake left the bar. You were both still in your haze of falling for each other, and the fact you had kissed him. Little kisses were shared until you finally reached his truck, and he asked you if you were ready to go through with the night. You had agreed, the final lyrics of You Found Me fading away, seeming to be unimportant.

–

PRESENTLY

The memory was one so heavy on your heart it hurt to bear, and you turned the music on the jukebox down. You wondered if Penny and Maverick were having a secret rendezvous, the tears shed earlier completely forgotten whenever he was in front of her. Were they kissing like silly teenagers who were afraid to be caught? Would they ever admit they never officially fell out of love with each other? It all seemed so surreal, that Pete happened to come back just when Penny needed him. Something out of a movie, if you were being honest. You were never that fortunate, you thought negatively as you stared out the windows, looking at the beach you had spent many a night with. God, he was everywhere! His memory was always close by, mostly figuratively, but in some cases literally.

Penny had informed you that a group of 12 highly performing naval cadets were on their way to TopGun Academy, and that they had been called back. She had betrayed Maverick’s trust to tell you this, in secret of course, because you both knew what that meant. “Jake,” you murmured. The first time you had said his name out loud, after you stopped cursing his name within the walls of your apartment. “He’s most definitely in the top ten,” you told Penny. She snorted at the irony of you still managing to brag on him. The reality of him coming into the bar was real, especially with Maverick having come to visit earlier. It was only a matter of time. You had spent all these years thinking about the words you would spew at him, and how the anger would flow off your body so visibly anyone would notice. But in reality, you had thought the day would never come. What would you do when you saw him again? What would he do? You had to have meant something more than all the other girls, right? He put a rock on your hand. The rock. The vision of the ring itself was enough to make your face go pale. Or more, the vision of the rings. Sitting side by side in your nightstand, a reminder on how he walked out on the commitment he proposed. It would’ve been officially a year and a half of marriage today, and the thought of him seeing you on said day was scary enough. But truly, what were you going to say to him if you found the courage? There was so much you had wanted to say, but now the want was fading quickly. The year you had spent bottling up your feelings in hoping you would see him again was not coming into use.

The night was young, a new hour on the clock. Every time someone entered the bar you looked for a clean shaven and freshly groomed blonde man. With his sharp green eyes, there was no way you could miss him. You hadn’t even thought of the site of seeing your old friends. His old friends that had quickly become yours. With the messy way Jake had left things with you and them being stationed overseas, your ties and friendships with the other aviators had quickly dissipated. Jake’s wake had affected every aspect of your life, and you were still picking up the pieces. Now, with his coming back, he was here to wash it all away again. He was here to make you begin the healing process again. When you thought about it all as a whole, you had spent that year prepared and begging for a chance to see him again. But now that the chance was here, you realized how scarily unprepared you were to see his face again.

–

A YEAR AND A HALF AGO. JUNE.

The F-18s were flying in a straight line, clearly practicing some sort of exercise. What said exercise was remained unbeknownst to you, and you were staring in admiration at your aviator boyfriend. You were in shock at the set up of the base, and he had taken it to you for the first time on your three year anniversary. The thought of the whole idea was enough to make your heart melt into a line, because you knew Jake feared taking you on base. The F-18s flying earlier landed smoothly in their spots, and Jake’s tour guiding was cut short by your squeal. “”Tasha!” You cried out in joy, running down the tarmac to greet her. You jumped into her arms, and she hugged you tightly. “I’ve missed you, honey!” Jake’s crew had fallen into the routine of calling you that, and claimed it was your own personal call sign. They said it was because of how sweet you were. Coyote had ended the night with a painful rib bruise after he seductively said you were, “sweet like honey.”

Phoenix gave Jake a wink, knowing the events of tonight that were coming. You peeled yourself off Phoenix to give Bob a hug, along with the rest of the group. They all trotted off to the common room, giving Jake the same look. Jake was happy around you, and it influenced him positively in the field. He aided his teammates when they needed it, always a team player. Him and Rooster worked well as a cooperative team, and they all knew they would be back to TopGun Academy sooner or later. They were the best of their kind, and no one would ever be able to compare to their skill. They were a team like no other, and the Navy adored having them around.

