#my canon childhood sweethearts to friends to lovers!!!!

[emilykaldwen]

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

Rating: Explicit

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

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

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

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen

AO3 Link

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

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

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

Warnings: Larys Strong Jumpscare, and MURDER!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Flew Like a Moth to You

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No matter how much she craved the freedom of it.

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

“Abrogail.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alone now, save for Larys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘He’ll have to lose an eye’.

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

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

Or if he were lonely.

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

The dead look in Mother’s eyes that was more and more frequent, when she stared out the window of her solar, her hands twisted and knotted into her skirts. The things that Sire-Father had done to her for no reason except his own dragon feelings, Helaena thought. His need for more and more, consuming him the way the anger would consume Aemond, and the drink would consume Aegon.

All of them pinned to boards in the king’s Freehold miniature; all of them frozen and set on display in his own gallery, for him to take down from time to time to play with.

The burst of a log in the fire startled her and Helaena realized, uncomfortably, that she’d been staring, vacantly, at Jacaerys, who was watching her, still as water, quiet as an orb weaver. He watched her, the fire throwing orange and red across his fine features, catching at the warm red in his dark, dark hair. His right eye was a sheen of red from the fire, his left cast in shadow. Half fire.

Her right side was chilled, when her left was so warm, mirrors of each other.

Half fire.

Jace held out his hand, palm open, offering to her the smooth stone that he had been fiddling with. The ridges of the sea creature who died in it caught upon the light, throwing its own little shadow as it was unable to in life, living in the sea as it did. Only now, in his hand, had this creature found warmth and light.

Helaena reached for it, her hot fingers scraping against his as she took it, feeling his own hot skin beneath her touch.

Half fire.

‘But I am full flame,’’ Heleane thought, for she was dragonflame and lighthouse flame. Lighting the way with fire in her wake. Jace was fire, yes, but he was river water, the way it rippled through him. Still and steady, but crashing and flooding with the ferocity of a dragon’s power. ‘Would this be what her nieces and nephews be?’ Is this what a union of fire and water entailed? Deadly and quiet, steady when they were full of heat and flame.

She rubbed her thumb over the fossilized creature and it felt pleasant against her skin. Soothing, tactile. Grounding. “Thank you,” she said softly and Jace smiled at her. “Pity it’s not another marchpane tentacle.” He laughed, a soft sound that sounded like water over stones and they came to sit on the bench. She shoved her feet closer to the flame and watched the steam rise from the fabric from how hot it was. There was a few inches between them, the warmth emanating, and they sat together, no words spoken. These were her favorite moments, ones she missed. It scraped at her insides, like pushing dirt away from the stone so she could find the worms beneath. They were the memories of the gardens in childhood, Jace beside her, mud and damp soaked into his knees, helping her push the rock up to find the pill bugs and the beetles and the centipedes in the dark, damp earth.

“It was nice to dance with you at the feast,” he ventured, and Helaena looked at him, the shadow along his jaw where he’d wake up fuzzy and prickly in the morning. She reached up to rub the back of her fingers against his jaw, looking at the slight pout of his mouth, the dark fan of his eyelashes. Freckles faint against his skin.

“You're a good dancer. I should know, I’m a good dancer myself.” She smiled at him and he shook his head, a flush on his face and she felt her own spread across her cheeks. He scraped the toe of his boot in the dirt and she nudged her foot against his. He was familiar, in the way Aemond was, but he was new in the way Warren had been. Someone she knew, but didn’t. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t pushing and probing at her, looking for a bruise to elicit feelings from, or the thrill of a princess. He didn’t look at her like she was odd, or startle at her staring, her distant sight.

Jace was simply patient, and he waited, and did not seek to chatter. It was new, it was old, it was like pressing against the ground and the dirt giving way, a little tunnel inside that one didn’t know was there, and Jace peered in and made his way inside. A dragon roosting in a cave.

His knee bumped against hers and she looked at him, their matching lavender eyes meeting. It was nice, Helaena thought, that they had this piece to share. Like two different butterflies, different colors and different patterns, but the markings were the same. The wings were the same. Simply… different.

“The mint winds and chokes like ivy,” she said, instead of what she meant to say, which was asking him if he would come looking for stag beetles with her the next day. “The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.” She blinked, startled, but the words that she had not known, had not meant to utter, remained heavy between them. “I-.”

He blinked back at her, brow furrowed. “Helaena, are you-”

A horrible scream ripped through camp and for the briefest moment, Helaena thought it might have been a fox shriek. But this was too loud, too close. Another scream, this time two high pitched ones and then a guttural yell. Jace’s hand gripped hers, pulling her to her feet and away from the fire. She tugged at his hold to move towards the commotion, but he tugged her back. “I’m taking you back to your tent, Helaena,” he said firmly. “We don’t know what’s- Ow!”

She had lifted their hands, sinking her teeth into the plump flesh at the back of his thumb so he’d let go and hurried towards the tents without a second glance, knowing that he’d be following her. She gripped her skirts, grateful for the warmth of Jace’s cloak around her shoulders and her heart sank, panic seizing her chest when she realized it was Abrogail’s tent that was the source of the screaming.

Three of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston, were already there, as were the gold cloaks that had been patrolling around the outskirts of camp. Their cloaks reminded her of Sunfyre’s scales in all the torchlight, and half-dressed nobility coming out of their tents, bleary eyed in confusion.

On the ground lay a servant with a blade in his chest, blood burbling from his mouth. Helaena looked at him, wide-eyed, Jace trying to get her to look away, and her gaze went up to Wylla Karstark. The northerner was shaking, gray eyes wide as dinner plates, her hair bound for bed, her dressing gown haphazard and sprayed with blood from where the man must have coughed it at her.

“He-he came in. He was on Abby so quickly-”

“I don’t know where he came from!” Abby’s trembling frame was right behind her, clutching one of the pokers from the tent brazier in her hands, still ready to strike. Her curls were twisted and wrapped around the crown of her head, shivering in the night air in just her own nightgown, sleep mussed and clearly straight from bed. “I don’t…” She gulped. “I don’t think he meant Wylla to b-be there.” Her free hand was gripping the back of Wylla’s dressing gown, and Ser Criston laid a hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“Give me the poker, Lady Abrogail,” he was saying in a calm, steady voice like he did when Helaena was younger, cowering in a corner and unable to flee the commotion. “There’s a girl.”

Harrion Karstark was shouting his sister’s name, just as Uncle Gwayne was calling hers. Helaena turned her head to see him coming up, half dressed with his sword belt slung over his shoulder. He reached for her shoulder, tugging her back. “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, and Helaena stumbled back into Jace as the crowd parted.

Then, Aegon’s shout of, “Abby!” came crashing over the gathering crowd, pushing his way through with Aemond at his back. She caught her younger brother’s frantic look, seeing the worry ease somewhat at the sight of her before going over to the girls. Abby surrendered the brazier poker as Aegon reached her, frantic over the state of her, pulling his cloak off to wrap around her, fear and fury warring on his flushed features. “What happened?”

The man on the ground was rasping, wheezing, but it was hard to tell if he was alive or not, or if this was how his body signaled death.

“This man came to attack Lady Abrogail, Your Grace,” Ser Erryk said. “Lady Wylla got him good.” His twin nudged the attacker with the tip of his boot as Aemond looked at the man, then at Wylla. His face was carved in hard lines, but his gaze was softened.

“Did you throw it?” he asked. “Or did you pounce on him?”

Wylla blinked, her brother’s broad hands holding her shoulders. “I stabbed him.” Her voice was faint and she took the blade handle, clutching it to her. “He… I was putting away our dresses and there was a commotion… I thought…” Wylla’s brow furrowed, shaking her head. “He came in through the flap beside the bed and crawled o-on top of her. Abby screamed and I just…”

Harrion’s hands tightened on his sister’s shoulders and the girl fell silent with a soft squeak. Aemond’s mouth pursed and he knelt beside the man. His hair fell in a curtain, the band of his eye-patch not holding it back from the vantage that Helaena had. He reached down, and twisted the blade, a wet crack sounding in the sudden hushed anticipation. The wheezing sounds the man was making tapered off as Aemond pulled the blade from his body.

It squelched, a gout of blood spraying, and a strange, hissing sound like wind through a crack sounded. Aemond jerked back as some of the blood caught on the ends of his hair and he rose slowly, wiping the blade of the dagger. “Well he’s dead now, Lady Wylla. Your bravery and quick thinking is to be commended. House Karstark should be proud to have such a brave daughter.” He handed her the dagger, hilt towards her. “Keep this close, since you can be well trusted to use it.”

Wylla’s brother held her tightly as the gold cloaks hoisted the dead man between the pair of them, dragging him somewhere.

“I was half asleep,” Abby said. Aegon clutched her to his chest as his gaze swept darkly around, hands rubbing her arms. “At first I th-thought it was Wylla…” Helaena watched Abby’s hand clutch Aegon’s arm tighter, her voice falling silent. Her other hand reached towards Wylla again, the girls clinging tightly to one another.

“How the fuck did that bastard manage to sneak into my lady’s tent?” Aegon demanded, his voice not a shout like Uncle Gwayne’s had been, but more of a warning growl, like Sunfyre. “Where were the patrols, Ser Criston?”

Their mother’s protector - and Helaena realized that Mother was not there and that Ser Criston must have commanded her to stay in her own tent - shifted only slightly. “The patrols largely keep around the outside of camp to keep people from getting in, my Prince. The patrol that was walking through the tents had not made it back around yet.”

Aegon’s jaw ticked, assessing what Ser Criston had said and knowing it to be true. Helaena knew that Aegon and the others had been lingering in Aegon and Aemond’s tent for whatever gossip and giggling boys got up to in the middle of the night.

“Lady Abrogail and Lady Wylla will share my tent,” Helaena broke in, for she was the princess, and her mother was not here. “And we will have extra guards stationed around our tents, so that our Kingsguard are not stretched thin.” She straightened her shoulders and closed the distance between her and the girls. “This is enough horrible commotion for this night, and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for staring so,” she said, frowning at the crowd that had gathered. “These ladies have been terrorized, and you gawk at them. To bed, everyone! Let us gather your things and get you cleaned up.” The last was said to Wylla, who needed a fresh gown and the blood cleaned from her face.

And like the princess she was, she did not wait to be obeyed, reaching for Abby’s hand to pull her toward her tent.

Thank you for being here! If you loved this chapter, please give a reblog and I would adore hearing what you thought about the chapter! What did you think about the Larys and Abby convo? Baela Targaryen continues to be a force to be reckoned with. I for one love the ladies that Helaena and Abby have been gathering around them. Man what was UP with that attack at the end? And also, Jace clearly doesn't mind Helaena biting him. Good.

#hotd fic #hotd oc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fandom #house targaryen fanfic #jacelaena #my fics #oc: abrogail strong #otp: do not go far from me #aegon x abby #abrogon

[paceypeternathanslawyer]

Joyce and Hopper around 1959 vs 1986!!!!

#i'm having all the jopper feels since david said in an interview that joyce and hopper are gonna makeout!!! #my canon childhood sweethearts to friends to lovers!!!! #<3 #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #david harbour #winona ryder #stranger things cast #joyce and hopper #jopper #otp #the eagles nest #the stranger things adults #jim hopper #joyce byers #netflix

[leascorner]

j.s. | Welcome home

Summary: After a mission, Jake gets some well deserved break at home. However the week might not turn out how he had planned.

Pairing:  Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x childhood bff!f!reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of death and near death experience, mention of break-up, probably inexact american army facts, ever most likely inexact description of Texas, mention of food, two idiots in love, happy ending

Word Count: 9.2k

A/N: I've said it before, I will say it again. The only trope that I can write/read about Jake is a childhood/best friends to lovers, don't fight me. I also see Jake as an older brother to two half-sisters his mother had with a very good man, after his father abandonned them. This is my canon.

Anyway, this is way too long and way too chaotic but I just couldn't stop writting so enjoy!

Masterlist

Y/N was literally hopping up and down with impatience - or perhaps was it the three cups of coffees she had drunk to be able to keep up with the 2-hour-long drive to the airport in the middle of the night. She was standing on the arrival floors, on her tiptoes, trying to locate the person she was picking up. The flow of travellers coming through the arrival doors was continuous, so many blond heads coming through and none of them was his.

Her childhood best friend’s flight had landed a dozen of minutes prior; 3:28 a.m. was the time she received a “be right there, see you soon” text. Ever since then, the seconds had been going past very - very - slowly and with every second passing, Y/N chest had got narrower from anticipation to the point she felt like she couldn’t breathe. It hadn’t been more than a year and a half now that they had seen each other in the flesh. Of course, there were the texts, the emails and the FaceTime calls, but it was never the same.

“Jake!”

The sea of people in front of them seemed to split in half to let them collide in one another. The said Jake let his bag fall to his feet to catch a flying Y/N, lifting her from the ground as if she weighted nothing. Her hands found the back of his neck and her head found the crook of his neck, reuniting their bodies as if they were only one mind.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sniffed her hair, intoxicating himself from her perfume.

Jake let her down reluctantly when he realized they were in the way of other people reunions. After swinging his bag over his shoulder and dragging her near a row of seats, he finally took a good look at her, dark circles under puffy red eyes and hair all other the place. He dried her tears softly and kissed the top of her head, something he was sure he hadn’t done since they were in high school and that fucker of Chad had broken up her heart - thinking of it now, it seemed like it was a lifetime away. However, he knew that in this moment there was no sadness in her tears. She was crying probably a little happiness to seeing him again, but most certainly a lot of relief to have him alive in front of her.

He took another step back to have an even greater look at her. Y/N was exactly how he last saw her one year or so ago, and exactly how she looked like even all the other times he had to leave. She did not seem to age, and he was sure that the fine smile lines she was now wearing had always been there. It brought comfort to his heart to know that whatever would happen, she would always be waiting for him. He knew it was also selfish, but he had made peace with those thoughts a long time ago. These were moments that he was collecting in his mind for when he was somewhere overseas, fighting for his life.

“My my, did you grow up a few inches?”

“Oh, shut up!” Y/N laughed and tried to nudge him in the ribs. Jake easily grabbed her right elbow to bring her closer in another embrace, so very glad to be home, even only for a little while.

Ventilation was swinging litters of hot air into the car's cabin as it was a rather chilly night for October in Texas. The full moon was lighting up all the roads in front of them, just as if it was making sure they would get home safely.

During the drive, the main discussion turned around how excited everyone would be to have him there. Y/N and her parents were the only ones to know about Jake’s surprise visit; they had only known for about three days before his flight landed that he unexpectedly got a week of leave. They would surprise his family later that day for lunch - only after they both had a rather long nap to make up for the sleepless night.

Jake had seen his family a couple more times than Y/N this past year and a half. Even if he considered Y/N to be family, this wasn’t exactly the rule of the administration. Blood family had some more privileges, like sometimes visiting for the holidays. His mother and one of his little sisters also visited him in Singapore when he was stationed there for an exercise in the Taiwan Strait; they had booked a vacation to be able to see him there. Y/N, at that time, had been unavailable - she had her own life after all.

It was what Jake found the more difficult; to keep up with her life. Most of her friends were common friends from high school. With her going to a different university and later with her different jobs, some of her friends were total strangers to him. However, they all seemed to come and go into her life, leaving more or less damage.

“I am sorry about you and Nick.”

Y/N finished getting back to the right line of the highway and removing the blinker, before glancing quickly in Jake’s direction. He was looking at her, with an expression she couldn’t quite read, but that she understood as some kind of gladness. She sighed while turning her focus back on the road.

“You can lie better than that, Jake.”

“Well, didn’t like the guy so…”

It had been a couple of months now than her longtime boyfriend Nick and she had broken up. What confused Jake the most was how this was not a topic for discussion. She hadn’t called crying; she did not seem to be angry. She just announced it to him like it was nothing and directly switched subject. He hadn’t found a way to bring it back on the table, so he asked their friends and family. They all had the same answer; she was doing fine. She seemed to have continued her life just like nothing had happened.

“Was it him-”

“It was me,” Y/N cut him off quickly abruptly, leaving Jake with an uneasy feeling. She sighed again, probably realizing how harsh her tone had been. “This wasn’t working out anyway.”

Though she could not see him, Jake nodded back acknowledging her response. He still felt like there were more to it, but he understood that now wasn’t the time to discuss it. Ever since they had known each other - and it went back to kindergarten, they hadn’t had many secrets for one another. And if they had, it was never anything major.

So, he shook off this feeling and gently grabbed her hand resting on the gearshift to squeeze it softly.

“I do am sorry, though.”

“I know.”

It was nearly six in the morning when Y/N pulled up in her parents’ driveway.

The porch light was on, welcoming them, making sure Jake knew he was expected, and it made him smile fondly. It still felt surreal somehow; after everything, he was home. Getting out of the car, he breathed the fresh air of Texas like he hadn’t breathed in years.

Y/N was already opening her trunk, getting out a duffel bag that seemed to contain some clothes for today. Jake jogged toward her before she was able to get his own khaki bag out. She rolled her eyes, smiling, when he gently slapped her hands away to take care of it.

“Mom set up a spare bed in my room,” Y/N informed him while walking to the front door. “Just like the old days.”

And nothing in the house had changed either.

The hallway was still a drive along memories with all sorts of pictures hanged upon the wall. Y/N’s parents wedding portrait. Y/N’s baby pictures. Y/N on the day of the start of her first kindergarten year - just before they met each other. A couple more of first day of school pictures - this time with him in it as well. A couple of family vacation pictures. And along with them, a couple of pictures of events he wasn’t even there to attend. Y/N’s university graduation, her parents’ thirty-year anniversary celebration party, her first promotion celebration dinner…

The kitchen was still on the right, the living room on the left and straight ahead the stairs to the bedrooms. Y/N’s bedroom still had Justin Timberlake poster hung up on the walls along with some pictures of friends and family. The teddy bear he won for her at the funfair when they were not even ten stood on her bed. Jake swore that if he opened the dresser, he would still find the shelf that was for his stuff back then.

Without many words, both of them got ready for bed. Y/N took the en-suite bathroom first and when Jake got back in his sweatpants, she was already in bed, cuddling Mister B the teddy bear. His chuckle made her look up to him with sleepy eyes and quickly look away when she realized he didn’t wear a shirt. He kissed her on her forehead before tugging her more tightly in her sheets and turning off the bedside lamp.

“Do you remember when I couldn’t sleep unless someone was holding my hand?”

Jake only hummed in answer, and even in the darkness of her room, his hand found hers instinctively. Their fingers intertwining immediately, he did just as he had promised when he was only just a kid; he never let it go.

“Son,” Y/N’s father spoke from the other side of the kitchen, “don’t worry about it.”

Jake shook his head, smiling, before proceeding with what he was already doing: loading the cup he had used to drink coffee in the dishwasher. Ever since he had been up earlier that morning, Y/N’s parents had pampered him with all their attention while also being busy preparing lunch. Every time he asked if they needed help, they would assure him he just needed to stay put in his seat.

It had always been like this, for as long as he had remembered. Whenever he had gone over when Y/N and he were still in middle school, her parents had always taken good care of him, making sure the crust of his PB&J sandwiches were cut off, putting on his favourite beddings when they were having a sleepover, drying his clothes in the air dryer when they came home soaking wet from the park. He felt loved in a different way than he did at home, where he had a hard time adjusting to his new family dynamics with his two younger step-sitters. Growing up, they continued on listening to him and caring for him. Y/N’s father was the one he went to for advice before he enrolled. Ever since, and with the little time he had with them every time he came home, it still hit him in the face how much they loved him like he was their own son.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asked once more.

This time, they did not have time to answer. Y/N appeared on the doorstep, changed out of her pyjamas, hair still wet. “The shower is all yours, Jake.”

She watched him go as if she had to make sure he remembered the way to her room. She hadn’t really realized yet that he was really here, with them, and feared that he would just disappear at any minute or that she would just wake up from whatever dream she was having. Somehow this also seemed to be all too familiar, like a play they had rehearsed a hundred time before. It broke her heart a little to know this was most likely not going to happen again before a very long time, that it could actually never happen again.

Y/N got this thought out of her head as soon as it came. She didn’t need to think about this. Not now. Not ever. She just needed to enjoy whatever time she had with him at home.

“He looks good,” her mum stated once Jake had made it to the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, he does,” Y/N spoke softly, eyes lingering to where Jake had been only a couple of seconds before, suddenly wondering if he was really as good as they thought.

When Jake got back to the kitchen the entrance clock had just struck eleven. Only sixty minutes until he would be reunited with his family. It never felt more real, but he couldn’t quite realize it. He was so used of being far away from them, totally disconnected from their realities, hearing their news after everyone else. Yet, he had always found them as he had left them, eyes watering to see him home or gone.

He joined Y/N on the vegetable preparation. Washing, peeling, cutting kept him busy while the anticipation started to build up. All while Y/N’s father asked him about what new manoeuvres he had learned. Being an aviator himself, they could talk about flying for hours to Y/N’s greatest damn; she had the biggest fear of flying - and perhaps the fact that Jake nearly crashed them while flying an old aircraft he had restored with her father when they were teenagers had something to do with it.

“These boys,” Y/N’s mother sighed playfully as Jake and Y/F/N were debating whatever solar planes were the future of aviation. Y/N smiled as she shared a knowing look with her mother, who was getting ready to lay the table in the dining room.

“Mom, hold on,” Y/N called before reaching inside the cupboard next to her, “you are missing a plate.”

“Why? Is Mark coming after all?”

Y/M/N’s face went white in only a second as she realized what she had just said. Not knowing what to do else, Y/N handed her the white plate. Looking sideways to Jake, she hoped he hadn’t heard - she didn’t want him to find out like this, when his whole family was going to be here in the next thirty minutes.

It was already too late though; Jake’s attention had of course switched to their awkward interaction. Her father was quick to step in, wiping his hands on a cloth and moving towards his wife.

“Of course he is, darling. Let me help you bring those into the dining room.”

Y/N watched them disappear before quickly turning back to the carrots she was now cutting in a Julienne, praying Jake would just drop the subject. Ever since she had learned that Jake was having a leave, she had planned their reunion to be perfect. She had purposely lied to his family, pretending to have a very big news to share with them so they all agreed to gather even if the atmosphere was not good. She had made them promise to bury the hatchet, for “her” and most absolutely for Jack. Whatever touchy topics they would have to talk about, they could do it after.

“Why wouldn’t he come?” Jake still asked and, at that moment, she knew that whatever she would tell him would never be sufficient to not draw his suspicion any further. She couldn’t lie to him even if she tried.

“Just been busing with work lately, you know how it is.”

Without letting him time to ask more questions, Y/N went for the stoves to make sure the sauce was still reducing as it should have. She could feel Jake’s eyes burning holes on her back and could only hope he would drop the subject.

“Jake, son,” Y/F/N had just gotten back from the dining room, “would you mind giving me a hand with the roast?”

After taking a last look at Y/N, still very focused on stirring the sauce, Jake turned to her father. It wasn’t until she didn’t feel his eyes on her that she turned to look at him. She watched as her father made him took out the turkey so he could put some more butter on it. Out of the corner of his eye his father gives him a reassuring wink signalling her he had got this.

The bell rang at the exact same moment Y/N put the last plate of hors d’oeuvres at the centre of the table. Shooting a look across the piece, she saw her father squeezing Jake’s shoulder in what seemed to comfort him. She smiled shyly, trying to hide her own nervousness. Thanks to her father, Jake had nearly forgotten about the earlier incident about Mark and the reason he wouldn’t have been able to make it. He hadn’t asked any other questions, and they hadn’t given away other secrets. All was well in the best of all words, or so she still tried to convince herself. It was all that mattered.

“Just like we said, you both stay here, and we’ll bring them for you.”

Y/N watched as her parents disappeared in the hall. She turned to Jake who she now realized he was close at her side - she knew from the way his lips were set in a tight smile that he was somehow nervous. When noises started coming from the hall, Y/N grabbed Jake’s hand without thinking. She needed him to know she was there, that she would always be there, just like they promised when they were younger. It would take much more than a thousand of miles and a few hiccups to take them apart. As if he was thinking the exact same thing, Jake squeezed her hand back.

Jake’s step-dad was the first to enter the dining room. Y/N saw his eyes go from herself to Jake right next to her side, his eyes lighting up in realization. Yet, he didn’t say anything, holding a finger to his lips to let them know he would stay silent while moving further into the room as if nothing had happened. He and Jake had never been particularly close; he was a good man, a good husband, and a good father to his daughters, but Jake’s fatherly figure had always been Y/N’s father.

Next to enter the room was Jake’s youngest step-sister, Sophia. She immediately spotted him, letting out a cry and running into his arms. He crushed his sister in one of those same hugs he gave Y/N when she picked him up from the airport. It warmed her heart to see them like that. Sophia was still very young when Jake had enrolled; she was only just a kid and had grown up with the lack of his older brother. She was looking up to him so much that Y/N had sometimes to remind her that he didn’t have only qualities. He was her hero in so many ways…

Sophia’s reaction got the rest of the family - his mother, Olivia, his other step-sister, and his step-brother, Mark - in the dining room quite quickly. There were a lot of “Jake!” shouted from across the room and loads of tears, happy smiles, and hugs.

“I can’t believe he is here.” Sophia cried again; this time she was in Y/N’s arms. “And I can’t believe you lied to us.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Y/N smiled, tugging a string of her hair behind her ears before bringing her in an even closer hug if it was possible. She wasn’t sure she had seen her this happy in her life, she realized.

Y/N was an only child with a very little family. Over the years, Jake’s family had grown to be her own as well. As children first, as they were always all together at either one’s house or the others. As teenagers when his step-sisters weren’t babies anymore and they had started to be able to play more with them. She remembered helping his mom getting both of his sisters ready for school, all of them celebrating Christmas at her parents or going dress shopping for Olivia’s first prom.

Ever since Jake had been deployed on the West Coast and later overseas, they had grown even closer. There were brunches on Sundays, just the three of them, where Sophia would file them up on her latest dating adventures. There were lunches at Olivia’s office after they had taken a midday yoga class. There were breakfasts with Sophia before her classes began. Y/N had always made sure they were alright, as if she had to do it for Jake.

So far, the lunch had turned out great.

Jake had told them all about his last position and this group of pilots he had been joining overseas. Everyone had started feeding him bits and pieces of what had occurred ever since the last time he’s been home. Olivia and Mark had managed not to fight, which was a miracle in itself, per Y/N’s opinion. Jake’s mom had finally stopped crying. And Sophia seemed to have forgotten about those hard choices she would have to make once she graduated from college at the end of the year.

At least, that was the case until Jake asked about it.

“So, any thoughts yet about what you’ll do next year?”

“No, not really.”

Y/N had already seen that look on Sophia’s face. It was the same one she made when she was hesitating between an avocado toast and pancakes at the place they were used to going to brunch; every time she had been making this face, she had ended up with ordering both. Sophia eyed her tentatively and Y/N immediately shook her head no, silently pleading her not to do whatever she was thinking.

