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sp0o0kylights · 10 months

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Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am.

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining.

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves.

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise.

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

It was a nice little system that worked for them.

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face.

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand.

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him.

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.)

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it.

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him.

"Mind if I have a word outside?"

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely.

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once.

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. "

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy.

Wayne stared up at him.

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in."

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass.

Hopper really did let the kid off easy.

Wayne really did owe him.

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them.

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context.

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard.

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.”

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn.

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.”

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut.

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?"

The Chief chewed on his split lip.

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town."

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble.

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction.

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird.

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have.

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab.

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters.

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around.

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion.

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it."

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed.

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.”

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going.

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life.

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions.

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.”

Wayne sucked in a breath.

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy.

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t.

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there.

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.)

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.”

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest.

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

“A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.”

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie.

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.”

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished.

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.”

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind.

This one, he figured, was the most important.

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.”

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one.

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington.

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it.

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn.

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say.

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.”

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t.

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy.

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross.

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer?

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

#this has like t wo more parts #pre steddie #wayne as a BAMF #wayne and Hopper both as psuedo parents to Steve #ya'll are gonna have to put up with my weird ass jumping all over the place warm ups sorry lol #Gary's fourth piece is coming no worries #and then this will either take its place or the other one I have will #you CANNOT look me in the eye and tell me all the blue color workers arent aware shits going down #like 100% local crews took one look at starcourt and went what the fuck #nevermind you know the local power plant lol #and with demo critters running around its not like they were tearing through brushes and shit #your local hunters are gonna know somethings up #anyway #beat to shit Steve Harrington #my beloved #hes gonna show up busted to shit with a major grade concussion and Eddie is gonna shit himself #steve harrington #steddie #I spelled collar color and im not changing it #outsider pov #wayne pov #I will write the first person who knows where I pulled John from a prompt of their choice #catholic wayne munson #jim hopper

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byierficrecs · 1 year

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❝ i think there is someone (you love) ❞ author: @fireflywitch

link: archiveofourown.org/works/43215894

personal blog || submit a story || support me on ko-fi 🌿

#📚#byler #byler fanfiction #byler fic rec #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things #r // teen #r // chaptered #r // finished #r // 20-25k #t // canon compliant #t // post-s4 #t // outsider pov #t // sibling bonding #t // wonder twins #t // fluff #t // angst #t // humor

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bylertruther · 1 year

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do you ever think about how will probably wishes he was braver?

that he could tell mike the truth about himself without having to speak in code. that he could stick to his guns when he's been wronged and stand up for himself rather than tucking tail and turning the other cheek. that he could be less shy, less sensitive, less cowardly, and maybe then his loved ones wouldn't forget about him as often as they do.

maybe then they would pick him first, rather than leaving him for last. maybe then they would want to hang out with him and hear what he has to say. maybe then they would treat him like they used to, like he can still take care of himself just like they can, instead of like a fragile little thing that they pick up only when they need him. maybe then they would care about him as much as he cares about them. maybe then he wouldn't doubt that it could all come crashing down once they know who he really is, and always has been, because the rest of him would've been enough.

like, maybe he wishes he didn't freeze or run away so much. maybe he wishes he wasn't so afraid all the time, of every little thing. that he could be brave like mike, el, or his mom. i mean, el's been through so much, too. why can't he be more like her? why does he have to hide behind her? he hides behind her when the monsters come crawling back, and he hides behind her when he can't bring himself to say what he really means—even after getting on her case about it.

he spent so much time on that painting. he didn't let anyone see it—it was that special to him. why couldn't he own up to that? there's no monster in the van with him; it's just him and mike and this painting of the party, nothing inherently incriminating or romantic, and still—he can't help himself. he retreats back into the shadow, shrinks into himself, and tells lie after lie to the person that he never lies to, that he knows doesn't fucking deserve that, just because he's too scared.