Jake pointed out his locker and showed all the pictures he had of you stuck inside of it. You had teased him about putting an excess amount of pictures of you in his locker, to which he had responded by saying that there could never be enough. You both blushed at the exchange, and he quickly ushered you along. His plane sat in the center between Fanboy and Payback’s jets. He popped the cockpit and climbed up, retrieving two polaroids. They were both from the same night, and the thought of him keeping them in his plane made joyful tears come to your eyes. “No crying, baby!” He had said quickly, trying to fan your tears away because he knew you hated it when your mascara got screwed up for stupid reasons. Those reasons included crying. You had gaven him a deep kiss for that with your back against his F-18, until two new cadet wolf-whistled at the scene. Jake had quickly ushered you away, even though he told you later how hot he thought the whole scene was.

He had tried to get you guys cleared to take a trip in his F-18, but Cyclone had quickly shut the idea down. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Seresin?” Was what he actually said, but then briskly apologized for using profanity. It was an outlandish request and a rare one at best. Usually cadets did not have the balls to ask their admiral to take their jet on a joyride. Jake had grinned at his rejection and told him it was no big deal. He expected it, but still got his normal plan approved. His team had all given a unanimous cheer when he walked out with a shit-eating grin and a thumbs up.

Later that night, Jake led you out onto the tarmac to show you the stars from there. He had his helmet in his left hand, the other around your waist as you pointed out your favorite constellations from the ground. He rested his chin on your head, rubbing both his arms up and down your shoulders to keep you warm. He listened to you softly ramble on, until the soft rumble of the jets was heard from behind you guys. You stopped talking, your mind short circuting as you saw the unmistakable quartet fly on opposite sides of the base. Their jet fuel left a mark in the sky, and you watched in awe as they flipped over each other. How did he even get this approved? You wondered to yourself, knowing he definitely downplayed the tricks to the admiral. The jets flew lower to the ground, beginning to land parallel to each other. You were yet to notice, but Rooster was shielded to the side with a firework pump. The hood of the planes came up, and Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy all stood up to watch the scene. The fireworks came off as they all stood to their full heights in the planes, and you whipped your head to ask Jake what the hell was happening. A gasp left your mouth as you saw him knelt down on one knee, with a box popped open.

“Baby, from the second I saw you, I knew you were it for me. I have to make it official before the Navy sends me off again. Please, will you marry me, pretty?”

Of course you said yes.

Two months later, when you thought you and your fiancé were preparing to marry each other, everything came crashing down. At first you thought it was a sick joke. The bed was cold, an unusual feat for Jake. You knew the mission was four days out, and you were supposed to be at the courthouse today. He hadn’t told you anything about it, just that it was ‘simple’. There were no difficult G’s that had to be reached or anything to your knowledge, but yet he had looked so scared the past couple of days. You looked over at the bedroom clock in your shared bedroom, seeing that it was seven exactly. Jake’s sheets were crumpled as if he had been tossing, and that’s when you noticed. His closet door was thrown open, the majority of his clothes missing. The hangars tossed in a pile at the foot of it. You slowly got out of bed, your mouth running dry. He had taken his plaques off the wall, and in a hurry you ran to the bathroom.

Gone.

Every toiletry he used had been clearly packed up, his toothbrush dry in his holder. Your heart was beating faster and faster, your hands shaking, and you felt like you were going to pass out. You leaned by the toilet but nothing came out. In a daze, you rushed out of the bathroom flying down the stairs. Praying that Jake just had to leave early or something, and you would grab your phone and see everything was fine. Or maybe a note downstairs, telling you it was an urgent call. Deep down in your heart, you knew he was gone. You flung yourself down the stairs, when an unmistakable light caught your eye. His ring. The morning light ahd caught onto the rock, making it shine brighter. The irony of that. A handwritten note was sitting under it, and you grabbed the paper with shaky hands. There were only four lines on it.

If you love something, set it free.

I have to do that with you. I know you won’t be able to handle me in the military.

I have to do this for me and you.

-Jake

–

PRESENTLY

The memory was sucking the energy out of you as you stood in the backroom, your mind heavy. It felt like it was weighing the rest of your body down, and you had no idea if you could go on with the rest of your shift knowing he could walk in the door. It was all flying straight to your head more than you assumed it was. God, you needed to shake yourself out of this. The backdoor flung open on time, one of your other coworkers who barely worked calling you back out. “It’s getting busy!” She called, not bothering to hear your response as the door flung shut. You washed your hands briskly and then continued to tie your waist apron with shaky hands. Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you for a long moment, and you splashed water on your face. Hoping to remove the forlorn expression the thought of him left on you. Not bothering to look at your new reflection after, you swung the backdoor open and stepped into the bar. The backroom was located by the pool table, and a group of tan uniforms caught your eye. You instantly hung back, scanning the group for him. A few familiar faces lit a fire in your heart, the faces of Phoenix and Bob. They were yet to notice you, and they were engaged in a casual conversation.