Today was not the day. Jake had only gotten back from abroad hours ago, they would have enough time to discuss it in the next couple of days.

“I am thinking of enrolling,” Sophia stated abruptly.

Boom.

The bomb had landed.

Y/N sighed, mentally cursing Sophia for needing whatever validation from him. They all had talked about this extensively for months on now. Decide to enrol was one thing, accept that one of your relative would do the same was another. She knew how Jake was; he didn’t look like it at first sight, but his family was his everything. He had made the selfish decision that could result in them losing him forever, yet he wouldn’t accept that she’d do the same.

From the deathly silence that came after Sophia’s statement, Y/N rested the cutlery on the side of her plate, bracing herself for whatever had to come. Her attitude made Jake immediately turned to her. She had never seen the wrinkle between his eyebrows this deep before. She didn’t know if it was from dread, disappointment, or anger.

“You knew?”

Jaw tight, Y/N didn’t answer, and Jake huffed - of course, she knew. How could she not? She was here, with his own family, when he was thousands of miles away fighting for his country. She was here, only a ride away, when he couldn’t even remember the last time he had enough telephone network to FaceTime them. She was there, physically with them, when he was just a ghost, present for a few days a year before disappearing for months on hand.

Y/N tried to reach out for his left arm to try and calm the whole situation down, but he moved ever so slightly she couldn’t touch him. The fire in Jake’s green eyes was incandescent. He was angry, with Sophia, with her, with everyone. And to know he didn’t even know half of it…

“Let’s not start now,” his older step-sister stepped in to try and reason him.

“Why?” Jake retorted immediately. “Wanna updates me on what is going on with Mark as well?”

Olivia opened her mouth to answer and as she couldn’t seem to find something to say, she then closed it and lowered her head. She and Mark had officially announced a few weeks before Jake returned that they were going to take some time apart. They had been married for nearly three years and they were having a rough path. They had started couple therapy, trying to make things work. Y/N couldn’t count the hours Olivia had spent on her couch, crying and eating ice-creams.

Y/N knew exactly how she felt like. The deception of thinking she had found the love of her life only to realize it was more complex than this. The sadness of loving someone and it still not being enough for the two of them to be happy. The paralyzing fear of being alone, of never being well enough.

She needed a shoulder to cry onto and a lot of love, and not to be reminded of what a failure she thought she was.

“I am sorry,” Sophia mumbled. Y/N wasn’t sure to whom she was apologizing. Jake? Them?

“You can’t seriously be thinking about it?” Jake half-shouted, pointing her finger at her like he was accusing her of the worst betrayal.

“Don’t say anything you’d regret, son.”

Y/N’s father word seemed to put some sense into him as he leaned his back against his chair, folding his arms against his chest. The distress on Sophia’s face was now palpable and she was on the verge of crying from Jake’s quite violent reaction. Though she didn’t expect Jake to be totally supportive, Y/N had not expected him to reject the idea that much either. She had thought that he would’ve still listen to her reasons, maybe try to talk her out of it, but finally make peace with the idea. Just like they had. Just like they all had when he was in her shoes.

Olivia had regained her composure and wrapped an arm around her sister’ shoulders. The look she sent Jake probably refrained him from attacking again his little sister. Instead, he chose another target for his anger.

“How can anybody be cool with this?”

Before Jake’s mom could speak, Y/N called him out. “Why could you do it and not her, Jake, huh?” She wants to be like you so bad, don’t you see?

“That’s not the same thing.”

Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes.

It made her even bitter. For all the things he hadn’t told her when he had no reason to hide it from her. For him being hurt that they didn’t want to discuss as such important topics over the phone. She would have liked to be sorry to hide all this from him, yet his reaction had only comfort her on her choice.

“You’re being unfair.”

“Am I now?” he laughed. “Excuse me for putting my life at sake and not wishing for me sister to do the same.”

“Did anybody ask you to? If anything, we would all have loved to keep you by our side.”

“Oh, I see. So, this is all my fault, right?”

The daring look he offered her made her heart jump in her chest. Her stomach was in fire; consuming her from the inside. She was tired from the sleepless nights she had for the last few months. And sad about the outcome of this lunch. And disappointed in him. And quite frankly done with his attitude.

Sighing, she gave in and looked away, throwing her napkin on her plate at the same time. Whatever this was, it was too much for her to handle. “If you’d excuse me,” she announced as she moved her chair back. “I am not hungry anymore.”

“Y/N-” he called after her, grabbing her arm to make her stay. She gave him a pained look before abruptly pulling away from his grip.

“Welcome home, Jake.”

Jake’s face appeared once again on her phone screen.

Big bright smile, sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, forehead sun-kissed by the first rays of sunshine of spring. The picture had been taken one of the few times she had fly out to California to visit him. They had such a good time that Y/N used to hold all those memories close to her heart. Now, she couldn’t even look at it.

She couldn’t count the number of texts Jake had sent nor the number of messages he had left on her voice mail. She hadn’t read nor listened to any of them and had even decided to turn off her phone at some point during the night. She needed some time alone to take a breath and to swallow the disappointment that was forming a lump in her throat.

Despite the emotional roller coaster this day had been, she hadn't fallen asleep until late in the night, turning over in the sheet nonstop while thinking of all the comebacks she could have said to his face. And like every other night for months now, when she had finally managed to get some sleep, her worst nightmare had woken her up a couple of hours later.

It only made her feel worse and she cried all the tears in her body. It was like whatever emotion she had retained in the last year had come back to her like a wrecking ball. She was angry for all sorts of reasons all linked to Jake one way or another. She was also very sad of the situation she found herself into, of Jake having spoiled their reunion, of the spectacle she had given in front of her loved ones.

So, when she turned on her phone a few hours later, eyes still puffy and red from the lack of sleep and the crying, she didn’t hesitate to turn down his call when his smiley face appeared on her phone screen. At that time, she discovered the multiple texts and missed calls of her parents and Jake’s sisters. She sent them a quick group message, letting them know she was fine and that she would catch up later. Leaving her phone on the kitchen counter, she got ready for her day.

Her phone rang four more times while she was getting ready. She was now determined to let him know to leave her alone. She was still pissed, and she needed to compose herself. This was without counting on the doorbell ringing when she was about to answer her phone.

Stopping whatever she was doing, she made the few steps from the kitchen counter to her apartment door, opening it without even thinking who she would find behind. Much to her surprise it was the only person she didn’t want to see. Jake. Standing there, phone in his hand.

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed when she nearly shut the door in his face.

He stopped it before it was fully closed and after a deep sigh, Y/N let him in without even giving him a look. She closed the door behind him, passing him - still without looking at him - and went to the living room. She leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms on her chest much like he had done during lunch just the day before.

Jake stood in the middle of the room, watching around him. It was the first time he was in her new place, the one she started rented after she broke up with her long-term boyfriend. It wasn’t much, only a one-bedroom apartment with a sanitized decor - she hadn’t had the heart to make it her own. It was close to her work and not a too long drive from her parents; it was all she really needed.

Y/N studied him in silence. He must not have had the memo about the Texas weather at that time of the year as he was only wearing a beige sweater, sleeves rolled up. It wasn’t much of a surprise he had forgotten how it was; he had spent so little time home in the last ten years.

When her eyes finally got to his face, she realized he was now staring at her. She tried reading him like she could before, but what she found in his eyes, she couldn’t interpret. Perhaps something had been broken between them. Perhaps there were only so much absence someone could handle. Perhaps they had let the miles come in between them for real this time.

She couldn’t tell how long they stayed like this before he finally spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Long gone was the hope she had that he would apologize.

Jake had never been one to be wrong; he was probably even the most stubborn person she had ever met. Though she liked this confidence in him, she also knew it was hiding something much deeper. His trauma of being abandoned by his father when he was still a toddler. The fear of his loved ones realizing what a failure he was, despite everything he had already accomplished. The fear of never being enough.

He had assured her it wasn’t one of the reasons he had enrolled, and she knew he was lying to her just as much he was lying to himself. But she wasn’t her twenty-something-self; she wasn’t going to protect his feelings anymore. Now that they didn’t have an audience, she could lay her cards on the table.

“Do you mean, just like you didn’t tell us about the ejection seat accident that you had six months ago?”

She saw his face drop ever so slightly before he regained his composure back. She wasn’t the only one keeping things from him, yet contrary to him, the things she was keeping a secret weren’t really hers anyway.

“How would you know?”

“Javy called me that time,” she stated dryly, memories of the call she got in the middle of the night flowing to her head. She still had nightmares about it most nights. “He wanted me to know in case your brain injury worsened, and they had to call your family.”

This secret, she had never told anyone and had carried the weight of it on her own until now. She had smiled and assured everyone that all was fine for the days - sixteen in total - they didn’t hear from him; how could he, he had been literally in a 24h surveillance at the hospital. She had had Javy on the phone to report every little detail he had of Jake’s evolution. She hadn’t had sleep for weeks straight and had nearly cried when Jake had called him after a very busy and unexpected mission he took part in - another way for putting he had just got cleared from the hospital.

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, Jake! You got banned from flying for six weeks. Six fucking weeks!”

“And yet, it wasn’t the first time I ended up in the hospital, nor was it the last time. You know that’s part of the job.”

Y/N snorted.

Like hell she knew. The job description went with never being in the same time zone as your loved ones, missing every single milestone in their life, putting his very own safety at risk so they could all be free and safe, and omitting all details of the national security missions to which he was taking part. She was pretty sure though there was no line in his contract about lying about his health, especially when he could have died, to his family.

For some reason, this whole situation had made his absence even worse. She realized he didn’t feel safe to let them know when things had gone bad; if this time she had known, she couldn’t even imagine all those other times Javy hadn’t been there to inform her. It had awakened a visceral (and most likely also irrational) fear in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him and she still wasn’t ready to accept it.

“Why is this such a big deal when you knew what was going in here and didn’t even tell me?”

If she hadn’t been this tired, Y/N would have probably walked to him to slap him. How could he compare his near-death experience to his sisters’ decisions? How could any of it be equivalent?

“This was not my truth to tell,” she only replied blankly.

Yes, she wasn’t very proud of hiding things from Jake and lying on purpose. But she wasn’t thirteen any longer and when people confided in her - when she promised she wouldn’t tell him anything - she wasn’t going to go running to her best friend to spill all the tea.

“Will you then tell me the truth about what really happened between you and the other dickhead?”

“I already told you everything,” she answered dryly, a little bit too quickly for it not to be suspicious.

“I don’t believe you.”

Y/N knew from the sound of his voice it was pure provocation. He gave her the same daring look she had just seen the day before - the same consuming flame was in his eyes - and she could see his infamous smirk dawning on his lips. She wondered why he wanted to prove just how right he was - how he was always right - so bad. It made her skin scramble how infuriating he was.

She didn’t answer right away and stared at him, arms crossed on her chest a little bit tighter to protect herself. Everything that was happening was only making her angrier towards him. He had ruined everything, and he had just decided to continue on doing so.

She had dreamt about him coming home for months and months, to have him by her side and now, she could only wish for him to go away. The anger, the pain, the animosity; it was all too much. She couldn’t keep up anymore.

“What do you want me to tell you, huh? How much of a great boyfriend and man he was, but that it still wasn’t enough? How much a horrible person I am for not being able to fall in love with a person that would devote his own life to try and make me happy?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but closed it as the words sank in. It all made sense to him suddenly. Why she seemed to be relieved it was all over. Why she didn’t call him after he broke her heart. Why, on the rare occasion he had discussed the break-up with his sisters, they had never talked badly about her ex-boyfriend. He didn’t break her heart. He never did.

She was the one breaking his.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, this time his voice much softer.

How could she? When it all started with his accident - that she wasn’t even supposed to know of. When it took her five years of a stable relationship to realize her longtime boyfriend had never have been the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. When it took her half of her adult life to understand she had been lying to herself for almost all her life and that even now, she didn’t know her truth from her lies any more.

Knowing the truth, Jake didn’t know what to say. He wanted to feel sorry, he wanted to tell her he was. But was he really? It would be lying to say he didn’t exult when he had heard of the break-up... On the day she introduced him to Nick, they he had discussed - quite vividly - about the country actions in Afghanistan - one of the campaigns he had just come home from - and from that day, Jake had just decided he wouldn’t like the man. He hadn’t been very subtle about disliking him, but in his opinion, Nick had paid him back in his own coin: monopolizing Y/N whenever Jake had her on the phone, making her choose between the two of them when he had had the opportunity to fly her oversea. He still felt nauseous to recall how Y/N had seemed to only look at him every time Nick was in the room with them.

He made a few steps in her direction, going to comfort her, but Y/N only shook her head. She wouldn’t let any of this go so easily. It wasn’t because she had confided in him, that he now knew all the truth from her part, that everything else would be forgotten. There were still a lot of unspoken truth to uncover.

“Why are you really here, Jake?”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason you got this leave, what is it?”

They stood less than a metre away, eyes in eyes. Jake never felt so vulnerable as every time she looked at him as if she could read his soul. He knew she was looking for something. Something he couldn’t give her.

Looking away, he answered, “It’s nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Y/N slipped away before he could even react. He watched as she turned back towards the front door. She opened it without a word and looked into his eyes as she stood leaned against it.

“Goodbye, Jake.”

And this time, he didn’t even try to fight.

Javy: Hey, got Hangman on the phone today. You okay?

Y/N: Did he vent at you for calling me that one time?

Javy: Almost.

Javy: He wasn’t really angry though. Just frustrated I guess.

Y/N: I bet. Wasn’t really the nice little break he must have planned.

Javy: If there is anything to learn from all this it is that truth is better spoken from the person they apply to.

Javy: You should talk to him.

Y/N: Yeah well I’ll see about that.

Jake was very nervous, and he wasn’t very nervous a lot.

In fact, he was pretty sure the last time he was that nervous was when he had picked Y/N up for their senior prom. Just like every year since starting high school, she had been his date - though Chad nearly had taken her away from him, but this dumbass had broken up with her only a couple of weeks before prom. That year, for some reason, everything felt different. High school years were coming to an end, they were both going to different universities. Everything was about to change, and it would never be the same. Jake had dreaded taking their relationship to the next level. If only he had known that despite going to different universities, Jake enrolling and basically the two of them living their life in parallel, their relationship had made it.

More or less so... It had been three days now since the lunch at her parents, two since their other discussion - if he would call this an argument, he was still unsure - and today was the first time he was seeing her since then.

After spending time with his family, he was on his way to meet with some of their childhood friends. Normally, Y/N was one of them and she had been invited. But with the recent events, he didn’t know if she would be here. He had had time to reflect on what had been said and finally had apologized to her voice mail as she wouldn’t let his calls through. He had given her plenty of time and space, sending in only a couple of good mornings and good nights texts, just like he was used to. Yet he didn’t know what to expect.

When he spotted her already sat at the table he had booked, his heart started pounding furiously. It gave him hope not everything between them had been broken.

“Hey,” Jake greeted Y/N softly when he had gotten at her level.

Y/N only nodded, barely looking at him, before continuing her discussion with their friend, Monica, like nothing had happened. Jake swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing to greet everyone around the table.

In all those diners they had had with their friends when he had been home, she would have been sat next to him, so close but merely touching. He would have had his arm resting nonchalantly on the back of her chair. He would have whispered all sorts of things in her ears, and she would have laughed open light-heartedly at every single one of his jokes.

That night, she was sat as far as possible from him and he had difficulty focusing on the group discussion, his mind going back to her every time. He probably went the whole evening looking at her not so subtly in the hope she would like to give him a look. She did not.

“You good?” Matt, sat at his side, asked him after the main course.

“Yeah,” Jake answered though the little tremor in his voice didn’t reflect confidence.

“Just give her a little time. It’s just a lot, y’know.”

Jake only nodded.

The problem was indeed just that: time. His flight back was in two days now and she was supposed to be his ride. He knew she would be able to drop him off without speaking a word, while he sat there in the agonizing silence. He was sure he was not able to do it for a couple of hours, he couldn’t imagine what it would be to not have her speak to him every again. He couldn’t get back to combat with Y/N still mad at him. He needed to fix things. He had been able to do it with his sisters; he had to do it with Y/N.

Indeed, the lunch had finished soon after Y/N’s dramatic departure. His sisters hadn’t spoken another word to him, and Y/N’s parents had tried to maintain some semblance of a conversation. Jake had taken a quick walk to clear his mind before going to his parents.

He had sat down with Olivia first and then Sophia, so they could tell him everything that had been going on. He sat there listening to what they had to say until they were done. There had been a lot of crying on their side (only a tiny little bit on his side - most likely because he had a dust in the eye, he would say). In the end, they had hugged and laughed and remembered that they loved each other and that nothing could be more important than that.

He had realized Olivia seemed much more at peace, somehow differently but also similarly to Y/N’s. She had so many plans on her side - buying a house, planning a trip to Europe, getting a puppy – as if she had just discovered she could be a unique person outside her marriage and she genuinely was happier.

The talk with Sophia had been a little bit more sensitive. The idea of her enrolling made his blood boiling, but he had remained calm – or at least tried to - and listened to her reasons. If he was afraid to see himself in her, her reasons were solely different than his. She didn’t want this only to do like him; it was more that he had paved the way for her. He had made her promise to think some more about it - at least, graduate from college before deciding anything - and he had promised to be supportive. He would have some work on himself, but he would cross that bridge when he’d get there.

They had of course talked about Y/N and how she was carrying the whole family on her shoulders. She always made sure everyone was alright, answering her phone at 3 a.m. to pick up Sophia from a frat party gone wild, welcoming Olivia in her tiny apartment - giving her the only bed to sleep on the couch, despite her protest - the time she turned things round after Mark and she had decided to take some time apart. She even made sure their mother was alright when his step-dad was away for business, bringing her homemade meals that she only had to heat up and keeping her company.

If he always knew what an amazingly caring person she was, it only proved him right. He would be forever grateful she was the first person to have talked to him on his first day of kindergarten. He would be forever grateful for the woman she was. If he was honest with himself, it all made him love her even more.

He wasn’t ready to watch her from afar - well, from much far away than his current position - but he would do it (or at least try), should she ask him to…

After what seemed to be an eternity, the evening finally came to an end.

Jake didn’t get the opportunity to speak to Y/N though he hesitated multiple times to just call her out or walk to her and demand that they had a chat. She was currently bidding goodbye to everyone in front of the restaurant, and Jake was watching her attentively to ambush her just as soon as she was finished. He didn’t care if he would be rude to anyone by not saying thank you for coming and goodbye; he needed to talk to her.

After she hugged Monica and promised to let her know when she got home safely, she reached for her car key in her bag and made her way to her car without even looking at him. Jake took his luck and followed her. He called after her, but she refused to acknowledge him.

“Can we not?”

“Why?” she turned around suddenly. “Want me to tell you anything else?”

“Y/N, please.”

She only raised an eyebrow before turning back and continuing walking. Too bad for her, Jake wasn’t one to give up this easily. He followed her lead up to her car that she started to unlock to get in. A wave of panic got through him as he could feel her slip away from his fingers and he didn’t want that. If they didn’t have this talk now, he was not sure they would have it at all.

“I only have two days left,” he said, interposing himself between the closed door and her. “Please.”

Y/N froze at only a few centimetres away from him. She seemed to think about what options she had. Unfortunately for her, there just wasn’t much as she couldn’t make Jake move even if she wanted to. So, she chose the reasonable choice. She crossed her arms over her chest and listened.

“I-” he sighed, passing a hand on his face, frustration clearly visible on his face now. “There has been an incident. We lost two men.”

Y/N’s arms immediately dropped to her side; the mask she wore on her face cracked. She could have been angry he lied to her, yet again, but this time, it was too serious. People died. The command had given them time off because of it. It only reminded her it could end at any time. She really could lose him.

“Jake,” she sighed.

“I-”

His voice broke and Y/N didn’t hesitate to go in for a hug. Out of habits, his arms found her waist and he buried his face in her hair. He breathed her perfume in, trying to ground himself and not totally lose it. She was his rock. There were no ways he would still be here if it wasn’t for her waiting for him at home.

He couldn’t lose her.

“I can only imagine the worry I cause you all,” he muttered in her hair. “I didn’t want to add anything to it.”

Y/N grabbed his face with both her hands and forced him to look at her. She wore a small frown on her eyebrows and determination in her eyes. While she was touched he wanted to spare their feelings, not knowing what was going on was even worse. She couldn’t count the number of times she had thought he was dead when an unknown number had called her phone. In order to support him the best way they could, they needed to know.

“Getting you back in one piece is our priority,” she started, voice bold as if she wanted him to engrave her words in his head. “That’s why we are keeping things to ourselves. We don’t want you to worry about us when you should be solely focused on staying alive.”

Jake half-smiled in return, which made Y/N relax a bit. Her hands fall on his shoulder as he kept her close to him, so close that there was no space between their two bodies. They had realized they wanted the exact same thing for one another: for them to be safe and sound.

“I worry about you all, all the time. I worry about you, all the time,” he confessed, his voice still low.

Jake reached out to tuck a loose string of hair behind her ear and Y/N instinctively leaned in his touch. It was like this between them, easy and pure. It always had. Sometimes - like these last past days, they were so caught up in life they seemed to forget what they had was so unique. Every time they had found their way back to each other.

“I left you alone while I am off, living my dream.”

“Don’t say it like you could have made any other choice, Jake.”

“I don’t regret it,” he answered right back. “Yet if I had to do it all over again, there are a lot of things about you that I would do a whole lot differently.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her heart rate slightly going up. If they often shared I-love-you’s more out of habits than anything else - though they were always genuine, Jake had never really expressed out loud how he felt about her, and from the electricity in the air - totally different from the explosive tension that had built up until now, she could feel there were more to it.

“It’s never too late, they say,” he smiled softly, his hand making it to the back of her neck.

Y/N hold her breath, searching in his eyes if he was being serious and if he was really wanting to finish the conversation they had started the night of their senior prom. If he wanted to do it right here, right now in a parking lot. It was a conversation that could have totally changed their life if they had it. A conversation for which they every so often imagined what they would have said if fear hadn’t stopped them.

If there were much younger back then, nothing now had changed at all.

“I’ve always been yours,” Y/N whispered. It would be lying if relief hadn’t wash over Jake. Of course he had known - he had always known - yet, hearing it was another thing.

“I know.”

Y/N’s bright eyes saw his eyes dove down to her lips, only a dozen of centimetres away she realized now, then back to her eyes. Her cheeks were burning up from the anticipation of what was to come. Yet, lost in each other’s eyes, none of them moved.

At that moment, the world could have stopped that they wouldn’t have noticed. Nothing else but them mattered.

“Well, kiss me then.”

#jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #top gun hangman #top gun maverick fic #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #hangman top gun #jake seresin imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun x reader #top gun x you #top gun x y/n #lea's writing #hangman imagine

[goldsainz]

FRIENDS INTO LOVERS — one shot.

pairing: lando norris x reader

MASTERLIST.

request: “Hi, could I request a childhood sweethearts with lando please and thank you 🫶🫶”

NOTE: so i did a social media au for this, hope that it's okay! let's pretend for the sake of the story's timeline that olivia is slightly older 😁 i changed the request format thingy bc the gap it left bothered me… if you check my other requested works you’ll know what i mean

liked by mickschumacher, conangray and 301,796 others

lando.jpg Day 61. Road trip with the one and only yourusername

view all 4,527 comments

yoursername my passenger princess <3

⤷ lando.jpg 😐😐😐

⤷ danielricciardo Don't even try to deny it

landofan1 literally love y/n sm

landofan2 i want a friendship like theirs

ynfan1 LANDO BEING A PASSENGER PRINCESS IS NOW CANON

liked by yoursername and 8,139 others

user1 when are they gonna get together!!!

maxfewtrell Still can’t believe I wasn’t invited🙄

⤷ yourusername this wouldn’t happen if you had other friends!

⤷ maxfewtrell Rude! I’m gonna tell Lando about this.

liked by landonorris, irisapatow and 2,643,197 others

yourusername All Of The Girls You Loved Before is out now in all streaming platforms!!! 💗

view all 39,648 comments

landonorris So so proud of you! Everyone will get sick of me playing this all the time

⤷ yourusername you’re fr my #1 fan

⤷ landonorris And what about it? 🤨

landofan21 this 100% about lando no doubt about it

oscarpiastri New song for the McLaren playlist

liked by yourusername and 17,923 others

ynfan21 if this isn’t a confirmation post + the comments… then idk what is

ynfan22 “i wanna teach you how forever feels” when will it be my turn😭

landofan22 THE BEHIND THE SONG INTERVIEW??? if this song isn’t about lando idk what’ll do…

⤷ user21 what did she say?

⤷ landofan22 “It’s about loving someone so much you don’t really care that they’ve been with someone before you, just feeling grateful you’re getting the best version of them.” that is so about lando idc what anyone says

⤷ ynfan23 don’t forget about: “I wrote it thinking about how maybe there’s someone that’s always kind of been there, and you didn’t notice or the timing wasn’t right, but now that it is you don’t think about anything else other then them.”

liked by carlossainz55, team_quadrant and 1,857,426 others

landonorris May I introduce my lovely girlfriend, Y/N! She’s been my friendfor more years than I can remember (17 if we’re being precise) and there is no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. Thank you, for being my best friend all this time and letting me love you ❤️

view all 27,861 comments

ynfan31 OMG??? I WASN’T EXPECTING THIS TODAY

sebastianvettel Congrats you two! Nice to see you both finally came to your senses

⤷ landonorris Thank you, Seb!

⤷ yourusername 🫶🫶🫶

landofan31 i’m gonna need 3-5 business days to recover

landofan32 THAT TWITTER USER WAS RIGHT???

ynfan32 words can’t describe how i’m feeling rn

mickschumacher Glad I don’t have to keep this a secret anymore!!!

⤷ maxfewtrell Same here, mate! It was killing me

ynfan33 all this time they were together😭😭

user31 love is actually real

liked by pierregasly, jackchampion and 2,903,645 others

yourusername i guess hard launching is the only way! i’ve loved this man for more years than i’d like to admit, as a friend and now as my boyfriend!! wherever you stray, i follow 🤍 (shoutout to user3 on twitter your thread was scarily spot on)

view all 43,554 comments

landofan41 the willow lyrics😭😭

ynfan41 your honour i love them

lilymhe you’re still my wife, right?

⤷ yourusername forever and always, baby

⤷ alex_albon Crazy to see how people forget they have boyfriends at home…

ynfan42 THESE ARE NOW MY PARENTS!!

ynfan43 i guess being delulu works out in the end

landofan42 he’s the king of her heart (i’m sorry but i had to make the taylor reference)

francisca.cgomes now we can finally go on double dates!!