of course he'd feel like a mistake sometimes. of course he'd hate who he is (if That script is to be believed), when he can't even talk to the one person that would understand without lying straight to his face, over and over again, like a fucking hypocrite. of course he'd feel so lost without the person that tells him it's okay to be this way and shows him that there is indeed strength in it. of course he'd hate who he is when he's encouraging someone to be true and speaking about their courage, all while being incapable of taking his own advice, and giving the credit for all of his love and efforts and emotions to someone else.

so many people died to bring him back, so many people died just because he didn't stay dead when maybe he should have, and for what? so that he can continue to hide rather than live his life? so that he can turn into a "worse" version of himself? so that he can live in fear? so that he can continue to ache for a past that he can never return to, while everyone else moves forward and berates him for not doing the same? time stopped in the upside down when will went missing, and he's been stuck there ever since, too. too much has happened for him to move on from. too much has changed—he's changed. he's too different now, in every way, and the older he gets the more clear it becomes.

of course he'd feel like a mistake. of course he'd hate who he is. he's the common denominator here: in his loneliness and in this war. the boy who came back to life when others didn't. the boy that got possessed and couldn't fight it. the boy that turned into a liar and a coward and must learn to live with it, even if it's at his own expense. the boy that can't let go of the past and whom the past won't let go of either, because even after everything, he's still connected to this great evil that won't let him go. they got it out of him, and yet the tether remains, because of-fucking-course it would.

just—why? why him? why can't anything ever go right with him? why is he always the outlier? i think that overwhelming amount of fear, shame, grief, guilt, exhaustion, and loneliness would wear anyone down, let alone a teenager that never asked for any of it and has experiences so unfathomably unique that the only other people that could have possibly understood are literally dead.

#will byers #byler #mine #long post #will #anyway. this is how i always interpreted the i hate WHO i am line especially in conjunction with the word ''mistake'' + being different #within the context of EVERYTHING that's happened to will and continues to happen to him and how unique it is to him in this narrative #bc rly. if you were will.... wouldn't you feel like a mistake? even outside of that outside of the supernatural i'm speaking to my #friends that have ''Something Wrong'' with them. when something happens to you and you're not the same after and you're surrounded #by people who are able to move on and be normal—don't you ever have those moments where you feel like a mistake? when you're #growing up and still interested in your same old interests but your friends start moving on and then you see that they went back to #those interests in your absence—don't you feel like you were the problem then? when people are able to be brave and you can't #find it within yourself to overcome your fear—don't you hate that feeling? don't you feel that negativity towards yourself when you #know that you SHOULD do something but you can't bring yourself to and it works against yourself? like. everything that has happened #to will E V E R Y T H I N G !!!!!!!!!!!!! can easily make anyone no matter what part of him you relate to the most understand that #u kno wht i mean? anyway. i jus wanted to bring this up bc his life is a fucking tragedy even without the gay stuff n his current pov on th #and the way that That conversation always centers on fear and bravery it's like. obviously being gay is not easy in that era but i don't #think that line is ''i hate being gay'' with no factoring in of the great many things that have happened to him which alienate him further #as well as with how he does want mike to know and his alan turing poster and his talk with jonathan etc etc #his conflict has always centered around how other people treat him and his issue with that bc that's what makes him feel bad #that just because he's different that doesn't mean that he's Different and must be treated as such #he's different and has people that make him feel BETTER for it like look at s2 for example all of those talks abt using what he perceives #as a weakness abt himself as a strength that no one else can bring to the table. and in s3 when he still believed in being a nerd #and never getting girlfriends etc but when it came from mike thts when he called himself stupid n started down this path bc now #there's that sprinkle of doubt. n tht doubt is the scariest thing in the world—understandably so #also. he literally has an evil monster in his brain like bdkfjhsbkdjhfbskj IT'S JUST A LOT.#he is different for many reasons and has even more reasons to hate Who he is the kind of person that he is #jus my take 😁👍

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dnffics · 4 months

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/49986361

see the limelight

by twostorms

Rated T, 3k words

Tags: POV Outsider, Established Relationship, Marriage Proposal, Future Fic

Summary:

“I can’t believe I’m—like, why am I talking to you about this?” Hannah huffs loudly, rolling her eyes. “Oh my god, whatever it is, just say it already.” “Do you think—” George cuts himself off again, breathing in slowly as if steadying himself. “Do you think it’s too soon for me to propose?”

