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humanpurposes · 7 months

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It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, angst, mentions of violence and trauma

Words: 7.4k

A/n: Also available to read on AO3, if you're that way inclined.

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity.

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at a laptop screen as they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planning this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to the rest of Westeros that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. So there can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

Aemond’s eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan for the main ballroom.

Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind the space where his eye should be.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?”

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease. He has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it. A glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in my office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and get you some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move.

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache.

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face, the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again?

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

“I thought you knew,” Aegon says. “Mum said she was going to talk to you.”

“Evidently that conversation is yet to happen.” Maybe it was meant to happen tonight. It’s a Friday which means Aemond will go to his mother’s apartments in the Keep for dinner after work.

It’s a struggle but he breathes through the worst of it, and blinks a tear from his eye. The pain hasn’t quite faded but something else burns hotter through his blood. He clenches his jaw and his fists. “How long have you known?”

Aegon makes a startled stuttering noise. “I– well–”

Aemond glares at him.

“A few days. The note came from Rhaenyra’s office on Monday or Tuesday, I can’t really remember–”

“Grandfather knew,” Aemond says, a question, but he can guess the answer. If it involves Dragon Bank or a member of the Targaryen family, Otto Hightower will know.

“Of course he knew. He said it was a last minute decision, one that Viserys was insisting we all bend over backwards to accommodate.”

Of course he would, anything for the precious daughter of his favourite child, the girl who slashed Aemond’s eye out with a broken bottle.

He hates her for it. He hates every burst of pain, like an echo of that moment pulsing through his head. He hates every person he catches staring at him, he hates the way his reflection looks with her cruelty carved into his flesh. Most of all he hates that it reminds him of her. In a way he is grateful too. Time helped to heal the wound and eventually he realised how he had been changed by that night, how it made him the person he is now.

But for the first time in a long time he does not find any pride in it, cowering in his brother’s office like a child at the mere mention of her name.

“I can’t go,” Aemond says, hating how quiet his own voice is.

“That’s alright,” Aegon says, “you can sit here for as long as you need.”

“I meant the party.”

“Oh right, sorry.”

“I can’t go, not if she’s going to be there.”

There’s a long silence, filled only by the hum of the AC and the distant sounds of the city far below the keep, car horns, engines, sirens, the occasional cry of a seagull.

“Why don’t you talk it through with mum?”

“Aegon,”

“She’ll want you to go. She’ll be upset if you don’t.”

“I can’t,”

“I know you two were close, but, you know, I’m sure you both regret how things happened,”

“Aegon, for fuck’s sake,”

“She cut out your eye, you said you’d cut out hers if you ever saw her again, we were all caught up in the moment.”

Aemond pushes up from the sofa and tosses the water bottle at Aegon’s head, not stopping to see if he caught it or not, before he’s yanking open the door and marching into the hallway.

The Red Keep is older than Dragon Bank itself, a red brick holdfast that has loomed proudly over King’s Landing for centuries, even as the skyline of the city has come to meet over time. It’s easy to get lost here, with its grand hallways, winding staircases and hidden passages, if old rumours are to be believed. He knows this place like he knows his own mind. He walks to his office through empty stairwells and forgotten corridors.

When he finally makes it to his own office he closes the door and lets his back fall against it.

He takes a slow breath, holds it, pouts his lips and exhales steadily.

Who else knows? Viserys would have sent the invitation, Rhaenyra and the rest of her little runts will know. Otto knows, clearly his mother and Aegon both know, and he couldn’t have kept that secret, he would have told Helaena or Daeron, most likely both.

Everyone knows. Jaya is coming back home to King’s Landing, and everyone knows but him.

His mother told him everything when she thought he was ready to hear it. The bandages had been removed from his face and the cannula had been taken out of his hand. The doctors wanted him to stay in the hospital for a few more days so all the drugs could wear off and he could start getting used to the disorientation of losing half his vision. Alicent wanted him home, in his own bed. So he left the dry air and the white overhead lights of his room in the hospital, back to Dragonstone.

She told him that while he’d been on his knees with his hand over his face, trying to stop the blood and the remains of his eye from spilling onto the ground, Viserys had barked out his orders. He didn’t want ambulances or sirens because it would cause a scene in front of the guests. The shame, the damage it would do to the family’s image. Otto had persuaded him away from such a nonsensical idea and convinced Viserys to get the guests inside the house so Aemond and Jace’s injuries could be seen to.

He remembered shouting and sirens, blue lights and his mother’s hand clinging onto his before he blacked out. He had gone in for surgery almost immediately and woken the following evening surrounded by white walls, his mother and Criston Cole at his side.

Aegon, Helaena and Daeron all stayed at Dragonstone while he was there. They said once he and Jace had been taken away, Viserys had gathered the entire family inside the house. With their faces all still red from crying and Jaya’s pretty white dress still coated in blood, he demanded to know the truth.

They all knew what the truth was. Jace didn’t know his limits and Aegon didn’t care about his.

He could see it all happening in his head, walking towards the orchard with Jaya and Baela, catching Jaya when she tripped over a stone, her tipsy smile as she looked up at him, the pearl and the sapphire pendant settled against her chest.

Who knows what started the argument between Jace and Aegon, but suddenly Aemond had found himself between them.

“There he is,” Jace had sneered, but his voice quickly raised into a shout, “‘perfect’ Aemond Targaryen, fucking mummy’s boy, thinking he’s some kind of fucking diplomat!”

Aegon tried to shout back, “more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Aemond couldn’t make out everything through the way his voice slurred.

“Not so fucking perfect though, are you? You’re no worse than Aegon– no! You’re so much worse, aren’t you? Aren’t you!?

He’d watched Jace’s expression darken, his lips sneering into a sickening smile.

“You’ve got my sister wrapped around your fucking finger, fucking creep.”

He told himself Jace was just drunk. It didn’t matter what he thought… only it did. Jace could tell Rhaenyra or Viserys. Worse, he could talk to Jaya. She had always been devoted to her twin. She had picked Jace over Aemond before, in petty arguments when they were children.

“You want her, don’t you? Don’t you!? She’s too good for you though, and you know it. You want her but you’ll never fucking have her!”

When Aemond’s fist collided with Jace’s jaw it was on pure instinct. He was sober enough to stop himself but he didn’t. He just kept going.

According to Aegon, when Viserys came to Jaya, she said that it was Aemond who had started the argument. Jace was in the orchard with the others, when Aemond had come from nowhere and threw the first punch. She had seen it, so had Baela, so had Luke and Joffrey. It was their word against Aegon and Daeron’s.

The official story was that it had been a tragic accident, one in which Rhaenyra’s children were certainly blameless.

She called him the night he got to Dragonstone but he let the phone ring. A week later she appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. She was hazy, or he was still delirious from sleep, his mother hovering over her shoulder, reluctant to leave them alone together.

He doesn’t remember most of the conversation now. He doesn’t want to remember it. He knows it ended with tears streaming down her cheeks, but her face was completely still. She didn’t flinch, didn’t distort her face, scrunch her nose or make an ugly shape with her mouth. She looked utterly beautiful and cried effortlessly. It wasn’t fair when he still had stitches sewn into his flesh to keep the left half of his face in place.

At one point she approached the bed and tried to touch his hand. He snatched it out of her grasp. When she tried again he pushed her away.

“Why did you do it?” she said. “You attacked Jace, why? Why? Why? Why?”

Because Jace could have taken away the one thing he thought was his, by right, by love. Instead he gave some bullshit excuse– Jace had threatened Aegon, insulted Daeron, insulted him. And what did it matter anyway? Viserys believed her.

He needed her. He needed her and she pushed him away and cradled her coward of a brother in her arms. He needed her and she’d thrown it all back in his face with a slash of a broken bottle. He needed her, but she had made her decision.

“Liar,” he hissed. “You’re a fucking liar.”

He saw it in her face then, her desire to fight melting away. To Aemond that had always meant that she knew he was right.

“Show up here again, utter so much as a word to me again, and I’ll tear yours out as payment for mine.”

Some weeks later Aegon mentioned that she had abandoned her plans to go to KLU and instead found a place at the University of Pentos. She never tried to call after that and neither did he.

A layer of sweat clings to his skin and makes him shiver. He shrugs it off as he sits down at his desk, and spots a handwritten note sitting beside the keyboard of his laptop. Investment figures for Seasnake Shipping back to me by 7pm at the latest. Knowing Otto Hightower, that means an hour before the specified time.

In for three, hold for three, out for three. It always amazes him how well that trick works, he thinks as he takes out a packet from the top drawer of his desk and pushes out two tablets, the one good thing he’d gotten out of his year of therapy. He swallows the medication dry, suddenly regretting throwing away the bottle of water.

It’s nearly 6pm when Aemond has everything his grandfather wants, the names of Seasnake’s investors, the other companies they’re attached to, numbers and details he’s found buried in endless spreadsheets and pages of paperwork. He shouldn’t be able to see most of them but he has his ways. The Velaryons have been in business with the Targaryens for centuries and there are always trails to follow.

A few familiar names appear, Rhaenyra Tagrayren, Daemon Targayren, married to each of Corlys’ children. Aemond was only a year old when his sister married Laenor, but he’s always known how sceptical his mother and grandfather were of the match. It wasn’t something Rhaenyra had to do. She wasn’t going to inherit Seasnake, that had been promised to Laena, the elder sibling, and she was already Viserys’ chosen heir, so what did she think she was going to get out of it? Not a loving husband, surely.

Other investors and partners include the names Stark and Arryn, both wealthy and well established families. He also sees the names Celtigar, Massey, Bar Emmon, old names, though not as respected as they once were.

He leaves a note for his grandfather at the top of the document: Seasnake is being directed by a man who built his wealth to match his own pride, supported by opportunists with more money than sense.

With that task done he opens a new email to inform his father’s office that he’ll be absent from the event. He types it quickly and reads over it once before he can talk himself out of pressing send. He doesn’t give a reason why; Viserys should know why.

This leaves him just enough time to pack up and get ready for dinner.

The Red Keep has a series of apartments separated from the offices, where Aemond spent most of his childhood. The building is known as the Holdfast, with its own gatehouse leading into the city and gardens surrounded by high red brick walls. Historically it was built to house the extensive members of House Targaryen, but it is mostly empty now. His mother has had her own apartment for a few years, since Daeron moved out. The only one of his siblings to still live here now is Aegon, at Alicent’s insistence.

Walking from his office to the Holdfast brings him through courtyards and underneath old battlements, until he comes to a facade with towers, tall windows and an unsuspecting wooden door, save for the armed guards standing either side of it. His mother’s apartments are on the first floor, along a gallery and up the grand staircase, past portraits and tapestries. The hallways get smaller the further in you go and soon he comes to the private rooms.

Alicent often dismisses the staff on quiet Friday evenings. The minute he’s in the door he is met with the sound of one of her 80s playlists, the scent of spices and her favourite lemon and lavender candles. He finds her in the kitchen, dark blue jeans, a white shirt, black pumps and her auburn curls pulled into a bun to show off her pearl earrings, stirring two pots on the stove.

“Criston’s got me learning another one of his recipes,” she says, only looking at him for a moment, “I’ve got rice on too, so I hope you’re hungry.”

Aemond approaches her to kiss her on the cheek and takes a look inside the pots, one filled with chickpeas, the other with black lentils. “Is Aegon here?” he says.

“He’s in the lounge, tell him to set the table.”

Aemond watches her, entirely absorbed in the notebook on the counter next to the stove, with handwritten instructions. Nothing seems to be especially bothering her, even though the centenary event has had her on edge for over a month. She looks no different from the last time he saw her, before he knew about Jaya, when she was supposed to talk to him, supposedly.

“I want a drink first,” he says, whisky with no ice. He pours it for himself slowly while his mother hums along to Tears for Fears. “Do you know why grandfather wanted that information on Seasnake’s investors?”

“Hmm? Oh he’s probably doing one of his checks, you know what he’s like. Good to keep an eye on everyone,” she says. She has a glass of red wine next to the notebook, though by the looks of it she’s hardly touched it. “He said something interesting about Rickon Stark recently, his son Cregan is in King’s Landing.”

Aemond pulls his glass away from his lips, the sweet sting of alcohol slipping down his throat. “Shouldn’t be too unusual, they’re attending next week.” Staying at Dragonstone no less, some of Viserys’ most honoured guests.

“He’s staying at Queen’s Lodge.”

That takes him by surprise. “Hmm,” he says, bringing the glass to his lips again.

“He and Jacaerys are quite close, Aegon tells me.”

The Starks had visited Dragonstone once or twice as summer guests, back when they were all kids. Cregan was always talkative and effortlessly charming, but it was obvious to Aemond that his warmth was far more calculated than anyone else believed. He made sure Jaya kept her distance, but Jace followed him around like a lost puppy for the weeks he’d stay with their family.

They would have studied together at White Harbour, though Cregan was a few years older than Jace. They could have met again and reconnected. Aemond doesn’t interact with his nephew outside of necessity.

“And what would Aegon know about it?” he says.

“More than you,” a voice calls from the doorway. Aegon has ditched his suit for brown cargos and a comically baggy sports shirt, leaning against the frame. “Ran into them last weekend,” he says, grinning coldly and running his tongue over his teeth. “The Starks are making some close personal connections with our sister’s family.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Alicent sighs.

Aegon scoffs and makes a dismissive gesture. While their mother is still distracted, he looks at Aemond and raises his eyebrows.

“Set the table, Aegon,” Aemond grumbles.

His brother does as he’s told. Aemond helps Alicent bring the dishes in. She sits at the head of the table, Aemond to her right, Aegon opposite him, to her left. She says a quick prayer to the Seven, as she always does. She asks the Mother to protect her children and asks the Crone for wisdom, for a light in dark and uncertain times.

“Speaking of close personal connections,” Aegon says, already having wolfed down half of his plate. Aemond already hates the tone of this conversation. “We’ll finally get to meet Daeron’s new bit,”

“Do you have to say it like that?” Aemond says.

Aegon ignores him. “Are you excited to meet Nettles, mother?”

Daeron talks about her constantly. They met in Oldtwon while they were both studying. Now he’s working for the Citadel Institute, she’s some kind of journalist, and they live together in a perfect little flat that looks out over the Honeywine river. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

“That can’t actually be her name, surely?” Alicent says.

“Perhaps it’s short for something,” Aemond says, prodding his food now to find himself with no appetite. He thinks about the drive he’ll have to make through the city, back to the empty house waiting for him on Silverwing Square.

“Nettles,” Aegon says, eyes on the ceiling like he’s trying to decipher a hidden meaning. “Nettles, like stinging nettles?”

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent says, looking down at the uneaten food on his plate, “what happened with Maris Baratheon, why is she not on the final guest list?”

Aegon smiles, folding his elbows on the table and leaning forward, eager to hear an explanation like he hasn’t already coaxed it out of Aemond over too many bottles of wine at a steak restaurant on Conquest Street.

“Things didn’t work out with Maris,” Aemond says shortly. An understatement. The thought of their last conversation makes him nauseous.

“Aemond, sometimes I feel like you don’t love me.”

“I don’t think I do,” which felt untruthful, because he knew from the start that he never would. There were lots of things he liked about Maris. He liked that she was interested in him, he liked that she was blunt and unrelentingly honest, he liked that she had dark hair, and that she liked being fucked from behind and would let him press her face down into the pillow to muffle her moans. Soon the things he liked about her only felt like another reminder.

“Maris is old news, mother,” Aegon says.

“What a shame,” Alicent says, reaching for her wine again. “Oh well, I don’t think Viserys particularly likes her father anyway.”

“Well you know Aemond, always striving for perfection.”

Aemond’s eye meets Aegon’s over the table. His brother is trying not to grin, violet eyes bright from the light of the candelabra between them. Shadows catch on the hollow parts of his face, it makes him look tired but vicious.

Then he looks to his mother. She eats slowly with small mouthfuls, not making eye contact with either of her sons. It’s not often he finds himself upset or angry with his mother, not since he was old enough to understand just how hard she has worked, or know what she’s had to put up with as the wife of Viserys Targaryen. Aemond knows she trusts him in a way that does not always extend to his siblings.

But now all he can think is that she knows about Jaya. She knows, and she won’t even look at him.

Jaya could be in King’s Landing this very moment, lounging around Queen’s Lodge, looking out over the orchard she watered with Aemond’s blood while her mother fawns over her only daughter’s return.

He just needs to say it. He won’t go to Dragonstone if Jaya is there, he won’t stand to be in the same room as her, or breathe the same air as her. The thought already sends a feeling like flames licking up his spine that makes him restless with rage, with hurt and betrayal.

Aegon is still watching him and gives him a small nod.

Aemond takes a soft breath through parted lips–

Until a sound comes from the hallway that makes them all freeze, the sound of the front door unlocking, opening, then slamming with an ear splitting bang!

Aemond feels his face harden, brows straining with every footstep that marches against the hardwood floors towards the dining room.

Viserys appears in the threshold, dressed in one of his red and black suits, his face one of stone cold fury. He doesn’t look at Alicent, or Aegon, his eyes are fixed on Aemond.

He steps slowly into the room, placing one hand on the back of the chair closest to him at the head of the table, miles away from the rest of his family. His voice is quiet and clear through the stunned silence. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

Alicent makes a stuttering, scoffing noise. “Viserys–”

He holds up a finger to silence her, his eyes widening in warning. “Aemond,” he says, “you will answer me.”

Aemond keeps his jaw clenched at first. He can feel his teeth wanting to chatter, anger aching in every part of his body. He cannot afford to show any sign of weakness or remorse, not in front of his father. But why does it feel so difficult to speak? He swallows through a dry feeling in his throat. “I thought I’d worded it all very simply–”

“Look at me when I speak to you, boy.”

He hadn’t realised his gaze had fallen to the table. He looks up with an expression that is as passive as he can manage. “I would have thought it would be obvious why I can’t go, with the recent addition to the guestlist.”

His head is turned completely so that Viserys is in his line of vision, but he hears his mother make a small sighing sound. “Aemond, I was going to–”

“ALICENT!” Viserys roars.