⤷ yourusername we could always go on a date alone

⤷ landonorris I think we’ll stick just with the double date

ynfan44 they’re officially the best couple on the grid

#*ੈ✩༄ my works ! #lando norris #olivia rodrigo #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris insta au #lando norris imagine #lando norris headcanons #lando norris one shot #lando norris au #lando norris instagram au #lando norris f1 #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one x you

[t-lostinworlds]

Competitively Stupid | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: rivals-ish (since childhood) to lovers, some angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

》 WARNINGS: canon divergent (everyone is alive & well & happy thanks), pet names (sweetheart, baby), shitty parents (on both sides), competitiveness on all accounts, r is basically a counterpart of steve during high school (cheerleading captain, queen of hawkins high, swim team captain, etc.), peer pressure-ish, some stupid decisions & stupider actions, very irresponsible cliff jumping (which doesn't end well), drowning, CPR, injuries, an emotional moment™, love confessions, and a happy, sappy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

A/N: hi! okay, well, it's been a while since i posted a steve fic so i'm kinda nervous ngl. also, not me making it a habit to include swimmer!steve in all my fics from here on out. this was meant to be short & sweet to dust off the cobwebs but lol. super random. i saw a video of someone cliff-jumping & boom, the idea was born. also, not me using the first aid training i learned in college.

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE H. MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

You genuinely have no idea why you were even doing this in the first place.

"There's no way you can do it."

Right.

That's why.

The taunting voice of Steve fucking Harrington was the reason why you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a thirty-foot drop into the dark ocean.

This was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your new found family.

"You know you don't have to listen to him, right?" Robin sighed, so completely over the fact that her two best friends who never got along no matter what she tried, somehow came to an agreement to not listen to her right now.

Not that you could blame her.

You and Steve had been rivals ever since you were kids.

It was what you had always known.

What with narcissistic parents who used their children as pawns to one up each other, you had been conditioned to see him as an enemy from the second you step foot into their home.

Your family was invited into the Harrington residence for dinner as a way of welcoming you to the neighborhood. You recently just moved in, so you didn't know anyone else yet. When you heard that the next-door neighbor had a son who was your age, you had been really excited to gain a new friend.

All that changed when your dad sat you down an hour before, prepping you about how the Harringtons were a respected family in the town, and that you needed to show them you weren't any less than them, if not show them you were better. He drilled it in your brain to be on your best behavior, to be the best and the perfect daughter.

It only got worse when you finally sat down at that dinner table.

The comparisons were endless.

"See, my daughter here is a wonderful gymnast, quite amazing for someone her age."

"How wonderful. Steven here has swimming lessons every weekend. His coach said he might end up in the Olympic team once he's of age."

"Splendid. How about his academics? I'm sure he can take inspiration from my daughter's exemplary grades."

"He's the top of his class. Maybe if they study together, your daughter would be able to catch up in time."

It was harsh, pitting two seven-year-olds against each other—impressionable kids who only wanted to make their mom and dad proud.

But neither your parents nor his truly gave a shit. All they cared about was becoming the best family in the street, if not the whole town.

The sad thing was, those dinners became a regular thing, held alternately between your house and his.

It always looked like a preparation for battle whenever your mom would pull out the finest china in her collection along with the cookbook she only ever used for special occasions.

It was in the guise of cordiality when it was, in fact, an excuse to show off, to make a competition out of everything, a moment to compare who did what best. Those dinners were like monthly scoreboards, tallying up the respective families' recent achievements—and that included yours and Steve's.

Nobody was surprised that the competitiveness stuck with you both.

And it only got worse during high school.

Whether that was something as mundane as winning the popularity contest when running different circles—even going as far as getting crowned the King and Queen of Hawkins High—down to academics and extracurriculars.

Captain of the basketball team. Captain of the cheerleading squad. Prom Queen. Prom King. MVP of the season. Brightest student of the year. Beer pong Queen. Kegstand King. Best summer camp counselor. Lifeguard of the month and it went on and on and on and on.

When he got co-captain for the men's swim team, you rubbed it in his face that you were the captain of the women's team. When you got second place at the science fair, he made sure to rub his first place medal right in your face. When you became president of the student council, you ordered him around to do extra work whenever the basketball team was required to help with community service.

It was a constant back and forth.

There was always a competition between you and Steve Harrington.

And sure, since you graduated, it became subdued. But it was still very much there. Vying on who was the coolest babysitter in your band of ragtags, even fighting to have the title of Robin Buckley's ultimate best friend.

This thing between you and Steve was deeply rooted. So there really wasn't much Robin could do apart from getting in between your frequent squabbles before you started actually killing each other.

In Robin's words, something drastic had to happen for you both to finally wake up and see that this rivalry between you both wasn't what it seemed to be on the surface.

You had no idea what she was even implying.

Now, on a little getaway on the nearest beach you could drive to, the competition started with a race on who could get there first. It wasn't even fair seeing that you weren't the one driving.

The group had split into two, some were in Eddie's van—along with everyone's belongings since he had ample space in the back—while the others were in Steve's Beemer. Since you and Steve couldn't be in the same room together without an argument ensuing, it was a unanimous decision to have you two separated. Nobody wanted to deal with that for hours on the road.

Not that you could blame them, either.

And sure, it was the kids who suggested the race, but with Steve's smug smirk and that arrogant wink he threw once you got into Eddie's passenger seat, you knew it was game on between you too.

Yet despite the metal head being a fast—albeit slightly reckless—driver, he somehow took his sweet goddamn time getting to your destination.

Only when your group arrived at the beach last, did he say something about Steve threatening him to be extra careful with driving because there's important cargo in his van—whatever the hell that meant.

You lost to Steve on that one, but you would argue it was rigged from the start.

The next was a supposed friendly bout on who could build the biggest sandcastle that didn't topple over after a few minutes.

It was boys versus girls with you and him being team leaders. The girls won, obviously and El never used her powers. It was fair and square since the other team mostly argued over everything they could think of and had no teamwork at all. You made sure to point that out to Steve as you watched their sandcastle crumble into ruins.

Another one was beach volleyball. Same leaders as before, but you get to pick the members of your teams this time. Steve made it his mission to pick the tallest of the bunch. Still, it wasn't the advantage he thought it was because it ended up being one point too close.

Your team would've won if Steve wasn't such a dramatic asshole.

It was truly an accident. When you spiked that ball, you were not aiming for his face. He simply thought it was a good idea to catch the ball with it. Besides, he was distracted, flirting with some random girl in a bikini who was passing by, right in the middle of the game.

How was it your fault that he wasn't paying attention?

He made sure to oversell his injury after that, curled up on the sand as the girl fussed over him. But you saw that smirk on his face. You would've hit him again—definitely not by accident this time—if you weren't busy arguing with Robin about the point deduction. She said it was only fair since you hit the ball when she hadn't blown her imaginary whistle yet.

You decided to let it go when Steve commented on you being a whiny sore loser.

Unfortunately, the competition was ending with who could make jumping off a cliff and into the ocean look the coolest—adults only, despite the groans of protest from the mischievous bunch.

Eddie offered to stay behind and watch the rascals. When teased, he simply said he didn't want to test Death today.

His comment didn't help your nerves.

Robin said she was only coming purely as a voice of reason. She'd been saying nonstop how it was a horribly stupid idea, that there really was no need to be doing this in the first place.

But Steve wasn't backing down, so you weren't going to either.

So once again, it was only you and him.

As it always had been.

He volunteered to go first, throwing in a comment about rushing back up the cliff's edge before you could take your turn because he wanted a front-row seat for when you'd chicken out.

It only made you want to do it more.

His dive was smooth, almost flawless, you admit. He even showed off with a little flip near the end. It didn't take long for him to swim back to the shore, either. His years of training as a swimmer were obviously paying off.

But you trained just as much if not more than he had.

The only difference was, adrenaline didn't fuel you as much as it did Steve. So instead of getting all powered up looking down at a cliff's edge like he was, you were terrified.

But who wouldn’t get scared looking down at harsh waves crashing against sharp and jagged rocks? There was no margin for error here because one wrong slip and you'd be dead.

Still, if Steve could do it, you could do it better.

You weren't about to lose to his stupid ass.

"I'm not listening to him," you argued back, taking in a shaky breath as you took a step.

"He's doing reverse psychology!" she squeaked. "So you doing it is still listening to him!"

"I'm fine, Robs, I can do it," you mumbled, a slight questioning lilt at the end of your sentence.

"Look, sweetheart, it's okay to admit defeat," Steve said, cocky voice with an even cockier smile as he crossed his toned arms against his bare chest. His hair was still damp, quick to climb back up so he could get his front-row seat as he promised.

But you weren't chickening out.

Never.

"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you lost to me so, it shouldn't sting as much."

You ignored him.

Instead, you took another step, the tips of your toes now hanging over the edge.

You can do this. Wipe that smug smirk off his face. You got this.

"Listen, you don't have to do—"

"Shut it, Harrington," you growled.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, counting from three, two, one…

You jumped.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

He shouldn't have pressured you like that.

The jump wasn't deadly, per se, but it also wasn't exactly deemed the safest, especially if you weren't an expert in any sort of way.

And he didn't want to say it out loud because if he did, he knew it would only push you to do it more just to prove him wrong.

But Steve could see how scared you were.

He was already dropping the act, voice laced with concern as he started telling you that he wasn't worth all of this, that he was stupid and that you were always going to be better than him.

But, obviously, you didn't listen.

You simply jumped.

You and your stupidly competitive ass.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the edge of the cliff, tensely watching your falling figure disappear into the water with a splash.

"You two are complete idiots."

"Shut up," Steve gritted, never looking away from the water. Yet any annoyance was quickly overpowered by sheer worry as he scanned the deep blue for anything.

There was no sign of you.

"Like seriously! It's like I'm the only one with a brain cell here!"

"Come on, come on, come on," Steve mumbled, completely ignoring Robin when you still hadn't emerged to the surface. "Come on, Y/N, don't scare me like this."

"Uh, Steve?" Robin asked after a moment, carefully looking over the cliff before shooting him a worried glance. "You look anxious and you being anxious is making me nervous."

"She hasn't come up," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.

It was nearing a minute.

"Maybe you didn't see her?"

"I haven't taken my eyes off the water, Buckley," he gritted, too harsh and uncalled for since Robin didn't do anything wrong.

But he was panicking.

A minute and thirty seconds.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. You're an amazing swimmer," he whispered encouragingly, hoping some sort of magic would let you hear him underwater all while saying it aloud for his own sanity.

Two minutes.

You could never hold your breath any longer than that.

Steve knew because he always won that competition.

And that was in a calm pool.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, gearing up to dive after you. "I don't think she's coming up!"

"Okay! Okay," Robin rushed, panicking. "Maybe she's already on the shore. We should go down now and see—"

Steve didn't listen.

He jumped right after you.

The biting cold was awakening.

Still, it was the absolute fear of losing you that was keeping him alert.

He ignored the sting of the salty ocean water in his eyes as he frantically searched for you, his heart beating hard and fast, struggling for oxygen all while fearing for your safety.

Steve didn't know which came first, relief or dread when finally found you, aimlessly floating and unconscious under the deep blue.

He swam to you as fast he could, securely hooking his arm under your shoulder and dragging you up to the surface.

Steve always knew that adrenaline can give you a random boost of strength when needed. He simply didn't expect that to be proven true when he was carrying your unresponsive body in his arms as he brought you to the shore.

He gently placed you on your back on the sand, cupping your face as he checked for any injuries.

You were so cold.

"Hey, hey, wake up," he begged, grabbing your shoulders to try and shake you awake.

Nothing.

"You didn't have to make the jump, you idiot. Why do you always want to prove me wrong," he scolded with no ounce of anger, only worry. He started tapping your cheek frantically. "Come on, wake up!"

Still no response.

"Dammit, Y/N, why'd you have to be so fucking stubborn," he scolded, his voice shaking in fear, his chest tightening as he pressed two fingers against your pulse point.

His own heart stopped when he couldn't feel yours.

And you weren't breathing.

Steve tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked now, he wouldn't be able to give you the aid that you direly need.

"Come on, Harrington. You know what to do. You trained for this," he mumbled to himself, getting into the proper position to give you CPR.

He gently cupped your forehead with his left hand, his other two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up.

"You're going to be okay," he whispered, pinching your nose before slotting his lips against yours.

Breathing into your mouth, one, two, he watched your chest rise as it filled up with air, only for it to settle back down without coming back up again. He quickly kneeled straighter, locking his fingers together and placing the heel of his left hand in the middle of your chest, pushing down with enough pressure to try and get your heart to start again.

"One, two, three, four, come on, sweetheart, breathe for me," he mumbled, easily finding the right rhythm, his first aid training as a lifeguard coming back to him like it was second nature.

Still, he never wanted to use this skill in a real-life situation, much less use it on you.

It was the longest thirty counts in his life.

Check for a pulse. Check for breathing.

Still nothing.

"Goddammit, Y/N, come on!" he growled, blinking back the tears as he pressed his mouth against yours again.

Two rescue breaths.

Thirty chest compressions.

Steve repeated the cycle over and over. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears, his knees were burning as the rough sand dug deeper into his skin, and his arms were starting to get sore, tiredness slowly covering his aching muscles.

But he'd rather die first than give up on you now.

"Steve—"

"Call for help, Robin!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. When he didn't hear any movement, he yelled, "Don't just stand there! Go!"

He was going to apologize for being an asshole later. For now, he needed you to fucking breathe.

"Come on, come on, please," he begged, leaning back down to give you two more rescue breaths. "Breathe for me, baby, please."

Thirty chest compressions.

"Trying to prove me wrong when I've always been wrong, you idiot."

Five, six, seven—

"Sweetheart, come on," he choked back a sob. "Who's going to call me out when I'm being stupid, huh? You know Robin can't do it alone."

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—

"And you're really going to leave me alone to watch our kids?"

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—

"Y/N, baby, please, I can't live without you," he whimpered.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir—

Steve felt his breath leave his lungs when you finally gasped for air.

He quickly turned you to your side, rubbing your back as you choked out all the ocean water that got into your system.

"There you go, you're okay," he whispered, whether to reassure you or himself, he didn't even know anymore. All he was focused on was making sure you were going to be okay.

"S-Stevie?" you coughed out the nickname that was only ever used by you.

It was the equivalent to his nickname for you—sweetheart.

Names that started out to annoy each other but the more often it was used as time passed, it only managed to grow into an endearment that held something warm underneath it. You both were quick to realize that the nicknames you had for each other weren't out of spite anymore.

Neither of you simply addressed it.

"Steady, sweetheart, I'm right here," he reassured, hurriedly getting into your line of sight to stop you from trying to turn around to face him. He gently cupped your cheek, offering you a soft smile when your gaze found him. "I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded as best as you could, your eyes clinging onto his brown ones only for them to screw shut when a shiver ran through your whole body.

"C-Cold," you stammered.

"I know, I know, come here," he said softly, guiding you to sit up before quickly settling behind you. He gently pulled you closer between his legs, his chest pressed against your back as he blanketed his body over yours, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.

You turned to face him slightly, burying your face into his neck only for you to wince at the slight movement. He quickly tried to steady you again, checking over you twice to look for any visible injury. But he couldn't find any.

"Tell me what hurts," he asked, pressing his lips against your cold forehead as he fully wrapped his arms around you.

"A-Ankle," you whimpered in pain, your grip on his waist tightening and God he hated that sound so much.

You must've rolled it when you jumped, and having landed on it when you reached the water, it definitely made it worse.

"It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, littering kisses against the side of your head to try and keep your mind off it. "Robin already called for help, they should be on their way, alright?"

You gave him a small nod, inching even closer to him, seeking as much warmth from him as possible. Your cold breath was tickling his skin but he didn’t care. Hell, you could be breathing fucking ice and he still wouldn’t give a shit.

As long as you were breathing.

"I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

"I-I'll try," you whispered.

"First to fall asleep is the biggest loser," he mumbled, squeezing you slightly when he felt your eyes flutter close. "And you wouldn't want me to win this, babe, because I'll be a little shit about it."

"Not f-fair," you choked out a laugh.

"It's plenty fair," Steve chuckled tearfully, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. He hugged you tighter instead. "So stay awake or you'll lose to me. Again."

"Right there! They're right over there!"

Steve had never been so grateful to hear Robin's voice.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"So are you finally going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Steve questioned back, unable to take his eyes off of you, soundly sleeping in a hospital bed with your foot now wrapped in a cast.

The doctor had already checked everything and thankfully, there weren't any further injuries apart from your twisted ankle.

Now, all you needed was to rest and recover.

"That you've been in love with her this whole time."

Steve sighed, squeezing your hand before turning to look at his best friend.

"I'm not in love with her, Robs."

"Right," she scoffed, raising a knowing brow. "Because jumping off a cliff with zero hesitation so you could save her is totally normal behavior for someone you claim you hate."

"I never said I hated her," he argued, and it was true. He couldn't think of a single moment where he hated you.

"Yeah, well, you two definitely don't act like you like each other."

"Does she annoy and frustrate the shit out of me? Yes. But I never hated her," he admitted.

Steve didn't know what it was exactly, maybe it was his tiredness muddling his brain, maybe it was from everything that happened in the last couple of hours finally catching up to him, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to confess everything into the open before it was too late—and it almost had been. Either way, he found himself suddenly spewing out all the things that he always just kept to himself.

"She's also been the most constant person in my life, you know? Hell, we basically grew up together. I can't just not care about her," he continued, memories flooding his system before he could even stop it. "She's been so ingrained in my life, her and the cute dresses she wore at those stupid dinners our parents always dragged us to. Her and her stupid competitions whenever our babysitters would bring us to the park together. Her and that stupid dance she always did whenever she won at anything even if it was my expense—she always does this cute little wiggle whenever she won, and that never left her even as we got older," Steve chuckled at the thought.

"And fuck, don't even get me started with how similar our parents are. She's the only one who will always get me when it comes to that," he continued. "And yeah, we compete a lot, but there was no hatred between us. Maybe at the start but all that went away when we learned that whatever our parents were feeding us was bullshit—that they were bullshit.

"And fine, did I sometimes get so annoyed whenever she got a new boyfriend? Yeah. But only because she always had this bad habit of dating fucking assholes. I don't know where she got those dickheads from but every time I see a glimpse of her crying by her window at night I swear to fucking God I would've killed every single one of those assholes if she asked," he gritted, slumping down in his seat with a sigh.

"She deserves to be treated right, you know? She's already experiencing so much shit at home, she doesn't need any more of that anywhere else. Sure, she irritates me to no end but that doesn't mean she's not a sweet girl who always cried whenever some random pet commercial came on the TV during the holidays. Does her competitiveness drive me up the wall? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean I don't feel so fucking proud of her whenever she wins another medal or achieves another milestone. And yeah, I wonder about how she's doing, if she's taking care of herself, if she's getting enough sleep between her work and classes. But that's only because I worry, you know?

"And maybe I do think about her a lot but that doesn't mean I'm in love with…"

Steve blinked.

Well fuck.

"Wow," Robin marveled. "You're stupider than I thought."

"He hit his head as a kid, cut him some slack."

Steve paled at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning red at the thought that you probably heard all the things he said.

He turned to face you, groaning in annoyance when he saw the smug smile on your lips. "You've been awake this whole time?"

"I'll leave you two love birds alone," Robin sang, quickly slipping out of the hospital room and closing the door behind her.

"How much of that did you hear?" Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Enough to say you're stupid," you hummed.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms. "I'm not the one who jumped off the cliff and almost died just to prove a fucking point."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're both stupid then," you snorted.

He shrugged. "I guess we are."

"Jesus, you don't have to act so tense. I mean, you've already given me a mouth-to-mouth, we've practically made out already," you scoffed playfully. "I honestly thought I'd die first before swapping spit with you yet here we are."

It was your attempt at alleviating the tension, to throw in a funny quip. But with everything still so fresh in his mind, Steve simply couldn't take it well.

"Don't fucking joke about that will you?" he snapped, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

The silence that followed only made the tension worse.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Steve immediately felt bad.

"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong, don't apologize," he sighed, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just—"

He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom as he looked everywhere but at you when he felt the tears well up again.

"Will you come here?"

Steve took a calming breath and did as you asked, moving his chair closer but didn't attempt anything else than that.

"Stevie," you called when he still wouldn't look at you.

Harshly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he lifted his head. You smiled at him sweetly, wiggling your fingers to get him to come even closer.

"You scared me back there," he croaked, taking your hand with a squeeze.

"I didn't mean to," you softly said, remorseful and apologetic even though you didn't have to be.

"I know," he murmured, pressing your warm palm against his cheek as he shot you a glare. "Just don't do that again."

"Promise," you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Steve leaned closer into your touch. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks to you," you hummed, brows furrowing in thought. "When Marcus got that black eye, you said it was because he was playing dirty on one of your games." You tilted your head knowingly. "That wasn't true, wasn't it?"

Steve shrugged. "He hurt you."

"It was a small bruise on the arm, Steve," you reasoned.

"He shouldn't be giving you a fucking bruise in the first place," he growled, the memory bringing back the same anger he felt when he first saw that bruise. The soft tapping of your finger against his cheek calmed him down. "Sorry."

"Did you lose on purpose to get him expelled?"

"What? No!" he scoffed, offended, rolling his eyes when you giggled. "I tried so fucking hard to win that fight, you know, for you."

"You've always been protective of me," you hummed, taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together.

"Don't think I didn't know it was you who dyed that poor girl's hair green that one year in middle school summer camp," he retaliated.

It was a sharp and piercing scream that woke up the whole camp that morning. Everyone rushed out of bed to see what was going on only to find a girl who once was blonde was now sporting bright green hair in the middle of the crowd, crying her eyes out.

Steve would've thought it was only some silly prank if he didn't know who the girl was. But he did. Because the day before he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend, only for her to turn him down in the most embarrassing and humiliating way possible.

It wasn't difficult for him to find out who the culprit was since he immediately noticed how you kept hiding your hands in your pockets for the next few days after the incident.

The counselors quickly found out that the little menace—whoever she was—decided to use permanent dye on the poor girl's hair instead of something washable.

Your green palms colored you oh so guilty.

"She called you pathetic and gross in front of everyone!" you argued, pouting. "You looked like you were about to cry and I hated it."

Steve's heart warmed at that, a smile on his face despite rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to cry."

"Yeah well," you shrugged, eyes trained on your intertwined fingers, your thumb playing with his. "I'm the only one who's supposed to be mean to you."

"Hmm," he agreed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "I guess we've always been there for each other, huh?"

"I guess so," you giggled, cupping his cheek and tugging him closer.

He stood up from his seat, following your lead until he was pressing his forehead against yours.

"Thank you for saving my life, Steve," you whispered, eyes turning glossy as so many emotions covered your irises, the weight of what almost happened catching up with you.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he said sincerely, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "I'd do it over and over again in a heartbeat."

You nodded, sniffling, "Still, thank you."

Steve wasn't able to argue some more when you all but kissed him.

The first time Steve felt your mouth on his was a horrible experience considering he was trying to keep you alive.

Now, everything was the complete opposite.

A kiss that was careful but sweet, a hint of nervousness and excitement all the same, completely unhurried yet burning with passion as his lips molded against yours.

But still, it felt like that first gasp of air—a finally.

"I'm in love with you, too, by the way," you murmured as you pulled away, your warm breath tickling his lips.

"Thanks for clarifying," he chuckled, eyes laced with adoration, unable to stop his smile from growing wider, warmer. "I couldn't figure that out from the kiss."

"I mean, you are kinda stupid," you teased.

"We're on that same boat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "I'm sure Robin would remind us about that every single day now."

"Unfortunately," you groaned playfully. "God, she gets annoying when she's right."

"Tell me about it," he hummed, brushing his lips against yours, moving away when you chased it.

You whined.

Steve didn't hesitate to dive back in.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can &lt;3

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary​​​​ and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

#cs #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #my writing

[katiexpunk]

The Art of Noticing | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary:  In the hushed corners of this desolate world, where whispers of yesteryears linger among crumbling ruins, you find a peculiar kind of peace; just like you did when you fell asleep in the darkroom for the first time. Still armed with your camera, even in this new world, you try to keep your heart attuned to the silent narratives of a forsaken universe. You used to think this was your strong suit; to be able to immortalize the unnoticed, to preserve the beauty around you, even in a world of darkness. That was until it almost got you killed. And Joel Miller hates you for it.  Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~6.1K Warnings: This one is full on corn with plot; plus lots of emotions. No specific age gap mentioned. References to loss, grief, death and sadness. Reader almost gets her throat slit, until Joel saves the day. I mean, canon-typical violence. Joel is an asshole in the beginning. Angst. Enemies to lovers. Lots of hatred towards a bird lol. Lots of film/photography references. Ellie is a gem, as per usual. Size kink. Reference to a gun/knife. Alcohol. Use of pet names (darlin', baby, good girl, sweetheart, etc.). Unprotected P in V. Oral (M and F receiving). There's a titty fuck. Grinding/dry humping. Fingering. Nipple play. There are no physical descriptions of the reader except that she has hair long enough to whip over her shoulder. Please let me know if I missed anything. A/N: This one has been in my WIPs for months. It started off as an entirely different story, but after going through and re-reading what I originally wrote, I hated it. I have all the feels about this one. Special thank you to @sydneyinacoma for being my emotional sexy support blanket and holding my balls on this one, as per usual. And to @papipascalispunk for originally editing the first version of this story, although it looks totally different now. Iris, you're a gem. Thanks for believing in me even before I did. I hope I make you proud with this one. Masterlist | Read on AO3

Tumbling at the edge Of disaster,  This is how I lived. Oh see how the chrysanthemums  Are dry now, Yet still beautiful.  ~ Noelle Kocot

In the hushed corners of this desolate world, where whispers of yesteryears linger among crumbling ruins, you find a peculiar kind of peace; just like you did when you fell asleep in the darkroom for the first time. Your mother had always told you there was beauty in capturing the poetry in the often-ignored details, and she made sure you were given the tools you needed to do so. She was kind like that. Sometimes it's as if her presence still lingers vividly in your viewfinder, her radiant smile eternally illuminating your memories.

Your film helps you to hold on to the details that no one else is around to remember anymore, details you might one day forget; details like the color of your best friend's eyes, the warm hue of orange of your grandfather’s favorite recliner, and even the nearly lime green color of the fresh green tomatoes from your garden.

In a place where the larger story has faded, you still revel in the tiny tales—the vines reclaiming forgotten streets, sunlight gently embracing relics of the past, and the murmurs of tales etched into the decay. You think about the scratches carved into the dining room table of your childhood home and often wish you could once again find your seat around it. 

But that reality is gone. 

No longer is the girl who liked to swim or play with dolls. No longer is the girl who fought with her sister for stealing clothes from her closet, or her brother for hitting too hard. 

Like many others, she’s gone. They’re gone. 

She was whisked away to make room for the woman you are today; the person you’ve had to become to survive. 

Still armed with your camera, even in this new world, you try to keep your heart attuned to the silent narratives of a forsaken universe. You used to think this was your strong suit; to be able to immortalize the unnoticed, to preserve the beauty around you, even in a world of darkness. 

That was until it almost got you killed. 

And Joel Miller hates you for it. 