#dnf #dreamnotfound #dnf fanfic #dnf fic #anon.recs #1k-10k words #oneshot #rated t #established relationship #future fic #marriage proposal #twostorms #outsider pov

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kanthonyficrecs · 3 months

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Featured Fic (Canon Compliant)

the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker by wagamiller Rating: T Status: Complete Summary: Slowly, carefully, the gentleman pulls out a gold pocket watch and lays it down on the work-table. All his urgency seems to drain away as he looks forlornly down at the old, slightly battered thing. “It’s broken,” he says quietly. He sounds like that too. Broken.

#featured fic #canon compliant #t #complete #outsider pov #kathony #kanthony #bridgerton #fanfic

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jyou-no-sonoko19 · 9 months

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『Not so resurrected now, are you?』

#Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #Michelle Gomez #CAoS #caos Lilith #Ro gifs #Hi I'm not breaking all our hearts without reason out of nowhere #this was a request from a very special Marithist #This scene was darker than most and so I focussed on getting vividness where possible #and not worrying about the huge artefacts #soooo....... she sure is keeping herself under control there huh (T^T)#The way this whole ordeal from start to finish damaged both her sanity and her millennia of learned composure to *this * degree... i just #This is not the Lilith we've known #Certainly she's been like this in centuries past but... this isn't how things are supposed to be for her now #she's supposed to have it together (I mean from her pov ofc)#but here she is virtually sobbing in company #And she's saying 'please'#earnestly because she's desperate and no machinations are going to fix this #BUT. Just in case it doesn't work... she's still got rage. Raging against the dying of the light #she's still got that spearhead waiting just outside the room leaning up against the wall #and I enjoy (/masochistic) imagining her brief emotional and physical journey there and back #This brought her from ''fuck me...'' to ''FUCK EVERYONE THAT ISN'T ME" which is her unfortunate but helpful #default setting #cw stabbing #tw murder #cw blood

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lockwood-fic-recs · 7 months

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Everything Is Exactly The Same, Only Instead Of A Talking Skull, There Is A Wisecracking Goose

by nevercatchme on ao3

Rating: T | Category: N/A | Relationship: Platonic Iron Trio, Lucy&Goose, Lockwood&Goose, George&Goose, Lockwood/Lucy (if you squint)

I feel like my title answers all the questions you might have about this plot.

This is a gift for Kate/Barrons. She knows what she did to deserve this, and if that sounds ambiguously either friendly or threatening, you've got the gist of the vibe this work has.

Basically, the Skull doesn't exist in this AU. There's a goose who makes wisecracks and hangs out with the squad, although he may not be an entirely reliable narrator.

#rating: t #warnings: none #ship: platonic iron trio #character: lucy carlyle #character: anthony lockwood #character: george cubbins | george karim #alternate universe #character: a wisecracking goose (nevercatchme)#length: multichap #status: completed #author: nevercatchme #book spoilers: none #misc: crack #lockwood-fic-recs #fic rec #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co fanfiction #pov: outsider

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kaesficrecarchive · 3 months

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[bridgerton family]

a life that suits them both by serendipityinwords (5/7 | 17,323 | T)

Anthony was rather famously besotted with his wife, who was in turn rather inexplicably besotted with him - On The Way To The Wedding by Julia Quinn Or The Bridgertons slowly and successively realise how sickeningly in love Kate and Anthony are. Chapter 1: Anthony and Colin Chapter 2: Kate and Francesca Chapter 3: Anthony and Daphne (and Simon) Chapter 4: Kate and Hyacinth Chapter 5: Anthony and Eloise