Their uniforms adorned all their honors, which had growned significantly since you had seen them last. A sense of pride beamed in your heart as you hurried over to the bar, which faced away from the table. You snuck a look at the group as your shift went on. The hard to miss buzzcut of Fanboy was unmistakbale in the group of cadets, and he was accompanied by a smiling Payback. Bob’s glasses adorned his face like usual, and he swung his head around to the bar as you were looking at him. You quickly slid behind the liquor wall, hoping that you avoided his gaze. You weren’t ready to see them. You had no idea how they felt about you. Unbeknownst to you, the team that seemed unbreakable had fallen apart quickly after Jake left. His reputation grew stomped on and ugly, growing notorious for the opposite of things he was originally known for. The team disbanded when the Navy realized they were not the same anymore, and the chemistry faded just as quickly.

He came in about an hour later. His face adorned with his infamous smirk, and his uniform clad body. Your heart stopped when he stepped in, but he completely by-stepped the bar to see some old friends. You were cleaning tables when he entered, but of course you noticed. You could feel him the second he appeared. The song playing in the jukebox was ironic for the situation. You had successfully evaded the cadets, but you knew that it wouldn’t work for much longer. They were caught up in the fact their team was reunited for an unknown purpose, and the missing precense of Rooster and Jake.

“Bagman!” Phoenix called out, “I like the new callsign.”

“It’s Hangman, Phoenix,” he snapped coldly, taking a poolstick straight out of an unsuspecting cadet's hands.

In the end, everyone ends up alone. But losing her, the only one who’s ever known.

His cold tone made you grimace, and you stayed wiping the same table down. Unfortunate for you, your stupid ‘call sign’ had managed to follow you in to the bar, and when a customer shouted it to grab your attention, heads snapped instantly.

“She’s here?” Hangman asked, and when you both made eye contact it felt like the world froze. You needed to rewind. He wasn’t here. He was just a piece of your imagination. You could blink and he’d be gone, replaced with Coyote’s build. But you knew he wouldn’t be. The other cadets instantly tensed up at the interaction between you, no matter how small it was. You swiftly moved between tables, ignoring Jake calling your nickname. The fact he was coming after you was enough to make you move between dancing couples quicker than ever.

You found me, you found me, lying on the floor, surrounded. Why’d you have to wait? Where were you? Just a little late.

You burst out the backdoor and ran down the porch steps, letting the California breeze bring you to the beachside. The soft hum of your song playing behind you as you looked out onto the water, hopefully shielded from the windows.

Inside, Jake was getting into another tussle with his former team. “I have to talk to her,” he told them with a cold expression. He was trying not to let his facade crack, but it was obvious it cracked the moment he saw you. For a moment, when your eyes met, his face returned to the Jake that the team of daggers had always known. The Jake that wasn’t known for being Hangman.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Phoenix warned carefully, placing her hand on Hangman’s waist in an attempt to hold him back. She knew he was going after you anyway, but she at least wanted to give you some time to yourself. They all knew where you were going. The beach where you always met Jake after rough training sessions. Jake knew exactly where to go, and it was like his mind was on autopilot as he glided between chairs and tables. People and couples danced to his song. “Honey!” He called out, getting a glimpse of your tear brimmed face as you fled the bar. He ran down the steps, trying to catch up to you. You suddenly whipped your head around, not realizing how close he was. The softness of the song from The Deck still playing out on the beach.

Where were you? Where were you?

“You said you needed space, Jake. You were 5,000 miles away in God knows where for a year and a half, and suddenly you think that we’re fine. You wanted space, and now I want it. I want to put a whole fucking universe between us so I don’t have to be reminded of your face and the joy you brought me. Love was not supposed to hurt like that, J.”

The nickname you had always used for him. The letter you wore around your neck on a gold initial for your relationship, one of the first gifts Jake had gotten you.

“Please,” he begged reahcing his hands out for you, “Just let me talk to you.”

“I don’t hate you,” you told him with tears streaming down your face, “after the year we spent apart, Jake, I still can’t hate you. I want to, so bad it hurts. But I can’t. You’ll always have that piece of my heart that I’ll never get back.”

Why’d you have to wait, to find me, to find me?