++++

Months after your patrol that went wrong, you bump into Joel outside the Tipsy Bison, giving him a cursory glance before turning around. 

The idea of saying sorry crosses your mind, but for whatever reason, you don't. Your kindness, once a vibrant tapestry, is now a threadbare token. Besides, it’s his fault. He shouldn’t have been standing so close to the doorway. If anything, he should be apologizing to you.

You’re in a rather grumpy mood this evening, having wasted the last of your film only to overexpose the prints earlier in the day. Every single one – ruined. Sure, before the outbreak, this might not have bothered you as much, but now, finding film is like striking gold, and your stash is dwindling at an alarming rate. The frustration hangs over your head like a cloudy day. All you want to do is go home and sulk – forget about the mistake – at least if you were at home crying over your photographs, you wouldn’t be subject to prying eyes. 

“Watch it,” Joel says, voice low and even, a sharp hint of annoyance behind his tone. 

You stop in your tracks. You know you should walk away from this. But your temper is already on edge, sensitivity on hyperdrive, and something about the sneer of Joel’s voice gets under your skin. You spin around in a huff and toss your hair with annoyance. “Maybe next time don’t block the door,” you bark.

Joel retorts, red-hot at your audacity. “‘Scuse me? Wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?

The pet name is patronizing; you’re a real stick in his craw. 

"You heard me," you snap back, punctuating your annoyance by crossing your arms over one another across your chest.

Joel turns around and takes a large stride toward you, closing the gap between your bodies so he’s nearly chest-to-chest with yours, his imposing figure towering over you, and his eyes narrow. “What’s got your panties in a twist tonight, hmm?” Joel asks, voice dripping with sarcasm and void of any genuine concern. 

“You” you say, “you’re always so fucki–” before you can continue your sentence, Joel stops you by placing his large index finger onto your lips to hush you. "You've got one helluva smart mouth, darlin’," he says, voice low, almost menacing. 

You freeze, looking up at him unsure of what to say as he brings his face inches from yours, the scent of whiskey heavy on his breath. The flecks of amber that dance around the edges of his irises catch your attention. As you swallow, your eyes momentarily flicker down to the thin line of his lips. Abruptly, he withdraws his hand, leaving an echo of intensity lingering in the suspended moment.

He isn’t particularly nice, but you have to admit, he is fucking hot. Since his arrival in town, he's been a magnetic force, his somber aura unmistakable to even the most casual of onlookers. A silhouette of brooding intensity, with shoulders that carve the space around him and biceps that speak of strength. His voice, a rasp in the wind, adds another layer to his already large presence. 

“I’ve been told,” you pause. “Just – just get out of my way,” you say firmly, walking away as your shoulders brush against him. 

"What's got your panties in a twist?" you scoff in your best imitation of his voice. You exhale sharply, fully aware of the true reason behind the agitation. You haven’t been fucked in years, and the heat that Joel stirs low in your belly is an incredibly frustrating feeling, knowing you’ll never get to do anything about it. 

God damn infuriating man. 

++++

As you lay in bed that night, you can't help but replay your encounters with Joel, the scenes repeat like an annoying commercial that won't leave your mind. Memories of your patrol with him keep playing on a loop, embedding themselves in your thoughts, refusing to fade away in the darkness of the night. "You could’a been killed," Joel's words still ring in your ears, the weight of his tone and the intensity in his eyes seared into your memory. You remember the sounds  – the bone-crushing crunch and the grim, wet thud as Joel swiftly dealt with the raider who tried to slit your throat for your backpack, all while you were innocently looking through the lens of your camera, attempting to take a picture of a bird on a tree branch. 

“I told you to follow my instructions, to listen, and you almost got killed on my watch – f’what? A picture of a fucking bird?” he said, trying to get you to see his point of view. Of course, you’ve apologized. Profusely, even, but it falls on deaf ears. 

Ever since that moment, Joel hasn’t looked at you the same. You're certain all he sees is a stupid little girl, unable to protect herself. Nothing but a burden. Dead weight on his already sore shoulders. 

Just go to sleep and forget about it, forget about him, you think to yourself, stirring in the scratchy fabric of your sheets. 

As you drift off, you wonder what the bird saw that day. 

++++

With a grunt, Joel manages to kick off his boots in the entryway, and they land with a loud thud against the floor. The worn wooden stairs creak beneath his weight as he ascends the steps, the dim hallway leading to Ellie's room. Pushing the door ajar, he finds her peacefully asleep. A small smile tugs at his lips, grateful to see her warm and safe. 

Retreating to his room, Joel sheds the remnants of the day – his jacket, the weight of exhaustion, and the lingering sensation of your soft lips under his finger. As he settles into bed, the worn mattress groaning beneath him, he remembers the sound of your sweet voice; your puffy, teary eyes looking up at him as you apologized; and the sticky feeling of the blood on his hands from the man who tried to hurt you. 

He wishes he would have pulled you close; and held you in the safe embrace of his arms. 

He’ll never admit it, but he forgave you almost immediately, and it terrifies him more than anything in this new world ever could.

He’s already lost so much, and he’s not sure how much more he can take. 

Surely it’s easier to hate you, rather than admit the truth, rather than lose you. 

“Fuckin’ bird,” he mumbles before drifting off to sleep. 

++++

"Come on, you've gotta be there! It's gonna be a total snooze without you," Ellie pleads, practically begging you to join her at the annual community holiday gathering.

Whereas Joel mostly acts like a grade-A jerk, Ellie is like a breath of fresh air. From the moment you met her, you’ve had a connection  – you taught her the ropes of film exposure, and she's good company in a world where friends are a rare commodity. Despite your initial reluctance, you eventually cave. It’s not really your thing, but it’s a taste of normalcy, or what passes for it in this broken world, that you crave; plus, you convince yourself that you might even get a few good photos out of it. 

Standing alone at the bar, you try to relax. You fiddle with the strap of your camera that rests on the bartop as you reminisce about how before the world turned to shit, you would have been quick to capitalize on an opportunity like this – to meet a nice guy, maybe have a drink or two and then end the night between the sheets. 

You close your eyes and try to recall the last time you were touched, but it’s fruitless. It’s been so long since you’ve felt the gentle caress of a man or anyone for that matter.

You huff your residual irritation at the thought as you notice Joel talking with Tess in the distance. Tess. She’s rather new to town. You’ve only spoken once or twice, but you’ve gathered that she is a formidable woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, but still somehow kind. 

Plus she can hunt, a welcome skill around here. As she converses with Joel, you take the time to drink in the details about her that you hadn’t noticed before. You guess she’s in her mid-40s, her hair is a mousey shade of brown with small shiny threads of gray in the mix, but she wears it well. Her complexion is soft, and her smile is nice. She’s pretty. You try not to color yourself too hard in the various shades of green as you wonder if Joel thinks the same.

“Another,” you signal to the bartender, and he fills your glass with amber liquid. 

Maybe it’s the booze or the thick air from the crowded room causing your brain to go fuzzy, but you find yourself lost living out an alternate reality in your mind – one where Joel doesn’t hate you. One where he calls you a good girl, voice thick like honey, as he fucks you within an inch of your life. 

Ellie’s voice calls you back to reality as she yells your name, signaling you to join her at the other end of the room. Downing the last of your drink, appreciating the subtle warmth it brings to your insides, you carefully place the glass on the bartop, shooting a subtle nod of appreciation to the bartender as you do; you grab your camera and place the strap around your neck. As you navigate the space toward Ellie, your keen awareness catches Joel breaking from his conversation with Tess, his gaze searing into you as you walk past both of them. His face is unreadable, but that doesn’t stop your pulse from quickening under his attention. 

++++

After hours of socializing, all you crave is the comfort of your bed. Exhausted, you stumble out of the building, your balance betraying you on the gravel beneath your feet. Shit. You stand up, brushing off the lingering dirt from your knees, inadvertently smearing a small fleck of blood into your skin in the process. Of course, the one night you decide to wear a dress, the only one you own, you would end up injured. 

“Really don’t have much spatial awareness, do ya, Darlin’?” Joel says, appearing out of the darkness, his dark and husky voice rings in your ears. It comes out a little harsher than he intended. 

You shoot him a glare, half-hoping your eyes could actually launch daggers and finish him off right then and there. "Why do you always have to be such an asshole to me?" you demand, your frustration boiling over. “I’ve already apologized as much as I can, it’s fine if you don’t like me, but you could at least be cordial,” you say, voice defeated.

His mouth opens like he has something to say, but he doesn’t respond. "Right. Screw this, I'm going home,” you sigh as you walk away, thoroughly done with whatever messed-up game of cat and mouse the two of you are playing.

Joel watches you walk away, wishing he dared to go after you. 

++++

Months go by, and despite the shifting atmosphere, as the crisp embrace of autumn gradually succumbs to the biting chill of winter; the air between you and Joel remains unchanged. His indifference is as unyielding as the encroaching winter snow.

“Tommy, please don’t make me go,” you beg. “He doesn’t even like me,” you cry, hoping he’ll have some sort of mercy on you.  

“Sweetheart, he doesn’t like anyone. ‘M sorry, but it’s gotta be you two this time, ” Tommy replies, the sentiment of his voice echoing that there is no other option. 

As you’re packing your backpack, you consider taking your camera but decide against it. Joel’s words pierce through you once more, “you almost got killed on my watch – f’what? A picture of a fucking bird?” You stash it in your dresser drawer, exchange it for a beanie and gloves, and walk out of the room to head to the stables. 

Underneath the dappled morning sunlight filtering through the trees, you tread the familiar path to the barn, a soft crunch of gravel beneath your boots. The earthy scent of hay and the distant sounds of horses create a tranquil backdrop. As you approach the stables, your gaze catches Joel's silhouette – he stands, a rugged figure, in a weathered leather jacket and denim jeans with a knife sheathed at his side and a gun slung casually over his shoulder. 

"Hey," you utter, your voice a gentle cadence, drawing closer to him. His gaze assesses you with a measured scrutiny, and with a subtle nod, he responds in a low murmur, "Ready?" The acknowledgment of your greeting remains absent. 

Once inside the barn, you see the stable attendant readying your ride. 

“‘M sorry, but you two are gonna have to share a horse,” he says, matter of fact. “Good ole bessy here has a lame foot that we gotta take care of before she’s back in commission,” he adds, patting the horse on the side. “And every other horse already has a rider for the day,” he adds. You think you hear Joel groan, but you can’t be sure. 

You give the horse a friendly greeting, running your hand along its sturdy neck, a silent bond of understanding. Climbing onto its back, you settle in comfortably. Joel, without a word, positions himself behind you. The feeling of his thick chest pressed up against your back causes your breathing to hitch in your throat. Your eyes flutter closed as Joel reaches around you to grab the reins and he gently nudges the horse to go. 

The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on the path fills the air as you and Joel ride in tandem, a shared silence enveloping the space between you. The warmth of your body pressed against him, and the faint scent of your strawberry shampoo mingled with the earthy aroma of the trail, causes Joel to stiffen behind you. He adjusts his hips, subtly pulling them back, so you don’t notice.

You ride like that for what seems like an hour or more, until Joel breaks the silence, "So what’s the deal with the camera,” he asks as the horses continue their steady pace. His question throws you off. Is he being friendly?

“Oh, uh – well, my mom gave it to me when I was a little girl,” you say. Your voice goes an octave higher as you continue, “It’s all I have left of her now. All I have left of anyone, really,” you say. You bring your gloved hand up to wipe away the bead of snot that has gathered at the tip of your nose, sensitive from the cold, as you wait for his response. 

“Hmm,” he adds, sensing the sadness, the grief behind your words; a hard truth almost everyone left alive has had to live. His heart hurts for you, hell, it hurts for him, too. 

“Must be hard, reckon there’s not much worth takin’ a photo of these days,” he says, his head scanning from right to left to look out for any potential threats. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you pause. 

“When I was younger, I used to think the sound of thunder was just the sound of god rearranging the furniture,” you say, slightly angling your head back to look at him, “it’s all about perception, Joel.” 

He peers down at you, a furrow forming on his brow as he considers your words, his eyes tracking down to linger on your lips. Before you can say anything more, your attention flickers upward to the sky, the clear blue sky has been replaced by dark, ominous-looking clouds, and a raindrop falls to your cheek. 

++++

By the time you find shelter, far from the comforts of Jackson, you’re both completely drenched.

“Stay here,” Joel says, hopping off the horse and swinging the rifle over his shoulders into his thick hands. You brush away the beads of water collecting on your lashes as you watch him enter the home to make sure it’s safe. He’s gone for what feels like forever, and after he returns, the rifle is slung over his shoulder again. It’s safe.

“Alright, darlin’ – all clear, let’s get outta this mess,” he says, offering his hand to help you get off the animal. Once steady, he takes the horse by the reins to lead him into the garage for shelter. 

The rain-soaked chill clings to your skin as you and Joel step into the abandoned home, seeking refuge from the biting cold. Droplets cascade from your clothes, leaving a small puddle beneath your feet. The air inside is still, the only sound is the soft creaking of the dilapidated structure, the percussion of the raindrops falling on the roof, and the whip of the wind beating against the siding of the house. 

Without a word, you both start shedding your damp layers, your shivers becoming more pronounced in the cool silence. You stand in the dusty living room, clad in only your bra and underwear, as you hold your arms crossed over your chest partially to warm yourself but also to shield yourself from Joel’s eyes, slightly self-conscious. 

Joel briefly walks off before he returns from the bedroom off the side of the living room, having managed to find an old blanket among the remnants of the forgotten lives of the people who once lived in the home. He holds it open wide to you, an offering, and you turn your body so he can drape it around your shoulders. Once secured, you find a little bit of relief in its thick fibers. 

You turn around to face him, and he stands there, rubbing his hands together in front of him in an attempt to warm himself.

“Joel, you’re freezing,” you say, slightly taking the blanket off of your shoulders as if to offer it to him. “‘M fine, Darlin’ – I’ll be fine, keep it, you need to get warm,” he says, but you see the way his body shakes as he says it, his tender curls plastered to his forehead; weighed down by the water collecting in them. 

At that moment, you witness a fracture in Joel's stoic facade, the rugged exterior showing hairline cracks. The formidable walls he's meticulously built begin to crumble. 

"Joel, seriously, we can share – come here," you insist, extending the blanket open with one arm, inviting him into the cocoon of warmth. The gesture carries an unspoken understanding, a truce. You might hate me, but I don’t hate you. 

Joel hesitates for a second, his eyes tracing over your skin; as if he’s committing the sight of your hard nipples and damp skin to memory. 

At last, he acquiesces, closing the gap between your bodies. His hands encircle your waist, drawing you close as he wraps both arms around you. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, and the blanket falls around both of your bodies. With him this close, you notice the subtle scent he carries with him, a touch of rain, a dash of cinnamon, and a hint of sweat. You’re not sure how, but he smells good. 

With a long exhale, he tightens his hold on you, enfolding you against the sturdy warmth of his body. You melt into him, your cheek resting on the soft skin of his chest, and your breathing returns to a steady rhythm. You both pause there, letting the warmth swallow you up; eventually, the goosebumps that once littered both your bodies, begin to fade.  

Your stomach flips as you listen to the subtle pitter patterns of his heart and the rhythmic sounds of his breathing. You had forgotten how good it feels to just be held; to have another body pressed up against yours. You realize Joel must feel the same, your attention flickers to the hard stiffness pushing against your stomach. 

Tilting your face up to meet his, your arms still entwined around his neck, you whisper "Joel," your voice suggestive and questioning at the same time. His name hangs in the charged air.

"Darlin'," he responds in a low murmur, and before you can formulate a response, his lips claim yours in an unexpected yet tender collision. Joel groans and forces his tongue into your mouth. The intensity surges, and he begins to pull you back towards the couch. Joel pauses when the back of his calves meet the edge of the cushions, and he deepens the kiss before sitting back, pulling you with him onto his lap, the blanket falling to the floor leaving you almost bare on top of him. 

The air in the home is still cold, but you don’t care, the adrenaline pulsing through your veins and your red-hot desire for him is more than enough to keep you warm. He’s as hard as a rock under his underwear, and you hum, noting how good his cock feels beneath you. You haven’t seen it yet, but you can tell he’s big. 

 “Are you sure you want this? What about Tess?” you ask, grinding against his erection. Joel grunts as he gropes both of your breasts with his hands, his lips meeting yours once more. 

“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters, leaning back to look at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” he says, his hands leaving your breasts to find your hips, and he pulls you down harder onto his clothed erection. “And Tess and I are just friends,” he adds, “You’re the one I haven’t been able to get outta my head.”

Joel closes his eyes, and his mouth hinges slightly open. It has been a while since you’ve been laid, but god were you glad to see you could still render a man speechless. 

Joel’s long, firm fingers find their way up your back to the clasp of your bra. He begins to unhook it. “Take this off,” he says, and you do as he says, throwing the damp lace onto the floor, leaving yourself completely topless on top of him. 

“God damn, Darlin’ –”, Joel responds to the sight of you. 

“Like what you see?” you say, feeling confident, and less intimated now that Joel is beneath you. Of course, he could overpower you in a matter of seconds, but in this moment, you have the upper hand. You grasp his chin, admiring the feel of the coarse hair on your fingertips, and lean down to kiss him hard. 

His cock throbs against you, and your pussy drips in response. You stay there, kissing him, grinding your clothed cunt into him, enjoying the desperate sounds he makes as you do. His firm body, soft tummy, and compact muscles spur you on. You grin as you trace your hands down his smooth chest, noting the scars -- from what, who, you can only imagine –  until your hands eventually make their way down to the band of his underwear.

Joel stops you, firmly gripping your chin to look at him. He pauses there and then pulls your face towards his, firmly sucking your bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth. “Mmm, Joel,” you mutter, the words leaving your lips fumbled and sloppy. Joel intensely stares into your eyes for a moment, and you stare back, eyes wide in disbelief that this is happening. 

“C’mere,” Joel says, breaking the silence with another kiss, as you rock your hips against him again, the movement sending sparks straight to your core. God, you’re so fucking wet for him – a dripping mess. 

Joel presses his face against your chest and works his way to your pebbled nipple before daring his tongue out to lick it. You push a still slightly damp curl away from his forehead, before clenching his hair in your fist. His breath is almost desperate as he laps at your tender nipples, alternating between sucking and little flicks of his tongue. “Joel,” you moan, pulling his face into your chest.

He growls softly, and sucks at your nipple harder, then rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You make a little noise in response. He trails the flat of his tongue up the valley of your breasts and over your exposed throat before kissing it, his hips lifting to you a bit as he does. He can’t wait to be buried inside of you. 

“Up, baby. There’s a bed in the back room,” he says, tapping your thigh. You shimmy off of him, and he rises to full height. It doesn't take long for his lips to find you again. Kissing in a way that’s almost as violent as he is, you walk backward this time, making your way to the bedroom with Joel’s guidance. 

It isn’t much, just skeletal remains of what was once a sanctuary. A duvet rests on the creaky old bed, its once vibrant pattern lost to time and dust. The room is mostly bare apart from the bed and a half-falling apart nightstand. Joel sits down on the bed and you fall to your knees in front of him. Your fingers hook under the elastic of his underwear, and his hips cant up to help you pull the fabric down and off his legs. 

The cock that springs free is thick and long. You’re intimidated only momentarily until the need to feel him overwhelms you. 

You spit into your palm and take his heavy member in your hand, before beginning to jerk him off. You slide your thumb across his swollen and red tip, your other hand gripping the thick, dark coarse hair against the base of him. 

Joel’s eyes roll back into his head at the sensation of him in your soft palms. You bend forward and place his cock in the space between your breasts, you tilt your chin down and open your mouth so a long line of drool dribbles down to the cleft of your chest for lubrication, and then you squeeze the flesh around his length, rubbing up and down the entirety of him. 

“Fuck nghh — that’s, ugh, that’s so good baby,” he grunts, his hands grabbing the nape of your neck. 

And it is good. Almost too good. 

“Darlin’, shit – ah, you gotta stop or I’m gonna come,” he says, his voice low. 

“Maybe I want you to,” you purr, torn between making him coat your tits with come, or letting him fuck you first. 

“No,” he says, voice more firm this time, “Gotta feel that perfect pussy before I do, baby girl,” he says, rising to full height, his arms wrapping under your armpits to bring you up with him. In one swift move, he has you turned and your back hits the mattress while a soft oof escapes your lungs. 

Joel has a hazy, dark look in his eye as he hovers over you. His pupils are blown open wide with lust. You think he might fuck you then, but he looks down and notices that your pussy is still covered by the thin lace of your now-soiled panties. He kisses down your chest, your tummy, and his head eventually finds its place between your thighs. He plants a soft kiss on your mound, and he mutters how sweet he thinks you’re going to taste. 

“Think we oughta find out,” he says, and he hooks his thumbs around the fabric and pulls them off your frame. Within seconds, his soft lips are on your wet folds. 

"Fuck –,” you cry out as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy. Joel moans before making his tongue flat and massaging your clit with it. It’s so fucking good. "Taste so sweet, Darlin’, knew you would," Joel breathes, his breath hot against you. 

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your walls clamp around the welcomed intrusion. His finger grazes against the soft spongy spot inside you that feels so good, and he works it in and out of you before adding another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close. You choke out a moan in response, enjoying the sensation of his long and thick fingers rubbing against your walls as his tongue makes tight circles around your sensitive clit. 

You pull at your nipple with one hand and hold on to the top of his head, his hair entangled between your fingers as you attempt to hold on to him, an anchor to keep you from floating away, and he devours you. 

His fingers thrust faster, his mouth firm on your throbbing bud, and he works to throw you over the cliff of your orgasm. You wail out, and the slurping groans that come from Joel are primal and filthy. 

“Be a good girl for me,” he demands, his words barely audible with his mouth on your puffy lips, “want you to come,” he moans. “Come on pretty girl, I’ve got you – let me taste your sweet release.”  

His dirty talk is all you need. "Yes, oh my god – Yes! Joel, fuck, I'm coming, don’t stop" you cry, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, your chest hot. Your vision goes white as you release yourself to him. Your back arches and your legs flex; your stomach feels like it’s being sucked into itself, and Joel works you through it, lapping up your come.  

He rises from between your legs, his beard slick with your release, and smiles at you. As satisfied as you are at the moment, he’s the one that looks it. “Kiss me, darlin’,” he says, and his lips find yours. You savor the way it tastes; a hint of tang, but just so. You reach your hand in between your bodies to grab his cock, and he takes the hint. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says, lining the entrance of his cock, the tip of it weeping with pre-cum, up against your wet and waiting hole. He presses his hips forward gently, and you begin to relax and flutter around him, feeling the subtle sting of an unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant, stretch. 

“So big, feels so full, Joel,” you cry, “I know, baby. But I know she can handle it,” he coos, pressing impossibly deeper into you, until eventually he’s buried in you to the hilt. Underneath his solid frame, skin to skin, his cock firm inside of you, you feel your skin prickle hot and blood rushes through your ears. He fucks you equisitely, his chest crowding yours, but he bears the brunt of his weight on his forearms so as not to crush you too much. 

He steadies like this for a while, before he eventually pushes himself up and grips the back of your knees. You follow his cue and pull them up, feet flat on the mattress beneath you. He folds them cross-cross onto your chest, obscenely stretching your needy hole around the girth of him. 

You can’t breathe. He’s so big you swear you can feel him in your lungs. His cock drags in and out of you, making you shudder and your toes curl. The way he fucks you is so much – hard, deep, and passionate. 

“You feel so good, Darlin’. Gripping me so fucking good, being such a good girl,” Joel moans. 

“God, don’t stop, ugh I’m so close,” you say, eyes closing. 

“Eyes open, baby. Want you to look at me while you come on my cock,” he says, as he takes your chin in his thumb and forefinger, demanding your attention. 

Something snaps inside you, and your whole body tenses, and then releases in a sweet gush. “Jesus,” his blunt nails dig into the flesh of your hips before his jaw falls slack. With one more thrust, he loses himself, buried deep inside of you, your walls coaxing his balls empty.  “Fuck, baby,” he growls as he empties everything inside you, finishing his climax with a guttural groan. 

Joel pulls out, and you sigh at the loss of being full of him. He bends forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling sharp breaths, before falling to your side on the mattress. 

You sit up onto your forearms, and a dribble of his release comes out of you. You grin down at him, surveying the damage. Joel’s complexion is pink, and his eyes are closed – he’s successfully been fucked into oblivion. 

“Cmere, darlin’,” he says, eyes still closed, opening one arm open to welcome you into the warmth of his chest. You lay there, once again listening to his heart and the sounds of the rain on the grimy window in the room. You trail your index finger down his sternum. 

“You know, I thought you hated me,” you say, your voice a little sad, but you know you need to get this off your chest. “I know you had to kill that guy because I wasn’t paying attention, and I really am sor–” Joel once again silences your sentence by placing his finger on your lips. 

“Never say sorry to me again, Darlin’,” he says “‘sides, I’m the one who should be apologizin’, I’ve been a real asshole to you,” his voice sincere. “I just – I don’t know what I would ha’ done if I didn’t get to that guy in time, I’d never forgive myself if I lost you and could have prevented it.” His head drops to the pillow and he stares at the ceiling; your head finds it’s place once again the crook of his arm, nuzzled up against his side body for warmth. 

There’s still so much more he wants to say, but he knows that he’ll have the time to do it later. He stares at the rough texture above him for a moment longer, before he quickly gets up, as if to remember something. 

“Be right back,” he says and walks into the other room. He returns with a pack and pulls from it a little black container. “Found this during a raid the other day – thought of you,” he says, handing it to you. You jiggle it up by your ear and smile. 

Film.

Joel Miller may be an asshole.

But he’s an asshole that most definitely doesn’t hate you.