(author: twitter | tumblr)

#bridgerton siblings #bridgerton #multi chap #wip #t: outsider's pov #t: family bonding #wc: 10k-25k #c: tv show

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hp-fanfic-archive · 3 months

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The Godfather and the Greasy Git by wynnebat Pairing: Severus/Sirius Rating: T Word Count: 100 Podfic available here Read by: sisi_rambles Length: 0-10 minutes There are some things Harry doesn't need to know. At all.

find full podfic library here

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feyhunter78 · 1 year

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Turn of the Tide, Call of the Sea

Description: Aemond attempts a rescue mission, Alyra and Helaena bond, a small battle, leads to a heated encounter between Alyra and Aemond that changes his course.

Aemond stood at the bow of the ship, squinting against the storm. In his fondness for his sister, he had visited her room and found a drawing of the man from her dreams that had fallen beneath her bed. It bore a striking resemblance to the pirate Jacaerys, and when he heard her ship had been destroyed by a Targaryen ship, he knew what had occurred. He set out at once, commandeering the fastest ship his grandfather would give him and used the information Aegon had collected to plot a course.

The cowardly captain of this ship warned him of sailing through the storm, but Aemond would not leave his precious sister in the hands of pirates.

His mind wandered back to Lady Alyra as he started into the raging sea. She often found her way back to his thoughts, even more as he investigated her family’s tragedy.

Amina Hawthorne married Marcell Laurent, they had three children, Allora, Alyra, and Theo. Allora died when she was eighteen, killed by her husband, Alyra and her mother were presumed missing, while Theo at the age of 8 perished in the flames with his father.

There were rumors about Amina Hawthorne, she came from a distant fishing village, and seemed to have charmed Marcell overnight. The couple was well liked in their social circle, but all agreed there was a strangeness to Amina, her eyes were too bright, her words too fluid. She charmed all who met her, but her touch was cold.

“Those with seawater in their veins will leave you without breath.” Helaena had said to him once, during one of her strange fits.

He’d dismissed her words, but now he pondered them once more, had Alyra done something to him, perhaps she was a witch and cast a spell upon him?

He remembered her warmth though, how her hands had fit perfectly in his, how she laughed and aided his scheme to avoid Cassandra. Perhaps her mother was a witch and had cursed her daughter, or she’d been stolen by the Targaryen pirates and forced to steal for them. That sounded more reasonable to him. A true lady, one pure of heart as Lady Alyra was, could never willingly commit such horrid crimes.

“Lord Aemond, please come inside, the waves are growing higher and the Captain will not continue our course until you are out of the storm.” One of the crew called to him.

He pushed away from the railing and followed the man inside, daydreaming about how happy Helaena and Alyra would be when he came to rescue them.

“And then I set the building ablaze, dove off the dock, and swam all the way back to the ship with three bags of gold coins attached to my waist. My arms were as heavy as cannonballs the next day.” Alyra groaned, smiling as she entertained Helaena with stories of her exploits with Jacaerys.

Helaena had come to her in the morning after they’d been introduced, her face green and a hand over her mouth.

“How did you survive the swim? Gold is heavy.”

Alyra pursed her lips as she held a hand over Helaena’s stomach. “Are you taking Heart Berries?”

“Heart Berries? What is that?” Helaena asked, fiddling with the embroidery on her skirt.

“A fertility herb.” Alyra said, rummaging through her cabinets.

“Am I with child? I wasn’t aware it could take so quickly.” Helaena’s voice was tinged with panic.

“No, no, I can just sense the herb affecting your internal balance.” She pulled out a bottle of white pills. “I can heal you, but you’re not truly seasick.”