Aemond feels himself flinch but his gaze is unwavering. Why does he think he has any right to barge in here, to ask anything of them?

If Aemond were to stand he’d be taller than his father, but he finds himself unable to move.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Viserys says to him. “This could be the single most important night for the family for centuries and you’re still holding onto childish grudges?”

Childish grudges. He was mutilated and forced to carry the blame because of a lie, but of course his father expects him to let go, to forgive and forget.

He feels the leather of the eyepatch digging uncomfortably into his forehead and wishes more than anything he could just tear it off.

There are some things Aemond can argue with Viserys about, but they tend to be logical arguments, work related. The longer he looks at his father the more he remembers that no amount of sense could ever compare to the blind devotion Viserys has for his eldest child. There’s nothing Aemond can appeal to, not love or loyalty, not even sympathy.

“This is not about you, Aemond. This is about the bank, this is about the Targaryen name, our legacy, does that all mean nothing to you?”

“Of course it does,” Aemond says. He’s worked for nothing else his whole life, Dragon Bank, his heritage as a Targaryen, what is he without all of that?

Viserys’ face softens a little, as if he thinks he’s made some kind of progress. “I’ve never known you to be selfish, it’s not in your nature.”

“Well then you clearly know nothing about me,” Aemond says, glaring up at him.

Viserys frowns. “You will be there, and I want to hear no more of it. You will be polite. You will grin and fucking bear it because that’s what the rest of us have to do.”

He’s delusional, he’s fucking delusional.

Aemond looks to his brother, slumped in his chair, his eyes even darker now. He has his hand around the stem of a wine glass. He’s been staring at the crimson liquid since their father walked in. He might have been expecting to be the target of Viserys’ anger tonight; he usually is.

Aegon looks across at him, furious, exhausted, eager for this exchange to be over. He tilts his head in a questioning motion, though his lips stay firmly sealed.

All the years he spent trying to be the best that he could, how hard he pushed himself to get through that final year at KLU while recovering from his injury, all the hours he’s devoted to the family business, all the times he’s kept his mouth shut and his head held high, is this the hill Aemond is going to die on?

He won’t try to look at his mother, but he can guess she would have a similar reasoning.

A fearsome wind from the Narrow Sea howls against the windows of Aemond’s black Jag. The road to Dragonstone is a desolate one, leading through a forest that might as well be nothingness in the dark. The headlights beam against the tarmac which turns and rises and falls, so he can never see what’s ahead of him.

There’s a burst of light as he approaches the gates. He hasn’t seen the gatehouse for years and remembers that he used to be scared of the stone dragon heads that stand open mouthed and teeth bared on either side, at the base of the turrets. Some hired security guard comes to his window, his demeanour changing completely when Aemond glares at him through a single eye.

Cars line the acres of grass before the house, the driveway lined with lanterns and more statuettes of dragons. Dragonstone lies ahead in its full glory, lights on in every window, moonlight shining upon its ancient walls so the castle looms in shadows and silver.

He must be one of the last people to arrive, the last of the important people, slotting the Jag next to a golden Dodge Charger he recognises as Aegon’s. The rest of the Targaryens all drive black cars.

He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror for as long as he can stand to look at himself, glaring at the blunt edges of the sapphire in his left socket, dull and dark in the low light. The flesh around his eyelids are twisted and red, the scar itself deep but clean. His mother had suggested they could get it looked at, to make his eye seem less severe, but that’s what the eyepatch is for, to cover up the worst of his injury, for the comfort of others and not his.

He slips the leather patch over his head and secures it in place, careful not to mess up his hair in the process.

One day he’ll make her look at it, the sapphire and the scar, maybe then she’ll understand what she put him through. Not tonight, no, tonight he intends to play it safe.

He effortlessly exits the car, checking his cuffs as he walks up to the front doors. A server offers him a glass of champagne when he steps into the entrance hall which he takes a small sip from, parched after his drive from King’s Landing. He knows his way through the opulent halls that have stayed the same for as long as he can remember, towards the hum of at least a hundred voices.

The ballroom glimmers with reflected light, mirrors, gold accents, crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses. The guests are all in their finery, tuxedos and floor length gowns, either in black or the colours of their houses. Some have started to take their seats around the circular tables, but many are still mingling.

Any head of silver hair stands out rather obviously, and the first he sees is his father standing in the centre of the ballroom, a smile on his face and his arm around his wife’s waist. Alicent is radiant in a gold gown that catches the warmth of the candles dotted about the room. She looks less than pleased being made to talk to Rhaenyra and Laenor– now there’s a surprise, he doesn’t usually make a habit of appearing at family events. Rhaenyra is in black, as is her husband, with a waistcoat embroidered with swirling gold patterns, like waves on the sea.

His eye continues to scour the room. He sees Helaena and Daeron with the girl he assumes is Nettles. He sees Aegon getting friendly with the Martell siblings. He sees Corlys and Rhaenys with Laena and Daemon. He sees Jacaerys standing with the Starks, closer than is friendly to Cregan. He sees those with the surnames Tyrell, Tully, Lannister, Arryn, all the others, and keeps searching.

She’s not where she’s meant to be, at the table closest to the high table where Viserys will sit with the board members. She’s not with her parents, she’s not at the bar, she’s not at the doors to the gardens. Each moment he does not find her fuels some kind of fire within him, adrenaline pumping through his blood, like he’s chasing something just out of his reach.

A flash of loose, dark hair steals his attention. He doesn’t see her face at first but he notices when she nudges his shoulder as she passes him on his blind side, very nearly ending up with champagne down her silky, off white gown or spilled across the string of pearls sitting on her bare collar.

He apologises on instinct, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket that has only ever been intended as decorative.

“No harm done,” the woman insists. “It’s good stuff, I would have been mortified to waste any of it.”

He recognises her face, the slanted nose, the sharpness of her cheeks, her bright green eyes and unsettlingly perfect smile. He’s seen her at press events, some kind of relation to the Strongs, but not close enough that she’d ever be invited to any personal occasions.

“Alys Rivers,” she says, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Deputy editor for Seven.” He’s heard of it, a high society gossip magazine, they often run stories about his family, Daemon and Aegon mostly, the rest of them clearly aren’t newsworthy.

“You used to work for the Harrenhal Observer, didn’t you?” he says.

“I did,” she says, “between you and me though, I think cousin Larys felt a little threatened.”

“Threatened?” Aemond says, noticing a pair of girls who are oddly familiar to him. He can’t place their names but he thinks they might be old friend’s of Jaya’s. They approach Jace, turning their heads around frequently like they’re looking for something. “How so?”

“He thought I was too opinionated,” Alys says, keeping her eyes on his.

“I didn’t think there could be such a thing,” Aemond says, though now he thinks he recognises the girls from one of the parties at Maegor’s Square, from years ago. One of them meets his gaze and quickly looks away.

“The Observer is supposedly a neutral publication after all, I had a few things to say about the working conditions at the Casterly Rock mines which caused quite a stir.”

That’s where he recognises her name from. Viserys wasn’t happy with the article given their ties to the Lannisters and their gold. It sets off a silent alarm in his head, suddenly her gaze is a little too scrutinising for his liking and he’s aware of every breath he takes, shallow or deep, soft or sharp, she could use anything against him.

“I heard a rumour you weren’t going to be attending tonight’s event,” she says.

“It’s Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary,” he says, “I’m incredibly proud of all the work my family has put into the last five hundred years.”

“You say that like you’re expecting this conversation to go to print.”

“That’s why you approached me, is it not?”

She hums a gentle laugh to herself as her gaze roams over his suit, black, simple and perfectly fitted. She looks back to his face, he sees the way her eyes flicker to his left side. She smiles lazily in a way that makes him wonder if she’s trying to flirt, and places a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer until he can smell the classic, musky scent of her perfume. He lets her do it, lets her lips get closer to his ear.

“I only wanted to see if you had something interesting to say,” Alys whispers over the noise of the party.

He glances up, towards the grand fireplace at the end of the room. Gold plated engravings of dragons intertwine and spread their wings, framing the fire that burns within.

She’s standing there, a glass of champagne in one hand, in an emerald green dress suited for summer, loose fabric, exposing her arms, her hair pulled up into a style that’s effortlessly elegant.

Their eyes meet. It’s like electricity strikes his heart.

Six years fades into oblivion, she looks different and exactly the same. He can almost believe he’s never known a life without her, but she’s always been there, hasn’t she? An unspoken secret, living in the lightest and the darkest parts of his mind.

He can see the moment of recognition, when her expression goes from passive and proud to alert, eyes widening, lips falling, her hand lowering the glass to the nearest surface.

It’s dangerous how quickly he can already feel himself start to slip. He’s had seven days to prepare and part of him is still in disbelief that Jaya is a living, breathing person and not just a memory. Another part of him is calm and unsurprised, like he’s always known she was going to come back. To King’s Landing, to the family business, to him.

He doesn’t feel any pain, not in his head or his chest, but he feels empty, starved to the point of ravenous.

Jaya starts to move through the crowd, towards the glass doors that lead to an outlook over the gardens and the sea. It only sparks excitement for Aemond, imagining all the thoughts that could be swimming through her head, anger, pride, fear. By the Seven he hopes one of those is fear.

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“What?” he says, looking back to Alys.

“I thought I’d refresh my memory a little before I came here tonight. It’s been six years since Jaya Velaryon was in King’s Landing. The two of you were close, weren’t you?”

Close.

Close like the way Jaya used to hug him when they were children. She’d wrap her little arms so tightly around his chest or his neck that he could hardly breathe. He’d tell her to stop, shove her away, but then she’d only cry, and he could never say no to her after that.

Close like their minds worked in the same way, when they only needed to look at each other a certain way to know what they were both thinking.

Close like the air of his bedroom the first night they kissed, feeling the shared warmth, her body against his, the softness of her skin, when she tasted like wine and smelled like smoke.

Close was never close enough, but what difference did it make?

“Then there was that accident at Queen’s Lodge. The press release was so vague, it only said you and Jacaerys were recovering from minor injuries…”

Aemond glares at her, the same look that would usually silence Aegon, but Alys Rivers is not afraid of his warning.

She makes a gesture to his eye. “I mean, clearly one injury was more severe than the other. Curious that Jaya left for Pentos so soon after that when she was due to start at KLU that year. Why did she leave, do you know?”

Aemond pushes past her without another word, towards the glass doors that only Jaya has passed through in the last minute or so. The other guests are starting to take their places at the tables now. He sees Rhaenyra and Laenor looking around the room, having gathered their other three brats. His own mother tries to capture his attention but his mind can only think of one thing. He walks towards the doors as calmly as he can, even though it feels as if his life depends on reaching them, on reaching her.

The doors lead out to a patio, seemingly empty right up to the balustrade. He walks to the edge, the noise of the party lost to the roar of the wind and the waves in his ears, no doubt his hair will be blown into a mess but he doesn’t care.

Everything below him is black, out of reach from the lights of the castle. Then he spots something, a flicker of flame far below him, down a series of steps, out of view, down at an outlook over the sea. She shields it with her hand, lighting a cigarette by the look of it, until the end glows with a red ember.

He walks slowly, savouring the sound of every step his shoes make against the paving stones. He keeps his hands in his pockets, single eye fixated on the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her spine and her waist through the dress.

He tries to guess the moment she realises when she’s not alone. She angles her head slightly as he reaches the bottom of the steps, still a good distance away from her. He watches her take one drag from the cigarette before she lowers it, resting her hand against the stone balcony.

He comes close enough to realise she’s shaking, jaw clenched, looking almost determinedly out across the sea. The wind cuts across his cheeks like it’s burning his skin, so how she can stand to be out here with nothing to protect herself from the cold is almost admirable. It is also foolish of her.

Goosebumps bloom over her skin, skin he could reach out and touch if he wanted to.

And she won’t look at him.

She won’t look at him.

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huramuna · 9 months

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wine red, tears gold - chapter 4.

king aegon II x baratheon ofc

previous chapter | next

a 'what if aegon didn't get poisoned and the greens technically won the dance but at what cost' au. basically aegon, alicent, otto and jaehaera are the only greens alive. and larys i guess. someone get rid of this guy.

word count: 3.5k

please follow & turn on notifs for @huramuna-fics for my fic postings

content: smut (specifics below cut), canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera, awkward sex, kind of a slow burn, infidelity

this comes from the inside - the living tombstone • oblivion - grimes

warnings: p in v, creampie

Being close with another person can be such a precarious thing. Not just in emotional closeness, but physical as well.

Lyanna never much liked being touched, not even as a child. She would shy away from courtiers pinching her cheeks, from her mother’s outstretched arms, from her father’s heavy hand upon her shoulder. Being touched felt like a burden of sorts, as if someone expected reciprocity from putting their hands on another.

She never wished to give it in return.

Since moving to the Red Keep, she has changed— in more ways than one, of course. She quite liked being touched now by her good mother, Alicent’s touches were soft and warm. Mayhaps it was because the queen mother was there to hold Lyanna at her lowest, and she found some comfort in her arms that she never derived from her own mother.

Then there was Aegon. His touches were… confusing. He seemed much at war with himself, like a stray dog wishing for affection, a scratch on the cheek or pat of the head, but didn’t know how to ask, how to convey he wanted it. His proposal to Lyanna of exchange of pleasure for nurture was a strange one, to be sure.

It must’ve been the wine, that would be why she had said yes, wouldn’t it?

Certainly not the fact that her husband seemed… jealous. Jealous of a Dornish prince putting his hands on her and making her laugh. Aegon, being the same one who had said she wasn’t a beauty that men go to war for. Aegon, who couldn’t even flow in the same atmosphere as Lyanna for weeks. Aegon, who fucked a whore the morning after their wedding and many days besides.

That Aegon— was jealous?

The notion of it seemed humorous to Lyanna, as if she held some great power over him, reducing him to his knees before her.

All for a touch.

In truth, it was more than just a touch. He had fallen asleep with his head in her lap, snoozing softly. Lyanna wriggled down, trying to get comfortable. As much as she detested Aegon, at least she thought she did, she didn’t want to wake him. Not when he seemed so at peace with his pathetic prize.

He was a heavy sleeper. She managed to lay on her back comfortably and adjust his position to where he was strewn across her stomach and chest. Lyanna watched him for… who knows how long, being lulled into some sense of relaxation by his weight and warmth on her, coupled with his rhythmic breathing. He was like a living heavy blanket.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, smoothing small circles upon his scalp absentmindedly, as she fell asleep herself.

When she awoke, he was still there— albeit, shifted slightly. He clung to her like a second skin, his leg thrown over hers, his arms draped over her chest haphazardly, still deeply asleep. Lyanna’s breaths fanned over his hair, his head resting under her chin. Whatever spell she had been under the night before had (almost) worn off, the novelty faded.

Gently, more gentle than he truly deserved, she roused him. “Aegon,” she murmured, “Aegon, it's morning— I must get ready soon.”

“Morning…” he hummed drowsily, lips pressed to her neck unknowingly. “No… I will sleep more.”

Lyanna rolled her eyes; it was like dealing with a child rather than a King. “Laze around if you must, husband,” she began to pry him off of her. “But I have duties to attend to.”

“Duties can wait, wife,” he blinked, supplanting his chin upon her chest and looking up at her in a way that made her heart wrench. He looked Gods awful pathetic, like an abandoned puppy. “Stay longer, please.”

“… I have things to see to, Aegon. I don’t wish for your mother to be cross if I’m late to break our fast together.”

He let out a huff, rolling off of her. “May I at least stay until you leave?”

“I suppose. You can help dress me. Do you know how to dress a lady?” Lyanna asked, getting up from the bed to open her wardrobe.

“Ehm— I know how to undress a lady.”

“My Myrish silk from last night begs to differ.”

“Well, you have too many layers, too many loops and ties. This is why whores are so much easier, they’re practically already naked.”

Lyanna shot a glare at him. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t remind me that you frequently lie with other ladies.”

Aegon came up behind her, a bit taller than her by a head, poking his nose into her neck. “Why? Are you jealous?”

She scoffed. “Jealous? Jealous like you were of Prince Qyle?”

“I don’t get jealous,” he grumbled, backing away from her and folding his arms over his chest. “I just don’t think it was appropriate the way he was touching you— like you were a whore.”

“You love that word, don’t you?”

“Mayhaps. I quite like other words, too. Slut, cunt, bitch— the list goes on.”

“You’re truly an ignorant, beautiful creature, Aegon. It’s a wonder to me that you survived infancy.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

Lyanna let out a snorting laugh, it was undignified and unladylike— but real. Even more real than the laughs that Prince Qyle evoked from her the night before. She stayed turned away, sorting through her clothes. The noise she emitted, raucous and loud as it was, made Aegon smile for half a moment. He quite liked when his wife laughed— and he had been the one to do it this time.

Aegon ended up not helping her dress, as he took one look at the configurations of a corset and left.

That was fine by Lyanna, in all truths. She descended to the Queen mother’s chambers and broke her fast with her, as was her daily routine. Somehow, in the middle of their eating, their conversation turned to the topic of sex. Lyanna didn't feel much embarrassment talking about most things with Alicent, as she was a good conservationist– but sex was one of the things Alicent was… hesitant to talk about, all things considered, and Lyanna wasn’t exactly an expert.

Poking into her soft boiled egg with her spoon, Lyanna listened intently to Alicent.

“You’re the only one I would talk to such things about, dearest,” Alicent hummed, dragging her utensil through her own bowl of coddled eggs, “I never much liked it with… the late King. ‘Twas my duty, after all. I can only hope that, ehm, Aegon makes it less painful for you.”

“... he does fine, I suppose,” Lyanna murmured, prying the soft white of the egg from the shell and balancing it on the spoon. “... truthfully, we haven’t…” she rolled her shoulders to enunciate her meaning, “Laid together in a way conducive to making an heir– not since the wedding night.”

The queen mother perked a brow, crossing one leg over the other. “So you are doing such things in… other methods?”