END

Tagging moots and those who showed interest in the preview: @untamedheart81 @darkheartgatita @endlessthxxghts @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @bastardmandennis @dins-riduur-anthe @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @nosesitter @pedroswife69 @morallyinept @milly-louise @toxicanonymity @javiscigarette @planet-marz1 @anavatazes @dugiioh As always, please let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag lists.xx

#joel miller the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #The last of us #enemies to lovers #pwp fics #pedro pascal character #joel miller #pedrohub #film photography

[thetiredstuff]

This is just mostly a handy little post for me but I asked people to rec me some destiel AU best friends to lovers fics and this is what I got:

Recs from ltleflrt:

okay, cupid. by orange_crushed On Air by wincechesters Just Turn Around and Go by @porcupine-girl Version 2.0 by Elizabeth1985 aka @cocklesheadboop Ignore the Butterflies: Best Friend Advice from Dean Winchester by impatient14 A Match Made (and Misunderstood) by surlybobbies More Views. More Money. by herbivoredinosaur Remember When by VioletHaze aka @scones-and-texting-and-murder When In Vegas by Dmsilvis & TobytheWise

Recs from doctorprofessorsong

One of my favorite fics of all time is Evangelist by @valleydean. It's really enemies to friends to lovers but the enemies part becomes friends pretty quickly because they are deeply obsessed with each other. One of the classics if you haven't read it is To Build a Home. Childhood friends who broke up and find themselves back in each other’s life. It is very angsty but they have a lifelong friendship so you get a lot of childhood and teenage friendship moments. If I may self recommend, I just wrote Can't Fight the Moonlight in which they are in this post canon partnership and both want to add sexual intimacy but the partnership is soft so you get some really fun platonic intimacy. It's not AU, obviously, but may have something of what you want. Seraph by @dothraki-shieldmaiden is a superhero au where they are friends and roommates to lovers. It has great world building. More than Kisses by @friendofcarlotta is a friends to lovers epistolary romance. Dean and Cas are pen pals and they share an absolutely gorgeous emotional intimacy. Tiamatv has a few that fit the bill. I'm gonna mention Marchen because I love the world built in that one. Dean Winchester is a prince locked in a tower. Feel free to also skim my fic recs. @riversrecs

Recs by castiellesbian:

tiamatv's "It's the End of the World (As We Know It)" is a friends to enemies to lovers if that counts? They were childhood best friends in that one "A Midterms Night's Dream" by Englandwouldfall is an au where they're roommates (oh my god they were rommates). "In Some Sacred Place" by schmerzerling is a good one where they're friends throughout most of the fic, but it's kind of depressing overall

Recs from porcupine-girl

Just Turn Around And Go (roommates-slash-best-friends): https://archiveofourown.org/works/4228830 Like four weddings and a funeral but without the funeral (Sam POV, Sam is clueless and doesn’t realize they’re together): https://archiveofourown.org/works/6225625 Go Down With This Ship (online fandom besties, don’t realize they know each other irl): https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023642

Rec by trampledundercas

#i thought of ‘ready to fall’ by lemonsorbae on ao3

A whole bunch of recs from dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you

A Tale of Two Tropes by Amelia_Clark (E, 7k) As You Walk On By by MercyBraavos (E, 23k) Are We Any Different? by LeviathanBlue, SerpentCountess (T, 41k) More Than Kisses by  FriendofCarlotta  (E, 29k) things i knew when i was young by stormwarnings  (T, 16k) Alright  by  turningthepages  (T, 46k) To Build a Home by intothesilentland  (M, 383k) When In Vegas  by  Dmsilvis, TobytheWise (E, 16k) The Ocean Between Us  by  noxsoulmate  (E, 27k) Room for Two (The Mattress AU) by  almaasi  (E, 14k) Honey-Baked  by  mishaminion69, sydkn3e (E,  89k) The Ones We Choose  by  lightmyway  (E, 82k)

EDIT: MORE:

Recs by bexfangirlforlife:

The Graveyard Shift by riseofthefallenone. PurgatoryJar Evangelist by embrancsxx0 Stay with me Sweetheart by Mandalarose We are what we pretend we are by tricia_16 Tricks of the Trade by Trenchcoat_Impala

Recs by impaledbeetle:

okay, cupid by orange_crushed Seek to Know You Better (E) by ahurston Après (E) by Imogenbynight Here's a couple aus that i really really enjoy that aren't necessarily best friends to lovers: spirit of the west (M) by teen_dean Parachutes (E) by chaoticdean (this one literally changed my life it is so good) And This, Your Living Kiss (M) by opal_bullets (again, this is life changing) Roll With It (E) by saltnhalo (this is a The Proposal (movie) au) Shut Up (Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is) (E) by kototyph

Recs by butch--dean:

spirit of the west by teen-dean (everyone should read this 90's horse girl dean au where he befriends cas, a local veterinarian) I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart) by unicornpoe (I am a sucker for all "cas using dean as a vessel" fics) Après by imogenbynight (surely everyone has read this? dean and cas in paris what more can you ask for) under the midnight sun by northernsparrow (dean is the caretaker of a research station in the arctic and cas is a mysterious bird researcher) (I also rec you can keep holding on by this author but be warned that it is very grief-driven - but it is an in-depth study of the way they care for each other) though the course may change by imogenbynight (fake dating AU at a couple's retreat - another one that everyone has probably read but is so worth mentioning in case you haven't) there's no cell service in the afterlife by screamsintothesun (cas gets back from the empty and his phone blows up with dean's voicemails & texts) Gold in the Edges of Our Vision by SewingNatural (dean and cas eat peaches together on a hot summer evening. The writing style on this one is really really lovely) these are just a few from my bookmarks but also there is a really good rec list here & here (this one has a link to a specific friends to lovers list here) that I refer to often when looking for new fics/authors to dig through!!

Recs by mercurialkitty for some reason tumblr won't allow me to add them to my post so just click on their name to go to their post!

These are all the ones i've gotten up til now but will def edit if I get any more. If you see this post and think of a Destiel AU best friend to lovers fic that isn't on here or just a Destiel AU (no abo) fic that isn't on here: PLEASEEEEEE GIVE ME ALL THE DESTIEL AU FIC RECS (no abo)

Also i didn't tag the people who recommended it cuz I don't wanna annoy them but I linked back to all of their original posts or comments!

A hugeeeeeeee thank you to everyone who replied to my annoying messages for fic recs cuz I really really appreciate it. thank you all so so so much!!!!

#to read #destiel #i love my husbands #spn #supernatural #destiel fan fic #spn fan fics

[beskarandblasters]

You Belong With Me

Best Friend!Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cassian Andor Masterlist

Author’s note: Love me a Taylor Swift title. The reader basically takes the place of Bix in this. Your boyfriend is Timm just like her but you’re just best friends with Cassian up until this point. Takes place sometime before episode one.

Summary: You grew up on Ferrix and have been best friends with Cassian Andor since childhood. You run a salvage yard on Ferrix and work as a mechanic with your boyfriend, Timm. One day you catch Timm betraying you and Cassian proves to be the perfect shoulder to cry on.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, your boyfriend is an asshole, infidelity, confessing feelings, best friends to lovers, pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart), praising, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, no use of y/n

Follow @beskarandblastersfics and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post a new fic!

It’s a typical day for you on Ferrix. Your boyfriend, Timm, is working the front counter and you’re in the shop deconstructing a speeder for parts. It’s been a constant flow of people today making him busy at the counter and you left to your own devices. 

Between the on and off blaring noises of the machines you’re operating you hear voices coming from the front, usually several at a time as they talk over each other, inquiring about prices. Eventually you hear only two voices talking, one you already know; Timm’s. But the other one is high pitched, shrill– a woman’s voice, one you don’t recognize. And she’s laughing. And the laughing doesn’t stop. Come on, he’s not that funny, you think to yourself. 

You slide out from under the speeder and take off your mask, determined to see what’s going on already. You hoist yourself off the ground and make a beeline for the front counter to find an interesting site to say the least. Timm is standing at the counter, resting his elbow on the countertop and supporting his head in his hand. Her body language matches his and their faces only inches apart from each other. The both of them completely enthralled in the conversation. 

“Am I interrupting something?” you ask, eyes scanning back and forth between them.

Timm’s face goes red at the sight of you, jumping back a couple feet in his shock. The woman stands up straight, returning her arms to her sides and averting her gaze to the floor. 

“Nope! She was just asking about a part for her droid,” Timm quickly says. 

“Gotcha… What part were you looking for?” you ask.

“Um, it’s actually not that important,” she says, still not looking at you. 

“Are you sure? I can take-”

“I said it’s not that important. Bye,” she finishes, turning swiftly on her heel and leaving. 

You’re completely baffled. She comes to your salvage yard to ask for a part but then gets rude with you when you ask for more details?? Not to mention her questionable behavior with Timm. 

“Who was that?” you say, stepping towards him. 

“Just a customer.”

“Seems like you know her.”

“She lives in my neighborhood.”

“Oh really? I’ve never seen her in your neighborhood when I’m around.”

“Babe, why are you getting like this? She’s just a customer. End of story,” he says, shutting down any further conversation on the topic. 

You roll your eyes and head back into the shop to finish scrapping the speeder. But the whole time your mind is preoccupied, worried about Timm and that woman. You’re not suspicious that he spoke to someone of the opposite sex, that’s not it at all. It’s the way they both acted once you caught them and how Timm tried to gaslight you after. 

You finish the work day and part ways without so much as a kiss goodbye; a deliberate choice by you. Now that you’re not working and you’re alone with your thoughts you face the harsh reality that he’s most likely cheating on you. 

You head to the cantina that night to meet up with your best friend, Cassian. You’ve been best friends ever since he was adopted and came to a Ferrix at a young age. Best friends is an understatement; you two have been inseparable. You’ve been there for each other’s milestones, heartbreaks and everything in between. You thought maybe something would happen between you two but it never did. Neither of you were single at the same time and you always respected the other’s relationship. You meet him at the bar and he greets you with a smile and your first round of drinks. 

“Thanks, Cass,” you say, sitting beside him as he slides your drink over to you. 

After just the two words you spoke and presumably the troubled look on your face, he knows something’s wrong. 

“What happened?” he asks, his face shifting into a worried expression. 

“It’s really nothing,” you say, looking down at your hands resting on the bar, “I’m probably overreacting.”

“Tell me.”

“I just… Timm was acting really strange with this girl at the salvage yard today. Like when I walked in on them talking they both looked incredibly guilty. And when I confronted him about it he brushed me off.”

“Do you think he’s cheating on you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have the full picture yet.”

“I’ll kill him if he is.”

“Ha, you’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!”

“I don’t even know for sure yet, Cass.”

“Well, I’m here for you.”

“I know, Cass. I’m lucky to call you a friend,” you say, just as he reaches for your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You’ll always have me,” he says before taking a sip of your drink.

Your feelings of anxiety are temporarily quelled, but not for long. You finish your drink, only in the mood for one round before saying goodbye to Cassian and heading home. 

“Keep me updated,” he says, giving you a hug goodbye.

“I will,” you say, offering him a weak smile before leaving the cantina.

As you walk home a plan forms in your mind; to go over to his place, check on him and see if she’s there. But not tonight, it’ll be too obvious. You have to be patient and wait a few days, make Timm believe you’re not suspicious of his actions in the slightest if you’re going to catch him in the act.

-

Three days have passed since the strange interaction at the salvage yard. You’ve been doing your best to mask your emotions and pretend like everything’s fine. It’s hard to pretend you’re okay when you have a hunch like this; to kiss him and interact with him like nothing is going on. You’re hoping that you’re wrong; that you’ll go over to his house and everything will be normal; that’ll be honest for once. But only time will tell. 

Finally the work day comes to an end and you give him a kiss goodbye despite how badly you don’t want to and watch him walk home. You hang around at the yard, killing time before it’s time to go. When enough time has passed you leave the salvage yard and walk to his place. The anticipation brews in your stomach for what you’re about to find but so does the dread. Because deep down you think you’re going to find everything you don’t want to see; everything you don’t want to be true. You arrive at his door and give it a knock. Timm answers the door after a moment, hair tousled and glistening with sweat. He looks surprised and almost annoyed to see you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, without a hello first.

“I just wanted to check on you. That’s all.”

“Okay, well I’m fine. Is there anything else you need?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay? What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” he says too quickly.

“Is something wrong? Let me come inside,” you say, pushing past him.

Despite his protests you go inside and head straight for the bedroom. 

You open the door to his room and your worst fears are confirmed. That girl from his salvage yard is in his bed; naked and with a horrified expression on her face. Your ears start ringing and everything sounds like it’s far away. Timm’s shouting your name followed by an incoherent mess of “I’m sorry” and “It isn’t what it looks like” but you’re ignoring him, turning on your heel and bolting as fast as you can. You leave his place and step out onto the street, unsure of where to even go right now. Your house? The salvage yard? The cantina? …Cassian’s place? You don’t know where but you need to get far away from Timm’s place now.

And so you run, not caring who you’re bumping into or caring about the scene you’re causing. You’re stopped in your tracks when you collide into someone full force. You get ready to mumble a lame apology and take off but you bumped into Cass of all people.

“What happened?” he asks, concern on his face and grabbing your shoulders.

You don’t know where to begin. You open your mouth to speak but instead tears start spilling down your face. He pulls you into him, holding you as if you’re going to slip away. He rubs your back as you cry against him, not prying any further as you let your feelings out. 

“It’s true, Cass. He’s cheating on me,” you whisper against his shoulder. 

He pulls back and places his hands on your shoulders again, his anger firing him up. 

“Where is he?! I meant it when I said I’ll kill him!”

“I know, Cass. I know. I just… I want to go home.”

“You’re right,” he says softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, “Let’s get you home.”

He keeps a protective arm around you as he walks you home, swiftly weaving through small crowds of people in an effort to get you home faster. All of a sudden it starts to rain and the streets of Ferrix clear up. But by the time you get home both of you are pretty soaked. 

You get inside and make your way to your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed and staring off into space out of pure numbness. Cassian kneels on the floor in front of you, trying to get your attention but you’re too zoned out.

“Hey, talk to me,” he says, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze.

You shake your head as if to break yourself out of your trance and look him in the eye.

“I went over to his place and caught another girl in his bed.”

“Was it the same girl as before?”

“Yup,” you sigh. 

“I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better,” he says with the most sincere expression on his face. 

“Do I, though? There has to be something wrong with me that made him go and cheat.”

“Hey,” he says sternly, “He’s the one who screwed up. You did nothing wrong. He was lucky to have you.”

“You mean that?”

“Anyone would be lucky to have you. I’d be lucky to have you,” his eyes widening after he realizes what he said. 

“What do you… What do you mean by that, Cass?”

He gets up and sits before you on the bed, still keeping your hand in his. He looks nervous and he takes a deep breath as if he’s about to say something difficult. 

“I mean that… I’ve had feelings for you ever since we were kids… but I didn’t want to run our friendship. And I know this is the worst time to tell you that and I’m sorry. But it just came out and I-”

You cut him off by kissing him, feeling his wet skin from the rain and his facial hair rub against your face. He’s stiff as a board, almost as if he’s in shock. It isn’t until you pull away and look at him does his posture start to relax.

“Why did you do that?” he asks softly.

“Because I think I just realized that everything I need is right in front of me. And I’ve been denying myself of it for too long.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do,” you say, squeezing his hand. 

With the confirmation he needed his lips crash into yours. His hands caress each side of your face as you move closer to him. The kiss grows more passionate and you find yourself inching up farther on the bed but careful not to break the kiss. He follows you, coaxing you to lay down. You lay back on the bed and let him hover over you, the kiss growing deeper and needier, like you can’t get enough of each other. He pulls away for a second and you look at each other for a moment. That’s when it hits you; you’re about to have sex with your best friend. The adrenaline from the moment courses through your veins as he tugs on the waistband of your pants. He looks back at you as if he’s asking if this is okay and you nod, the easiest yes of your life. With your approval he slides off your pants, followed by your underwear. He runs a hand over your inner thigh and you shiver at his touch, still not fully rationalizing what’s happening right now but also knowing it’s what you’ve needed. You spread your legs for him and he shifts to settle in between them, gazing down at your entrance. He brings two fingers to your cunt, swiping lightly at your entrance and collecting what wetness has already formed there. 

“How bad do you want me?” he asks, rubbing his thumb against his pointer and middle finger, feeling the physical evidence of how bad you want but asking anyway to hear it for himself.

“So bad, Cass,” you whine, aching for his fingers already. 

He brings his face by yours, a devious smirk on his face and asks, “For how long?”

“Shit, I don’t even know. Too long,” you whine, getting desperate.

“That’s not good enough. How long?” he repeats.

“Since you started dating that girl a few years ago, I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” he questions, brushing his fingers against your cunt again.

“Yes. Yes, I was jealous, Cass,” you whine at his ghost of a touch.

“Imagine how I felt, watching you waste your time with that asshole Timm when you could’ve had me…” he says, bringing his fingers to his mouth and moistening them before bringing them back to your cunt, “Taking such good care of you,” he finishes, sliding a finger inside you.

You gasp at his touch and his eyes scan your features for signs of how aroused you are; the way your mouth falls open, the rise and fall of your chest, your hands gripping sheets beside you as he works your walls. 

“You want more?” he teases.

“Please, Cass.”

“Good girl,” he praises, pushing another finger in. 

You arch your back in pleasure as he hits that perfect spot inside you. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles around it while his other fingers make a “come here” motion. Your cunt flutters around his fingers as you cum, soaking his hand with your release. He pulls his hand from you when you’re finished, looking down at the mess you made on his hand and deciding he needs to taste it. He lays down between your thighs and licks a long, slow stripe up your entrance, just to see how you taste. You shudder at the feeling of his warm tongue against you, licking you slowly. He wants more, lapping at the rest your release until he moves to your clit. He swirls his tongue around it before sucking on it completely, feeling you writhe against his face. Your hand moves to his hair, tugging on it lightly as he eats you. He loves the feeling he gets from pleasuring you and the physical reactions you show from it, almost growling even when you pull his hair. He sucks your clit until you cum again, this time your release soaking his face instead of his hand and he loves every second of it, taking in your scent and your taste as you ride out your high. He pulls away when you’re done and you waste no time sitting up and taking your shirt off. He does the same, tossing his clothes into a pile on the floor and returning to in between your legs. You glance down between your legs at his exposed cock and can’t believe you’re finally seeing it after all these years of imagining what it looks like; uncut, girthy, and so big it’s a little intimidating. He looks down at your naked form, trailing his hand along your waist and to your lips. 

“I wanted this for so long,” he murmurs, “You underneath me, looking like an angel.”

Your cheeks go hot at his praise and all of a sudden you’re feeling shy, turning your head to the side. He gathers some of your wetness on his hand and spreads it onto his cock, giving it a few strokes before aligning himself with your entrance. But before he enters you, he grabs your chin and turns your head towards him, forcing you to look at him.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he says softly.

You nod just as he enters you, shifting your nod into a gasp at the feeling of him stretching your walls. He lowers himself down by your face, supporting himself on his hands on either side of your head as he draws back his hips and slams them into you, showering you with promises.  

“I’m gonna treat you so well, baby. I’m gonna take such a good care of you,” he says, words coming out deliriously as he plows into you. 

All you can do is keep nodding at his promises, tears springing in the corners of your eyes as he drives his cock deeper and deeper into you.

“I’m gonna worship you, baby. You don’t know how much of an angel you are,” he says, slamming his hips into you on the last word to draw a deep moan from you. 

He bends down to kiss you as he picks up the pace, the head of his cock brushes your cervix now. You moan into his mouth before he moves to your neck, pressing sloppy, wet kisses on the soft skin as you grow hysterical, tears fully spilling down your cheeks now. Just earlier in the night you were crying over your shitty boyfriend cheating on you and now you’re crying from your best friend’s cock plowing into you. 

“Cass. Cass, I’m gonna cum!” you cry out. 

“Do it. Let me feel it, angel,” he whispers by your ear, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

With one last slam of his hips into you, you’re coming undone around him. Your core contracts and releases erratically and he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, making it last even longer. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock,” he says, moving to kiss your neck. 

Your cunt keeps convulsing his cock like a vice, drawing his own orgasm from him. With the tip of his cock nestled against your cervix he’s cums inside you, painting your insides with his release. He stays just like that for a moment, head by your neck, kissing you softly and his cock still buried inside you. Once he goes soft he pulls out and lays down next to you, pulling you into him. You lay on his chest the both of you rest just like that for a moment while he rubs your back. 

“I’m just so glad I have you finally,” he murmurs.

“Me, too, Cass,” you hum happily.

All of a sudden you hear frantic knocking on the door. You poke your head up and hear Timm calling your name.

“Took him long enough,” you scoff.

“You wanna get that?” he asks.

“Nah. He’ll leave eventually,” you sigh, resting back on his chest.

“Good. Now rest, sweetheart. We’ll go again in the morning.”

You giggle in response but you know he’s right. Gotta make up for all the years you spent apart somehow. 

End note: ✨it’s finally fucking here after like two months of me talking about it✨ 😭💀

Cassian tag list: @wannab-urs @readingfan @thesoftdumbass @twirl731 @hellomoonlightluna @septimaseverina @forlornghosts @vibrantbirdy @pedritosdarling @simpforbritgents @radcollectivesoul @gingaaaaa @dinsdjrn

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor smut #cassian andor x f!reader #cassian andor #andor #andor fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #star wars #star wars fanfiction #cassian andor x you

[steddieholidaydrabbles]

Week 4 Masterlist

It's the end of the challenge! See below for all of the last week's posts from some very talented writers.

Thank you to everyone who participated by writing or creating art, for those who followed along and reblogged to support these writers and artists, and everyone who cheered me on during the chaos of still handling life and this blog every single day!

Keep your eyes peeled throughout 2024 for some pop-up challenges!

DAY 22 - SPORTS AU

deep penetration up the field by @steddieas-shegoes | Rated E | no cw | tags: secret relationship, football player steve, musician eddie, dirty talk, phone sex, masturbation

I wanna dance with somebody by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation with art by @house-of-the-moving-image | Rated T | cw: some vague mention of eddie's boner | tags: no UD au, meet cute, good neighbor eddie munson, dancer steve harrington

Go For Gold by @thisapplepielife | Rated T | no cw | tags: swimming au, olympic trials, racing, rivalry, a dash of secret relationship, eddie & gareth are bffs

Freestyle love by @katyawriteswhump | Rated T | no cw | tags: enemies to lovers, whump, university/college au

She shoots, she scores by @atimeofyourlife | Rated T | no cw | tags: lesbian steddie au, genderswap steddie, soccer au

The New Highs and Lows of a Ball Boy by @klausinamarink | Rated G | cw: ankle injury | tags: volleyball, pre-relationship, jeff is eddie's best friend, sweetheart steve, secret shakespeare fan steve, post s1

winter games by @cranberrymoons | Rated T | no cw | tags: basketball, fluff, eddie enduring jock stobin

DAY 23 - UNCLE WAYNE ADOPTS STEVE

wayne's got him by steddieas-shegoes | Rated G | cw: migraines | tags: hurt/comfort, established relationship, fluff

Eddie Munson's family dinner by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated M | cw: nudity | tags: modern au, rockstar eddie, royal steve, established relationship

Beautiful Boys by @thisapplepielife | Rated T | cw: lingering injuries/trauma | tags: post s4, eddie munson lives, good uncle wayne munson, wayne & steve, wayne pov

breaking frozen ground by @cranberrymoons | Rated T | no cw | tags: fluff, gardening, appalachian wayne

Time after time by @alingeringmirth | Rated T | cw: reference to abuse, reference of canon fake suicide | tags: steve harrington has bad parents, steve harrington needs a hug

DAY 24 - BIRTHDAY

The king's gift by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated T | cw: very light dubcon if you squint, mild blood and violence | tags: time travel, magic au, fantasy au, royal eddie, time traveler steve

birthday mess by steddieas-shegoes | Rated E | no cw | tags: frosting in places frosting shouldn't be, slight body worship, edging, blowjob, light dom/sub, dom eddie, sub steve

Dirty Thirty by @thisapplepielife | Rated T | cw: childhood trauma, language | tags: established relationship, future fic, steve & gareth, eddie turns 30, birthday blues, hurt/comfort, steve pov

holly jolly birthday by @cranberrymoons | Rated E | no cw | tags: fluff, teasing, light bondage

The day before Christmas, a day to forget by @atimeofyourlife | Rated T | cw: reference to neglectful parenting | tags: steve harrington has bad parents, surprise party

DAY 25 - CHRISTMAS

light of my life, pain in my ass by steddieas-shegoes | Rated E | cw: interrupted sex, mention of dom drop | tags: established relationship, mishap with christmas lights, dom/sub, dom eddie, sub steve, hurt/comfort, they take care of each other

words that are hard to swallow by @starryeyedjanai | Rated T | no cw | tags: modern au, christmas gifts, birthday gifts, accidental come ons

Merry whatever by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated G | no cw | tags: fluff, getting together, first kiss

art by @house-of-the-moving-image

Sophie Munson's Best Christmas Gift Ever by @klausinamarink | Rated G | no cw | tags: domestic fluff, transmasc eddie, steddie dads, side buckingham, modern au

his heart's fondest wish by @lingeringmirth | Rated T | cw: mentioned canon character death, grief, unhealthy coping mechanism, self-destructive behavior | tags: mourning, hurt steve harrington, dead eddie munson, open ended, unreliable narrator

Five Christmases by @thisapplepielife | Rated T | cw: language | tags: established relationship, future fic, christmas day, full schedule, family & friends, mostly fluff, a little obligation, steve pov

one christmas morning by @cranberrymoons | Rated M | no cw | tags: fluff, future fic, married life

Oh ho the mistletoe by @atimeofyourlife | Rated G | no cw | tags: pre-steddie, getting together, mistletoe

DAY 26 - "WHO DID THIS TO YOU?"

nowhere else he wants to be by @lingeringmirth | Rated G | cw: mention of violence, mention of homophobia | tags: established steddie, eddie lives, hurt/comfort, hurt steve, post-vecna, steve has at least one bad parent

i'm stayin' by steddieas-shegoes | Rated M | cw: off-screen violence, mentioned childhood abuse (not in detail) | tags: steve harrington has bad parents, established relationship, secret relationship, pre-season 4, hurt/comfort, asthmatic steve

A Cat-tivating Distraction by @paperbackribs | Rated T | no cw | tags: established relationship, modern au

In too deep by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated M | cw: blood and injury, mild gore, monsters, tentacles, horror, light mind control, referenced murder, billy hargrove (not in this but guess "who did this?") | tags: eddie munson whump, billy hargrove being an asshole, lake monster steve harrington, dark steve harrington, possessive behavior

Kiss me better by @katyawriteswhump | Rated M | cw: sex, possible temporary character death | tags: whump, magic au, incubus!eddie, hurt steve, fluff

Hell to Pay by @thisapplepielife | Rated M | cw: aftermath of off-screen violence, injuries | tags: post s4, eddie munson lives, but hawkins is shitty to him, established relationship, uncle wayne & steve, hurt/comfort, steve pov

I'll help your pain by @atimeofyourlife | Rated T | cw: canonical injuries, recovering from head injury, mention of neglectful parenting & medical neglect | tags: concussed steve, steve has head trauma, pre-steddie

I'm Still Here, Boys by @klausinamarink | Rated T | cw: offscreen physical assault | tags: wound care, hurt/comfort, post s4, steve lives with the munsons, wayne being the best uncle

First Responder by @steddie-island | Rated T | cw: blood, off-screen violence, possessive tommy hagan (off-screen)

DAY 27 - COFFEE SHOP / BOOKSHOP / TATTOO AU

fairy porn crisis by steddieas-shegoes | Rated M | cw: dirty talk, implied sexual content | tags: bookshop owner eddie, steve is having a sexuality crisis but subtly, flirting, getting together, modern au

Crumb Together by @thisapplepielife | Rated T | cw: language | tags: modern au, meet cute, platonic stobin, coffee shop/bakery au, fluff, steve pov

Baby, it's cold outside by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated M | cw: alcohol, implied sex | tags: coffee shop owner steve, tattoo studio owner eddie, christmas fluff, flirting, sexual tension, getting together