#hangman #hangman fic #hangman x you #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #topgun #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you

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ladylovesloki · 2 years

Note

Hello! Could you write about a female reader who is plus sized that shamed themselves Infront of Loki? Maybe smut ?

My first request!! So exciting!

Thank you so much for the ask! I hope you like it!

Title: The Second Princess

Pairings: Loki X Plus Sized Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, possible trigger for eating disorder (nothing graphic just slight mention of starving one self.)

You were the second princess of Alfheim.

Your sister the crowned princess was beautiful, funny and had the thin figure of all of the Alfheim ladies.

You on the other hand…

You knew you had a pretty face, you and your sister were spitting images of your beautiful mother. But you constantly heard you would be just as beautiful as your sister if you lost your additional weight. Or you would be so pretty if you were thinner.

All it did was make you eat more.

And as the second princess your responsibilities were minimal. You didn’t have to worry about being a Queen one day. You knew that eventually your father would set up some political marriage that brings some kind of benefit to Alfheim and then your job would be birthing babies..probably gaining more weight..

You used to do some exercises with some of the court ladies, go for longer walks around the palace or on the palace lands outside. But every time you heard an off handed comment about your weight it always set you back.

Your father never cared, he never mentioned it. But your mother?..oooff..Mother would constantly badger you about losing weight.

She would say to you, “your father will never be able to find you someone to marry, unless you want to be betrothed to the king of Muspelheim!”. Or, “we need to tell the cooks to make less food for you if we want you to be fitter by next feast.”

After hearing it all these years, you start to believe it.

So you stop your exercises and you ignore your mothers instructions. In fact you would eat more just to spite her.

Who wants to be married to some stuffy prince anyway? All the ones you had met have been so boring and they think they know everything!! Always talk about duty and battle..blah blah blah!

You were over it. You didn’t want to be someone’s broodmare. The idea of just being used to continue someone’s lineage makes you ill. You wanted to be loved. You wanted to have your children out of love. But you don’t believe that that is your destiny…

So here you are again, getting fitted for a new gown for a feast on another realm. You were actually excited this time because you were all going to Asgard, the realm eternal. You personally had never been there, you think your mother didn’t want to be embarrassed by you.

“Suck it in girl!” You hear your mother yell while she’s watching the seamstress get the measurements for your new gown.

“I am mother. If I suck it in anymore I’m going to pass out..”

“Hush, you’re just being dramatic.”

You look down at the seamstress and she gives you a soft smile. Even though your mother was often cruel to you, the people around the palace were kind to you. They frequently saw your mother speak to you harshly so they would always find ways to bring up your spirits.

“We are going to Asgard girl! If we have any hope of finding you a husband it will be there! Most of the princes from all of the realms are invited to go to Thor’s name day feast!”

“I know mother..”

“Do you? It doesn’t look like you do.”

You look down, “I’m trying mother.”

“Hmm. We shall see.”

She leaves the room after she’s satisfied with the fitting, afterwards you run outside to the stables and take out your horse. You ride to your favorite spot and place out a blanket, listening to the creek a few feet away from you. You lean your head back against the tree you were sitting in front of and close your eyes enjoying the peace. And then you hear the sound of a horse approaching. Your sister dismounts.

“Hello sister. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your fitting, my lesson went on a bit longer.”

“It’s alright…mother was a wonderful companion through it all…”

“Ooff…the bad?”

“You know how she is..”

“Yes. But don’t let her get to you. You are beautiful y/n, don’t let mother make you feel any different.”

“Thank you sister. Are you ready for our father to throw you at Prince Thor?” You ask her.

“Ugh. He’s so handsome but so oafish at the same time. The last I saw him he was 6 ales deep and trying to start a bout with any man who was drunk enough to accept.”

“You’ll have beautiful children at least..”

Your sister looks at you for a moment, “you will too y/n. I promise you.” She gives you a smile.

You smile back at her, “thank you sister”.

“We should get going, we depart in the morning to Asgard.”

You both stand, mount your horses and make your way back to the palace.

That night at the evening meal, mother made sure to tell the servants to serve you less food than usual. She wanted to be sure you were as thin as possible..

You weren’t effected physically but it certainly was embarrassing.

The following morning you were woken up early by your maids to get ready to depart. They do your hair and make up and get you in one of your beautiful day dresses and make your way to meet your family.

You see your family and your mother walks over placing your hand on your face, “you have such a beautiful face daughter.”