“Only once– last night, in fact,” Lyanna admitted softly, poking the bite of egg into her mouth, wiping away an errant drop of yolk from her lip– to which Alicent was watching intently– “After the banquet. Was Aegon… jealous as a child?”

Alicent cracked a small smile, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not sure that he was jealous in the way that some may think. He wasn’t so much envious of what others had that he wished to covet, but rather what others were, comparatively to him. Rhaenyra was his father’s favorite, Aemond was the better swordsman, Helaena more beloved by my father– he was always the odd one out.” she blinked profusely, picking at the hem of her sleeve. “Why?”

“He… followed me to my chambers after the feast and started spewing heinous accusations about Prince Qyle and I.”

“And this… led you both to the bed?” Alicent took a long sip of her tea, her eyes not leaving Lyanna’s.

“No– my boudoir chair, actually.”

The queen mother’s cheeks reddened softly. “Oh my– I cannot say that’s something I experienced. Was it… pleasurable at least?”

“It was certainly enlightening– that he may not be as useless as I thought,” Lyanna paused. “That I may not be as repulsive to him as I thought I was.” she spoke a bit quieter then, the subject still tender to her, a wound not yet fully scarred over.

“It’s his blood.” Alicent replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

“His… blood?”

“The blood of the dragon– Targaryens have dragon’s blood in their veins, which runs thick and hot when situations become… precarious. It may be any sort of situation that might give you or I an adrenaline rush, good or bad– but for them, all my children included, it’s like igniting the spark to a wildfire. Some sort of primal, uncontainable thirst for… whatever it is that spurred them. For Aegon… he quells his blood with wine and whores,” Alicent frowned slightly at the notion, the corners of her eyes crinkling into a silent apology, “Jealousy could very well be one of the things that whipped him into a frenzy– mayhaps you should use such a thing to your advantage? Of course, I won’t condone adultery, my dear– but the illusion of interest in someone else may have Aegon more… inclined to lay with you.”

Lyanna sniffed slightly, putting down her empty egg shell. “I wish he would just want it without me having to… set him on fire, or however it’s put.”

“Men are– for the lack of a better word– stupid, Lyanna. They are blind to the things they need the most.”

–

Lyanna spent the rest of her week planning on how exactly to make Aegon jealous. She didn’t really understand how to put on such airs of that extent– acting confident was one thing, but feining attraction for another person was different, wasn’t it? She didn’t consider herself a massive flirt, either.

They sat in the dining hall, entertaining a visiting lord from the Reach, some Tyrell or Redwyne or other, who promptly gave Lyanna a bouquet of beautiful flowers. She was delighted at the gesture, not because she really enjoyed them, but because it would be easier to start her ruse.

“Oh, thank you, my lord– these are gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous,” she hummed. She was wearing a green dress that, somehow, matched Aegon’s deep green tunic that eve. “How did you know that sunflowers were my favorite?”

“Ah, your grace, the sunflower is my favorite as well,” the lord smiled heartily, chattering on and on about sunflowers. “It very much reminded me of your radiance, my queen.”

His audacious compliment earned a warm giggle from Lyanna, her face blistered with a blush– half of the blush was from real bashfulness, as she wasn’t used to receiving such compliments. She knew it was false, of course. She was more reminiscent of a plain dandelion than a sunflower.

The dinner consisted of Lyanna talking to him, making much smalltalk and overall, talking to him more than she’d talked to Aegon in their entire marriage. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her husband practically stewing, rolling around a brussel sprout around his plate with the tip of his knife, an inhuman heat blistering off of him in waves.

Apparently, to Aegon, enough was enough– his hand slipped from his goblet of wine, drenching the front of Lyanna’s dress. “Ah– my dear, I’m so very clumsy,” he crooned, “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

Lyanna nodded slowly as her husband looped his arms around her and led her out of the dining hall. She murmured some apologies to their guests, citing that they would return soon. Aegon led them down a corridor, not far from the hall, into a closed off enclave, where he closed the door.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he grumbled, spinning her around so that her back was pressed against the stone wall in the close quarters of what was basically a servant’s closet. “You’re egging me on purposefully.”

Tilting her chin up defiantly, she spoke nonchalantly. “I have no idea what you’re speaking of, husband, truly.”

Aegon gave an unamused expression, his mouth wrought into a thin line. “I’m not even that drunk and I could plainly see you letting that… absolute peon of a Lord come onto you.”

“So? He fancies me and gifted me a bouquet of flowers– I don’t see anything terribly wrong with that. It isn’t unheard of to pay homage to their queen, is it?”

His hand shot out, gripping her chin and jaw. “I don’t– You– you’re so fucking frustrating!” he growled, raising his voice. Their noses were touching from their proximity, their breaths intermingling. It was the closest they’d ever been.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway, to which the both of them froze. They came past the closet, then descended back down the corridor.

“This is scandalous.” Lyanna murmured.

“How? We are husband and wife, simply having a chat.”

“We are the king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not… animals– I’m sure that anyone who opened this door would see you… pinning me against a wall. I’m not sure much could be left to the imagination there, Aegon.”

“You really should get the stick out of your arse, wife.”

“Mayhaps it would do better up yours, then?”

“Careful, I may actually enjoy that.” he grinned, the expression lighting up his usually solemn face. Lyanna considered him quite handsome at that moment.

“You’re vulgar.” she quipped back, biting down on the soft part between his thumb and forefinger gently.

A sound akin to a breathy moan came from Aegon’s mouth at her bite. “And you call me an animal? You’re fucking biting me, you cheeky minx.”

“Yes? Well, if you are to drag me to your level– we are both animals then.” she stared at him with wide eyes and she wondered if he could feel the beat of her heart. It felt like it would abscond from her body at any moment. Her heavy chest fell and rose in weighty breaths.

“That lord is quite wrong, you know,” Aegon whispered, his lips dangerously close to hers– they hadn’t kissed since the wedding ceremony, and even then it was a quick peck – his mouth quirked into a smug grin. “You aren’t a sunflower. You’re a sweet little rabbit. I quite like rabbit, you know. They’re delicious, succulent,” he paused, leaning forward and speaking against her lips, “Tender.”

It was unsure who closed the gap first, but their lips fused together into a ferocious kiss. They both tasted of a deep, rich wine. It was a fight of tongues and teeth, a battle where they both wished to devour one another– Lyanna’s hand tugged at his white curls, nails scraping against his scalp as he held her face in a vice-like grip, as if he was afraid she would dissipate from his clutches at any moment. His lips were soft, surprisingly, where she had expected them to be rough and chapped. His skin pressed against hers and the slight growing stubble upon his cheeks tickled her in kind, her lips perking into a smile as they kissed.

The once silent closet became a cacophony of small sighs and gasps from both the king and queen. Aegon’s free hand trailed to the small of Lyanna’s back, resting right in the divots above her bottom, his fingers splayed out in exploratory fashion. His repose was short lived, as he grabbed the fleshy globe of her arse, emitting a pleased hum of surprise. They parted for a moment to breathe, as it was wholly necessary– if they hadn’t needed to breathe, they wouldn’t have parted at all, reveling in one another’s taste for hours.

“I forbid you to cut my dress, Aegon,” she whispered in a playful warning, staring at him with a look that couldn’t be described as anything else other than fondness. “I refuse to go through these halls with my garment sliced to shreds.”

“But you love it, don’t you? You quite liked it last night.”

“Aegon.”

“Fine,” he acquiesced, his hand retreating from her face to unbuckle his belt. The light of the closet was dim, close to none– the soft flickering of the sconces outside of the corridor bleeding in through the cracked door. She couldn’t see what he was doing, really, but she heard the soft grunts coming from him as his fist slid against his length. Giving her ass a playful squeeze, he used his other hand to ruck up her skirts, the pad of his thumb swiping down her underclothes. “Lovely.” Aegon practically purred, hooking his finger and sliding the wet garb down her legs.

The air was cold against her bare sex, causing her to shiver. She chased the warmth of his body as he adjusted himself, parting from her closeness for just a moment, making her all but whimper.

They didn’t need words, despite their new trend of back and forth quips– and it was nice to not have to say anything. She let him take the lead, as he was more experienced than she. His legs were between hers, keeping them open as he glided his member between her folds, gathering the wet slick that had been ruminating since they came to the closet, then he slid into her. Lyanna stifled a gasp, the sensation still so unfamiliar– it wasn’t painful like before, as she was prepared for it now, but it was a feeling of stretching she wasn’t used to.

Aegon, in turn, huffed a moan into her neck, murmuring something in broken High Valyrian under his breath. He sheathed himself to the hilt inside of her, resting both hands on her hips, which had the perfect little clefts for handles, he noted. He didn’t move right away, savoring the warmth and tightness of her, squeezing around him like she was all but made for him.

“P-please,” she whispered, so quietly, into the shell of his ear.

He set a wonderfully slow pace, which only sped up with each kiss they shared, their tongues mingling and dancing to the soft sound of Aegon’s heavy stones smacking up against Lyanna’s core. Their cacophony became a full on symphony of wet, slapping noises, coupled with their borderline obscene sounding kissing as they moaned into one another’s mouths.

It felt like something of newness for both of them as Aegon’s thumb came up to circle at her clit– Lyanna was experiencing a fullness and indulgence in having her husband slotted in her so deliciously. Aegon was experiencing something akin to euphoria at the fact that he was fucking someone who wanted him, whom he did not pay, and was not doing so out of duty. He had been a bit hesitant on the latter at first, but there was no way in the Hells that she was faking such debaucherous, beautiful little moans. This was sensual ecstasy and closeness that they’d both never felt before in their lives.

Lyanna’s whining became more pronounced as Aegon’s attention on her clit came to fruition– she clenched around him like a vice, feeling a small dribble of wetness soak around his cock. This act alone brought Aegon to his own completion, the wetness of her slick now mingling with his seed as he spilled inside of her, deep enough to hopefully take root. He bit onto the lobe of her ear gently as he came, whimpering.

Lyanna quite liked that sound– of her husband whimpering into her ear as he emptied himself. It made her put both hands on each side of his face and kiss him again– but soft, like his little whimpers. It wasn’t something born of lust, but something completely different. Something that they both really couldn’t name yet.

Coming down from both of their highs, Aegon quickly situated himself back into his trousers– but not before reaching two fingers to his wife’s folds and pushing back in the seed that threatened to leak from her.

“Aegon,” she keened, dangerously close to overstimulation as he gave a cheeky flick to her wrought-over clit. “E-Enough– too much…”

“I couldn’t resist,” Aegon chuckled as he pulled her undergarments back up, snug once more against her. “I don’t suppose we are returning to dinner?”

“Gods– I don’t think I can. I am still reeking of wine and I won’t be able to look them all in the eyes when we come back looking as if the cat just ate the canary.”

“Or the dragon ate the rabbit?”

“... I am sure I can feign sickness just one time– what do you think? Mayhaps we should retire early tonight.” Lyanna flattened out her dress.

“... we?”

“Yes– we.”

“We as in… me and you? In the same room? Together?”

“That is what ‘we’ means, Aegon.”

“... I suppose I could be convinced.”

–

They did indeed retire early that night, but not before going for round two, then three. A thoroughly fucked out Lyanna rested in bed, her body riddled in hickies of Aegon’s doing, her fingers tangled in his hair. She was well and fast asleep, Aegon noted.

He loathed to untangle himself from her– she was so nice and warm and soft… but something inside of him nagged. Something broken and heinous tugged at his humanity, willing him to get out of bed and dress, donning his usual thick black cloak.

Off to the Silk Streets. To sate the broken parts of him and to quell the incessant nagging within his head.

Your fault, your fault.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #my writing #wine red tears gold

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kilojulietsierra · 7 months

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You Promised - 1940s James "Bucky" Barnes x OFC

I LOVE 1940s Bucky so much and so I wrote this!

Summary: Bucky finally wins the favor of the pretty new girl in the neighborhood and together they make the most of the week before he ships out. Bucky makes her a promise the night before he leaves, and he intends to keep it.

Warnings: all my work is considered 18+, shameless flirting the both of them lol, fluff, angst,talk of war, there’s a tiny altercation in a dancehall, protective Bucky, allusions to smut, allusions to premarital sex which was frowned upon, nightmare mention, minor ofc is a refugee, pre serum Steve makes a couple appearances, happy ending

~~~

Bucky had seen her a handul of times around the neighborhood. Had done a bit of chatting up the neighbors to learn the little about her he could. She was new, relatively, to their block. Mrs. Martin in his building had said she remembered her folks before they had moved away, the girl had just been a baby then. He'd heard her talking to Frankie at the deli and her accent wasn't from around here, she'd grown up somewhere else. Mr and Mrs Lewis had even told him, just the other day when he'd stopped to help change their tire, that her family had moved back in to take care of a sick grandmother. Her mothers or fathers side they didn't know, but they lived in the place next to them and she was "such a sweet girl James, she'd straighten you right up."

Today she was walking out of the grocery a paper sack in one arm and a small stack of library books in the other. He smiled. Tis was his chance and he was more than happy to take it. Part of him, admittedly the slgihtly shallow part, wished he was in his uniform or at least dressed better than his work clothes.

That didn't stop him from picking up his pace and cutting across the street to bump into her. "You sure got your hands full. Here let me help." He ducked his head to catch her eye and spare her an easy grin as he gestured towards the sack of groceries.

Her eyes were a pale, sea glass green and they were sharp and skeptical as she appraised him. "I can manage, thank you though."

"No, not a chance, my ma would never forgive me." He deftly snagged the bag from her, grinning wider. "Besides, I think we live across the street from eachother. It's Lettie right?"

Those pretty green eyes narrowed at him, her brow furrowed "It is…"

"James," He settled her groceries in one hand and extended his other to her, "Everyone calls me Bucky though."

"Strapping young man like you can't get them to stop?" She quipped even as she held her hand up for him to take, "Your teeth don't seem that bad to me." One single brow arched and her face was passive as she held her books tight and walked on down the street. Not waiting for him to follow.

Bucky smiled wide as he fell in step beside her, keeping his stride slow and leisurely. "Cute," He looked down at her but she didn't look back. Unphased he elaborated, "Buchanan is my middle name, family name."

"Ohhh," She looked at him finally, tucked her sleek red hair behind her ear as she turned to walk backwards eying him in a way he couldn't quite place. "You're the Barnes boy. Mrs. Lewis told me to watch out for you." She looked pleased with herself, thinking she'd got some sort of upperhand.

Still grinning Bucky picked up his pace, just so he could step past her and lean down close and say, "Funny, she told me the same thing about you." And he continued on ahead of her biting his bottom lip and waiting.

"Now, just a minute, what is that supposed to mean?" She jogged to catch up to him again.

He didn't respond just smiled, kept walking, and threw her a lazy wink as they walked on down the street.

At the next corner she turned on him again, "What's your angle Barnes?"

"What angle doll?" He countered her overly formal use of his name with one that earned him a slght pink flush to her cheeks.

"Just a nice neighbor boy, carryin' my groceries? What is it? All the other girls in Brooklyn had their fill?" She shifted the books in her arms and Bucky saw one was a Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

"No angle," He nodded his head for her to continue and went out on a limb as he put his free hand at her shoulder to turn her and keep her moving, "Okay, that's not entirely true," He nudged her forward again smiling at the triumphant look on her face when she spun on him. "I just mean, that you are prettier than any girl I've ever seen and I've been dying for a chance to steal just a little bit of time with you." He slowed to a stop in front of what he knew was her building and grinned when she continued on a few steps before she noticed.

Her eyes were calculating and predatory as she scrutinized him. Looking for the angle, as she had said.

He noticed then the second book was a copy of the Hobbit he'd borrowed himself years ago.

"Alright, I'll bite, a little bit of time for what exactly?" She looked almost unimpressed, with herself, for asking.

Licking his lips Bucky smiled and took a step closer so she would have to tilt her chin up to look him in the eye. Which she did, standing her ground, and he loved it. "To ask if I could take you out one night this week."

"Just one night huh?" Her face didn't change as she said it

Was she really…? Bucky faltered the slightest bit, cocked his head to the side as he tried to figure out the real meaning in her words. He pushed his luck. "Every night if you'd let me."

She smiled. The barest tilt of her lips and Bucky felt ten feet tall. He was in love with this girl already, or would be if he wasn't careful.

"How about we just start with tomorrow night?" Her face softened but her eyes kept the spark in them.

"Done." Bucky didn't hesitate. "There is one catch though."

She rolled her eyes and then they both had to step away from the stoop as one of her neighbors exited the building. Both of them mumbled their apologies before she continued, "Always is."

"Not anything bad." Bucky assured her. "See i've got this friend, my best friend really, he's a great guy but shy."

Lettie nodded, eyes skeptical again. "So you actually want me go out with this friend?"

"God no!" The moment the words left his mouth he cringed, but the sting of his own embarrasment faded when she chuckled and ducked her eyes to the sidewalk. He caught a peak at the tip of her tongue as it wetted her lips and his confidence came back, "I'm keeping you all to myself sweetheart, trust me."

Her cheeks were pink when she looked back up at him and she was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too wide. "So, this friend…"

"Steve. Great guy. He just, needs a little push out of his shell if you know what I mean." Bucky almost felt bad, but God help him he desperatley wanted to find his pal a girl. "Was just thinkin' maybe you had a friend, we could make it a double date."

Lettie's eyes were skeptical again and she glanced behind her before she responded, "A friend that likes shy boys or a friend that likes any boy?"

When he caught her meaning Bucky licked his lips and looked her up and down, "Oh sweetheart, surely you don't have friends like that? I had you figgured for a good girl." He was going to fucking marry this girl, God help him.

She flushed a darker shade of pink and laughed, rolled her eyes again but settled her greens back on his blues after a heartbeat. Lettie licked her lips and looked him up and down herself. "Most of the time." Her eyes locked on his mouth as Bucky sunk his teeth into his bottom lip for a fraction of a second.

Unable to stop himself Bucky hummed approvingly and hunted for her gaze again before he spoke, "Then why don't you bring one of your nice, sweet friends with you tomorrow night and she can keep Steve company while you and me see what kinda trouble we can get into?"

Lettie answered by taking back her brown paper bag full of groceries and taking the first few steps up to the front of the building before she turned and said. "You better be right here by seven tomorrow night, Barnes." She settled him with a look which softened after a second. "Earlier if you want to make a good impression."

"Yes ma'am." His cheeks hurt from smiling and he shoved his hands in his pockets. She was almost to the door before he called after her, "Hey sweetheart," she was grinning when she turned around, her face still skeptical but in a teasing sort of way now. Bucky took a few steps backwards towards his side of the street, "Wear somethin' you can dance in."