A coffee delivery by @atimeofyourlife | Rated T | no cw | tags: coffee shop au, tattoo au, tattoo artist eddie munson, barista steve harrington, pre-steddie

DAY 28 - PROPOSAL

more than everything else by steddieas-shegoes | Rated M | cw: suggestive language | tags: domestic fluff, sappy and romantic

Twenty-Eight Across by @thisapplepielife | Rated M | cw: heavy petting, fade to black sex, afterglow | tags: established relationship, future fic, long-term love, fluff, softness, proposal, eddie pov

Eddie's Proposal by @paperbackribs | Rated T | no cw | tags: eddie and chrissy are besties, pre-steddie, buckingham, no upside down au

Exactly what it's meant to say by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated G | no cw | tags: established relationship, moving in together, fluff, marriage proposal

i was supposed to ask you! by lingeringmirth | Rated M | no cw | tags: established relationship, fluff & angst, banter, some shenanigans, brief chief hopper cameo

I love you though you hurt me so (i'm gonna pack my things and go) by @atimeofyourlife | Rated T | cw: hurt/no comfort | tags: failed proposal, break-up, angst

DAY 29 - SPICY CONTENT (MATURE OR EXPLICIT)

safe and warm by steddieas-shegoes | Rated E | cw: dom/sub | tags: soft dom eddie munson, sub steve harrington, service mouth steve harrington, cockwarming, overuse of terms of endearment, subspace, coming untouched, aftercare

Art by @house-of-the-moving-image

Rainbow in the Dark by @thisapplepielife | Rated E | cw: sexual content, 18+, mentions of recreational weed use | tags: post s4, eddie munson lives, first time, fooling around in the van, inexperience, grinding, bisexual steve harrington, bisexual eddie munson, eddie pov

A well-rounded meal by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated E | cw: sexually explicit content, d/s dynamic, cockwarming, humiliation kink, praise kink, subspace | tags: dom steve, sub eddie

naturally induced by @lingeringmirth | Rated E | cw: intersex omega eddie, vaginal knotting | tags: omegaverse, omega eddie munson, alpha steve harrington, pregnant eddie, inducing labor through sex, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, knotting, bit of a breeding kink, sappily in love steve, all the banter

Size doesn't matter. by a timeofyourlife | Rated M | no cw | tags: established relationship, steve has a small dick

Call Me by @wormdebut | Rated E | no cw | tags: phone sex, football player steve, rockstar eddie, slutty dudes, masturbation

DAY 30/31 - NEW YEAR'S EVE / RESOLUTIONS

new year, new me by steddieas-shegoes | Rated E | cw: semi-public sex, unsafe sex, under-negotiated kink | tags: strangers to lovers, meet-horny, rock star eddie munson, actor steve harrington, modern au, dirty talk, light dom/sub, anal fingering, anal sex

We'll give it a shot by just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated G | cw: aftermath of injury, aftermath of trauma | tags: established relationship, recovery, fluff

Go With This by @thisapplepielife | Rated M | cw: underage drinking, weed, off-screen sex while under the influence | tags: post s4, eddie munson lives, new year's eve party, all the teens, kissing at midnight, getting together, morning after, eddie pov

Happy New Year by @atimeofyourlife | Rated G | no cw | tags: minor steddie

364 days later by @katyawriteswhump | Rated T | cw: off-screen/pre-fic violence including domestic violence | tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, established steddie

being brave by lingeringmirth | Rated G | no cw | tags: new year's eve, first kiss, fluff

Last Few Minutes For Another Lifetime by @klausinamarink | Rated G | no cw | tags: modern au, post-breakup, getting back together, hopeful ending

Don't cha wanna dance? by just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated T | cw: vague boner references | tags: no UD au, dancer steve harrington, good neighbor eddie munson, flirting, sexual tension

Doomsday clock by @hellfireloserclub | Rated T | no cw | tags: fluff, PTSD, apocalypse

A kiss for the New Year by atimeofyourlife | Rated T | no cw | tags: past stommy, past stancy, steddie dads

New by @vecnuthy | Rated G | no cw | tags: pre-steddie

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddieholidaydrabbles #stranger things #masterlist

[kanekoii]

mechatu-a being your boyfriend <3

mika’s notes -> i love niji jp sm y’all don’t even know and this group has most of my oshis too-

pairings -> saiki ittetsu, akagi wen, usami rito, hibachi mana, hoshirube shou, murakumo kagetsu, koyanagi rou, inami rai x gn! reader (all seperate)

genre -> scenario, fluff

song -> perfect hero - mechatu-a (cover)

warnings -> canonical hero stuff, i love these fellas!!, they’re all simps lmao

SAIKI ITTETSU ->

when i say he’s naturally a loud person i mean it. of course, he still has your best interests at heart during his more chaotic moments. given his somewhat intimidating exterior, it was a little surprising to learn that he was a hero after all. if anything, he’s the anti-hero the group needs to ensure some unruly people are put in their place with his deep and intimidating voice. yet behind closed doors, he’s such a sweetheart! always sharing his food with you and gladly sitting down with you just to chat on the longer work days. being a hero isn’t just beating up bad guys after all! there’s also a decent amount of celebrity work that goes into it, so please allow him to take time out of his schedule to love and pay attention to you, because nothing could make him happier.

AKAGI WEN ->

unlike ittetsu, he doesn’t wait until he’s behind closed doors to be a total sweetheart to his beloved partner. he’s always cooking meals for you, and he’ll be absolutely over the moon if you offer to help. if you’re okay with your relationship with this cheery hero, he will talk about you constantly in interviews and such! wen just wants the whole world to know he loves you to the moon and back! ultimately, he wouldn’t trade his relationship with you for the whole world. he’ll come home to you late at night sometimes with a plushie and a dessert for you as a sort of apology for possibly worrying you, seeing as he was out so late. absolute and total soft little sweetheart boyfriend who just wants to make you happy so please reassure him sometimes and do something for him in return!

USAMI RITO ->

this foodie hero’s love language is absolutely sharing his snacks with you. seeing as he often treats food as if it’s the only thing in the world that matters, it’s a real honor that he’s willing to share with you! he’s a bit of the chaotic dad of the group, so if you date him, you’d likely end up taking on a caretaker role to the other heroes too. he’s very cheesy with his shows of affection, it’s his way of saying he doesn’t care what others think and that even if he’s technically a public figure, you’re the only one he wants in the whole world. his ideal date would likely be bringing your favorite snacks home with him and watching movies while he cuddles with you! like the others, he’s a total softie even if his job as a hero doesn’t necessarily favor that due to questionable moral situations he may be put in. he’s not as upfront about his relationship with you, but he mentions it offhandedly every once in a while to remind people that he loves you oh so much.

HIBACHI MANA ->

your relationship with him most definitely started as friends and slowly evolved into something more, mostly without either of you noticing. most definitely a friends to lovers situation, because he had been your best friend since childhood. this hero has always been a very sweet and kind person, but especially towards you. his love for you most definitely would stand the rest of time as he continued his hero work. despite stress and injury, you were always there for him no matter what. it really made mana have a new appreciation for your relationship when you would drop everything to comfort him. he knows his job isn’t the most favorable for romantic relationships, but the fact that you stay with him despite that just makes his heart flutter when he thinks about it.

HOSHIRUBE SHOU ->

seeing as he’s much more of a quiet type, it was surprising he even allowed his feelings for you to be heard in the first place. especially considering how shy and quiet he is, having someone he loves as much as you is a blessing. he knows he's not the best with expressing affection verbally, but he makes up for it by always holding your hand or hugging or kissing you. in a way, it's easier to express than saying he loves you. of course, that doesn't mean shou doesn't love you with all his heart. the first time he audibly says the words "i love you", his face is covered in blush. he hides it behind his purple and blue hair, voice shaking slightly out of nervousness. he still blushes when you take the initiative and kiss him first, even if you’ve kissed hundreds of times. showing affection in public makes him very flustered, but he still holds your hand in front of other people just to show everyone that he loves you!

MURAKUMO KAGETSU ->

simply put, you’re everything to this ninja hero. he’s much more private about his relationship so many people wouldn’t even know he had a significant other aside from his closest friends. he reassures you constantly that he isn’t ashamed or anything of the like, just that it might cause danger for you due to the relatively risky nature of his work as a hero. ultimately, it’s just to keep you safe. as soon as he’s certain of your safety, he’ll be parading you about and talking about you every single chance he gets just to show the world how much he adores you. there’s a picture of you and him together in his phone case as a sort of motivator when his hero work has him down, cuz if nothing else, he has you to come home to every day. he has you to hug and kiss and pour all his love into at the end of every day. coming through the door to your shared home and seeing you is his absolute favorite thing in the world. especially if kagetsu is home especially late and sees you sleeping on the couch waiting for him, his heart just melts on the spot.

KOYANAGI ROU ->

most definitely a more condescending type who teases you over the smallest things sometimes. he can’t help it, it’s just his love language! rou isn’t really the best with being super affectionate, so please understand that him teasing you is how he shows he loves you. of course, he occasionally shows more traditional signs of love and affection such as buying you gifts or cuddling with you, but he just isn’t that affectionate of a person. please don’t let it get you down or make it think he doesn’t love you, because he really warms up to the idea of being affectionate after dating you for a while. behind closed doors at least, he’ll be wrapped around you all day and night commenting on how cute you are and how he just loves you so so much! he would never let his friends or fellow heroes see him in such a state though, they would never let him hear the end of it and he’s the one who teases other people, not the other way around! once in a blue moon, his friends will see him kiss your cheek or forehead though, and just as expected, he will never hear the end of it.

INAMI RAI ->

the mechanic prefers just having you by his side as he works on his newest invention or tinkers with his fellow hero’s gear to hopefully improve it. just sitting and chatting with you while he tinkers with things is his favorite pastime because he gets to mess with mechanical things and talk to his beloved!! he has a bunch of pictures of you at his work station as well as in his phone case just like kagetsu! his fellow heroes end up getting pretty annoyed with the way rai won’t shut up about you, but he thinks of you so highly that he could barely even convey how much he loves you in words. doesn’t mean he doesn’t try tho, cuz he does…he talks for hours just about how much he loves you. at first, he was scared to ask you out and rou had to put him up to it. both of them were absolutely taken aback when you actually agreed to go out with rai, and ESPECIALLY when you started seeing him regularly and made your relationship official.

#lyr.fic #nijien x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #nijien #nijisanji jp #nijisanji jp x reader #nijisanji jp x you #saiki ittetsu #saiki ittetsu x reader #saiki ittetsu x you #akagi wen #akagi wen x reader #akagi wen x you #usami rito #usami rito x reader #usami rito x you #hibachi mana #hibachi mana x reader #hibachi mana x you #hoshirube sho #hoshirube sho x reader #hoshirube sho x you #murakumo kagetsu #murakumo kagetsu x reader #murakumo kagetsu x you #mika simping for kagetsu hours #koyanagi rou #koyanagi rou x reader #koyanagi rou x you

[emilykaldwen]

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

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

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

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Author's Note: After a lot of encouragement, I will be posting chapters in their entirety here and on AO3. Many many huge thanks to @acrossthesestars for being my co-pilot, and for holding my hand through writing this story. Thank you to everyone who has reblogged and commented. Your words mean the world to me.

CHAPTER ONE - THE WEIGHT THAT BROUGHT US HERE

Alicent watched the lords of the council settle into their seats, placing their markers in the proper place. Lord Tyland Lannister took his seat at the opposite end of the magnificent table, Lord Lyman Beesbury to his right. Maester Mellos and then Lord Larys at her own left hand. Jasper Wylde sat beside her father’s usual place at the right hand. The power of the realm all concentrated right in this room. They prayed to the Crone for guidance and wisdom at the beginning of every meeting, a practice that had thankfully not reached the ears of the king, as he’d been cloistered in his rooms since his illness had taken more of his body. It was one thing to allow her Faith to grace their dinner table. It was a whole other to have the Faith find its place at the Small Council. While his signature still graced the decrees, and his decisions still paramount for he was the King, Viserys had left the dealings of the realm to them. It was for the best - Viserys’ mind was giving way to his illness and the less seen, the better. Alicent didn’t know what she preferred: her husband demeaning her and neglecting her children, or him calling her Aemma when she came to care for him at night.

She grazed her fingers over the polished black marble ball in front of her as Maester Mellos began rattling off the never ending fighting between the Brackens and Blackwoods that not even the Father bearing down from the heavens himself could stop. They continued to tear themselves apart as if they would win all the gold in Casterly Rock for the longest, most ridiculous spat that the Tullys were no longer capable of handling. Sometimes she wished she could just drag charcoal lines along the map, piece off the floodplains to the north and the west and the mountains, let the other kingdoms take their pieces.

“Begs the question if perhaps it isn’t time to elect a new Lord Paramount to bring them to heel,” Lord Wylde harrumphed in his self-important way. The man was well and agreeable enough, Alicent thought, but every time he spoke, she missed Lyonel Strong. None of his proposals contained this ‘begging the question’ sort of nonsense, and none of Wylde’s attempts had any of the late Lord Strong’s well thought out solutions and easy friendliness.

“Unless grievous injustice is done, we cannot normally strip the title of Lord Paramount, but their inability to bring either house to heel since given the title is threatening the stability of the realm. Blackwoods own more land than the Tullys, and now we have reports they’ve gone undermining one another’s orchards, and putting others at risk.” Jasper turned his gaze to Larys, who had not spoken since the prayer. “Strong, your holding is Harrenhal. What do you have to say about this matter?”

Larys’ manner did not fool Alicent, but it worked wonders, as always, on Jasper. “This quarrel of theirs has lasted as long as the dynasty and longer still. King Jaehaerys brokered peace, and we cannot ascertain what sparked it again.” From the nervous licking of his lips to the fidgeting of his hands, he was a master at seeming far less dangerous than he truly was. “You might seek instead the opinion of my dearest uncle Simon. He is the castellan and knows both it and the Riverlands far better than I do, as I’ve been here during most of this recent infighting. ”

Wylde humphed, twitching his nose in such a way that his bushy mustache reminded Alicent of a walrus she’d seen at Driftmark. She dug her nails into her palm to hold back her laugh. “Should we offer the Tullys more incentive?” Wylde blustered, reaching for a solution that he could take credit for.

“Incentive for not letting their bannerman destroy harvests?” Tyland Lannister snorted, reclined in his chair as if he were the one running the meeting. “That’s their duty. If they can’t do it, then there’s a bigger issue to deal with.”

“Perhaps a betrothal,” Lord Beesbury spoke up, his eyes darting from Larys’ to hers. Alicent straightened, watching the man try to figure out how to present his own suggestion. “The Tullys are proud, and the Riverlands command a great host when they come together. Lord Tully’s great-grandson is around Princess Helaena’s age. It would be a show of friendship and goodwill.”

“A show of a dragon is what you mean, isn’t it?” Her father’s voice cut in smoothly, but she could see the annoyance in his eyes at the prospect of Helaena being sent to the Riverlands. She did not want her sweet girl sent so far away either, but his words hurt in their easy protectiveness of her daughter, when they had never done for herself.

“Dragons are a statement, my Lord Hand. If not the princess, perhaps… Lord Strong, your youngest sister is not yet married,” Beesbury continued, flush with ideas. Was Rhaenyra feeding them to him?

“If Grover Tully, or whomever is handling their seat, cannot bring them to heel, we should have the Lords Bracken and Blackwood come and explain themselves to the crown,” she cut in before Beesbury could really get his momentum going. Heads turned to look at her, and Alicent looked to the Grand Maester. “Send ravens today. By the moon’s turn, I want them before the Iron Throne explaining themselves.” There was a curl of satisfaction on her lips as the aging Mellos gestured to his assistant. “We should also have Lord Tully, or his son, also come to answer. I know Lord Grover has been recently ill,” she continued. Authority and compassion were the balance she must always strike, so that her decisions could not be questioned, her judgment nothing but sound. She was the Mother of the Realm after all.

“Well said, your Grace,” Larys said softly, that shadow blink of a smile on his face. Lord Beesbury’s suggestions were easily dismissed.

Tension knotted between her shoulder blades, and she shifted in her chair to relieve the pain. She drummed her fingers on the armrest of the chair as her father’s warning spun dizzily through her thoughts.

Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

That morning, Ser Criston found the boy who might be king passed out in the stables with his cock in hand; at least her father hadn’t found out. Alicent felt nauseated at the idea of sacrificing a girl barely younger than she’d been in an attempt to corral her son into leadership.

The doors of the chamber opened. Ser Harrold Westerling entered the room with the head dragonkeeper, Arryx, following behind. Her father rose not in a show of respect for the Kingsguard Commander, but some show of power - the unyielding stone and height of the tower that would not bow to neither wind nor storm.

“Forgive my tardiness, your Grace, my lords.”

Her father waved a hand and sat back down. “We were told that you were attending to an urgent matter, Lord Commander.”

Ser Harrold clasped his arm across his chest and bowed to her. “This morning, I was alerted to events that transpired last night inside of the dragonpit. Keeper Arryx wanted to speak of the matter to you personally.” Ser Harrold stepped back to allow the aging keeper to take the floor. Alicent gave her own nod to the man as he rose from his prostration.

“Dreamfyre has laid another clutch of eggs. Only three, your Grace, and she will let no one near them. Vhagar has been circling,” Arryx said.

Alicent frowned. Dreamfyre had not laid a clutch in several years now, and Vhagar rarely came to the pit. She was too old, too large, with little desire to be kept with her smaller brethren. The horrific beast preferred a rocky outcropping far out into the bay.

Aemond had given her a quizzical look when she’d brought it up once, when he was still bedridden and recovering from his mutilation. Her sweet boy was now strung through with a confidence that she’d never seen ignite within him when he had both eyes. The dangerous glint that confidence took as he’d grown older was also new.

She’s protecting what is hers, mother. We both are, he’d said.

“I have spoken with the Commander of the City Watch, your Grace, to ensure that those in the areas closest to the pit keep their distance unless absolutely necessary. It has allowed us to take stock of the current state of those neighborhoods.” Ser Harrold turned to look at Ser Otto. “A full report will be on your desk.”

Her father nodded, and Ser Harrold looked once more to the keeper.

Arryx shifted on his feet, and Alicent watched his eyes flick to the Grand Maester with an expression that she could not discern. The Citadel and the Hightowers have always stood side by side for the betterment of the realm, Alicent, and you’ll continue to foster that friendship, won’t you?

“Five of the kitlings have also died, your Grace. They were unbonded, brought from Dragonstone before…”

Before Daemon had come back.

“How many dragons does this put us at?” Her father’s deceptively mild tone was the opposite of his glee when Aemond had claimed Vhagar. The numbers requested were ones he’d calculated in his head, monthly, since he’d come back.

“Claimed, my lord?” Arryx asked, pausing momentarily. “Eleven, throughout the family. Lady Rhaena’s dragon hatched, but it was born twisted and sickly and did not last. I have not received word otherwise of any intention for Lady Rhaena to come and try to claim another dragon.”

Half of the dragons were claimed. Alicent watched her father drum his fingers along the table. Identifying the pattern took only a moment. He was counting.

Specifically, the dragons that were on their side.

“I want reports of the necropsies upon their completion,” her father said with a narrowed and assessing look, disturbed by the news. “The last thing we need is some strange illness to rip through all of them.”

Alicent chewed on the inside of her lip and watched the shining outline of the seven-pointed star beaming down on the table.

“Syrax is almost big enough for two riders now. Will you come touch the clouds with me, Alicent? Please?” Rhaenyra had always begged, mouth close to her ear, hands stroking her arms, her wounded and bloody fingers.

The joyful look that Aegon once gave her now reserved for a beast: “I’ve never known love until Sunfyre, mother. It’s like the world has color now that we’re together.”

“Dreamfyre keeps me tethered to the ground even as I fly in my dreams. She’s the only anchor I have,” said Helaena, who would withdraw from her touch as if it were a sting from a bee.

Little Daeron and his dragon clutched in his arms: “I can’t leave Tessarion behind, mother! I won’t know how to be happy without her!”

Dragons had robbed Alicent of everything.

“Thank you, Arryx. I will speak to the children and see what Prince Aemond might do about Vhagar.” The idea of her sweet, once immaculate and tender-hearted child being near that twisted, hoary thing still terrified her, no matter how gently reassuring Aemond could be.

Arryx did not move to leave just yet. “Forgive me, your Grace, but Vhagar is no Vermithor or Sunfyre: she is old and willful, and although she is bonded with our prince, I would suggest caution. He is… young, and Vhagar was forged in the fires of battle.”

He bowed once more before taking his leave.

Even in indescribable pain, in the face of his own father’s disregard and disdain, Aemond sought to soothe her. “Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

What else would her father do to get more dragons on their side?

Nervous tension pulsed in the silence left when the doors closed behind the dragonkeeper, filled only by the soft creak of the Kingsguard’s mail and the gentle clink of the chain around Grand Maester Mellos’ neck as he shifted in his chair, barely audible. The enduring mystery and curiosity of dragons was a specter of The Stranger above them all. Alicent had heard her kingly husband remind Rhaenyra repeatedly: Dragons were not pets. The bond with them should not blind their riders to the power that thrummed ancient and thick in their veins.

She breathed slowly, letting the quiet ease, refusing to meet anyone else’s eyes as the tumult of feelings inside of her crashed upon the jagged edges of her broken ribs. This was the right choice. Her babies were only half-Targaryen, and Rhaenyra’s bastards were the same, whether she’d ever admit to it or not.

Everyone in the room had grown up with the stories that the Conquerors spread when they forged the throne: The Valyrian blood magic that had made them dragonriders was only to be found in their Targaryen blood. That bloodline needed to remain pure. Yet, Rhaena’s pure Valyrian blood did not save her first dragon from being born sickly and dying quickly, while Aemond - Targaryen only by half - bonded with Vhagar, the most powerful beast in the world.

There were no further reasons to believe the Targaryens were gods after all, and above the realm they had conquered.

The great chair of the King creaked as she slowly rose, taking in the council before her. There were no Targaryens in this room, even if she had birthed her own clutch of half-dragons. Alicent bore this task without joy or fanfare. It was a duty to be endured for the good of her family, for the good of her realm.

She stood with her hands folded in front of her, the image of the Mother of the Realm. Alicent had done this once before, when she had declared that she was standing in an official capacity for her husband.

“My lords of the council,” She hedged a glance at her father before moving her gaze to each man at the table. Ladies of the realm should be on the council. “It is with great joy and love that the King and myself, with Lord Larys Strong, announce to the small council that we have arranged the betrothal of our son, Prince Aegon Targaryen, and Lady Abrogail Strong.”

Each of the lords straightened in their chairs. Lord Beesbury frowned and glanced away from her. The uncertain and uncomfortable shifting in his chair belied the embarrassment he was attempting to hide. Alicent felt no need to point it out. It was a fine idea that he’d presented and not his fault he did not know what had already been decided. Even if he was Rhaenyra’s lapdog, Alicent would be the better person, and not rub his face in it.

The congratulations buzzed in her ears as she sat back down in her chair, and beneath the table, she tore at the skin along her left thumbnail. The pain was as dull as the congratulations in her ears. Her father’s voice was distant, jovial even.

They hadn’t even told Aegon and Abrogail yet. She remembered standing in the same position, knowing what was coming, knowing what it would destroy and desperately hoping that it might not.

I have decided to take a new wife. I intend to marry Lady Alicent Hightower before Spring’s end.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Rhaenyra forgive me forgivemeforgiveme.

“A feast is in order to announce Prince Aegon and Lady Abrogail’s betrothal,” Tyland’s jovial tone broke the silence. His suggestion—or statement, depending on how Alicent took it—was not one that she’d expected when she sat down in Viserys’ chair, but welcomed the confirmation of his support.

Meanwhile, Larys’s expression gave nothing away. He simply inclined his head in agreement.

Her son — her trueborn son — for all his faults, deserved to be celebrated. She was happy she didn’t have to fight for this. It was Mellos who spoke next: “Given the last wedding that was celebrated within these halls, it would be a reassuring gesture to the Lords of the Realm if they were given the opportunity, and for us to show unity within House Targaryen. With the Prince’s nameday in a few moons, perhaps we can celebrate with a tournament.”

Alicent’s eyes cut to her father, who smiled lightly, nodding in agreement but careful not to say a word, allowing the Maester to be responsible for the idea.

“Even better,” Tyland raised his goblet in agreement. “We haven’t had a proper celebration in years. What better occasion? Lord Rickard Reyne will be overjoyed to hear the honor bestowed on his granddaughter.” He looked over at her father. “I take it you’ll be writing to him, Lord Hand?”

The last time Alicent had seen her uncle Lord Rickard had been at her mother’s funeral: now no longer the worst day of her life, but the memory that was still seared into her mind. She recalled Lord Reyne as a stoic man, but he’d been kind to her in her grief. Alicent hoped the years had not taken that away from him, but they likely had.

Time always stole away kindness.

Lord Beesbury looked pensive. Alicent could practically hear the man pushing house markers along the map in his head as the conversation continued. “Was Princess Rhaenyra involved in such a discussion?”

“The Princess Rhaenyra has continued to seclude herself and,” he paused, his gaze heavy and considering as he took in those around the table. “Her second husband, Daemon Targaryen, at Dragonstone. Neither has she come to the small council as her status allows, nor has she engaged with matters of the realm that her being heir gives her right to,” her father said smoothly, and he was right. “The king still grieves his daughter’s choices, and she has yet to amend with him. I agree with Lord Lannister and our Grand Maester. This would show the strength and unity and willingness of House Targaryen to bond and celebrate with the realm.”

Beesbury gave a humorless chuckle. “And nothing to do with presenting Prince Aegon formally.” As a contender. As a choice - that was left unsaid.

Alicent felt a surge of anger inside of her, instinct compelling her to protect her children and pull the wool Viserys and Rhaenyra spun from Beesbury’s eyes so he could see the truths they refused to acknowledge.

Not long after Aemond had been born, Lord Lyonel had enlisted her in trying to get Viserys to hold another declaration to follow Rhaenyra, if she was truly his desired heir even with two healthy boys of his blood. The King had originally chosen Rhaenyra because of the loss of Baelon and Aemma. Everyone wanted to keep Daemon off the throne, lest he became another Maegor the Cruel… and now, he was to be Rhaenyra’s consort, and Viserys still would do nothing. Alicent refused to believe that Rhaenyra would kill her half-siblings, that she would kill Alicent’s children for whatever love had been there. Every dark, curly haired little boy caused her to fear not what Rhaenyra would decide, but what others would encourage her to do. Her father had not been wrong - her sons would be beacons of rebellion, damned by the man who had so desperately craved a son, yet now ignored. How bitter a pill.

Daemon terrified her. They should all be terrified of him. Daemon now had Rhaenyra’s ear and her heart and her body. Daemon was not one to hesitate if something stood in his way.

Did you fuck Daemon Targaryen in a pleasure house? Targaryens have such queer customs.