You blink at her, “thank you mother.”

Your father walks over to you and brushes his hand on your face, “you are beautiful daughter.”

You give him a small, “thank you father.”

Your sister takes your hand and you look over at her, “everyone ready to go?”

“Yes, let us go”

You and your family board the ship with your guards that you will be taking with you to Asgard. It will take you a few days to get there but you were going to be spending most of the time with your sister or your maids getting ready. Asgard was different from Alfheim so you needed to be sure you were knowledgeable of all of their traditions and customs, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself or your family.

You all finally get to Asgard where you are greeted by the royal family, the Allfather, Allmother and both princes were there with their warriors.

“King Balin, how wonderful it is to see you and your family again.” The Allfather greets your family.

“Allfather, thank you so much for the invitation to your beautiful home” your father then looks over to Thor, “and happy name day to you my prince.”

Thor smiles, “thank you King Balin, Queen Aredhel, Princess Elbereth, Princess y/n, I welcome you to our home.”

Your sister smiles at Thor, “thank you my prince, happy name day to you, we are very much looking forward to your name day feast.”

“Yes my brother looks forward to them as well.” The younger prince speaks up.

You snort a little laugh and your mother looks over at you sharply.

Queen Frigga addresses the group, “thank you for all traveling, please let us get you settled in your chambers so you all can rest before the feast.”

Your mother looks to the Queen, “thank you Allmother, I look forward to having some time to speak.”

You know what the conversation is going to be about so you glance over at your sister who is looking at the ground.

You all make your way inside the palace, it was beautiful and gold but it was mostly that. Gold and concrete, there weren’t too many trees or greenery in the city. Alfheim even in the marketplaces flourished with flowers and greens from trees and vines that have intwined themselves in the ancient structures. The forests of Alfheim are not far from the palace so you felt constantly surrounded by nature. It was not so here in Asgard.

You get to your chambers and your maids get everything situated for you, you bathed and got dressed in your beautiful but uncomfortable gown for the evening. A knock at the door signified it was time to go so you go with your guards to your sister’s chambers where your parents are already waiting.

“Finally child.” Your mother says exasperated.

“Forgive me mother, this dress is not the easiest to get into.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Enough Aredhel, y/n you look wonderful.”

“Thank you father, Elbereth you look beautiful.” You say kindly to your sister.

“Thank you sister as do you. Are your ready for the festivities?”

“Very.”

“Then let us be off” your father says joyously.

You all make your way to the feast hall and Asgards royal family have not arrived yet, you all take your seats at your designated table, not far from the table Odin and Frigga will be sitting with their sons.

Not long after that, the guards announce the arrival of the Allfather and Allmother first and then Prince Loki.

He was so handsome dressed in his finery, he had the same mirthful look on his face he did before. Like he wanted to be anywhere else in all the realms.

And then it was time to announce Prince Thor’s arrival which was just a ridiculous as he was.

The guard shouts from the top of his lungs,

“And now! Prince Thor! First born son of Odin and Frigga, Crowned Prince of Asgard, God of Thunder! Your future King! All of you welcome him on his name day!

The hall erupts in cheers, you wince from the volume. You look over at the table where Prince Loki now sits and you can see him roll his eyes. It seems like he can sense you staring at him so he looks directly at you and gives you a sinful smile. You blink back in nervousness and direct you attention back to Prince Thor making a show of his entrance. He’s walking towards the table tossing Mjolnir in his hand with a huge smile on his face.

He holds out his other arm to silence the crowd, “Asgard! Thank you for joining me in the celebrations for my name day. I also send my thanks to all of the representatives that have visited us from afar to also share this day with me and my family. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, I know some of your journeys were long. Please enjoy all of the finery from our home. Let the feast begin!”

With his final word the doors in the hall opened and out came the servants with mounds of food and casks of wine and mead. So many different types of food and you were terrified to touch a thing. It was like every time you went to add something to your plate you could feel your mother’s eyes on you.

Thor eventually came to our table and asked my sister to dance, she happily accepted and my parents looked on with excitement at the prospect of the crowned prince marrying their daughter.

You were so preoccupied you didn’t notice someone have a seat in your sister’s now unoccupied chair.

“Hello.”

You turn and you are shocked to see Prince Loki.

“Oh. Hello My Prince. Are you enjoying the feast?”

“No more than others, and you Princess y/n? Are you enjoying the feast for my brother’s name day?

You smile, “yes, very much so thank you.”