~~~

Bucky was outside her building at 6:45pm, fighting the urge to smoke a cigarette while he waited.

The front door opened at 6:50pm and Lettie poked her head out, "Why Mr. Barnes, I'm proud." She sounded snarky but she was smiling as Bucky jogged up the steps to meet her. She pushed the door open wider and waved him in.

He stepped right up in front of her and took the door, looking over her he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. "Well hello to you too doll." She looked so pretty he had to force his eyes to meet hers. "You look gorgeous."

She rolled her eyes but blushed that rosy pink color that he liked. "You look pretty sharp yourself."

He'd worn his uniform. Shined his boots and everything. "

That'll help." She added cryptically as she started up the stairs.

Bucky paused at the bottom, "Help with what?" Lettie bounced back down a couple stairs until they were eye to eye. "Help convince papa you're a fine young man that's gonna take good care of me."

"Oh," Bucky felt a rush roll through him as she grabbed his hand. He used the hold to keep her in place as he held her gaze intenesly and added, "I'm gonna take real' good care of ya sweetheart."

Her father had been nice enough, intimidating but Bucky had won him over quickly. Her mother was a looker with the same red hair as Lettie. A younger sister that he'd seen poking her head around the corner to sneak a peak had the same pretty green eyes and looked like she'd be a world of trouble herself in a few years. If the way Lettie and her mother had both scolded the younger girl and sent her scurrying was any inclination.

"I'm impressed." Lettie said once they were back down on the street.

"Already?" Bucky teased and laughed when she playfully shoved him towards traffic. "Kidding." He tugged her close and looked her over, "Thought springing your folks on me was gonna send me runnin'?"

She didn't answer but that was answer enough. Bucky picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Lettie smiled and rolled her eyes even as she let his lips linger. He liked that little bit of attitude mixed with that soft and sweet. He liked it a lot.

"We should uh, we should go. I told Isaline we would meet her at the station. I wasn't sure where we were going." Lettie seemed the slightest bit flustered but her eyes were still bright.

Bucky smiled, wrapped her hand in the crook of his elbow and led her off down the street. "So is this the nice friend or the really nice friend." He coughed out a laugh as she smacked him in the chest.

"Isaline is a sweetheart, she's a little shy herself but only, well, you'll see."

When he watched her greet her friend at the station the rapid chattering in a different language caught him off guard. He stood back, a little awkward, but with an easy, charming smile on his face.

"James this is Isaline, Isa this is James, or Bucky as he somehow prefers to be called." Lettie introduced them with a big smile.

The friend was pretty and Letties comment made more sense when he heard how heavily accented her English was. On the train the girls sat and chatted while Bucky stood, one hand on the rail and listened as they went back and forth between English and French. As they left the train Bucky grabbed Lettie's elbow softly and leaned into her ear, "Aren't you just a treat?"

The girl with him blushed a bright red but smiled, "What do you mean?"

"You speak French?"

"My family lived in Montreol for most of my childhood." Lettie lowered her voice, "Isaline's family fled France a couple years ago, before…" Lettie trailed off.

Bucky nodded, "Brave girl." He whispered back before he wrapped Letties hand through his arm again. Isa and Lettie linking arms and letting Bucky lead them down the street to the little dancehall he liked best. Steve would like this girl, even if she was shy, she was pretty for sure, a killer smile and brave enough to escape the Nazis. Right up his best friends alley.

~~~

Steve was waiting for them out front. Standing off to the side, hands in his pockets, wearing that same old jacket. Bucky had to grin. He whistled then called out, "Hey punk, over here!"

When Bucky introdruced him to Lettie and Isa Steve was ever the gentleman. Then as Isa rattled something off in French to Lettie, Bucky and Steve exchanged a look. Steve furrowed his brow at his best friend, Bucky just smiled and shrugged.

Lettie chuckled and then linked her arm through Bucky's, whcih pleased him greatly, as she addressed Steve. "She wants me to tell you that she's sorry her English isn't so good, but that she'd like it very much if you would help her practice some tonight. Preferably while she's running her fingers through your hair." Isa giggled beside her friend and Bucky outright laughed.

Steve gulped as Bucky clapped him on the shoulder and pushed him towards the door with the music spilling out. "What're you laughing at Buck?"

Bucky laughed again as Isa hooked her arm in Steve's and began to drag him forward at a jog. "I think we're both in trouble tonight pal." He felt a pinch in his side as he laughed again and turned to tip his gaze down to Lettie, "What was that for doll?" With his same easy grin he walked her towards the line to get in, his pace a slow kind of swagger. Feeling good in his uniform with a gorgeous girl on his arm.

"Isa is not trouble." She defended her friend, "She's just... flirtacious. It's 'cause she's French."

"I'll say." Bucky laughed again, falling in line behind the flirty French girl and Steve. While they waited Bucky ducked down to whisper in her ear, "What would a guy have to do for you to whisper to him in French and play with his hair? Hmm?"

Lettie rolled her eyes and flicked the bill of his cap, "He'd have to take me on at least two more dates."

Bucky smirked and raised his brows as he straightend his cap. In his head he counted out the days until he shipped out. "I think I can make that happen." "

Oh do you?" Lettie smirked as they came to the door, "I think I'll be the one that decides that Mr. Barnes."

He kept smiling as he paid for the four of them to get in, "Y'know, technically, it's Sargent Barnes."

Her cheeks were rosy from her permanent smirk as she shook her head, "Whatever you say Bucky." She teased him, not giving him the satisfaction of acting impressed.

With one hand on her back he guided her through the door behind Steve and Isaline. Once she was in front of him he leaned in to whisper beside her ear again, "You're just a little firecracker aren't you?"

There was a brief moment where she halfstepped, intentionally causing him to bump into her back as he followed her and on reflex he set a hand at her waist to steady them both. WIth him close Lettie glanced over her shoulder and gave him a look, "I thought I was a treat?"

Bucky liked the way she felt just barely pressed against him and the way her waist fit so perfectly in his hand. He smiled, a little mischevious and leaned in so close his nose brushed her hair, "Girl can be both. Perfect combination if you ask me." He caught the way she blushed and smiled wide just before she looked away from him and it was doing dangerous things to his ego.

~~~

Lettie knew she wasn't the best dancer but she had been excited. Impatient even to let Bucky take her out onto the floor. It hadn't taken him long and they'd quickly abandoned their friends in the corner to camp out on the dancefloor. They danced song after song until the band took a break, She was warm and a little breathless when she had nodded and let Bucky pull her towards the back of the hall for something cold to drink.

She stood a little behind Bucky while he spoke with a server behind the bar and busied herself trying to spy across the room at Isa and Steve. Neither of them had ran away yet, which based on what Bucky had told her while they danced was an improvement. She hadn't seen them out on the floor even once, but it looked like Steve had a bit of a pink hue to his cheeks which made Lettie laugh to herself.

"Hey honey, you gonna give anyone else a go tonight?"

"Excuse me?" She turned towards the unfamiliar voice.

"You heard me sweetie. You been lettin' that pretty boy hog you all night. Think I should get a turn, huh?"

The disgust on her face was evident when she spat back, "I think you should quit callin' me names and beat it."

"You little s…" The mans hand was a blur of motion but it froze midair when Buckys hand caught him by the wrist.

"That's a real bad idea." Bucky said calm as can be as he held an iron grip on the man with his left hand and reached towards Lettie with his right. He twisted the mans wrist just enough to cause some discomfort and push him back.

"You outta put muzzle on your bitch there." The man snarled even as Bucky twisted his arm further.

Before Bucky could retalliate though Lettie was pushing past him, "You outta put a bag over your head so the rest of us ain't gotta suffer that ugly mug."

"Okay doll, that's enough." Bucky dropped the mans wrist in favor for catching Lettie around the waist and pulling her back, spinning her around behind him once again. He saw the motion out of the corner of his eye and groaned, "You're killin' me." He caught the other mans sloppy haymaker easily and twisted him around with it, pinning it at what looked to be an extremely uncomfortable angle. He shoved the man back towards his group of friends, "You boys, better sort your pal out there." Bucky gestured to the still fuming, stumbling, loudmouth and then turned back to Lettie

"Nuh-uh." Bucky shook his head as he pushed her back by the hip, "Leave it doll, let's go." He reached for the two cokes he'd bought and gently ushered her back from the scene of the incident.

"You're just gonna let him…"

"I…" Bucky drew out the syllable to emphasize a point, "Am keepin' you outta trouble."

Lettie chewed on her lip, not noticing the way Bucky was figinting back a grin, "You should've let me…"

"Let you what doll? Sock him?' Bucky glanced over his shoulder then back to her, "Was gonna do it myself till you went tearin' after him like a prize fighter."

The scowl on her face softened slightly and Bucky tilted his head to one side, smiling down at her, "Sweetheart, I think you did enough damage without either one of us puttin' hands on him." He tugged her closer, let his arm wrap all the way around her waist and she relaxed into him almost immediatly.

"I'm sorry James." She finally, had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"Don't apologize, I kinda liked it." Bucky threw her a wink and held her gaze a beat, "My little firecracker."

Lettie scoffed, purposfully ignoring the way he had used 'my'. She leaned back enough to pluck a Coke bottle from his grasp and take a sip. "I kinda liked it too." She mumbled against the mouth of the glass bottle.

"What's that?" Bucky leaned closer so he could hear.

She sighed deep and stood up a little to repeat herself in his ear, "I kinda liked how you… ya know…" Lettie trailed off not sure how to explain that she had found his quiet, confindent, control of the situation so attractive. The way he could have clearly swung on the troublemaker but instad chose to use his brain as well as his muscles.

He must've seen it in her eyes, or heaven forbid read her mind, because Bucky pulled back with a shit eating grin, "Oh really?" He licked his lips and gave her a nearly inappropriate look, "I'm glad." He all but whispered against her temple and followed it by a careful press of his lips. When he pulled back she was grinning too and they left it at that.

~~~

For awhile the four of them had sat at the little corner table and chatted. Bucky had kicked Steve out of his chair, forcing him to go and sit beside Isa so Lettie could sit next to him. Soon he had his arm draped over the back of Letties chair and was smiling contently as the girls chatted across the table.

After awhile Bucky had all but bullied his pal into taking the pretty French girl out for a spin on the dancefloor. Lettie had giggled beside him as Isaline had nearly drug Steve along behind her. Together they sat there, watching from the sidelines as their friends danced, or tried to.

"Gosh is that how clumsy I looked?" Lettie laughed hiding it behind her hand.

'Not a chance," Bucky ducked his head to meet her gaze, "You looked like a dream doll."

She turned that pretty pink color and couldn't hold his eye. Bucky chuckled, "How come you can be so gorgeous, so quick, square up with a guy twice your size without thinkin' twice," He paused and reached a careful hand out to tip her face back to his, "And still get so flustered when I say somethin' nice?"

Lettie bit her lip and shook her head a little, eyes dropping closed for a moment when he stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I don't know."

All he could do was smile. When he caught sight of the others coming back he gave her a soft smile and a wink.

~~~

The four of them had split up at the station, Bucky once again nearly forcing Steve to walk Isa home, giving Bucky and Lettie the chance to walk home together. Alone.

She had ahold of his elbow again, only this time she had both arms wrapped around his and they laughed and teased eachother as they walked. At the front steps to her builing Lettie's heart dropped slightly and she took a fortifying breath. She turned to face Bucky and asked outright, "You're leaving soon aren't you?"

Though it might have caught him off guard he didn't show it. He only took her hand in his and nodded, "My company ships out Friday."

Lettie nodded, looked intently at his hand that engulfed hers, warm, rough to the touch but gentle. She put on a smile, forced but not insincere, "I had a really great time tonight Bucky."

That brough his smile back as well. He picked her hand up to his lips and kissed the top of her thumb, "So did I."

SHe studied him intently, eyes searching for some answer he was more than willing to let her find. He stood there patiently, with his easy grin firmly in place while he waited, hand still holding hers.

"Even though I kinda tried to start a fight?" She chuckled sheepishly.

HIs grin doubled, "Oh especially since you tried to start a fight."

She swatted at his chest and he took it in stride, even tugged her back to him after.

"So you'd consider, maybe, taking me out again?" Lettie was fighting back nerves that evaporated when she saw the way his face cracked into a wide, honest smile.

"Sweeheart, you have no idea how much I'd like that." He took that as a sign that he could get away with wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. "Can I come fetcch you tomorrow? We can get a bite to eat, just you and me this time?"

Lettie was beaming when she nodded, "Sounds perfect."

The way she was looking up at him, matched with the way she had all but melted into him, gave him hope but she was a handful and he was a gentleman. So, he asked, "Lettie," he tipped her chin up with his knuckle and looked her in the eye, "Can I kiss you goodnight?"

"Yes please."

Bucky had to remind himself to keep it short and sweet. The way all the air left her in a rush as he pressed his lips to hers drew him in. He'd meant it to be a quick little peck, empitome of a gentleman, but then her hands had reached for either side of his jaw and he couldn't hold back the happy hum in the back of his throat. He swiped his lips over hers again and spread a hand wide over her back to press her even closer to him.

When he finally forced himself to pull away he saw her eyes still closed and her lips still parted and couldn't help himself. "Look at you." He murmered to her, catching the way her eyes fluttered open only for her to moan and let them fall closed once more as he allowed himself one final kiss. Electricity trilling down his spine as she captured his bottom lip between hers as they pulled away the second time.

Lettie was trying to catch her breath and her eyes were wide and lit from within.

"See you tomorrow beautiful." Bucky tipped her face gently so he could press a kiss to the corner of her eye, not trusting himself to kiss her properly again.

WIth a happy hum she let her hands slide over his shoulders and down to squeeze his biceps as she smiled up at him sweetly. "Can't wait."

Bucky held the door to her building open for her and returned her silly little wave as she scampered up the stairs. He stood there unitil he heard her door upstairs open and close. "Neither can I." He whispered to himself, with the shake of his head, as he let the door swing closerd behind him.

~~~

"You're too good for the likes of him Lettie, you mark my words."

"Sal!" Bucky scoffed, "C'mon, you've known me my whole life"

"Exactly!" The old man pointed at him accusingly as he set another bottle of Coke down.

Bucky shook his head, offended, "Don't do me dirty like that Sal, c'mon." The man behind the counter laughed loudly as he walked away, sharing a conspiritorial wink with Lettie.

Still shaking his head Bucky shifted to face her on his stool, "You might have everyone fooled, but I know better."

Lettie scoffed, "Oh, you know better? Do you? A few dates and you've got me all figured out, is that it?" She propped her elbow besdie her plate and arched her brow, waiting.

"Workin' on it." Bucky grinned, reached down to grab the leg of her stool and drag her closer. It made her giggle and he loved it, "You're no angel darlin' but you are definitly too good for me."

That surprised her and she grinned even wider, licking her lips she spoke softly, "Well then aren't you lucky?"

"Very lucky." Bucky leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"You knock that off Barnes! People eat here."

Lettie snorted out a laugh, as Bucky jokingly growled, "Sal, you're killin' me here." He caught the way Lettie was looking at him out the corner of her eye, "Don't you enourage him doll." She snorted out an even less lady like laugh and went back to her food. "You're both killin' me."

Bucky snuck a hand out to tickle her ribs earning him a squeal of laughter and a hard swat to his forearm. "Behave yourself." She scolded him, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Bucky surrendered, hands in the air and everything. "Okay, okay, best behavior." He tossed her a wink as he went back to his own plate. Both of them fighting back smiles, cheeks aching.

Sal walked back by after a minute and gave Bucky a hard look, "I take it back, this girl, I think she's good for you." He smacked Bucky hard, affectionantly but hard, on the shoulder and turned to move on down to another couple at the end of the counter.

Bucky caught Letties eye and kept his voice low, "Oh, she's very good for me."

Lettie flushed bright red and hid her face in her free hand, "You are the absolute worst." She hissed back at him.

He furrowed his brow, asbsentmindedly twirling his fork between his fingers, "Really? Pretty sure that's not what you ..."

"James Buchanan, I swear..." She left her threat to trail off in the static between them. Her face flushed and Bucky grinned like the cat that ate the canary.

"Okay, like I said, best behavior." He left it at that, only reaching for the hand she had been hiding behind and tugging it to him so he could press a kiss to her palm. Then with a happy, contented smile he remained on his best behavior through the rest of lunch.

When the two of them left, Bucky left a little bigger tip on the counter than he needed to and tucked Lettie into his side as they headed back out onto the street. Neither of them paying attention to the looks that trailed after them. The group of girls in a booth that looked longingly at the handsome young man and the open and obvious adoration for the girl that wasn't them. The older couple that shared a knowing, reminiscint smile, and Sal who shook his head with a chuckle as he cleared their plates away.

Out on the street Bucky and Lettie continued down the sidewalk, his arm over her shoulders and their fingers laced together.

"Buck?" "

Yeah doll."

"What happens while your gone?" She tried to keep her voice light.

Bucky swallowed thickly and did the same, "Told you, we're gonna go over there, kick HItlers ass, and be back in time for you..." He paused mid stride to spin her around and pull her back so they stood face to face, "To take me ice skating for Christmas."

Lettie rolled her eyes in that way she knew he liked. "For me to take you, huh?"

"Well, we already established I don't know how, so... yeah. You're gonna have to hold onto me all night." He fought back a grin as he walked into her, pushing her to step backwards, "I'm probably gonna make a fool out of myself, hanging on you the whole time." He made his point by wrapping his arms around her tightly, still keeping them walking down the street. Lettie trusting him completely as she continued stepping backwards.

"James, I'm serious." She looked up at him with bright but serious eyes. He returned her gaze and slowed them to a stop at a cross walk. His sharp blue eyes left hers to watch the traffic go by for a moment. "We talked about this Lettie." He looked back to her, kept her wrapped up tight. "

You hardly know me."

"Don't matter." His answer was so immediate and certain it took a little of the fight out of her. "You're my girl. We both know this ain't..." Bucky trailed off. For once he was the one at a loss for words, "Don't matter it's only been a week. It's never been like this for me before Lettie."

With a heavy sigh she wrapped her arms around his neck and relaxed into him. "Me either."

"So, you'll wait for me?" He gazed down at her lovingly, hopefully. His eyes nearly fluttering closed at the feel of her nails scratching through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

"You know I will. " She smiled up at him just as in love, even if neither of them had said those words just yet. "As long as you promise to do your damndest to come home to me."

HIs smile turned into a smirk, "Such a mouth on you." He kissed her before she could say anything back, being so bold as to swipe his tongue into her mouth right there in the middle of the sidewalk. She nipped at his bottom lip as he pulled back and he let her draw him in for another slow kiss. "I promise Doll, I'm comin' home to you."

They stood that way for a moment longer, more unspoken promises being shared in the silence. Lettie was the one that broke them out of it, "You, better let me go, so I have time to go round up a friend for Steve and get ready."

"You look good in what you're wearin'." Bucky almost pouted, carefully bunching up the fabric of her skirt in one hand.

"Thank you, but" She swatted his hand away, "You promised to wear your uniform for me tonight, so I have to go get dolled up." She winked when she used a play on his favorite pet name for her, "So those other girls out there don't get the wrong idea."

"Don't see how they could when I can't keep my hands off you." Bucky offered smoothly as he dropped a short, teasing kiss to her lips. "But, you know I love it when you get all done up for me." His eyes were downright sinful when he looked her up and down and he smiled at the blush on her cheeks. "You sure you're okay meeting us there?"

"I'm sure." She patted him on the chest, took a moment to enjoy the feel of the hard earned muscle under his shirt and then dropped her hands when Bucky gave her a look. "Don't you..."

"Wasn't gonna say a word." He bit his bottom lip and looked her up and down. Unabashedly remembering how her hands had felt on his bare skin, the slight red marks she had left behind. Bucky slowly backed away before he got himself in anymore trouble.

"Hey Sarge!" Lettie called after him, teaasing him again, "Forgetting something?"

WIth a laugh and a shake of his head he joined her back on the corner of the sidewalk, and with a hand on each hip he pulled her into another kiss. "I'll see you tonight."