“Prince Aegon is eight and ten, an accomplished dragonrider, ah…” Mellos trailed off, and the uncertainty on his face clawed at Alicent’s insides. Failure was acid in her throat.

Either you prepare Aegon…

That boy who would be king had groped six serving girls at the last feast before drinking and whoring his way through the Street of Silk.

“My sister and heir is of unimpeachable character,” Larys’ quiet voice carried within the room. “As a child, Abrogail was a playmate of Prince Aegon and his siblings, and she has become a beloved ward of Queen Alicent, who has done a remarkable job of raising her after the deaths of our parents. I would consider her to be a prime example of all our realm offers to a family that has, if I may be candid, gone to great lengths to keep to their own since the conquest. Wouldn’t you agree, Grand Maester?”

That poor girl she’d now chained to him was a picture of the Maiden. It had taken everything to ensure that her father waited for it. She would not have another bride offered to the throne before she was of age, while her father wanted nothing more than for Aegon to grow up.

Tension crept back into the room at Larys’ words. Nobody would think to utter these thoughts had Viserys been sitting there. Mellos cleared his throat and avoided her father’s gaze to adjust the heavy chain around his neck. The title of Grand Maester had been his even before Viserys’ reign, and he was possibly the closest representative that was not her to speak to Viserys’ mind.

“I would agree, Lord Strong. Perhaps even exploring the eventuality of wedding Prince Aegon’s children to Prince Jacaerys’ would… reassure Princess Rhaenyra. She once suggested a betrothal between Princess Helaena and-”

“We already have other candidates in mind for my daughter,” Alicent cut in immediately. She wouldn’t say anything about Jace’s children and future grandchildren. She refused to entertain the idea that Helaena would marry Rhaneyra’s son to cover her indignity and insult to everything that she had been given and born into. “We have time before the wedding,” she said with a gentler tone. “A year should be more than enough to introduce them to the realm and start introducing Prince Aegon to newer responsibilities befitting his station.”

That was time enough to beat her son into someone who could be King.

Morning light streamed through the gauzy, sage curtains of the princess’ room. Abrogail licked the honey clinging to her fingers as she moved towards the washbasin, abandoning half-eaten bread and cold cuts of meat at the table. Helaena also ignored their meal as she lingered at the only window that could give her a good view of the Dragonpit. Vhagar had been on the prowl that morning, unusually territorial, and the change in the dragon’s temperament had entranced the friend whom she called sister. She jumped when Abby ventured near her, eyes wide and body tense as a startled cat, so the redhead pivoted in the opposite direction in order to retrieve Helaena’s bodice. Normally, she did not wear one unless the Queen noticed, but on days when her mind drifted, the structure of the garment seemed to keep Helaena focused on the moment instead of her dreams. The princess was somewhere else in her thoughts, mechanically holding up her arms to have the bodice slipped over her shift.

“I’m going to tighten the laces now, alright, Helaena?” Abrogail told the princess as she always did, walking through the process so she wasn’t surprised by anything.

Helaena gave no verbal indication that she was listening, but Abby noticed her pale blonde head bob in acceptance. Slowly, she began straightening the garment, mindful of keeping her touch on the lacing and the chemise from pulling and pinching uncomfortably and defeating the purpose.

“Pink and red, he might be dead. Blue and black, no coming back,” Helaena murmured. Her gaze drifted to Myrella Penrose, who approached with a yellow, diamond patterned dress for inspection. “I don’t want my scales to be so bright.” Helaena’s voice did not rise from her quiet tone, and her gaze flitted away.

“How about the new one from Sevenmas?” Abby offered brightly before Myrella’s face could twist into the uncertain and disturbed look it took whenever Helaena drifted. “The ocean blue one with the beading. That’ll be nice to feel, right, Helaena?”

The princess tilted her head about, humming. “Yes, that would be.” She threaded her fingers together, pressing in so the knuckles would crack. Myrella visibly winced at the sound, but Abby just shook her head and carefully tucked the laces into the bodice. “The perfect hug,” came the breathless statement, before Helaena’s bright lavender eyes finally focused away from whatever she was tracking to turn around and look towards her. Abby took the dress from Myrella and offered her cousin a smile as she held it up. She was used to Helaena’s inquisitive gazes, as if she was a bug under the pretty Maester’s glass Aemond had gifted his sister. “Do you need them, too?”

“A hug?” Abby frowned.

“Scales - armor to protect you,” she clarified. Helaena held her arms up to slide the dress over her head, and Abby left her to do the little buttons down the front herself. “Or would you prefer a pretty carapace? Silver and reds, greens and blue. Pinks and black and gold.”

Abby laughed at the idea of being covered in so many colors, and Helaena even returned the smile as she finished her buttons. It was a good sign, and the tingle of worry that had been crawling up and down along her spine immediately eased. “To be decorated in so many colors? That would make for lovely armor.”

Helaena’s mood was improving, which meant that when the Queen finally came in, she wouldn’t immediately launch into fretting and worrying about the princess being in ‘one of her episodes.’ Abby knew the Queen did not mean it badly, but it still made her uncomfortable. Were her mother still there, she would say something if Abby expressed her concern. She was alone here now, and things were as different as the day and night.

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Alicent who entered. Helaena’s little smile turned bright and beaming: “Aemond!”

At four and ten, the boy was steadily growing with each passing turn of the moon. While bypassing Abrogail in height was no difficult feat, he now stood as tall as his sister and mother. Prince Aegon was the next family member he was bound to outgrow, and the Queen had already tasked her with ordering clothes to be made ready for when Aemond shot up again. Lord Otto towered over most, and he japed that Aemond might make it where Aegon had failed to surpass him.

Hearing Helaena’s joyous declaration, Abby caught a spray of pink blooming on his pale cheeks, and Aemond reached up to adjust the soft leather strap of his eyepatch. The scar no longer looked angry, but it was prominent; a ridge of thick skin that was only just smoothing out with time. The prince held a jar carefully in his hands. He took several steps before Abby clucked her tongue at him the way she would at her own cat, though Theraxis had not joined her that morning in Helaena’s room. Earlier, a maid brought along with their meals news that the cat was gallivanting in the discarded feathers while the scullery maids plucked chickens.

“Your mother will be up any minute. She said she doesn’t want to catch you in here anymore,” Abby warned with an arched brow. There was no censure in her teasing tone. Aemond was nearly her own little brother, although much was changing as they left their childhoods behind.

“She won’t be here for him,” Helaena said in a voice far more present than it had been before, Aemond’s very presence pulling her back down to earth and away from the clouds. “What did you bring me?” Even though her buttons were only half-done, Helaena rushed across the room to Aemond with her arms outstretched and fingers wiggling. “Oh! It’s beautiful! Abby! Look!” She held up the jar filled with little sticks and leaves – a fat blue and yellow cocoon precariously hanging from one forked stick inside. “I wonder if it belongs to the ones I released last year.”

“You’ll be the mother of all the moths and butterflies in the Red Keep,” Aemond said softly, so softly that Abby could hardly hear him despite standing close by.

Abrogail moved away from the siblings, smiling at Myrella and leading the woman to the opened door. “Thank you for your help this morning. I believe the Queen will need you more today. Let her know we’ll be going to the gardens later, if you please.” Lately, the Queen had been sending the Penrose woman to help Abby tend to the princess’ needs. It had made her nervous. When she asked the Queen if she was being replaced, the words stuck to her throat. Her Grace had been adamant that it was not the case at all, that it was only so Abrogail could learn from her in preparation for her own running of a household, and give Helaena time to get used to someone else helping her.

Another part of Abby wondered if the Queen knew Aemond was still coming to visit in the morning. Or worse, that Uncle Otto was spying. Abby was protective of her friends, her kin. They were siblings bonded through the years of fights in the mud and pranks and stories in the nursery. Bonds such as theirs were not so easily broken; they only changed as time passed, as things happened, like Aemond losing an eye.

Myrella Penrose gave her a tight smile and left down the hall. Abby watched her go, lingering in the door as Aemond and Helaena whispered in the room. Her friend’s quiet giggles were a rare sound, and Abby would do anything to protect those moments for her, for them both. She tugged at the embroidered cuffs of her dark blue-gray dress, thumbs brushing the little weirwood leaves sewn in delicate scarlet thread. Little golden dragons danced through them as a symbol of her ties with the family. Aegon had picked the golden thread, predictable as ever, when she’d asked his opinion.

She thought of the embroidered knot Helaena had been making – silver and green, tangling with red and black and gold. There were so many twists, but Helaena assured her that there was a rhyme to it, a dance with complicated steps. Aemond’s soft laugh cracked a bit, and Abby bit her lower lip to hide her giggle at the sound. She turned her head, and while she couldn’t quite make them out, she could see their shadows along the stone floor. They stood close together, heads bowed over something - maybe the jar, she couldn’t tell.

Heavy and purposeful footsteps echoed down the hall. Abby’s head snapped up from where she stood within the doorway, not immediately visible. She strained to identify the cadence, and her stomach twisted when she did.

“It’s him,” she hissed, glancing wide-eyed over her shoulder. Aemond’s head was close to Helaena’s with her hands resting on his shoulders. At Abby’s raised alarm, her fingers twisted in his dark green doublet and yanked him towards the partition, shoving him behind it. Abby snatched the jar with the precious cocoon inside and tucked it on the bookshelf behind the embroidered manticore Helaena had just finished. Otto Hightower’s footsteps were not alone, although the Hightower guards did not enter the Princess’ room when he swept in. Abby immediately dropped into a curtsy, a murmur of, “Lord Uncle.” Helaena bobbed slightly, twisting back and forth a bit. “Good morning, grandfather,” she said, bounding up to press a kiss on his cheek. If Otto had any weakness, it would be his unparalleled love and favoritism of his granddaughter. It was hard to tell how much Helaena enjoyed her grandfather’s attention and how much was one of her games, but whatever it was, it worked.

“Good morning, sweet girl. You look lovely today.” Otto’s voice was fond, his smile more gentle than he seemed capable of. He was an intimidating man. Abby had received nothing but kindness and vague disinterest, but he still made her nervous. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to borrow your cousin.” She felt her cheeks color as Otto’s gaze moved to her. Her mouth dried as her nerves returned to where they’d been when standing before the Queen, wondering if she was being replaced. Perhaps Larys was sending her back to Harrenhal or her sister was demanding she go to her in Casterly Rock.

Helaena smiled at her, though, with her hands folded across her stomach. “I’ll help you with your carapace later,” she reassured her. “You won’t be without armor.”

Closing the door behind them, the Hightower guards followed a few paces behind as Abby fell in step with him.

“Is everything alright?” she asked as they went left instead of right, towards the Hand’s tower. It had been years since she’d walked this path that had been as familiar to her as the gardens of the Red Keep. Her eyes glanced for the loose stone at the corner of the step, where she’d stow secret messages in the little hollow behind it. Had she left a note there? Was there perhaps a mystery one waiting for her?

“It is. And I hope you have been well yourself.” Lord Otto looked down at her gently, and she nodded. “The Queen says you pray often in the Sept?”

A prompt. A strange one, but a prompt all the same. She swallowed past her dry mouth and put a smile on her face. “Yes, I enjoy the quiet, and it helps me feel closer to my parents.” And brother, but she was careful not to mention Harwin around anyone but a handful. “It’s especially nice when her Grace joins me. It’s almost like I have my mother back.” No one could replace her mother, but the Queen had been there for as long as she could remember, and sometimes, when she tilted her head a certain way and the light caught in Queen Alicent’s auburn curls, she could pretend her mother was there once more.

“Her Grace speaks highly of you – how good you are with Princess Helaena, well behaved and polite. She said that you and the princess have made things for the poor children of the city. A very kind and admirable pursuit for you both. Your father would be very proud.”

“Thank you.” Abby wasn’t sure what else to say or what he was getting at as they began climbing the winding staircase. The familiarity of it hit her like a scent memory - one sudden and revealing of long-forgotten feelings. “I do my best to follow the Queen’s guidance and reflect well on my position within the family and her example.”

“Good. Very good.” She wasn’t sure if it was something she was supposed to reply to, so she hedged her bets and remained quiet. Her palms were sweating, and she discreetly wiped them on her skirt as she held the fabric. “I’ve noticed that you and Prince Aegon do not spend as much time together as you used to.”

Aegon? Why was she being asked about Aegon? Her stomach twisted, and she felt a prickle of heat along the back of her neck. It was true: they didn’t spend as much time together, but they hadn’t for years now, not since she spent more of her time with Helaena and… Aegon? Well, Aegon had been withdrawing slowly but surely for so long, like fraying threads at the seams. She’d be lying if she claimed to not miss him, because she did. She missed the happier boy he’d been, who did not constantly ply himself with drink and was more mercurial than a wild dragon.

Abrogail would also be lying if she claimed they saw little of one another, or spent no time at all because that was untrue as well. Until the past few moons, she’d gather lunch for the two of them when he finally rose well past noon, and he’d take her flying wherever he and Sunfyre desired to go. It had been something quiet and cherished, simply the three of them away from everything. Until Aegon had gotten in the tavern brawl all that time ago. Until Aegon started avoiding her. Until he barely acknowledged her at meals that he decided to join, even when he sat beside her. There was no way that Otto Hightower would not be aware of that, and she would not hedge around it. It wasn’t like anything untoward was happening.

“Not as much, but that is a natural casualty of leaving behind childhood. He found me earlier this week because it seemed there was a lack of honey cakes in the kitchen and I was the first to be interrogated.” There was a note of amusement in her voice, and Abby smiled in memory of his indignation and how silly he looked when she shoved honey cake into his mouth to stop his ranting. “He occasionally accompanies me in the Sept to pray. It’s incredibly kind of him to do so.”

She mounted a few more steps before realizing that Lord Hightower had paused. She turned to look at him. Morning light streaked through the narrow, delicate paned windows, casting shadow and illuminating dust in the air. He stared up at her, and with a few steps between them, she stood at his height. It was the first time she’d ever met her uncle’s eyes. Unlike her own unreadable brother, Otto’s face was not so impassive. He looked intrigued by her admission. Abby’s hands wound into her skirt so as not to fidget.

“He was not inappropriate, if that is your concern, my lord. Prince Aegon behaved with due respect.” To defend Aegon was second nature to her, and she would do so towards arguably the most powerful man in the realm if it meant to spare Aegon more shame and ire when, for once, he’d done nothing wrong. Which was true. Aegon hadn’t said a single thing. He knelt beside her, lighting candles, and simply stayed with her while she prayed for her family. He hadn’t even put a hand of comfort on her shoulder. She felt that was worth mentioning, given his current proclivities. She would not deny his vices, but she would not break confidence, and she would let no one, especially Lord Otto, think any worse of him if she could help it.

“Very good.” It took everything in her to keep the bewilderment off her face as she tried to understand what exactly he was trying to figure out. Otto resumed their progress, although now he rested a heavy hand between her shoulder blades like a father guiding a child. “So, you have no current complications with him?”

Complications? Did he think she’d lifted her skirts for Aegon? It wasn’t like she’d never thought of kissing him on those lazy afternoons when they’d lay in the grass and stare at the sky somewhere in the Kingswood with Sunfyre sunning himself like a cat. Of course she’d thought about kissing him, especially when he was at his most melancholy, with tears pooling in his eyes, making them pinker than normal. A kiss beyond the games children play, a kiss to comfort an angry prince in the firelight’s glow, his tears coursing down his cheeks with each snip of her embroidery scissors that sent locks of moonlight hair to the ground.

He’d never touched her more than a handhold, and far less than she touched him in her casual affections.

“No. No complications,” she confirmed.

They reached the landing, and Abby ran her hand over the stone dragon curled up in eternal sleep at the top of the stairs. Her fingers scratched along the smooth curve of its head the way she’d done every morning when she visited her father. She felt her uncle’s gaze on her, and she drew her hand away, hurrying to follow him into his office with her cheeks burning beneath her freckles, relieved only just by his vaguely amused expression.

The room was darker than it had been before. Gone were the stacks of books with various slips of paper sticking out haphazardly, or Theraxis lounging lazily along the cool stone floor by the door with his fluffy tail, sending motes of dust into the air. She instinctively clutched her skirt on the right to pull them away, so used to a giant paw the size of her hand grabbing at the fluttering fabric. But Theraxis was not there. The crumbling tome about the Andal invasion was absent from where it once rested on the side table. Instead, Larys stood by the fire with his back to her, as did the Queen, her lovely green dress covering her from neck to wrist with a golden pattern woven in the fabric that caught the firelight. Her face pinched in the way it did when she was uncertain and trying not to pick at her nails.

Abby noticed, of course. It usually meant that someone was about to get yelled at or she would send them away with the other ladies.

The figure in the chair slouched so far down that his silver head nearly vanished behind the back of it. At the clearing of Lord Otto’s throat, Aegon jerked up. His whole body held so much tension that it made Abby’s own hurt just by looking at him. He peered over his shoulder at them with glossy, red-rimmed eyes that give him a strange, ethereal sort of gaze, skin pale enough to prominently display the flushed pink mottling of a strike against his right cheek. He looked stuffy and uncomfortable in his dark green doublet, his fingers absently tugging at the buttons and collar. As his gaze focused, his eyes widened and darted from the uncertainty she knew was on her own face to his grandfather behind her.

The thud as Otto shut the door reverberated through her, and she and Aegon both flinched at the sound. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby could see the Queen flinch as well. Larys, as always, looked unphased. The heavy hand on her back pushed her towards the empty chair closer to the fire, and she had no time to bob a curtsy; courtesies stuck like toffee in her mouth.

The chairs once held the delicately embroidered pillows her mother made. She would curl up with them and read aloud from the books scattered around while her papa worked. He would-

“Queen Alicent and Lord Larys have received several letters expressing interest in you, Abrogail,” Otto said, walking behind his desk. She dug her thumbnail into the pad of her middle finger, and she saw Aegon’s booted foot twitch on the flagstone – a rocking motion from the ball of his foot to his heel before slapping it back down beneath the desk. Wood crackled in the fireplace. “Lord Farman is looking for a wife for his eldest, and Faircastle would be close to your sister.”

He plucked a scroll from the basket as he spoke, and Abby felt her stomach churn with nerves as a red heat clawed along her throat. She did not venture a look at Aegon, save for the foot he kept rocking back, the heel he repeatedly ground into the floor. He’d not gone back to slouching. He could be indolent and rude when he wanted, but not even Aegon dared to in his grandfather’s presence. Abby didn’t understand what this was about, or why Aegon was here.

“Edmund Vance, the heir to House Vance, recently lost his wife. A good man, and part of the Riverlands although a small seat. Or, if you married Jesper Celtigar, the heir of Crackclaw, you’d be able to remain in King’s Landing.”

Otto Hightower produced scroll after scroll and Abrogail felt the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks, confusion keeping her words locked away. How was she supposed to react to all of this? What was he trying to say? Were all these marriage proposals meant to make her feel better about herself? No, that was too odd to contemplate.

Why was Aegon here?

“Lord Grover has also written of his interest in you for his grandson. A Paramount seat would let you be close to your home at Harrenhal, and he already has an heir. He would take good care of you, and your children would have every opportunity.” Another scroll plucked from the basket. “It would bring Harrenhal into their holdings. Is that not correct, Lord Larys?”

Right. Harrenhal.

A woman’s lot is to only be worth what she could bring to the table.

Her brother was a man of few words, and he inclined his head with a shadow of a smile flickering across his face. Abby looked at the queen to find that her face was pinching harder. In the interim, Queen Alicent stepped away from the fire and moved instead to the desk with the gentle swoosh of her skirts gliding across the stone. She cleared her throat, a smile fighting its way on her face.

“All the offers were wonderful for you, my sweet girl, but none seemed right.” The Queen reached out to tuck a copper curl behind her ear, and Abby could not tell if this was supposed to be comforting to her or if the Queen sought comfort in the action for herself. Her lungs felt constricted, and it finally dawned on her.

Oh.

The sole of Aegon’s boot continued to drag across the stone in both a nervous fidget and to keep himself from slouching down even further into the chair. The only reason she could hear it was because of how focused she’d been on it, but now blood rushed into her head and Abby broke eye contact with her cousin to look down in her lap.

“What does seem right is for you and Aegon to be married, after your nameday. You’ll be eight and ten, and the pair of you will go to live at Harrenhal, and make your home there.”

Oh.

“Are you fucking serious?” Aegon’s voice was a hoarse, disused rasp from a night with endless drink. When she looked at him again, she noticed that his hair was still damp, and that beads of water from the wet ends had soaked little spots into the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t looking at her, but up at his mother, and then, incredulously, across the desk at his grandfather.

Otto’s face remained impassive following his grandson’s outburst. Abby wanted to grab Aegon and drag him out of the way of whatever was about to come out of the Hand’s mouth, as if the words would physically harm him.

The silence lengthened. Another log popped in the fireplace.

“He speaks.” The amusement in Otto’s voice caused Aegon to draw back further into his chair before he finally turned to look at her. His eyes were so red-rimmed, and his sullen face was so terribly pale that the pink-lilac of his eyes stood out ethereally, inhumanly like the drawing of a fae folk from a book she had as a child - wild and cornered. He’d bitten his pouty, chapped lips bloody.

Aegon searched her face for an answer to a question that she did not know. The only thing Abrogail could do was give him the gentle, reassuring smile she’d given him countless times before. It was what she did in this world: comfort her loved ones in any way possible, even as she needed to bury her own feelings on the matter. Feelings that, in this particular case, she couldn’t even begin untangling in the moment.

“Well, that makes us luckier than most, doesn’t it?” Abby cleared her throat and turned the smile onto the others in the room. She reached up to grasp the Queen’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze before she burst into a million pieces. Whether it was her, or the Queen, that might burst, she could not say. “We are fortunate to know one another so well and to be of an age. I thank you Lord Hightower, your Grace.” She looked at Larys, who remained silent in his observations, as always – an owl in a tree, eyes taking in everything. “Thank you, brother, for looking out for me.”

She felt Aegon’s eyes continue to pin on her. She looked back at him.

The wild and anxious expression was still on his face, and instinct compelled her, as it often did, to reach out her hand to take his - but he surprised her by beating her to it. His skin felt like fire engulfing her frigid hand and his fingers tangled with hers with easy familiarity. Before she could register what was happening, Aegon’s chair was already scraping across the floor and he pulled her from her chair with the momentum of jumping from his own. There was no pause in his movement as he dragged her to the door.

“How very fortunate we are.” A laugh bubbled from Aegon’s chest. It was a joyless sound when he laughed in the presence of his mother and grandsire. It was edged with the familiar mania; Aegon laughed when he was afraid, when he was anxious, when he was trying not to scream as his world was coming apart, or the laughter and joy on the back of Sunfyre. He tilted his head to stare up at the ceiling before throwing a look over his shoulder at the three across the room. “How very lucky we are.”

Aegon’s hand was clammy around hers, his grip bordering on painful. He yanked the door open with a protesting whine of the latch. Abby heard the Queen calling after him, but Aegon’s strides were purposeful as they ate up the ground to get away. Only the grip of their hands kept her from being left behind in the claustrophobic room where their future was being decided for them.

It might have been the second bravest thing she’d ever witnessed from him.

[Chapter Two]

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

[bruciemilf]

Could you tell me about BruHarvey? Like, I'm really intrigued and interested, but I have no knowledge or framework. What's the dynamic like? The general headcanons/fanon/etc? I'm like a kid sitting at your feet hoping to hear a story lol. I wanna see/hear a fifty slide powerpoint lol. Basically, could you gush about it and let me absorb through osmosis? Hahah

OH MANNNNNNN OKAY. okay. So canon, -- They're college friends; Childhood, if you wanna split hairs. In many reiterations Harvey's considered Bruce's best friend, dearest friend.

I would define their canon dynamic as simply a love left to rot. A spiral of uncertainty and vicious, sharp mourning for the versions of themselves and eachother They're convinced the other can't love. And I love that as fanon as well.

Harvey is CRIMINALLY underrated and underused as both antagonist and familial character for Bruce.

I'd go as far as to say he plays a greater and more crucial role in DC than Joker, because he's actually meant to represent both sides of justice, and how incredibly well that compliments Bruce

NOW. ON MY TROPES FOR THEM? OH BOY.

Childhood friends to lovers (optional) to enemies to lovers. High school sweethearts if you will

Sometimes divorced, but not heterosexual divorced. Gay divorced. Fun divorced

That married couple who's absolutely, clinically obsessed with eachother

I wish this was explored more, but Harvey had an abusive father and I'm so convinced the waynes took him in.

I'm also convinced Martha, Thomas, and Alfred shipped them hard af and had bets on their wedding (Alfred won, but they'll never know)

It doesn't matter if Bruce burns water. Harvey's gonna finish anything he puts in front of him because he's a simp like that

LOOK. Self indulgent and shameless about it, -- Harvey's the most protective husband to walk on earth. If " scary dog/ boyfriend privileges" was a person. He doesn't care that Bruce can snap someone's neck without killing them.

Gomez Addams if he was on Peaky Blinders

Bruce is so down bad for this man. Like so incredibly disgustingly down bad. He'd crawl on Harvey's lap like a cat and rub his head under his chin.

SO MUCH PHYSICAL AFFECTION .THEYRE SO GROSS (I love them so much they're like my parents I will die in their name)

THE PET NAMES. OH THE PETNAMES. Bruce calling Harvey " honey" is enough to send that beast of a man on his KNEES. Harvey heavily calls Bruce " baby" and " princess" and " sweet thing" cause he's hot like that

Bruce calls Harvey " Mr. Dent" when he's mad

AS TWO FACE AND BATMAN. the GCPD learned the hard way that bringing the Bat to interrogate Two Face is a waste of time. They're in that room for 4 hours and all you can hear is soft grunting and gentle moans and raspy " Oh, baby-" " harv-" and Batman giggling

Same goes for Arkham visits!!

Harvey has a Temper on him and Bruce isn't phased at all because 90% it's justified and the other times? Really entertaining. No " this isn't you" bs here. He finds it hot actually

Harvey legally adopted all of the batkids and just never told Bruce abt it

EMBARRASSING SAPPY PARENTS THAT MAKE THEIR KIDS ASHAMED OF LIVING IN THE SAME CITY WITH THEM

#these are really fluffy so theyre not that in-depth!! lots of super creative bruharvey shippers covered a lot of these way more #coherently than me lol but welcome to the bruharvey bunch!@@ #bruce wayne #harvey dent #bruharvey #twobats #batman #two face #dc #dc comics #fluff #THEYRE SOOOOO

[drarryandtomarryfanfics]

(Random) Must Read Drarry & Tomarry Fanfics

i know ive no excuse as to why it’s been so long since i last post – i was busy with life yknow & at some point i thought that my Drarry/Tomarry time was done but noooo – these knuckleheads just dont want to leave me alone, no matter what fandom ive joined – Drarry/Tomarry fandom would always be my safespace & comfort space & i would always come back home to them SO im back & hopefully may be of service again – so my fellow drarry/tomarry lovers heres some random drarry&tomarry fics that certainly help me get back to reading ! enjoy lovelies ♡

drarry fics :

Running on Air by eleventy7

Platform : AO3

Tags : Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence, Broken Draco Malfoy, Broken Harry Potter, Angst, So much Angst, Involvement of Time-Turners, Time-traveling Gone Wrong, Draco Malfoy needs a Hug, Harry Potter needs a Hug, Quidditch Superstar Ginny Weasley, Mystery, Drama, Friendship, Slow Burn, Romance, etc.