“Are you enjoying the food and drink? It looks as though you haven’t touched a thing.”

You look down at your plate and realize the Prince is right, you really haven’t touched too much of your food. You were too afraid of the ridicule your mother would bring you after the feast.

“I’m not too hungry at present your highness, but everything I have tasted has been wonderful.”

He squints his eyes at you and then reaches for your fork, “here taste this, it’s my favorite desert.”

He takes a small piece on the fork and holds it out to you, you look over to your mother and see she is distracted talking to Queen Frigga. You look back to the Prince and without breaking eye contact take the bite of cake he offered you.

My God. It was delicious. You honestly wanted a whole piece but you knew you would pay for it later. Whether is be from the pain your mothers words bring you or the pain you feel in your body when you decide to push yourself training and starving yourself to make up for it.

“Thank you my Prince, it certainly is delicious.”

“Dance with me?” He asks you.

“Of..of course..” you were caught by surprise, you never get asked to dance at feasts and when you do it’s because their royal parents forced them to ask you.

Loki stands and holds out his hand to you which you take and make your way to the dance floor.

Thankfully you were taught most of these dances from when you were old enough to follow the steps. Loki moved you across the floor, bowed to you and moved to place his hand on your waist. He was looking directly in your eyes and the attention was making you nervous.

“You look beautiful Princess.”

“Thank you My Prince.”

“I must say the color on you is quite fetching, did you know that green is my royal color.”

Your face brightens.

“No My Prince! I did not mean…”

He starts to laugh, “it’s quite alright my dear, I’m actually quite surprised your mother didn’t put you up to it. Many ladies choose the color of the princes to attempt to catch their eye.”

“Oh My Prince I promise you that was not my intention, you would never…”

“I would never what?”

“My Prince…”

Just as you were about to continue your mother’s voice cuts interrupts you.

“Oh My Prince, thank you so much for dancing with my dear daughter.”

“Thanks are not necessary Queen Aredhel, your daughter looks very beautiful this evening. I simply wanted to ask her for a dance before other suitors created a queue.”

Your mother laughed, “Oh not to worry about that My Prince, my daughter doesn’t catch the eye of too many.”

Your body immediately freezes in shock and you can feel a ball developing in your throat from the tears that no doubt will start to well in your eyes.

“Excuse me..” you whisper and run off to the balcony. You knew you were going to hear about your rude exit from your mother later but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You make it to the balcony outside and you try to take some deep breaths. It was hard because this dress was so fucking tight, you could barely breathe let alone take the deep breaths needed to calm yourself.

You place your hand on the railing gripping it tightly and you close your eyes and let the tears fall.

“Princess?”

You hear Loki behind you.

“My Prince, forgive me, I just needed some air.” You try to dry your face from your tears.

“Hmm….” He walks over to you and leans over on the railing next to you. “So it wasn’t your mothers awful words that made you go running?”

You look over at him.

“No..my mother means well..”

“Don’t lie to me Princess, maybe I should’ve announced my full title like my idiotic brother. I am the God of lies darling, I know when someone tells me a falsehood.”

“I’m sorry My Prince, I do not wish to speak ill of my mother. If you would excuse me I believe I am going to take my leave, I’m not feeling very well.” You really weren’t, your head was pounding and you just wanted to get out of this restricting dress.

“Of course, I will escort you to your chambers.”

“That is not necessary My Prince, I have my maids that can take me.”

“I insist.” He takes your arm and leads you back towards the feast hall, but he stops you just before you walk through the doorway.

“Just a moment.”

He moves so he’s standing in front of you and he grabs your face lightly and whispers a spell, you feel a little tingle on your face.

“So you don’t look like you have been crying sweet girl.” He answers your unasked question.

“Thank you My Prince.”

“Call me Loki…please.” He asks, his hands still holding your face.

“Thank you..” you gulp…. “Loki.”

He smiles at you, “would you like to come to my chambers before you go to your own? I know you said you weren’t feeling well but I would love to spend a little more time with you before you retire. We can enjoy some more of that dessert?…”

Oh boy.

“My Prince…Loki..I don’t know..”

“We can go to your chambers if you’d like, we can even speak in front of one of your lady maids..whatever makes you comfortable. I just…I wish to get to know you more.”

“It’s alright, we can go to your chambers. I will tell my parents we will be going for a walk.”

He winks at you, “mischievous little scamp.”

You both make your way into the feast hall and you see your parents speaking with the Allmother and Allfather.