~~~

It was too bad Isaline hadn't been the girl for Steve, it turns out they were just two different types of shy. Isa was shy becuase she was new to the States and still didn't feel completely at home. Steve was shy because, well, he was Steve.

Lettie liked Steve the little she'd been around him. Bucky was right, he was a great guy, he just was a little unsure of himself. Lettie remembered the first little tiff she and Bucky had had, on their second date, when she had brought up what Isa had said about Steve. But Lettie had apologized for speaking harshly about his best friend and Bucky had apologized for raising his voice.

They had sat in a park down by the water and talked after that, Bucky filling her in on growing up with Steve and she understood better. Even became a little more invested in finding him a girl, vowing to take up the mission while Bucky was overseas along with most of the competition. Admittedly the date she'd found for him tonight wasn't the best match but she'd had short notice. Mae was smart as a whip and pretty, but a little on the stoic side. She had been excited though.

Of course that was after Lettie had told her that Bucky, her handsome Army beau had got them tickets to the Stark Expo and was going to bring a buddy along for her. Bucky had talked him up, sharing all the best things.

Mae had looked at her sideways when the boys arrived, "That's Buckys best friend?"

"Yeah." Lettie called them over and then turned back to Mae. "Don't be rude, he's the sweetest guy. You'll see."

"He could be sweet and look like yours. Is that too much to ask?"

Lettie rolled her eyes already feeling bad about the setup but excited for the expo and to spend the night with Bucky.

~~~

They had stayed out so late that Lettie was certain her folks would be upset, even if they liked Bucky which they did, it was well past the decent hour to bring a girl home. Who could blame them though? He was shipping out in the morning. This would be their last night together in God knew how long.

She swayed with the motion of Bucky bumping into her as they walked, "Where that pretty mind of yours wander off to?" He asked when she glanced up at him.

She gave him a soft, sadly tinged smile and apologized, "Sorry, was just thinkin'."

He didn't have to ask, he just held her tighter and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "You got the pamphlet right, on how to get letters to me?"

Lettie nodded but didn't trust herself to speak. They were a few blocks from her house now and her throat got tighter with each step.

Bucky breathed deep and tried to lighten the mood, "Wish I could keep you out all night. Keep you all to myself 'till I have to leave. But, I think your folks like me and I don't wanna mess that up. Would throw a real wrench in my plans."

With a snort Lettie gazed up at him, "Your plans huh?"

"Mhmm."

When he left it at that she finally cracked a smile and a hint of a laugh, "Care to share those plans with me Barnes?"

WIth a wide smile Bucky pulled her to a stop around the block from her home. "Nothin' too crazy. Just go to war, come home, convince you to marry me, which admittedly may be difficult but I'm up to the challenge," He laughed at the eye roll that earned him and continued, "Get a good job, find us a place, figure out how many kids we're gonna have."

"So you do, just got it all planned out don't you?" Lettie shook her head.

He nodded once slowly, not saying anything else for a long while. Then he tugged her to him by the waist and kissed her, "How does that sound?" He whiispered against her lips.

Lettie wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to mold her body against his and squeeze her tight as they breathed the same air.

She thought of a lifetime of the laughing and smiling, the teasing and squabbling. Of his wandering hands and hugs that set the world right again. With heat rising up in her chest she thought of the one night they'd been able to steal together. The way they had laughed and fumbled and whispered together in the dark. How she had felt so adored and loved and at the same time so alive and indescent in the most amazing ways. She thought of the way he had looked at her, and she at him.

It wasn't that they were the only people in the world, far from it, but that they were only ones that either of them could imagine having for the rest of their lives.

With no sense of how long she'd been thinking she hugged him tighter and whispered into the side of his neck, "It sounds amazing."

His arms held her tighter, closer, if that were even possible, and then her feet were off the ground and the world was spinning. When Bucky sat her feet back on solid ground she was laughing and he was giving her that obnoxiously charming, easy grin she had fallen for so quickly.

Bucky brought his hands up to cradle her face as he kissed her again. More so this time, "I wish I could take you home with me tonight." He barely pulled back from her to say the words and then he was devouring her lips again. "One more time before I go." He wouldn't give her enough time to respond between kisses so she just hummed, moaned more like, happily into his mouth and carded her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

A shiver rolled through her at the thought of another stolen night spent thouroughly exhausted and wrapped up in his arms. The promise of a future where he wouldn't have to sneak her home after. Where they could stay that way, wake up wrapped in eachother.

Eventually Lettie moaned again, nipped at his lip to get him to give her a chance to breath, and they were both giggling as they pulled apart. Bucky licked his lips like he was savoring the taste of something sweet and it made her heart flutter.

All of the sudden she couldn't keep her hands still. They slid from his neck to frame his jaw and then down to his firm chest and even lower over his torso. The memory of watching the muscles there ripple, flex and contract above her brought heat to her cheeks.

"You're thinkin' too much again doll." He was teasing her now, as he took her hands in his and started them walking back down the sidewalk before they got themselves in trouble.

"You mean it right?" She blurted out as he tucked her back into his side and turned the corner towards her building.

"Every word." He kissed the top of her head again, hugging her to him the whole rest of the block. In front of her building he smiled at her, "Want me to walk you up?" He didn't want to leave her yet.

Lettie took the first step and then turned towards him again, they were eye to eye like this, and shook her head. "It'll be quietter if I go up alone." She draped her arms over his shoulders and closed her eyes, smiling serenely as his hands moved to her waist.

They stroked up and down a few times before he wrapped his arms around her completely. He was going to ask for one more kiss but she beat him to it. One of her hands reached up to tip his cap off his head and the other combed through his jet black, slicked back hair underneath.

His eyes closed with the gentle touch and he smiled when she pressed her lips to his. This kiss was softer, sweeter, a proper good bye, as they held eachother in the dark on their Brooklyn street. When his eyes opened and saw her there, green eyes glassy and lips swollen he hadn't hesitated, "I love you so much." He lifted his own hand to tuck a strand of hair back and swipe away a tear from the corner of her eye, "I promise you doll, I'll do everything in my power to come home to you."

"I love you too, God, so much it scares me." She sobbed out a little laugh and leaned into his hand. "And you better keep that promise."

Bucky laughed too, a lump in his throat and fighting back uncharacteristic tears of his own. "You better get upstairs." He kissed her again, quick and light. Trying to ease the heaviness of the mood.

"Good night Bucky." She tilted her head to kiss him, one more time, and then set his cap back on his head. Crooked, the way he liked it. Then she backed away.

"Sweet dreams doll." He held her hand in his until it had slipped away and he watched her turn at the door and smile back at him.

She waved, that same silly, flirtacious wave, she'd given him every night for the past week and then blew him a kiss. How could he not laugh, shake his head at her and return the wave. He even blew her a kiss of his own, laughing at himself but loving the way she beamed back at him. Then the door swung closed behind her and Bucky was alone in the darkness. With a sad smile he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to walk across to his own building. He knew he wouldn't sleep tonight.

~~~

Lettie could barely sleep either. She had woke early, her eyes jumping to the clock. In less than an hour Bucky would be reporting to muster at the ship yards, and by lunch he would be on his way to England. Then on his way to war.

Not knowing what possessed her she bolted out of bed and threw a robe over her nightdress. When she had dashed down the hallway she had nearly bowled over her father who stood in the kitchen. The collision slowed her down enough to apologize and clear her thoughts for a moment.

"What are you doing darling?" Her father questioned her, concern etched in his face, "Are you alright?"

She didn't know how to explain. She needed to see Bucky, one more time, if she hurried….

"I'm fine Papa." She blurted as the hurried to the door and nearly ripped it open. When she dashed out of the apartment she collided with a solid form for the second time that early morning.

This time however the man she had collided with cursed slightly under his breath and caught her in his arms, "Easy doll, where you runnin' off to?"

She was speechless when she came to her senses and saw Bucky standing before her. Crisp and clean shaven, uniform pristine and that crooked smile on his face. All she could do was wrap her arms around him and hug him to her. "I wanted to see you, one more time before you left."

Strong arms wrapped her up tight as he chuckled into her messy, morning hair. "Guess that makes two of us."

Lettie didn't see her father poke his head out of their apartment door, nor did she see the look the two men exchanged. Bucky appropriatly sheepish at the current postition in which he was entangled with the other mans daughter, but his hold on her never weakened.

To both of their surprise her father coughed, breaking them apart, and gestured them back inside the apartment. Bucky hadn't planned on sitting at the kitchen table with Lettie and her parents that morning, but it did his heart good. Her father had poured him a cup of coffee and shook his hand. Her mother had kissed him on the cheek. Lettie had sat beside him in her robe and disheveled hair and that was exactly how he wanted to remember her.

Like this he could picture her in their own home, walking into the ktichen in her robe, hair a mess from the night before to kiss him goodbye on his way to work.

After Lettie had walked him down to the front door, he hadn't let her come outisde with him. She shook her head, laughing at him when he said it was one thing for him to see his girl in a robe, but no way the whole neighborhood was getting a peak. They had kissed goodbye again and again and again until he absolutely had to leave.

Then Lettie walked back up to the apartment sat down at the kitchen table with her parents, and cried.

~~~

War was hell.

Even in Brooklyn, war was hell.

Lettie had held her breath between each letter. Each of them a heaving gasp of fresh air as she opened them and read Buckys words.

She focused on her work, she'd got a job at one of the factories like so many of the other girls. She spent all day punching rivets into fuselages and often caught herself wondering what she would do with herself when the boys came back.

Lettie liked the girls she worked with, they had all become good friends. Some of them were married, a few of them had kids, a couple were single but most of her new friends had a man they loved fighting overseas. Those had been the friends she'd confided in when Bucky's letters had stopped.

War was hell.

She knew that.

He wasn't allowed to tell her much about it, but she knew that of course there would be long gaps in communication. There had never been one that had gone on so long before though and fear had settled in her stomach like a lead weight.

Isaline, who worked with her, did her best to keep her friends spirts up. Told her that her boyfriend was just busy fighting Germans, and as soon as he was able he would write her another of his lovesick letters. Telling her stories of the men in his platoon and their rowdy shenanigans.

Just when Lettie had nearly given up hope, had settled into the bleak depression of not knowing, a runner had came to her station on the line with a telegram. Her heart had stopped and her rivet gun had dropped to the ground with a clatter as she stumbled.

No.... No, no, no....

One of the married women had caught her and steadied her, shushing her in her thick Brooklyn accent.

Isa had plucked the telegram from her fingers and opened it with a pale, sickly expression on her face. An expression that had disappeared instantly, replaced with elation, in French she exclaimed, "Listen, Lettie listen. for the love of God, girl listen!"

Lettie's world stopped spinning and her eyes settled on Isa as she read the telegram, beaming.

"Doll, I'm safe, I'll write soon. Love Buck"

After that the letters started up again, this time with even more fantastical shenanigans which included Steve now which he promised to explain later, and even more promises. He loved her, he was safe, he was coming home to her as soon as this was all over.

Then one of her friends from the factory had drug them to the cinema, demanding they get dolled up and go out, boys or no boys. Which is where she saw Bucky for the first time in over a year.

There on the screen, his face scowling in concentration across from none other than Captain America, Steve Rogers. She had recognized a few others in the reels from Buckys letters, men from his platoon and the girls had giggled together as Lettie retold the stories she'd heard. Once she got home that night she had written him and informed him he very much had a lot of explaining to do.

She never got a response to that last letter.

War was hell.

Again, she found herself repeating old mantras, the weight settled back in her stomach.

This time however, it was not a telegram that knocked the wind out of her. It was Sargent James "Bucky" Barnes, leaning casually against the front of her building in the warm afternoon sun, smoking a cigarette and wating for her.

~~~

She awoke with a start, heart racing for some unknown reason. Until a warm, heavy hand settled on her waist, "Sorry doll." His voice was hushed and hoarse in the silence.

Lettie rolled over and saw, once her eyes had adjusted, Bucky lying wide awake beside her, one arm propped behind his head and his chest rising and falling faster than normal. She slid over to him and tucked herself into the space he made for her against his side. "Nightmare?" She whispered softly as she pressed a kiss to a scar on his chest, one of the thick, ugly ones, and then rested her head there.

"Mhmm." Was his only response, aside from sinking back down into the matress and pulling the covers up over them.

"Want to tell me?" She asked against his chest.

She felt and heard him swallow thickly and then his arm around her tightened. "Not this one sweeheart." He murmered into the hair at the crown of her head and then dropped a kiss there. "Just tell me I'm home."

Lettie smiled and shifted so that she could look him in the eye, take his face in her hand and kiss him. "You're home." Kiss, "You're home, in bed, with me." Another longer kiss and then she carded her fingers through his sleep mussed hair. "RIght where you belong."

Bucky hummed appreciatively, wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her impossibly closer. HIs body had changed, he had grown into a man over there. His chest filled out, his arms and torso no longer lean but bulky. His back was solid muscle as were his legs. He had changed too. Not for the worse, just changed. Darkness chased him, and so many others, but he was sill her Bucky.

A fact made evident when his lips carressed her throat and he murmured, "Y'know, I'm pretty sure you promised, once upon a time, to play with my hair and talk dirty to me in French if I took you out two more times."

Lettie breathed out a laugh, "Oh really? That just don't sound like me at all." She teased even as she stroked through his hair again. A nip to her collarbone brought out a giggle. "Can't believe you remember that."

Bucky hummed again and rolled up onto his side. shifting her onto her back and gazing down at her. "Lettie, I tried not to think about home too much,noene of us did, after awhile it hurt too damn much." He reached a hand up to trace her cheekbone. "But, that week with you, God there were times I played it like a movie over and over again in my mind."

The way he looked at her gave her butterfilies, just like he had back then. Lettie smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, to bring him closer.

He dropped a sleepy, short kiss to her lips and then added, "And I distanctly remember you promising to do exactly that."

Lettie laughed and pushed him off of her. "You wouldn't know what I was sayin' anyway." She pointed out as she moved back into his side and laid her head on his chest.

"You could read me a diner menu doll, and I'd be just fine." He chuckled at himself and tugged her closer, already feeling the weight of the nightmare fading. They were quiet for a long time, Bucky distracted by the warmth of her slight breath over his bare chest and the feel of her twisting the gold band on his finger over and over. He smiled, content and let his eyes fell closed as he focused on the comforting repetetive motion of his wife toying with his wedding band as she drifted back to sleep.

After awhile his eyes grew heavy and the motion of Lettie's fingers slowed. As if with her last bit of energy before sleep reclaimed her she whispered to him in the darkness, her French slow and whispy as she faded, "You're home, my love, home with me. Where you belong."