( Rated T, 74,880 words, multichapter, completed )

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

THIS IS A MASTERPIECE & IT’S UR LOST IF U STILL HAVEN’T READ IT BECAUSE IT’S SUPERB. THIS FIC GIVES U THE FEELS & ARGH JUST READ THE DAMN THING !!!

The Body Keeps Score by Anonymous

Platform : AO3

Tags : Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Porn, Porn with Feelings, Mutual Pining, enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, sorta - Freeform, more like, enemies to fuck buddies to friends to lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Trauma, Healing, Boundaries, Falling In Love, Touch, exploring the parameters of consent, Drarry being Drarry, etc.

( Rated E, 13,571 words, oneshot, completed )

Draco cries during sex.

A story about touch, intimacy, and the healing we find through mutual trust and love.

✨feels✨

Worth Losing Sleep Over by MelCalder

Platform : AO3

Tags : Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, PWP, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Draco Malfoy, Omega Harry Potter, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Self-Lubrication, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Knotting, Scared Harry, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Smut, Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, kind of, A Pinch of Angst, etc.

( Rated E, 9,491 words, oneshot, completed )

Draco is kind of exhausted, but some things are worth losing sleep over. And study time.

It’s been so long since ive last read abo trope featuring our boys & well, i want more.

One Day’s Difference by MelCalder

Platform : AO3

Tags : Fluff, Established Relationship, non-graphic birth, Pregnant Draco Malfoy, Midwife Luna Lovegood, Vaginal Birth, Draco Malfoy has an artificial vagina, Smitten Harry Potter, Eccentric Draco Malfoy, etc.

( Rated E, 10,307 words, oneshot, completed )

Draco’s sacrifices his god-given body and has (mostly) no regrets.

if u want to read realistic depiction of a pregnant (mpreg) Draco then fucking read this shit

tommary fics :

Holly & Yew by LovelyLotus

Platform : AO3

Tags : Childhood Friends, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Eventual Healer Harry Potter, Wool's Orphanage (Harry Potter), Smart Harry Potter, Possessive Tom Riddle, Child Abuse, Master of Death Harry Potter, Historical Inaccuracy, Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Growing Up Together, Possessive Behavior, Smitten Tom Riddle, Parseltongue, Soul Bond, Codependency, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Harry is bad at eating because the Dursleys suck, 1930s, 1940s, World War II, Future Power Couple in the Making, Self-Harm, They are besotted with each other, Animal Death, Slow burn but very Tom and Harry centric, minor necromancy, Tom Riddle Loves Harry Potter, Harry Potter Loves Tom Riddle, Childhood Sweethearts, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, Ambiguous Romantic Relationships, Their relationship will be pretty lovey-dovey from the start, Oblivious Harry Potter, Unhealthy Relationships, First Year: Complete, Second Year: Complete, Homophobia, etc.

( Rated M, 214,621 words, multi-chaptered, ongoing )

After a bout of accidental magic when Harry is six, Vernon goes too far. When Harry wakes up, he is gravely wounded and more than fifty years in the past in another world. After some shuffling, Harry ends up at Wool's. There, he meets Tom Riddle, his mysterious roommate, eventual best friend, and the love of his life.

Inspired by a doctor he meets in the past, Harry is determined to go into medicine and protect other children like himself and Tom. Tom has his own dream of becoming Prime Minister. The boys quickly become inseparable and are determined to help each other down their paths to build a life together.

He wanted Harry. He had never coveted anyone this much.

Tom understood now that some part of him had never given up on having a… friend. Someone who understood him more than anyone else. Someone who would always take his side.

In a flash, he knew he would do anything to have Harry Faye’s loyalty.

this is a widely known fic nowadays, ive seen it being on the top recommendation list on many platform.. & it’s totally worth the hype 🖤

to have and to hold by partakeninwitchery

Platform : AO3

Tags : Auror Harry Potter, Minister for Magic Tom Riddle, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, at least i think it is, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Obscurials (Harry Potter), only mentioned you don't meet her, Sane Tom Riddle, as sane as he can be anyway, harry too tbh, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, No Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, tom could've tho, etc.

( Rated ?, 2,531 words, oneshot, completed )

“Everything alright, Harry?” Tom said, walking into the kitchen.

Harry froze where he was bringing the cup of hot tea to his lips, he’d thought Tom would be at work until late. He slowly put the mug back down, gritting his teeth through the twinges of pain moving his arm caused. He could only hope his husband didn’t recognise the faint smell of a pain potion mixed in his tea.

just tom being overprotective over harry – nothing to take seriously, except tom took everything to personal matters (hahahaha)

The Darkening of Your Soul by Maeglin_Yedi

Platform : AO3

Tags : Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Do-Over, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, Master of Death Harry Potter, Bottom Harry, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Consensual Underage Sex, eventually, Sane Tom Riddle, Possessive Tom Riddle, Top Tom Riddle, Idiots in Love, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Harry Potter is So Done, Harry Potter is a Brat, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, BAMF Neville Longbottom, Neville Longbottom is a Good Friend, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, Angst and Humor, Maybe some character bashing, Slytherin Harry Potter, Good Slytherins, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Oblivious Harry Potter, Sane Voldemort, Somewhat Good Voldemort, Harry Potter is the Heir to the House of Black, POV Harry Potter, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Abuse, etc.

( Rated M, 260,497 words, multi-chaptered, ongoing )

Harry is betrayed. Harry gets a second chance to do it all over again.

There is just one catch. If Harry gets to keep his memories from his previous life, so does Voldemort.

THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST AMAZING TOMARRY FICS I’VE EVER READ HANDSDOWN ! like it gives u hindsight & how butterfly effects works & so on ! this fic deserves all the attention it gets really ! Oh, & tommy boy has blue eyes in here – that wasn't s crucial information but i can’t stop thinking abt that

#harry potter #mustread #tom riddle #tom x harry #draco malfoy #drarry fic #hpdm #harry x draco #drarry fanfic #drarry #tomarry

[aegonbeingfakeisracist]

hi!

Can you talk more about Arianne and Daemon ? Seriously they are my favorite couple I even have a headcanon that Arianne will be pregnant with Daemon I mean it's more a parallel with Asha's possible pregnancy (pairs between Martells and greyjoys) and Daemons are so fertile hahahaha (Daemon Targaryan Daemon Blackfire) even begin another family but Martin chose the same name and Daemon Sand's father has twins in addition to him...

Anyway I don't see any chance of marriage/ engagement or Arianne's love interest in Aegon it just won't be happening,I see them having a friendship relationship and a strengthening of the family bond , with Ari being a guide for his cousin ( so much potential). This is a bullshit she doesn't want to be queen but Dorne anda her father love. I just want Arianne to be able to be happy white someone who respects her and see her more than just a pretty body and face, and Daemon strikes me as perfect.

I really don't want Arianne to be pregnant because it seems to me like needless drama and just all around bad timing – she's serving as an envoy. There's a war going on. And I feel like her words to Elia kind of apply to her, as well – kiss all the boys you want when you're home in Dorne, but this is so not the time. Sure, she propositions Daemon, but she didn't actually sleep with him. Also, Arianne canonically uses moon tea for birth control. So I'm hopeful there will be no baby unless she lives to the end of the series.

But I think her relationship with Daemon is just so unique in terms of all the relationships we see in the series – they were children doing this entirely on their terms. They were the same age. They just liked each other, and so engaged in a relationship without fear over consequences.

I think in recent years, there's been a weird rise in people forgetting that tropes are tools and not fundamentally good or bad. One of the ways this manifests in particular is hating "childhood friends to lovers" or people winding up with their first love. I don't have hard stances on the kind of relationships in fiction I find interesting or boring. Mostly for me, it's contextual – what is compelling in ASOIAF to me is not the same as what's compelling in another work. And while I certainly agree that there are situations in which a childhood friends to lovers angle may be boring, I think in the ASOIAF context, Arianne and Daemon's childhood sweethearts angle is actually extremely compelling.

For a start, this isn't a people-staying-with-their-middle school-boyfriend-forever scenario. It's the fact Arianne and Daemon had a relationship, broke up, lived near a decade having separate lives with Arianne certainly having other relationships and Daemon probably also doing the same, and are potentially coming back together.

For another, I really, really like what Arianne/Daemon would mean for Arianne as a character. I've said before that she's my favourite ASOIAF character. But even outside of my own personal bias, think about the type of fics that get written about her. It's hard to identify this for certain, because AO3 tagging is just so messy, and navigating through Arianne's tag is a lost cause, but mostly, fic!Arianne is just three sliders of stupidity, horniness, and ambition. Which is just so, so not book Arianne, at all.

Arianne is unique amongst the most important female characters of ASOIAF. She's is not the heir presumptive, she's the heir apparent. Dorne will be hers. And she is a descendant of Nymeria, the most recent in a long line of rulers of Dorne. Her family is central to Dorne's cultural memory, as it was Nymeria and Mors that turned the collection of states into a unified nation. So unlike, say, the Tyrells or Freys, who determinedly pursue these grand matches in a way of compensating for their relatively recent history, Arianne...doesn't really need to do that? Like, she can just marry a bannerman and it would be totally fine.

Furthermore, Arianne clearly has more rights of refusal than most women, and she is not shy about using them - these are real rights she has. I can imagine her feeling more pressure to accept if offered a candidate that wasn't clearly a joke, but given the setting, this is true for everyone. The fact remains, Arianne has options, and since she's going to be a ruling princess, those options are broad.

But despite all of this, her marital prospects are a huge theme. Doran offers her elderly suitors. Daemon and Drey wanted to marry her. There was an entire marriage pact that no one bothered to tell her about. Arianne intends on bartering her own hand, and thinks about how whoever she weds would rule Dorne by her side.

How does all this connect to Daemon? Because he's a nobody. Okay, sure, that's a little extreme – he's a knight, the son of an important lord, and the former squire of a prince. But even though that is the case, he is still a bastard. His father has at least two legitimate children. This isn't a case like Ellaria, in which the set up makes it extremely reasonable to think that her father's land and title will one day fall to her and her daughters - Daemon will not inherit anything. Meaning if Arianne were to marry him, or even just obviously choose him as her partner without a marriage? It would be for her.

There might be some political benefits, given that Daemon is clearly on good terms with his father, but very indirectly, and not nearly to the extent that would be the case with other marital candidates. It cannot be considered anything resembling a political move. So Arianne choosing Daemon would be her taking control over her life, making the choices she wants, for her. It would be her choosing a Dornish spouse that has ties to her family beyond just her alone. It would be her in a position where she can safely choose to make her life with a person that she loves, that isn't the best political choice.

It would be her choosing someone that is deeply, fundamentally tied to Dorne - not just because he's Dornish, but because he is a bastard, because he was once a child in the Water Gardens, because he attended the feast for Balon Swann and did not drink upon the toast to Tommen. Arianne drank. Doran drank. But Daemon did not. Daemon is clearly still in love with Arianne. There is a reason their relationship was never the same after Doran rejected him for her. He loves her enough to serve as her sworn shield and beg her to allow him to go into a dangerous situation in her place. But he has his own mind, and his own beliefs, and his Dornish identity is a big part of that.

We've seen very little of Daemon. But from what we have, he sees Arianne in a way that few do. Doran didn't understand what was going on with her at all. Arys and Areo both clearly had images of her in their heads that didn't quite align with reality. But Daemon, despite their relationship having never recovered fully and despite Doran being so much like Arianne that one would really think he should understand her more than he does, gets her more than anyone else. He understands the strained relationship with Quentyn and that Arianne maybe isn't so desperate to have her little brother return. He sees bits of Arianne in Elia. He literally finishes some of her sentences.

Of all the people Arianne could ever engage in a relationship with, I think Daemon, more than any other character, represents her making her own choices and coming into her own as the ruling princess of Dorne.

#A Song of Ice and Fire #Arianne Martell #Daemon Sand #moongirlgodness #replies

[wangxianficfinder]

Shape-shifter AU

~*~

DRAGON/FOX

~*~

A Ribbon Of Hope by Liebing (T, 8k, WangXian, Foxxian, dragonji, Fantasy, Sweet, soft, Happy Ending, Childhood Sweethearts, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, LXC is the best big brother, Confessions, Losing each other, Finding each other again, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Drunk LWJ, ribbon swapping, talk of getting married, talk of baby fox dragons, betrothal, True Love, Soulmates, Pregnancy in the bonus chapter, child birth, Married Life, complications in pregnancy and childbirth but everything is fine, breast feeding)

💖 Paths of Light and Darkness Converge by ataratah (E, 30k, wangxian, fox WWX, dragon LWJ, secret identity, non-human genitelia, crack treated seriously, fluff, angst w/ happy ending)

💖 All According to Plan by cerbykerby (M, 2k, wangxian, fluff & humor, arranged marriage, fox WWX, dragon LWJ)

The early bird gets the worm, the early fox gets the bird. But the dragon wakes the earliest of them all. by sekhmetpaws (E, 52k, WangXian, XiYao, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Royalty, Prince LWJ, dragon lwj, fox wwx, dragonji, Arranged Marriage, but not really, Mistaken Identity, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Foxxian, slowish burn)

💖 many fox given by defractum (nyargles) (E, 24k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, supernatural elements, smut, shapeshifting, courting rituals, PWP)

To lurk, to lie in wait by trippednfell (M, 124k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Huli Jing, strangers to co-parents to lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Kid Fic, teenage juniors, background NieLan, Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Not Really Character Death, Fox Spirit WWX, Dragon LWJ, Blood and Injury)

Due Process by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 279k, WangXian, XiChengSang, Poly Junior Quartet, Modern AU, Foxxian, dragonji, Genderfluid WWX, WWX identifies as male, Organized Crime, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of child abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Reincarnation)

Letterless by diamondbruise (E, 16k, WangXian, DragonJi/FoxXian, marriage proposals, Getting Together, Pining, Kinda Crackish though we treat that seriously here, Anal Sex, Consensual Non-Consent, Double Penetration in One Hole)

A Baby Dragon's Guide To Seducing Your Huli Jing by sweetlolixo (M, 102k, wangxian, fantasy au, dragon LWJ, fox WWX, younger LWJ, older WWX, fluff, humor, happy ending)

cloudy autumn heaps the sky by anatheme (T, 23k, WangXian, Fantasy, Secret Identity, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Timeline What Timeline, wwx is a little older here, wwx piling gifts on lwj and encouraging hoarding tendencies, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Arranged Marriage, of sorts)

my heart's been borrowed (and yours has been blue) by martyrsdaughter (E, 12k, WangXian, Canon Era, Fantasy elements, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Arranged Marriage, Age Difference, Younger LWJ, Older WWX, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Dubious Consent, Consensual Non-Consent, Blow Jobs, Facials, Non-Human Genitalia, Self-Lubrication, Double Penetration, Biting)

the mystery of the nine fluffy tails by Joythea (T, 13k, WangXian, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Fantasy, Falling In Love, Mistaken Identity, Identity Reveal, Transformation, Fluffy Ending, Fox!WWX, Dragon!LWJ, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Sort Of, Cuddling & Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Shoujo Protagonist LWJ, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Happy Ending, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Fluff and Crack, Tender loving care, Flying)

I’ll hold you through the storm by Selene210 (G, 2k, WangXian Modern AU, Teenaged wangxian, Fluff, a little bit of hurt/comfort, lots of comfort, ALL the comfort, Foxxian, dragonji, Love at First Sight, First Kiss)

Howling for You by Runningbarefoot (E, 8k, WangXian, Fluff and Smut, dragon lwj, fox wwx, Possessive LWJ, Dom/sub Undertones, Fantasy, Biting, Anal Sex, horny wangxian, not really explicit I'm just playing it safe, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, kidnapped wwx, Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Twitter threadfic, Porn With Plot, dramatic declarations of love, shameless wwx, Light-Hearted)

more than you’ll ever know by appledtea (M, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Mpreg, WWX has shitty memory, Animal Traits, Animal Instincts, Fox WWX, Dragon LWJ)

A Fox Demon Fathered My Children by bonbonsbunnies (Not Rated, 26k, WangXian, Fox Demon WWX, Dragon LWJ, Eggpreg, Mpreg, Some angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Fertility Issues, Implied/Referenced Unsafe Pregnancy, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Mildly Dubious Consent, Outdoor sex (almost) but Wangxian get cockblocked by the Wens, Anal Fingering, brief thigh fucking, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Implied/Referenced Cheating (not real), unrealistic depiction of having kids, Eventual Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fear of Abandonment)

what you have tamed by lianhua_lianzi, Senforza (E, 94k, WangXian, Animal Traits, misunderstandings, Courting Rituals, Pining, Lan family dynamics, Drama, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Wangxian break up but get back together, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied Mpreg, Unresolved Sexual Tension, unintentional and eventually resolved “gaslighting”, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX)

The Prized Huli Jing by Seirilypsis (E, 12k, wangxian, fantasy au, ABO, dragon LWJ, fox WWX, (voluntary) warprize WWX, happy ending, getting together, pining, misunderstandings, madam lan lives, fluff, heat, mild dubcon)

💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

Ember clouds by apathyinreverie (T, 9k, WIP, WangXian, Fluff, Fix-It, Dragon WWX, Romance, BAMF WWX)

The Light Within the Dark by Dreaming_Days (M, 123k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Shapeshifters AU, Fox WWX, Dragon LWJ, Happy ending)

flame and rust by cl410 (M, 34k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Happy ending, Dragon WWX, Fluff and Humor, Light angst)

Neither Immoral Nor Criminal by countingcr0ws (M, 20k, wangxian, Chinese mythology & folklore, fox WWX, dragon LWJ, politics, case fic, bamf wangxian, romance, mistaken identity)

Dreams of Red by fuddy_duddy (rainier_day) (T, 16k, wangxian, fantasy au, dragon LWJ, phoenix WWX)

What We Grew in this Forsaken Place by Admiranda (T, 27k, wangxian, modern w/ cultivation, shapeshifter LWJ, fox LWJ, genius WWX, WWX has fear of dogs)

Crossing Paths by Ilona22 (M, 21k, wangxian, shapeshifter au, war between sects, not JC friendly, not YZY friendly, war crimes, happy ending)

💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons series by starandrea (M, 1M, WIP, wangxian, ongoing, animal transformations, weddings)

Burn It All Down by nekojita (M, 81k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, CSSR Lives, BAMF CSSR, Sentient Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, With A Twist, there's a bit of jiang family bashing here, except for JYL, this could probably be considered a slow burn, dragon CSSR & WWX, Rogue Cultivator WWX)

Coil Tightly by Thunderstruck (Blueyed_Impala) (T, 50k, WangXian, Dragon LWJ, Shifters, Modern with Magic, WWX is oblivious to magic, Slow Burn, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, References to Animal Abuse but the animal is LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, WWX has abandonment issues, Possessive LWJ, Clueless Flirting, OC Lan disciples for plot reasons)

my rivers tilt towards you by perfectlyrose (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fairy Tale Elements, dragonji, mentions of, Madam Yu's A+ Parenting, First Meetings, Romance, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort)

in the woods somewhere by bunnylan (weiyingpretty) (T, 3k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Shapeshifters, Mutual Pining, Fox WWX, Dragon LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers)

A Touch To Calm This Aching Heart by Multifacetedinterests (E, 12k, wangxian, F/F, Female LWJ, Female WWX, Genderswap, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Huli Jing WWX, War Prize WWX, Possessive LWJ, Bad Parent YZY, Abusive YZY, Face Slapping, Emotional Manipulation, Fear of Being Fucked to Death, Dead JFM, Touch-Starved, Secret Identity, Enemies to Lovers, Miscommunication, Compulsory Heterosexuality, WWX is Bad at Self-Care, Dom/sub Undertones, Collars, Non-Consensual Collar Usage, Bathing/Washing, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Exhibitionism, Leg Humping, Cunnilingus, Dubcon)

Huli Jing: What Does The Fox Say by faradheia, RhystaRose (T, 19k, WangXian, LS/WP/WZ/ZQ, The Lost Tomb Reboot/Grave Robbers' Chronicles/DBMJ Crossover, Fox WWX, Fox LS, Dragon LWJ, Qilin ZQ, Established WangXian, Minor WP/WX/ZQ, Kidnapping, Explicit Language, Minor Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern with Magic, Angst and Humor, Fox Spirit WWX, Fox Spirit LS)

(Dreaming of) Being Human by Harleydoll (M, 109k, JC & WWX, NHS & WWX, LXC & WWX, LXC & LWJ, wangxian, JYL & WWX, Soft Wangxian, Pining, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Oblivious WWX, YLLZ WWX, Fox WWX, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Huli Jing, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, , Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed, Nudity, WWX is a Lán, WWX is Loved, Gremlin WWX, Shapeshifting, POV WWX, Qíshān Wēn Indoctrination, Not Lánlíng Jīn Sect Friendly, Burning of the Cloud Recesses, Post-Burning of the Cloud Recesses, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex, First Time, First Kiss, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Sunshot Campaign, Fox Spirit WWX, Canon Temporary Character Death, Not Really Character Death)

~*~

BUNNY

~*~

heartkeeper by postingpebbles (G, 7k, WangXian, Animal Transformation, Canon Divergence, no war au!!, Shapeshifting, light convos abt the jiang family dynamic, wwx draws a lot and talks to a rabbit: the fic, former threadfic!!, Fantasy)

Sometimes, Recently, Always, Forever by Imminent_Disaster_Witch (G, 1k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, fluff, romance, bunnies, bunny WWX, shapeshifter WWX, happy ending, music) LWJ meets Nature Guardian! BunXian among the Cloud Recesses rabbits.

something wicked by isabilightwood (T, 13k, wangxian, modern w magic, coffee shop au, animal transformation curse, bunji, True Love's Kiss, miscommunication, pining, jealous WWX, friends to lovers, fluff)

blue-ribbon bunny by cicer (G, 15k, wangxian, modern, supernatural elements, shapeshifting, fluff, humor, crack treated seriously, rabbit LWJ)

~*~

OTHER

~*~

Changes by Duochanfan (Not Rated, 80k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Drama, Mpreg, Shapeshifters AU, Sunshot Campaign, Baby LSZ, Angst with a Happy Ending, JGS is a warning unto himself, Past Miscarriage, Good YZY, injuries, Death of people, Not anyone we like)

The Beast of Gusu series by Netrixie (T&M, 212k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Wolf WWX, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Happy Ending)

When fish soar by mondengel (G, 2k, WangXian, Mermaid AU, Mermaid WWX, Dragon LWJ)

The Tiger has Destroyed his Cage by updatebug (G, 54k, WangXian, Fix-It fic, Hurt/comfort, Tiger WWX, Found family, Angst with a happy ending)

you by sami (T, 6k, WangXian, Background Relationships, Shapeshifters, But Not Everyone, Accidental Baby Acquisition, very little plot just vibes, Modern with Magic)

as the sun will rise by vespertineflora (E, 126k, wangxian, ‘monster demanding sacrifice’ lan wangji, fantasy au, fairy tale elements, human/monster romance, angst w/ happy ending, smut, consensual non-con)

chasing you by jaws_3 (T, 10k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX isn’t found au, shapeshifting, pining, identity porn)

Burrow || 挖洞 by 草苺公主 (BeLeiGwo) (G, 12k, WangXian, HamXian, WWX is a hamster)

Ribbons and Heartsongs by jeyhawk (E, 36k, wangxian, Fantasy AU, Science Fiction AU, Dimension Travel, Case Fic, Loss of Virginity, Marriage Proposal, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Anal Sex, wwx is a werewolf, but it's not a typical werewolf au)

No Loss by eb4life (Not rated, 46k, wangxian, Slow Burn, werewolves exist but not quite how you think, Misunderstandings, Cuddling & Snuggling, Heartbreak, Self-Sacrifice, WWX needs a hug, LWJ is stressed and doing his best, a-yuan saves the day, Medieval AU, but not totally accurate to the time bc I'm not a scholar, inspired by bisclavret (medieval story))

~*~

#Wangxian Fic Rec #The Untamed #wangxian #MDZS #wangxianficfinder compilation post #long post #shapeshifters #shapeshifter au

[acacia-may]

Acacia, since you’re offering, is it okay that I ask for your thoughts on Josele x the Fausts? 🥺👉👈

I’d be fascinated to hear your thoughts.

Of course, Erika! I was actually really hoping you would ask me because, as I am sure you know, I am just obsessed with Nacsele. Sorry Morgen. I love him. How could I not? He’s a total sweetheart, and him and Josele were very cute, but I am unapologetically Team Nacht all the way! I adore their deep friendship and the quick wit & banter that they share, but it's really the angst of that pairing that just elevates it for me. I mean they support each other through their trauma and grief, and then, fall in love?! Even when they believe they're too broken to ever be loved and to be happy again, they show each other that they can be. 😭 I'm going to sob. It's beautiful and is more compelling to me than I have the words to express.

I'm sure it's no secret that I am not much of a romantic, but what you may not know about me is that I do actually have some favorite love stories one of which is a movie called "Return to Me" which is about a man, Bob, who loses his wife in a tragic accident and swears off love forever, but he eventually finds healing and falls in love with the wonderful woman whose life was saved by receiving his deceased wife's heart in a heart transplant. (This is literally all established in the first 5 minutes of the movie so it’s not a spoiler, I promise). The heroine of this film, Grace, is just so incredibly sensitive to his loss and so supportive of him, and one of the main conflicts of the movie is that she cares about him so much that she is heartbroken to learn that even though this transplant saved her life, it caused him so much pain and suffering. The other conflict, of course, is Bob (the main man) coming to realize that even though he truly loved his wife and is always going to miss her, that doesn't mean that he can't love Grace just as much. It's real. It's beautiful, and it's so sincere that it just pulls at my heartstrings every single time. Needless to say, I have an extremely intense passion for stories about finding love after unbelievable tragedy and loss, and Nacht x Josele fit that category so well so of course I'm going to eat that up.

This pairing was just made for me to love. I mean, it also has a complicated brother relationship and they're childhood friends to lovers. Gah! It just has everything. Nacsele is just everything!

I don't think I'm even making any sense right now, but it's so, so good. I find myself just randomly thinking about them like I would with any canon character x canon character ship. I guess that just means they're canon to me. 😁

#nacsele #nacht x josele #clearly i am so normal about them #they're in love your honor #i don't make the rules #and yes i realize *you* do in fact make the rules here erika but like...they are. they are in love. #thanks for the ask #sorry for these probably incoherent ramblings. honestly my main thoughts about nacsele are unhinged squealing followed by ASHHDHHSDSFHF 😅😂 #erika 💙 #acacia's ramblings