“My King, My Queen” you curtsy. Thank you so much for the invitation, everything is wonderful.”

Queen Frigga smiles, “of course Princess, we are always honored to have Alfheim come to our realm. You and your sister are a beautiful addition to our court.

“Indeed” Loki agrees, “mother, father, King Balin, Queen Aredhel with your permission I wish to take the Princess y/n for a walk. Possibly to the palace gardens.”

Queen Aredhel looked genuinely surprised, “of course Prince Loki! I’m sure my daughter would be happy to.”

You nod at Loki and you both leave the presence of your families to walk out the feast hall.

Next thing you know, Loki sends an illusion of the two of you one direction while you really walk in the opposite direction.

“The gardens are that way, they will know we went elsewhere if we went the true direction of my chambers.”

It wasn’t so far away from the hall but far enough you can’t hear the loudness of the people celebrating any longer.

Loki opens his doors when we arrived and escorts you inside and you are taken aback by his beautiful room. Again, a lot of gold. And lots and lots of green.

“Your chambers are beautiful.”

“Thank you y/n. Is it alright if I call you y/n?”

“If it is alright for me to call you by your first name you can certainly call me by mine.”

He smiles at you and walks with you to his private dining room. He pulls out a chair for you to sit and the idea of it kinda fills you with dread. The dress becoming painful, you move to step forward and all of a sudden the room starts to spin and you lose your footing. You fall forward but Loki catches you before you make impact with the floor.

“Are you alright?”

You breathing is a little labored as he sits you down in a chair.

“I think this dress is trying to kill me, I’m sorry my Prince I should really go to my chambers.”

You then feel that same tingling feeling you felt from his magic on your face earlier all over your body. Instead of the big uncomfortable gown you wore to the feast you were now in a light dress made of the finest silk.

Your hands immediately fly to cover your now free stomach, it’s not being held in anymore by the girdle your mother forced you to wear.

Embarrassment filling you again you stand up from the chair ready to run out of his room.

“I’m sorry My Prince I must leave.”

“Y/n wait! Please! What is it?”

“I do not wish you to see me dressed so.”

“Is the dress not to your liking? I can create another one more to your taste..”

“It’s not that My Prince, the dress is beautiful..I’m just not..a person who looks like me shouldn’t dress in something like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I really have to say it?”

“Yes because I am throughly confused, you look beautiful.”

“You’re very sweet My Prince..”

“I thought we decided on no titles.” He sits you down in the chair again and removes your arms that are wrapped around your middle. “Darling girl, do not let your mothers words poison your mind. You are beautiful.”

“I’m not my sister, or the other ladies in court..”

“I agree, you are far more interesting.”

“Loki please..you and I both know my physical appearance is different from other ladies, they are tall and thin and I am neither of those things.”

“Is that why you hardly touched your food for the evening?”

You didn’t respond, you just look down at you lap.

You hear his chair scrape against the floor as he gets up, he pulls you to your feet.

“I don’ t believe we got to finish our dance.” He holds out his hand to you and he brings you to your feet.

You feel much better now that awful gown was off of you and you were able to easily move around the floor with Loki. The lack of music made it a little awkward but the gesture alone was sweet enough.

Not too long after you started your sweet slow dance Loki stops and looks down at you.

“May I kiss you my lady?”

You only had a moment of hesitation and then you nod your head. You never thought you would be asked to be kissed by such a handsome prince. With your permission, Loki leans in and kisses you. Softly at first and then he moves your arms so they are around his neck and he deepens the kiss.

Soon you are a moaning mess, releasing sinful sounds into his mouth. He just tasted so delicious, like that cake he had you try earlier and sweet wine.

He stops kissing you and looks down at you again, “my lady I’m afraid if we don’t stop here I will continue to ravish you.”

“Oh please my prince, ravish away!”

He lets out a loud laugh, “y/n I do not wish to do something you are not ready for…I can imagine you are still a maiden?”

“No..there was a soldier who I…I didn’t believe anyone would ever want to bed me so I just..I…” you’re stuttering, your embarrassment coming off of you in waves.

“Hush darling, no judgment here. In fact I am most pleased, this means I don’t have to be so careful with you”.

You didn’t know how to respond, no one had ever showed this type of attraction to you before, even the soldier who took your maidenhead made it seem like he was just trying to get through it as quickly as possible.

Loki takes you in his arms and lifts you effortlessly off the floor and carries you to the bedroom placing you on the bed.