Bucky breathed deep and released it in one long exhale, all the negativity of the nightmares gone with it, and then laced his fingers throught hers. "I'm home." He followed her in sleep with his hand holding hers and a soft, content smile on his face.

~~~

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x original female character #1940s #wwii #40s bucky #40s bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic

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shadowqueenjude · 9 months

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High Lord Lucien

Pretty sure it was always the plan for Lulu to be a high lord. Evidence:

Lucien stepped toward him, exposing his teeth as well. A pulsing kind of air hit me in the stomach, and a metallic stench filled my nose. But I couldn’t see any magic—only feel it. I couldn’t tell if that made it worse. Lucien’s russet eye was bright, though the smile he gave me didn’t meet it. The face of Tamlin’s emissary—more court-trained and calculating than I’d seen him yet.

I eased open the door. The room was similar to mine in shape, but was bedecked in hues of orange and red and gold, with faint traces of green and brown. Like being in an autumn wood. But while my room was all softness and grace, his was marked with ruggedness. In lieu of a pretty breakfast table by the window, a worn worktable dominated the space, covered in various weapons. It was there he sat, wearing only a white shirt and trousers, his red hair unbound and gleaming like liquid fire. Tamlin’s court-trained emissary, but a warrior in his own right.

Lucien, mercifully, appeared like Lucien. I didn’t ask whether that was because Tamlin had informed him to put up a better glamour or because he didn’t bother trying to be something he wasn’t. But his glamour had been ripped away. His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge.

The tang of magic shoved itself up my nostrils. Though his sword was pointed at the floor, Lucien’s grip tightened on it until his knuckles turned white. Magic—a glamour. To conceal me, to make me a part of Lucien—invisible, hidden by the faerie’s magic and scent. (Rhysand didn't even realize Lucien was glamouring him until...)

“I’m looking forward to seeing your face when you—” Rhysand studied the table. Lucien went stick-straight, pressing me harder against the wall. The table was still set for three, my half-eaten plate of food sitting right before him. When I came to, I could open both eyes fully, and my nose—my nose was clear, and didn’t throb or send agony splintering through my face. Lucien was crouched over me, frowning. “I couldn’t heal you completely—they would know someone helped you. The bruises are there, along with a hideous black eye, but … all the swelling’s gone.” “And my nose?” I said, feeling it before he answered. “Fixed—as pert and pretty as before.” He smirked at me. The familiar gesture made my chest tighten to the point of pain. “I thought she’d taken most of your power,” I managed to say.

The brutally scarred face beneath was still handsome—his features sharp and elegant.

All from book 1. Then in ACOMAF... Lucien snarled at the king over the bite of the magic at his throat, “Don’t just leave her on the damned floor—” There was a flare of light, and a scrape, and then Lucien was stalking toward Elain, freed of his restraints. Tamlin remained leashed on the ground, a gag of white, iridescent magic in his mouth now.

In ACOWAR: My stomach growled with every step, and Lucien’s red hair gleamed like the leaves above us as he scanned the woods for anything to fill our bellies. His woods, by blood and law. He was a son of this forest, and here … He looked crafted from it. For it. Even that gold eye. Lucien, to his credit, didn’t back away a step. From Rhys, or me, or the Illyrians.

“I can’t spare a force to guard you—” “I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.” His chin lifted. “I will find her. And if there’s an army to bring back, or at least some way for her own story to sway the human forces … I’ll find a way to do that, too.” My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.” A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.”

And ofc he succeeded...

As it spread its wings wide, trailing sparks and embers across the waves, and I realized what —who—now flew at that enemy host. A firebird. Burning as hot and furious as the heart of a forge. Vassa—the lost queen. Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he’d run from the shore. And even in ACOSF...

“Easy,” Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising dominance within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten—

So whenever people say Lucien is not an important character, I just laugh. You think a mfing High Lord is not an important character? Pls be fucking fr rn. It was ALWAYS the plan for Lucien to be a High Lord, and SJM never got off the High Lord Lucien train. He's my king fr. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #high lord lucien #elucien #my king fr

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trilliumszz · 4 months

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emilie recolor

design review under cut!!

I’ve seen a lot of criticism of Emilie’s design, but no real explanation of what’s wrong with it. So as some random person with no qualifications ofc its my job to do that.

The most complained about aspect of her design isn’t the design itself, it’s that it wasn’t one of the other designs which…isn’t a real critique, it’s just opinions.

Next, her hair. Yeah, her bangs kinda suck, but I personally don’t care all that much. It’s not ideal, but it’s not the biggest issue either.

The main issue I noticed, and didn’t seem to have been brought up widely, was her color palette— or, more accurately, how it was implemented. One of the rules of cohesive character design is to include every color at least twice. That way, things all seem to be in one piece.

Emilie’s design lacks this crucial aspect. Her hair is a point of contrast, but it is the only red thing. Her perfume vials, similarly, are the only instance of both purple and cyan. Her eyes are the only pink.

On the topic of her eyes, they’re a light color, which blends in with her surrounding light skin, and light hair. On a design with a lot of contrast, they just seem kinda bland. The eye isn’t drawn to them.

Now, on to my adjustments!!

First, her hair: I took a few spots where it felt like it was just green upon green, and colored them with the same reddish hue in order to add contrast.

Second, the vials: I copied the colors, and set a couple of the more bland or randomly colored accessories to that palette!! (On this topic, I really like the lily-of-the-valley on the hat)

Finally, her eyes, probably the most dramatic change. Because of the afformentioned blending in, I darkened and saturated them. Afterwards, I took the hue and gave it to the random yellow spot on her chest.

But wait— I lied. There’s one BONUS issue. Her bows. The ones on her arm and shoes match, but the ones on her chest and thigh are very different, especially the thigh. There is no other white bow, and no other bow with cyan in it.

So, of course, I made them all match the flashiest one. Black with cyan inside. Simple and aesthetically pleasing.

Cohesive.

Anddd uh that’s it, thank you for reading my color palette ramblings!!

#genshin impact #genshin #emilie #emilie genshin #genshin emilie #recolor #recolour #genshin redesign #redesign #character design

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kamisama1kiss · 6 months

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Thank you so much for responding! Would you be okay with writing a male reader x Marc?

Perhaps male reader could be a punk and sings in a band, and he ofc drags Marc to his shows. (If you don’t know what punk shows are like feel free to message me)

Thank you so so much!

First id like to apologise if its not that well written (😭🙏) and also slow updates, had tests all week and finally had a couple days off to write this request. Also my first time writing a male × character and it was fun trying :D🫶 Enjoyy!

~~~

Words: 430 ish

Marc Anciel { Ecstatic Punk }

"Come on, it's this evening." He said with a smile on his lips, crossed arms. Being the main singer has its perks to say the least. Leaning forwards with a tiny head tilt, having burst Marc's personal bubble.

"Please?" A boyish grin appering. "Really? (Name)." The boy with black ravon hair only raised a brow, tightening the hold of his precius notepad. "Crowds and loud places aren't exactly for... me" shaking his head in disagrement.

"Maybe so, but just one song." He suggested with a thinking face, almost as if a bulb light up above his head. "How about that?" He leaned back, resting a hand on his hip wishing for a positive answer from the rather anxious boy

Rolling his eyes, raising a hand in defence. "One song.. but that's it." Finally giving in to his boyfriend constant begging to joining, even if it wasn't anything in his peticulare taste. But rather would want to please his boyfriend and agreeing.

The boy gleemed with utter joy, patting his boyfriends shoulder with a peck on his cheek. "Great, I look forwards to seeing you in the crowd cheering for me." Saying with pure excitment as he heading off, just missing Marc's soft red cheeks.

~~~

There he stood, microphone in hand, hair a mess. Eyeshadow mushed from having sung song and danced around stage for about Maybe 40 minutes? Lost count a while ago yet no sight of his writer boyfriend. Feeling his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach, motivation following suit along.

Swinging around the cord attached to the microphone, finally seeing a ravon blocked haired boy nudging through the crowd to close to the front. The smile on his face only grew as they're eyes meet, singing with his focus only on the one he truly wished to see.

Emerald green eyes that shine with admiration and adorning of seeing his partner, frozen as a statue as he mentally filmed this moment. Wondering why he hadn't agreed to earlier on, having forgotten everyone else.

Pushing through with a raspy voice, occasunally growling alongside small voice cracking but it only added to the touch, if he was honest.

"Come everyone, bring up the volume!" He shouted into the microphone pointing to the audience, falling to his knees and leaning back with a roar of a singing voice. Sweat trickeling down his neck and forehead.

Pushing up to make eye contact with Marc, sending a wink his direction as his smiled stayed visible the whole time. Being in his own teratori fully. Only leaving him with a bashfull expression, both hearts punding to the speed of the melody unknowingly in sync. Both beating for the other.

#miraculous ladybug x reader #miraculous x reader #marc x reader #Marc Anciel x male reader #x male reader #marc #Anciel #miraculous oneshot

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grabowskibeepboop · 7 months

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OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY

So when I was younger I made a bunch of ship children for my mha ships, they're not omegaverse, omegaverse can go fuck itself, no offense if you like it but its weird and not my thing, but this is a post post modern world where there are quirks so someone's gotta have a baby quirk and they gotta be rlly famous so if I'm wrong then fuck me idc

And my favourites were ofc the bkdk ones

Older one named Inko Midoriya-Bakugo and a younger one named Toshinori Midoriya-Bakugo

I'm not gonna put pictures of them because I only have gacha pictures which I am kind of embarrased about, and I could also just change how I want them to look whenever, but I think they both have (or gonna have now) curly hair and freckles (I think those are strong features but anygays), Inko has green hair and red eyes and is very Bakugo, she wants to be a hero and I will talk about her quirk later because thats the point of this post and Toshi has blonde hair and green eyes and telekinesis and wanted to be a detective since he could form a correct sentence he was like always playing with puzzles and watching crime solving shows as a toddler when people didn't pay attention to him and ofc both of them have osananajimis because that is unavoidable is you're a Midoriya-Bakugo but I'm not gonna talk about them rn

So umm Inko's quirk used to be just the same as Katsuki's, but one day I realized implosions exist so now I want her to have an implosion quirk but I kind of want some help to figure out how it works, understand I am pretty good at coming up with complex quirks at least I like to think so because I've made a bunch of ocs before and I still have ideas ai haven't done anything with, my mind is very messy anyways if you want to help feel free to either reblog or comment or dm me, amygays good day

#bkdk #bakudeku #katsudeku #ktdk #decchan #boom boom boom boom #iunno #shuddup

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sinkingteethinwhitenoise · 1 year

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Limoncello - Chapter 6

Pairings: Nick Folio x OFC, Bad Omens x OFC

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, cursing, one mini flashback, I didn't proof read half of this bc I hate myself, a stupid joke? or exchange??, like it's really fucking dumb i'm warning you.

Series Masterlist

“To get the full value of joy, you must have someone to divide it with.” ~ Mark Twain

Mountains of different shirts, shorts, pants, skirts, and dresses littered the floor in Maeve’s bedroom. She couldn’t even see the floor anymore. When Nick had told her that he found it hard to believe that she owned anything black, she hadn’t expected that the nail polish would actually be the only black thing she owned. She also hadn’t realized that she had this many clothes. She growled in frustration as she grabbed yet another colorful article of clothing. She looked over to her vanity where her phone was propped up against the mirror, her best friend’s bored face covering the screen as she watched Maeve through the ongoing facetime call.

“Presley,” Maeve whined to her friend, striding towards the phone and picking it up as she anxiously ran her fingers through hair. “What do I do? I have nothing to wear to this gig.”

Presley sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Your floor looks like the opening scene of Clueless. You have plenty to wear,” she started. “What exactly are you going for?”

“Like…A rockstar girlfriend type of look,” Maeve sounded unsure. “At least something that won’t make me stick out like a sore thumb.”

Presley visibly held back laughter. “Babe, that’s so not you. You’re not going to find anything that fits the bill in your closet.”

“Well what do I do? I can’t go buy anything,” Maeve whined. “I have to be ready in an hour.”

Presley thought for a moment, “Do you still have those dark green corduroy shorts?”

Maeve nodded and set the phone down to dig through the closet once more. She found them relatively quick and put them on to ensure that they still fit. They did.

“Great,” Presley approved. “Now just style those how you’d usually style them. You’ll look gorgeous. If that boy likes you for you, he’ll think so too. Plus, it’s a dive bar. Don’t overthink it.”

Maeve felt her face heat up at the mention of Nick possibly liking her. She hoped he did, but she continuously convinced herself that he was just friendly. Presley had been rooting for them the moment Maeve told her about him on the day the band moved in across the street.

“Presley!” Maeve beamed once she answered the facetime call. “I have new neighbors! Across the street!”

“I’m assuming you already went over there?” Presley questioned, knowing her friend’s tendency to be hospitable.

“I just got back from bringing them cookies,” Maeve confirmed. “It’s four guys. And! They’re a band. From what I can tell, they play pretty heavy stuff. Well, heavy for me at least.” Maeve rambled on with the biggest smile that Presley had seen from her in a long time. Maeve usually was one to get excited about meeting new people. But Presley could tell this was different.

“How did it go?” Presley asked gently, trying to get more information about these neighbors and why they had her so excited.

“It went really well! They’re all so kind! They loved the cookies,” Maeve giggled before she continued. “Oh! Their drummer is really cute.”

Presley watched as Maeve’s face turned bright red. “Tell me more about this drummer.”

“Well, his name is Nick. He seemed a little bit shy. But when we shook hands, neither of us let go when we definitely should’ve. I feel really stupid for that. It’s probably my fault,” Maeve’s smile faded a bit. “Oh my God, he probably thinks I’m so weird.”

Presley laughed and shook her head, “If he didn’t let go either, it’s probably fine.” Presley didn’t say anything then, but she knew that Maeve had a crush and that Nick probably had one too.

Maeve dug through the clothes on the floor and in the closet looking for some very specific pieces. She grabbed a fitted, cropped white tank top, a thin brown belt, and some brown boots. After dressing herself completely she threw on a dainty, gold necklace and matching stud earrings. She backed up so she was in frame to show Presley. “This is cute right? I don’t think I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Super cute. Super you.” Presley gave her a thumbs up. “I love it.”

“Cool,” Maeve nodded. “One more question. Bubble braids?”

“Oh, absolutely!”

After throwing her hair into bubble braids, doing some light, glowy makeup, and saying goodbye to Presley, Maeve grabbed her purse and made her way across the street. She smiled as she saw the garage door open the second she stepped into their driveway. ‘Perfect timing,’ she thought.

Nicholas stepped outside first, his hair sitting messily in a bun on top of his head. He offered a tight lipped smile. “Hey Maeve. You’re still riding with us, right?”

“If that’s still okay with you guys, then yes,” she grinned as she approached him.

“Well, you’ll be riding with Folio in the truck,” he explained. “And trust me, he’s more than okay with it.”

“Oh you guys take separate vehicles?” Maeve tilted her head to the side.

Nicholas nodded, “Yeah. The drum kit takes up a lot of space, so we have to.”

The door leading into the garage opened and Nick emerged. He seemed to be on autopilot as he went straight over to the drum kit without even glancing in their direction. As he began to prepare it for loading, Nicholas leaned over to Maeve. “Watch this,” he whispered. He cleared his throat. “Hey, Folio.”

Without turning to look, Folio responded with a hum.

Nicholas tried to hold back a smirk, “Maeve’s here. You’re not gonna say hi?”

Folio froze in his spot for a moment. His eyes widened as he finally turned around. His face had turned beet red in a matter of seconds.

Maeve tried to hold back a laugh, “Yeah what’s up with that?” She played along. “You invited me and you’re not even gonna say hi?” He looked nervous, embarrassed and clearly didn’t know what to say. Maeve couldn’t hold in her laughter anymore as she walked over to him, “I’m just messing.” She placed her hand on his bicep and gave it a comforting squeeze.

His face settled into a goofy grin as he looked down at her, “Very funny.”

“Nicholas started it,” Maeve jutted her thumb to point behind her at Nicholas, who had a hand over his mouth still trying so hard not to burst out laughing.

Folio rolled his eyes as he turned his focus to Nicholas. “Since this is so funny, why don’t you help me load this up?”

Maeve stepped to the side as Nicholas began to help Folio. Once they were far away enough from Maeve, Nicholas decided to tease him a little more. “You are so fucking down bad,” he mumbled to him with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Shut the fuck up.”

With all the instruments and equipment loaded up, they all left for the bar. Maeve sat in the passenger’s seat of Nick’s old truck and tried not to stare too hard at his profile while he drove. Nick was trying to keep his eyes on the road. It was proving difficult with how pretty she looked and how nice she smelled, so he kept stealing little glances.

He then realized how quiet it was. Even with the music playing from the radio, he still felt like there was an intense, awkward silence. He needed to say something. He didn’t want it to seem like he didn’t want her there. So, he began to talk about the first thing that came to mind. It just so happened to be a shower thought that he’d had earlier. “You know dog whistles?” he asked her.

Maeve furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at him. “Yeah…” she trailed off, confused. “What about them?”

“So, only dogs hear them, right?”

“I guess…yeah.” She had no idea where he was going with this, but she was curious enough to play into it.

“Alright. Have you ever heard of a death whistle?” he questioned, seemingly changing the subject.

“Like the Aztec ones?” Maeve asked. A smile began to form on her face at the strangeness of this conversation.

“Exactly,” said Nick. “Do you think it’s the same? Like only dogs can hear dog whistles. Can only dead people hear death whistles?”

She bursted into a fit of laughter. “Definitely not,” she responded. “How would that even work? How do they hear it if they're dead?”

Nick started to laugh along with her, “I don’t know! Maybe their souls have ears or something.”

“That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard,” Maeve laughed, clearly amused. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth as she continued to laugh harder and harder the more she thought about the absurdity of the question.

Nick looked over at her fully as he laughed at his own stupid question and her reaction to it. Then he noticed her nails. “Hey, did you paint your nails? They’re black.”

Through heaving breaths in an attempt to control her laughter, Maeve nodded. “Yeah, I painted them last night. Thought it could be fun for us to match.”

Nick swore he felt his heart swell at the admission and he was rendered speechless for a moment. “Yeah,�� he said softly, his own laughter long faded but a fond smile still present. “That’s sick.”

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens x oc #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio fanfic #nick folio x oc #limoncello series #sinkingteethinwhitenoise

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dystopyx-blog · 3 months

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It’s moth time baby

Ivo the Io moth.

He’s the delusional archetype. Funnily enough, he is the most sane, rational, and normal one of the group. So excuuuuuse me, princess if he assumes that he’s the one you’re dating! hes just a sane, rational being, and you’re his exhausted partner (exhausted cuz you have to deal with the other freaks)

Another weird delusion is he treats the other moth men like they’re your kids?? You’ll tell the others to knock it off/stop fighting and he’ll come in like “listen to your mother.’ And everyone’s just “???” I imagine business casual attire, medium length hair pulled over one shoulder idk how to describe it…

Appearance: Pretty tall, Kuu and Atlas are just fuckin freaks /hj. 5’9 As I mentioned I have a specific hairstyle in mind but ajsjdhdudnududdi idk man. Wears a simple pale yellow dress shirt, his wings draped behind him. The biggest/fluffiest antenna of all the bois. Soft, kind eyes. Fluff around neck, arms, and legs.

Okay so does anyone know the “sex-crazed moths” meme?

Because my obsessive moth i inspired by that.

Kuu the Luna Moth

the poplar hawk moth is the one associated with that particular meme But I’m using the Lunar moth for my obsessive boyo because fuckin look at it. Luna moths, like the poplar hawk and most other large moths, have no mouth and cannot eat or drink. They fuck then die. My boy Kuu has a moth, but that doesn’t make him any less desperate to get with you. He is the prettiest fuckin boy. And he is so so so fuckin desperate for you. He’s also fuckin pathetic. Pretty boy who’d [REDACTED my blog is all ages!!] if you so much as touch him istg With the other boys he’s an egotistical sassy drama queen but with you he’s just desperate lmao

Appearance: Tall and thin. 5’11 Loooooong white/pale green hair trailing all the way down his back. Man exclusively wears robes and kimonos and the like. Handsome man. PRETTY BOY.

Ash the Cinnabar Moth

Okay actually I’m unsure of possessive I want a bigger moth but also I kinda wanna go with cinnabar moth? Edgy boi who feels entitled to you. Gets into the most fights. Possessive but also kind of tsundere. He is smaller than most of the others, arguably a lot simpler looking too, but he has a BIG personality. His name is Ash.

Appearance: Second smallest. 5’6. Least fluffy. Black hair with a red highlight, black antena. Red pants, black boots. Red bandana on neck. Black leather jacket with red accents. Piercings. Rounded sunglasses. And cinnabar wings ofc.

Atlas the… well, Atlas Moth

heheheheheh i am very basic when it comes to protective type yanderes and i refuse to branch out 🫵🫵🫵 My protective guy is a biiiiiiig big big man, big softy, big teddy bear. Who will hammer someone’s head with his bare fist if they hurt you!!! Wraps you up in massive, soft wings 🥺 He just stands behind you… menacingly (to anyone else, as soon as you turn to look at him he’s all smiles!) So what better than the atlas moth? And Atlas is already a perfect name, so Atlas!

ATLAS: BIIIIIIIG BOY BIG. 6’1 Dorito shaped tbh. Wears flannel but the flannel is the pattern of the moth teehee. Brown pants. Work boots. Gloves probably idk. I think for hair hmmmm braided? Man bun? I dunno!!!

Roman the Rosy Maple Moth!

Finally We have our Manipulator. His name is Roman, but darling pleeeease call him Maple 🥺 The rosy maple moth. He’s just a lil guy! He’s baby! But oooo he’s schemin and plottin. With you he’s just baby, just an absolute delight, and so fuckin cute and fluffy. How could you possibly say no to this soft boy?! But he will tear another’s throat out. He will lie and corrupt and manipulate. He’s secretly incredibly rude, vulgar, and sassy. But with you he’s a perfect angel <3

Appearance: the smallest. Like 5’3. Fluffy yellow and pink hair, bog soft yellow attend, big precious puppy dog eyes. Massive fuckin yellow hoodie that is SUPER fuckin fluffy, with pink sleeves. Smallish pink n yellow wings. The hoodie goes down to like just above his knees. Pink leggings and pink calf high converse.

#mothmen #yandere ocs #yandere men #yandere #male yandere #yandere x darling #yandere rambles #Yandere moths teehee

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andydrysdalerogers · 7 months

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Cross-Check ~ Chapter Nine

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!.

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world.,

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again?

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: Chapter Eight - Nothing But Lies - Andy/Leia

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter Nine - It's Complicated - Jeremy/Leia

Week 18

Jeremy

Being an NHL goalie is a triumph. Thirty-two teams have only two goaltenders on the roster, and I am lucky to have one. Well, when you’re this good, there isn’t any luck involved. It also helps that Linus Ullmark and I have undeniable chemistry in goal.

That being said, I also have a reputation in the public of being this sweet adorable, caring guy. Not that isn’t true or anything but that is my public facade. Don’t get me wrong, I love being with the kids at charity events or even with Linus’s kids. But that’s not the man that people, especially women, see. I’m a bit of a player. I never wanted to be tied down to one woman. I have good looks, enough money and enough charm that, if I wanted to, I could find a new bunny every night.

But there is always one that is the standard. The ultimate goal.

You know, when I decided to fuck Leia Andrews, I didn’t think it would get this complicated. She was a smoke show, a dime. Something that was unattainable. She was a gorgeous, curvy beauty, with long coffee colored hair and amazing green eyes. She was beautiful, both in looks and in personality. She was a business owner and worked for the team. If she was available, only an idiot would let her go. She had been in a relationship for most of the time I knew her.

Until her brother let it slip that she was single.

Fuck yeah, it was my shot. My chance to fuck this girl and be able to say that I fucked Luke Andrews’s sister. My badge of victory.

Her being pregnant was not on my bingo card.

When she told me she was 15 weeks pregnant, i was stunned. She never gave any indication that she was pregnant. I was pissed. I mean, who wants to fuck a girl when she’s pregnant with some other guy’s baby?

But I was supportive. I mean, I can’t be a douchebag in front of the public, what would that do to my image? I have a few sponsorship deals in the air that I need to think about in the bigger picture. Plus, having Leia, showing myself as a family man might not be a bad idea. Or so said my publicist.

I like my life the way it is now. The freedom to be around, fuck around, party whenever I feel like. I didn’t sign up to be a father. At least, not right now. Eventually, maybe, yeah, I’d do the dad thing. But I don’t want to be forced into it.

I’m sitting at the Red Line, a rare night without Leia. She, Stella and Luke’s fiancé Miranda, went out for a girls dinner. I can trust her to stay away from guys, especially Barber. They’re on the outs right now but I have no idea why. Leia just said they had a difference of opinion and until Andy apologizes, she won’t speak to him. Fine by me, really, because the entire locker room besides Andrews knows that Barber is in love with his sister. And I’d rather not have my captain winning the girl right now.

I wave my hand at Mark for another beer, and I look up to see some highlights of the Tampa Bay vs Minnesota. I snorted seeing my old teammate, Craig Bailey, shitting the bed. Man is a tool. He sleeps with Barber’s fiancé and then she dumps him because she wants to stay in Boston. My buddies are all playing pool and wave me over. I lift my beer to let them know I’m finishing it when I feel a body next to me.

A blonde had taken a seat next to me. I subtly check her over. Long blonde hair, great rack and long legs displayed from tight jeans. She gestures for the bartender and orders a whiskey, neat. I smile. “Rough day?”

She looks at me and I note the way she takes me in, and I smirk. It's never hard to trap a butterfly. She finally looks back at my eyes and gives a soft smile. “Sorry.” She blushes and fuck is she gorgeous. “Uh, yeah, rough day.” She tucks back a piece of her hair but some of it misses. I took the opportunity to add some charm. I tuck the last piece behind her ear.

“Wanna talk about it?”

She huffs a quiet laugh. “Not really. I just want to forget about it and him.”

Rebound girls are so easy.

“Sorry to hear that. Let me buy you another.” I waved at Mark, and he nodded, moving to pour two more drinks. He sets them down in front of us and I raise my glass. “To bad days, may they be a distant memory.”

“Cheers to that,” she says. We drink and she giggles. “I’m Charlie,” she offers her hand.

I take it and lift it so I can kiss the back of her hands. Chicks dig shit like that. “Jeremy. It’s nice to meet you.” I take another drink. “So, if you don’t want to talk about your bad day and obviously bad guy, tell me something else about yourself.”

Her eyes brightened at the attention. Fuck, its just too easy sometimes. “I’m a financial adviser. Work at Schwab. Luckily, I live alone downtown and i have a dog name Peaches.” She smiles at me shyly. “What about you Jeremy?”

“Well, I work for the Bruins Hockey Club, so I travel a lot. I also have my own place, no girlfriend, no dog because I don’t have anyone to take care of it. Well, I guess my best friend’s wife could do it while we’re away but I don’t want to leave her with that burden. And I’m drinking because my life took an unexpected turn and I’m contemplating what I’m going to do.” Yes, I lied a bit about the girlfriend thing but did I really?

“Sounds like you’re having a rough day as well.” She gives a little flirty smile.

I’ve got her.

An hour later, Charlie and I were laughing at the bar, a little tipsy, feeling good. She leans into me. “Wanna get out of here? We could go back to my place?”

Who am I to deny a beautiful girl?

“Lead the way, gorgeous.”

I haven’t had sex since I started dating Leia and I was primed and ready to go. I mean, it's not like we were committed to each other, right? I like Leia but a commitment like that is something I’m not sure I can do at this moment. And at this moment, I have what I am looking for: a good fucking time. I took Charlie’s hand and led her out to a cab.

I’m not ready to be father or be responsible for another person just yet. Opening the cab door, Charlie smiles at me before planting a sultry kiss on my lips. A kiss that goes straight to my groin. I moan a little at her body pressed against mine. Fuck, it's going to be a good night. She climbs in and I follow, missing the fans taking pictures.

As I walk out of her apartment later that night, wiping her lipstick from my mouth, smiling at that fact that most of it is actually around my cock, I send a message to Leia.

Jeremy: I hope you had a good night beautiful

I mean, I don’t have to let her go right away. At least, not until I get a taste. Who know? Pregnant pussy could taste sweeter than the one I just had.

Leia

Week 19

I hate fighting with my best friend. Andy has remained in a sour mood when he is out with the team but when he sees me, he tries to talk to me. I just don’t let him. I know I should be the bigger person and hear him out but right now I want to be petty. His words hurt me so much. Doesn’t he understand that I just want to find true love?

I guess he doesn’t know that I had hoped it would be with him. I’ve actively had dreams about him, seeing us together raising my kid, cupping my cheek so I look him in the eye when he tells me he loves me. Even a few naughty ones, thinking of how that beard would feel between my legs. No, i can’t think like that. He ruined that for us with his words.

On the other hand, Jeremy has been a little subdue with me. I know the news of my pregnancy shocked him but he said he would stand by me. We haven’t been seeing each other as much; he says he’s busy with commitments and a road trip. But I miss hm. Luckily, I have a date with him tonight.

Andy was out when Jeremy arrived for our date. I took in his outfit, all black with a hounds tooth pea coat. Delicious. “Hey handsome!”

“Hey beautiful.” He sounded down and my smile fell a little at his tone.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, practice was brutal.” He smiled weakly. I nodded, totally understanding. The Bruins are on a three game skid. Its early in the season, but you want to nip losing streaks in the bud. “But,” he continued, “seeing you is making me feel better. You’re coming on the trip right?”

“Yes.” It will be brutal. Flying at almost five months pregnant is going to suck but this is the job I signed up for.

He kissed my hand. “Don’t worry. The team will take care of you.” He started the car and drove us to a quiet restaurant in downtown. I feel at ease knowing that Jeremy will help me while we are away. I know my brother will check in but the thought that Andy will avoid me hurts more. My mood is meloncoly at the thought and I stay quiet during the drive.

Jeremy made a reservation and we have a quiet booth in the back. We talk about nothing really as we order and Jeremy orders himself a scotch. I frown a little. It’s unusual for him to drink when we are out because he is usually driving but I don’t say anything. He gets up to use the restroom and I check social media for traffic on the post I have put up. Everything is looking good until I see a new article from the Boston Globe sports section.

HOCKEY STAR STEPPING OUT ON NEW GIRLFRIEND?

I click on the article and read.

Goalies don’t usually score but it seems like Jeremy Swayman didn’t get that memo. Swayman, backup goalie for the Bruins has been rumored to be in a relationship with Leighton Andrews, sister to assistant captain Lukas Andrews. Miss Andrews is a bright star in the PR world, being the social media manager for the Bruins as well as her own company, providing services to many businesses and athletes.

The rumors of their relationship started ten weeks ago when they were spotted chatting before a game, looking rather cozy. There are also rumors that Miss Andrews is pregnant, although that has yet to be confirmed.

The puzzling part is the photo taken by @Bruinsfan4life just a few days ago with Swayman leaving the Red Line Bar with an unidentified woman, holding hands. The climbed into a waiting cab and left.

What is going on with Swayman and Andrews? Is it all a farce or is Andrews wallowing in shame that her baby daddy is leaving her? Only time will tell.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I thought that Jeremy and I were solid, moving forward. I thought that he was ok with the baby. I stare and stare at my phone until I hear someone clear their throat. I look up to see Jeremy is back and looks concerned. “Are you ok?”

I shake my head and then hand him the phone. “Care to explain?”