You’re amazed by how strong he is.

“May I remove your dress darling?”

“Can I maybe leave it on?…you ask looking down at your lap again.

“Why darling?”

“I just..Loki I’m not like the other ladies you have had in your bed and I..I don’t wish for this to end.”

You still haven’t looked up at him, you see his feet now directly in front of you, “y/n look at me.”

You lift your head miserably to look him in the eye.

“You are beautiful. I have been dying to see your body all evening..please?”

After a moment you decide to let him remove your dress, you hope he still feels the same after he sees whats underneath.

You stand at the foot of the bed and pull the silk dress over your head, revealing your body underneath.

He looks at you up and down and when you were about to bend down to pick up your dress and leave he stops you and his hands move. One to cradle your face and the other goes behind you on your lower back to pull you closer to him.

“You are stunning darling, now…get on the bed.”

You feel your core clench at his words, you can also feel your juices already starting to leak down your leg.

You get on his bed and lay on your back, he removes his dress armor and climbs on top of you. Once he reaches your face he kisses you soundly, all teeth and tongue. He wanted you that was clear.

After you had been kissing for a while you could feel Loki’s cock brushing against your entrance, he starts rubbing you with purpose with it so he can get all of your arousal on him. He breaks away breathless from the kiss, “are you ready darling?”

“Yes! Gods yes!”

He slowly breaches you, he was much bigger than the soldier you shared a bed with so it took a moment to get adjusted to his size. But when you did…the pleasure you felt was remarkable. It almost made you sad because you knew that this would likely be the only time in your life you would feel such blinding pleasure.

“Y/n..you’re so tight..mmhmm..fuck you feel glorious…”

He pushes into you harshly a few times and then stops and pulls out of you quickly.

“I want you to ride me.”

“What? No Loki please.. I do not wish to..”

He looks down at you for a moment, “why darling?”

Your eyes start to well with tears again, “please Loki, I do not wish for you to see my body so..”

He kisses your tears away and then continues to kiss you until your body relaxes again.

“Darling girl, how many times must I say that you are beautiful? Will you trust me?..please?”

You don’t answer him so he quickly wraps you in his arms and moves so that he is on his back and you are now straddling him.

“Oh yes my girl, this is the view I have been dying to see all night.”

He reaches up and grabs your large breasts, squeezing and massaging them.

“Come darling lift up a little for me so I can feel your glorious heat again, I find myself missing your hot pussy.”

He helps you lift up slightly and you sit on his cock, slowly bringing yourself down all the way filling yourself with his large manhood.

“Fuckkk…oh darling you feel so good…”

“Fuck Loki, yesss..” you start to move your hips slowly, not entirely sure what you’re doing.

Loki starts to help you pick up the pace, he places his hands underneath your ass and helps you move up and down on his cock.

“Yes..y/n yes..just like that…fuck…”

His words giving you more confidence and you start to move quicker and harder, Loki is a moaning mess under you and the sounds he is making are bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Loki I’m so close….oh Gods…oh Valhalla!!”

“Valhalla cannot have you yet darling, not until I have had my fill of you.”

He flips you over and proceeds to rapidly pummel into you, his cock hitting just the right spot over and over again making you see stars.

“Loki!! Loki!! I’m cumming!”

“Gods darling yess…say my name again..I want the whole palace to know who is giving you this pleasure. Say it…”

“Loki!! Fuck!!! Loki!!!” You cum so hard you can only make out the sounds of his skin slapping against yours and then his own screams of pleasure.

“Y/N! Oh fuck..I’m going to cum in your hot pussy…do you want that darling? Do you want me to fill you?”

“Yes Loki! Please cum inside me!”

“Fuck!” He pushes in one final time and stills, you can feel his cum shoot inside of your womb.

You were completely spent..

Loki rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms.

“I will not hear of you speaking about yourself in such a way again..do you understand?”

“Yes my prince…”

“Y/n..look at me.”

You do and you see nothing but kindness in his eyes.

“You are mine now, you will no longer feel the inadequacies your mother has forced you to feel all of your life. You are beautiful…do you understand?”

“Yes Loki..thank you..”

“There is nothing to thank me for love..do you wish to bathe with me?”

“A bath sounds wonderful.”

With that he gives you a light kiss, rises out of bed and walks over to your side. He once again lifts your effortlessly in his arms to take you into the bathing chambers no doubt to add to this already unforgettable night.

The end..

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