He looks over the article and sighs. “That was just a friend.” He throws back the rest of his drink and signals for another. I glare at him.

“A friend.” I look at the picture again. It is of Jeremy and this woman. She’s blonde, model like. They both have big smiles as they are wrapped up in each other. “What’s her name?”

Jeremy chokes for a moment on his new drink. “Her name is Charlie. The photo... the photo is just after we hugged. Nothing is going on.”

“Right,” I scoff. I look away from him, trying to keep the tears away. Fucking hormones.

“Right,” he repeats. “Like you’re not screwing around with Barber.” My head snaps back to him. “I know you want him, Leighton.” The way my name twists in his mouth is disturbing. He’s never said it that way and I don’t like it.

“Andy is just a friend. A friend that I’m not even speaking to.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“A friend? Really? That guy has wanted you since the day I joined the team. I’ve seen how you were before with him. All the hugging and kisses to your forehead or cheek. Just a friend right? Bet he’s the father of your baby too.”

“How dare you! I told you the truth about the baby. You said you would be there. I thought we were in a relationship!” I hissed at him. The waiter comes by and drops off our plates. I push the food around.

Andy was right. Jeremy was not the wonderful person I thought he was. Jeremy sighs and my eyes go back to him. “Look, i know we’ve been seeing each other but we never defined what we are.” He shrugged. “I thought it was casual. I mean, you never slept with me so were we really that serious?”

That one hurt. I stare at my plate, wishing I had just listened to Andy and his warming about Swayman. "I guess then maybe, we should just be friends. I mean, why would you want to be with a pregnant chick when you could have all the uncomplicated stuff." I can’t stop the tear from falling. I wipe it away.

“Look, Leia, I just don’t think I want to be a father right now.” He tries to take my hand but I pull away. “I mean, you’re cool and everything but we were never going to the next level. I don’t know if I could sleep with someone who’s having another man’s baby. And now I’m going to be taking a hit because you weren’t honest from the beginning.”

“Oh, so what were you going to just sleep with me and throw me away? Your teammates sister?”

He shrugged. “I like you but I don’t do relationships.”

That was the death blow. I calmly stood up and pulled my coat on. “I’m sorry for ruining your life.” I pulled a couple of bills and threw them on the table. “I guess I’ll see you at work.”

He looks scared at my calm look and tries to backpedal. “Leia...”

“Goodbye Jeremy.”

I walked out of the restaurant and I had no idea where to go. I started to walk toward the park, just needing some fresh air. I hated that I did this to myself. I hated that Andy was right. I was upset with my brother because he must of known Jeremy was like this. But mostly, I was sad because I sacrificed so much for someone who wasn’t worth it. Again. And I was now alone, again. Why can’t I find someone who loves me for me, faults and all? I keep getting all of the jerk. Where is my price charming? I wish the one I have wanted all my life wanted me too but he has made it clear that I am just his best friend. Even so, he’s never let me down

I rubbed my belly, trying to feel some comfort. But I knew there was only one place where I always felt complete. I hailed a cab and gave an address.

The house was dark save for a light in one of the window. I hope they were still awake. I knocked on the door. It took a moment but then the door opened.

“Hi.”

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

@kandis-mom

@lokislady82

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coredrill · 6 months

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bravern

i’m rly vibing w senor bighands design thus far………………i hope it looks good in action!!! the deathdrives’ designs have been pretty hit or miss for me tbh, like i rly love superbia and cupiridas but knuth/pessimism/vanitas are more meh…….like i generally enjoy the unique shapes in THEORY but i just feel like they also suffer a lot from being overdesigned the way a lot of modern 3d mecha are and it makes them kind of hard to parse out on screen which is :/ like so many of the shots are just so BUSY that it’s hard for me to get a handle on what is going on yknow? i can’t stop thinking abt what that shot of bravern saluting smith would look like if there were less details fjdbjfjdndbdn

if burn bravern + superbia gattai. that robot will literally be red + yellow + green + blue + purple. 🤨🏳️‍🌈⁉️

if on the off chance it turns out lulu IS biologically related to smith. i think it’ll make that one scene from ep3 where the hotel owner is like “🤨 she doesn’t LOOK like your sister” a fucking million times funnier LMFAO. also i am still suspicious of why her name is lulu if NOT being just the repeated first syllable of smith’s name like a noriko -> nono situation. this has fr been my tin foil hat theory since ep3 and i am not letting go until the end!!!!!! (although also side note that in general i am not EXPECTING any of this lmao. i honestly am mostly just finding such joy in the fact that this show is batshit insane enough that stuff like this is like. relatively plausible? at least to consider floating around? like it’s the same w the “lulu is biologically smith AND isami’s daughter cause isami’s blood dripped in bravern and her hair is blue and her eyes are red and she pilots the PURPLE deathdrive” thing - like the fact that i’m not immediately rolling my eyes at the idea tickles me greatly LMAO)

the way that the pieces for this episode have been positioned intrigues me to no end. like. it’s bravern + lulu + superbia(? i assume) Who Know and isami Who Doesn’t. and the side characters who ALSO don’t know are also not there (at least in the setup). although tbh i could see miyu having an inkling abt it or at the very least being super chill like she was in the Bad Future. like that rly opens the floor up from both a plot perspective (don’t have to worry about whatever power these new DDs have cause only the core cast will be affected) and from a character perspective (don’t have to cut to the faces of Literally anyone but isami going like 😲 once the truth is revealed. if isami doesn’t figure it out for himself first. or however that plays out) and its so smart on the whole and i’m genuinely so excited to watch it play out!!!!!! like even if miyu et al roll up in the last two minutes to help save the day with um. idk it’d have to be smth completely new i suppose cause they sure do have like one gun that is marginally effective against the DDs FNDJFJJDJS it pares things down for max efficiency which is really smart imo

japan and the US jointly developing a mech that reads your brainwaves is the most sus thing in the world LMAO like i could not sleep at night if that thing were real even moreso than the deathdrives themselves

i think there’s at least one more twist left. like ep9 was The Twist and then they pulled time travel AGAIN in ep10 which is genuinely WILD to me. so like. idk maybe ep11 is Old Man Isami coming back from ANOTHER future to sunbathe in the volcano FNNDNFN

i am also not counting out a g gundam style ending yet and Getting Smith Outta That Thing. obviously my own biases are very much at play here but like. if the moral of this show is that you gotta live no matter what you just HAVE to live and fuck time and space and convention because the people who love you will make sure you live. like. if any show is gonna have its cake and eat it too and keep both bravern AND smith around? i feel like this one could pull it off!!!! not placing bets ofc but like its possible yknow? but again that is also based on the assumption that the end point of the show is at all congruous with its current status quo, and something that my feeble human mind can even conceive of with the information that is given, so we shall see. LMAO. the idea that they’re all just gonna be fucking isekai’d into the florist AU that staff loves so much is ANOTHER idea that tickles me greatly for being something so in line with the insanity of this show that i cannot IMMEDIATELY rule it out even if i very much doubt that’s where we’re going LMFAO. bc smth like that sure would fucking vibe w the final battle taking place somewhere “unexpected” (again, if that’s true, idr if it was just a rumor or not) and also how uninterested the show has been w the state of the world at large barring a few scenes. HM.

anyways final predictions for this ep is that i will cry atleast once 👍

#a: bravern #bravern spoilers #t.bbbb

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littlefreya · 2 years

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@captainsy-cookiemonster, my dear! 💖😍 Once again, I would like to wish you a very happy birthday.

Nothing like a weekend celebration, aye? :) I hope you that are having a really good one today and that the rest of the week will be amazeballs!!!

So now, with no further ado...

Not from this Earth.

Mike x OFC named Lisa x.... 👀

No smut.

Not beta'd. :D All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

"I love it when they turn on the heat in places like this," Mike proclaimed as he gazed around him.

Snow at this time of the year was anything but normal but thanks to the crowdedness and the heating system, it was so hot inside the club that some of the women were down to their bras.

Mike was on the hunt tonight. Standing near the DJ's stage with his older brother, he scanned his surrounding with boyish excitement, every time a woman made eye contact with him he immediately quirked an eyebrow and winked which resulted with 'the victim' rolling her eyes and turning away.

"Smooth, really smooth," Will snorted. "I don't know who you got your manners from, but it sure ain't from me, little brother."

"You know that attitude never gets you laid, right?" Mike retorted playfully.

It was Will's turn to roll his eyes now. While he was solely a couple of years older than Mike, Will was always considered 'the mature one'. Having their father leave as toddlers, the young man tried to compensate while Mike was what you can call a loss cannon. Though, Will always knew that Mike just needed to meet the right woman to set him on the right path.

Too bad, it didn't seem like she was anywhere in this sleazy club tonight.

"How about you make yourself useful? Got get us another round of beer." Will suggested and pulled out his credit card.

A slanted smirk peaked one of Mike's cheeks, creating a large dimple that even Will found irresistible. Immediately snatching the card, he nodded but not before fishing something from his leather jacket's pocket, "here, just in case you do find a girl in my absence."

Will blinked at his open palm and then sighed again.

A condom. He gave him a god-damn condom.

The path to the bar was packed with a dancing crowd. People dressed as demons and beasts ground into one another while the lights above them flickered in red and blue.

Mike stood listless, waiting to be noticed by the bartender, when something called for his attention.

Out from a thick mist, amid the devils and monsters, appeared an angel. Not a literal one, at least, he didn't think she was, but she sure looked that way.

Dark long hair spilt down her shoulders, and her big almond-shaped forest-green eyes looked like they could devour a man in their dark wilderness. A fluffy white halo hung over her head, and from her back spread large white-feathered wings that framed her small figure like something out of a fairytale.

"I'm in love..." he murmured to himself and then swallowed the lump in his throat as a sudden dryness stuck him.

Just then, the little angel made eye contact. She smiled at him, noticing his obvious stare, her hand lifted up coyly to brush a strand of hair that fell to hide her face before she looked away.

Sure, Mike had seen his share of beautiful women, but there was something about her, almost as if she wasn't from this realm.

Completely forgetting why he even came to the bar, Mike slid from the counter and fixed his leather jacket, his heart pounding as he made his way toward her.

The scent of lilies filled the air, and he could have sworn it emanated from her... the closer he got, the stronger the scent became, and she only seemed more and more beautiful as he could catch a better glimpse of her features.

A few more steps and he could talk to her... his mind raced, trying to come up with what to say first. There was no way in hell he could say something corny, not to a girl like this, not with that sweet smile she gave him as she saw him drawing near.

She bit her lip, holding her fingers laced together and dropping her gaze to the floor for a shy second, but as she raised her eyes to peer at him again, her joy suddenly faded, and concern filled her eyes.

Mike halted, looking at her confused when a stern hand fell on his shoulders and squeezed hard enough to hurt.

"Hey, what's your story?!"

At first, he thought it was his brother, but as Mike turned to look at the man who interrupted him, a sudden sense of dread chilled his bones.

Pale blue eyes peered back at him in a glare that couldn't be confused with anything other than a threat. He was slightly taller than him, though had the confidence and looks that could make even the strongest man whimper and above his lips stood a thick moustache that made him look even more attractive and menacing than he was.

Mike wrangled his shoulder free from his grip and took a step back, staring at the bewhiskered man. He was wearing a suit... who the hell wears a suit to a shitty club like this?

"She's mine, kid." The man finally spoke, his smooth baritone leaving no place to doubt. His gruff chick twitched into what appeared like an unpleasant smirk before he wiped his hand clean on his sleeve and walked toward the Angel.

Mike followed them with his eyes, watching the large man as he offered her his below in an old-timey mannerism. The coyness and sweetness faded from her smile, now replaced by submission and what Mike could only interpret as servitude.

The bewhiskered gentleman pinched her chin gently and then began leading her away while Mike stood watching, his heart breaking with the distance growing between them.

But just before they vanished from his sight, she turned her head to look at him, and he could have sworn he heard her voice echoing in his mind.

"Lisa, my name is Lisa. Come rescue me when you wake up."

#captainsy cookiemonster #Happy Birthday Lisa!#henry cavill #august walker #hellraiser mike #hellraiser mike x ofc #Henry cavill fanfiction #August walker x ofc

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the-princess-of-loki · 1 year

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Mine- Chapter 1: Sakaar.

Summary and masterlist

Chapter 01: Sakaar

Pairing: Loki x OFC

Warnings: Smut, graphic description of smut, Minors DNI, possible spoilers of Thor: Ragnarok.

I was tied up in a metallic chair, which was moving in a kind of magnetic tape, with this stupid obedience disk on my neck, transported to meet this crazy man who called himself ‘Grandmaster’. I didn’t know where in the Nine Realms I was, I didn’t think there was any information about survivors who had been thrown out of the Bifröst. I didn’t care much either. Loki was gone, Thor was gone and Hela was on Asgard probably ruining it to the ground. I couldn’t believe my eyes when my chair stopped moving: after all that darkness, there was music and colours and laughter everywhere. I blinked several times to adjust to my new surroundings. When I was ready to look around me, Loki was standing in front of me, a glint of concern in his green eyes. Before I was able to say or do something, a strange voice appeared out of nowhere.

“Do you two know each other?” I turned my head from Loki to see an old man dressed in a colourful robe. Immediately, I didn’t like him. I didn’t know why.

“Yes, Grandmaster,” Loki interfered before I was able to say something. “Quite frankly, Åse is my wife. Would you be so kind as to release her?” I looked at Loki surprised but he told me with just one look to shut up and follow along. I bit down my lower lip as I always did when I was nervous.

“You haven’t mentioned a wife in all the weeks you’ve been here, Loki. And you seemed fine to interact with…us,” The old man’s eyes shone. Loki changed his weight from one foot to the other.

“I am sorry, Grandmaster. I thought my wife had passed away and I was mourning. I did not know how to cope with the pain, I apologise for my behaviour,” Loki was using his best charisma and lying skills and it seemed that he had that old man wrapped around his finger. Not surprising at all. “But, please, do not punish my wife because of me. Would you be so kind as to release her? I will be forever grateful,” Loki looked at him through his eyelashes and I had to admit that even I would have given him whatever he desired.

“I will release her…under the condition that you show me that you two are married for real,” Loki nodded and looked at me while I was being released from that chair.

Those who didn’t know Loki as I did, would believe in his full of love face as he was looking at me. However, even when we had a lot of history together, I knew he was buffing. He didn’t love me, not as I love him. And I was with Thor…or at least were. What happened to him? If Loki and I were alive, then maybe he had a chance. It didn’t matter, though. He would probably go back to Asgard, try to kill Hela all by himself, and get killed in the process. I needed to survive here and it seemed that Loki had a plan.

We were both taken to another room and the guards that had accompanied us closed the door after us. We were alone in a blue room, with nothing else than a bed there. After a long sigh, Loki grabbed me and hugged me tight against his firm and lean body. I sighed too and hugged him tightly. I let some tears go down my cheeks and Loki caressed my long red hair which was tied up in a long braid. I always wore my hair braided when I was in a battle.

“What do we do now, Loki? Thor probably went back to Asgard to fight Hela by himself, and we’re here…” I sobbed while speaking in a whisper.

“I know, Åse. I would have never imagined that you would end up here, too. And now we have to…” Loki left the sentence hanging in the air, whispering as well.

“What do we have to do?” I asked, looking at him confused. He made a face. He pulled my face closer to him and left his lips next to my ear.

“I convinced the Grandmaster not to look at us while we are here, but I am pretty sure he is listening to everything we say. Except for this, since we are whispering, of course,” Loki pulled back a little, “My love, I am so happy to be with you again,” he said in a loud voice. “I thought that we were going to be reunited in Valhalla,” after saying that, he once again put his lips next to my ear. “The Grandmaster will be expecting us to have sex soon.”

“Is that what he meant when he said we needed to show him we were truly married?” I asked in a whisper as well, leaning into him.

“Yes. We can fake it, but I am sure that he will know it somehow. I’ll leave it up to you, Åse. You know that I’m always up to have sex with you, but if you want to fake it, I’ll respect you.”

“Let’s do it.”

I didn’t give it much thought because I knew that I was going to back away if I did. Loki may be hedonistic, but he would never force me to have sex with him. I knew him since we were nothing but children, we had our ups and downs -mostly downs-, but I knew he was a good person. Even when he was being mind-controlled by Thanos, he didn’t hurt me as much as he could have.

I walked towards the bed, glimmering away my clothing with my seiðr. Even when I was the Goddess of the Elements, I knew how to use basic seiðr since Queen Frigga had taught both Loki and me everything. I sat on the bed, waiting for Loki to join me. I looked at him with one raised eyebrow when he just stood where he was looking at my naked body. We have seen each other in all kinds of nakedness, we even had our first time having sex together. That was long ago, but still.

Loki walked towards me getting rid of his new leather armour and cape with his seiðr as well. He laid on top of me in the bed, supporting his weight on his hands that were at each side of my head and gave me one last look, trying to analyse me with his piercing green eyes. And he was able to do it: he could do it since we were children. He could read me like a book.

After a few seconds, he joined our lips in a heated kiss. I couldn’t help but moan at his kissing technique and he answered with another soft moan. I erased every thought from my mind and focused only on feeling. Loki is the best lover I ever had, so I was completely sure that I would be having a good time if I just let myself go.

Loki let one of his hands wander in my body, touching every spot he knew that got me going. His cold hands on my bare skin again got me shivering as his tongue entered my mouth and played with mine. He pinched one of my nipples with two of his fingers making me moan. Loki let my mouth go as he kissed my neck, my collarbone, and my breastbone until he reached my other breast. He licked, sucked and bit my nipple softly while his fingers played with the other.

“Is this foreplay really necessary?” I asked him in a whisper, moaning again when he sucked my nipple harder.

“Yes, I don’t want you to be pained. Maybe you don’t believe me, but I care about you, Åse,” Loki answered me while his hand left my nipple and went down my body until he reached my core which was already wet. He found my clit in no time and started to rub it, making me moan again.

“Oh, Loki, you are the best lover I’ve ever had,” I didn’t intend to say that out loud but it was out of my mouth before I could think about it. He looked at me for a second before chuckling. His lips were next to my ear but his hand didn’t stop his circling motions on my clit.

“Is that so? Better than my dear brother?” He whispered that stupid question and decided that was the best moment to put two of his long fingers inside me and curl them, rubbing my g-spot with every rub.

“Yes, Loki! The best!” I answered arching my back and moaning at his touch.

He knew I was completely at his mercy, he could ask anything of me and I would have given it to him. I didn’t lie though: he is a better lover than Thor. But I didn’t want to think about that. Luckily for me, Loki didn’t push the matter any further. What he did push was his fingers inside me and then he added a third one. I looked at him and he just chuckled before removing his fingers from me. I couldn’t help but whimper at the loss even if I was begging for it. Loki looked at me intently while he entered me in one swift motion. I moaned loudly and threw my head backwards the most that the pillow would allow me. Loki bit down my collarbone to hide his moan, but I heard it anyway. I loved his moans, they were so deep and guttural as if I woke up the animal inside him. I put my legs up and crossed them behind his back as my nails scratched his upper back. He started to move, leaving only the tip of his cock inside me and then thrusting back with full force, hitting my g-spot. Oh, how I missed the way he fucked me. Nobody has ever fucked me the way he did. Loki was a master of sex. Even during our first time, he knew exactly what to do.

He thrust inside me with expertise and soon enough both of us were moaning loudly losing all the sanity we had left. It was always like that when we united our bodies. It wasn’t long until I was feeling the tale tell sign in my ankles that I was about to cum. The tickling sensation in my ankles went up my legs until it reached my belly. I warned him but he kept going until I reached my climax with a loud moan of his name. He followed me a few moments later and I felt his hot seed filling me. My body felt wobbly after such an intense orgasm. Loki rolled out to lay beside me on the bed while he stabilised his breathing.

“I don’t think that will be enough,” He whispered turning his head to look at me. I looked back at him confused.

“Hum, thank you?” Loki chuckled.

“No, dear, I don’t mean that. You know that having sex with you is great no matter the circumstances,” I rolled my eyes, even when I knew he was absolutely right.

“Then, what is it?”

“I don’t think that the Grandmaster will believe us with just sex. We will have to pretend around him and at all the parties. Just follow me, alright? I will find a way to get his security access codes and take us out of here,” I nodded.

“I believe you,” And I did. Even after everything we went through, I really believed in him. Even when nobody else did.

“I don’t think he’ll ask us to have sex anymore. Surely to join his orgies, but if we behave like a married couple then we have every excuse to decline,” he gave me a side glance. “Selv om du ser ut til å kose deg masse med meg,” I punched him lightly on the shoulder while I felt the heat going up to my cheeks.

“Stop praising yourself, menace. It’s just sex,” I shrugged.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

After we had been for some weeks in this chaotic place, another surprise came up. Thor appeared tied down in one of those chairs. Loki and I have been the whole time convincing everybody that we were as in love as possible. The Grandmaster didn’t ask us to have sex again, but we needed to pretend in front of him. That is why I was looking at my boyfriend completely relieved that he was alive, holding his brother’s hand and arm. Thor looked at us with confusion in his blue eyes and I just shook my head slightly.

Please, let it go, I begged even when I knew that he couldn’t hear me. He and I could never have that connection. Loki answered all the questions about Thor the Grandmaster asked him but did little to nothing to help his brother’s case. The God of Thunder was sent with the rest of the fighters as he was going to fight the Grandmaster’s big champion tomorrow and I asked for a private room with Loki. It wasn’t difficult to get one and once we were alone, I yelled at him so much that my vocal cords ended up hurting. I knew they didn’t get along for a long time now, but they were still brothers, for Norns’ sake. I knew that Thor was confident because he had never lost a fight in his whole life, but he couldn’t risk it. Not like that, when he was still mourning his father. One cannot make the right decisions when one is suffering from so much pain.

Loki heard all my yelling without saying a word and when I couldn’t speak anymore he sighed and projected us where Thor was. The blond was on his knees, praying for his father’s soul to reach Valhalla and we both joined him out of respect. It was no secret that neither Loki nor I were mourning the Allfather’s death, but Thor was really grieving. When the older finished praying, he and his brother started to bicker at each other until Loki’s projection was gone.

“Thor, don’t listen to him. Loki and I are working to get out of here, and you’ll come with us too, I promise,” I said when we left alone, kneeling in front of him but not touching him so my projection wouldn’t vanish.

“I trust you, Åse,” Thor answered me with a severe face. I bit down my lower lip.

“Do you?” I asked in a whisper, gnawing my lower lip again when I wasn’t talking.

“Yes, I do. Probably you had to do some things here that I won’t like, but it’s a survival game, I guess,” He shrugged. His cold attitude was worrying me.

“Thor, please tell me that you’re going to fight with all your might tomorrow.”

“When have you known me to back down?” he half-smiled at me. “Go now, nobody can see you here. I will be alright and then we both are going back to Asgard to kick my older sister’s ass,” I chuckled.

“Count me in. I may be an orphan, but you have a really strange family, have you noticed it?”

Thor chuckled and then reached out for me with his hand, making my projection disappear. When I came back to the private room Loki and I shared, he was nowhere to be seen. I sighed and went after him.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki god of mischief #loki fluff #loki x ofc #god of mischief #mcu #loki of asgard #loki smut #loki series

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