“All I’ve taken is the seasickness medicine Tobias’ doctor gave me.” She fished the bottle out and handed it to Alyra, who held it up to the torchlight.

“These are Heart Berry pills. Your intended must have wanted you to be prepared once you arrived.” Anger surged through her. How many times would male physicians harm their female patients on the whims of other men? He didn’t even know if she would have even worse side effects than the nausea, and yet he gave them to Helaena.

Helaena blanched. “He lied?”

“That is why I don’t trust male doctors.” She placed the bottle in her cabinet and pressed the white pills into Helaena’s hand. “I will heal you, but if you find yourself sick again take one of these. If it doesn’t work come back and see me.”

Helaena stood and thanked her, heading towards the door. “Oh, Alyra, you never told me how you survived the swim?”

Alyra had her back to Helaena and continued to crush the eucalyptus leaves as she’d been doing before Helaena arrived. “My mother was an excellent swimmer, she taught me everything she knew.”

“I can swim, but perhaps you teach me your ways?”

Alyra turned and gave Helaena a smile. “Once we reach Dragonstone, I would be more than happy to help you improve upon your skills.”

Helaena left and Alyra returned to her task. Grinding the leaves into a paste took her mind off the storm. Instead, she thought on what Helaena had said, of her prophetic dreams. Her mother had told her stories of those who saw through the veil, who could touch the core of the arcane and return with bits of knowledge.

They’d traveled a long way despite the storm, and Aemond felt as if Helaena and Alyra were just beyond his reach. The captain said they were coming into calmer waters, where ships laid anchor during storms. Aemond slept fitfully, Alyra danced into and out of his reach, as the Hightower manor burned down around them. He sat up with a start, pushing his hair back.

An impact rocked the ship, and he pulled on his trousers, padding over to the porthole. There, the three-headed dragon flag flapped in the wind atop the mask of a massive ship.

He pulled off his nightshirt, trading it for a tunic and grabbed his sword, rushing to the deck. There was a flurry of activity, and he saw the Vermax had hooked onto his ship. Planks of wood lay between them, and the sound of gunshots rang out.

He unsheathed his sword and ran across the nearest plank. Surely his sister and sweet Alyra wouldn’t be fighting.

Alyra stood outside Jacaerys quarters, trusty pistol Ziras in hand. Helaena was hidden inside a wardrobe with strict order not to make a sound. Alyra itched to cross the planks and join the fight, but she knew the Hightower ship was here for Helaena.

The battle would be over soon, the Hightower ship was built for speed, not combat, and the Vermax’s crew vastly outnumbered the Hightower crew. If she was a betting woman, she’d bet Jacaerys would be bolting back here covered in blood and desperate to see Helaena within the next five minutes.

That did not stop her from complaining, though. “I told Jace we should’ve left, but no, he wished to wait until all the Heart Berries had left her system.” She mumbled to herself.

Footsteps came down the stairs, and she raised Ziras, her hand steady.

A man she didn’t recognize wielding a sword began to charge, and she shot him. He collapsed.

“Clean shot, right through the forehead, I’ll have to add that to my tallies.” She patted herself on the back and waited.

Aemond pushed past the dead bodies of the Hightower crewmen, the Vermax was big, bigger than the Hightower vessel, and he had no idea where to look. He wandered down the nearest stairs, more bodies lay strewn about, and the smell of gunpowder was thick in the air. He walked carefully through the maze of hallways until he heard a shot ring out. Aemond followed the sound, then skidded to a halt.

There just around the corner was his sweet Alyra, a smoking pistol in her hand. She blew out the smoke, and he felt a wave of lust wash over him at the action.

He sheathed his sword and approaches her carefully. It was only natural that she would be fearful of any newcomers, his poor lady.

“Lady Alyra.” He called softly.

She turned towards his voice, pistol at the ready.

“Fear not, I have come to rescue you and my sister.” He stepped into her eyeline, and she did not lower her weapon.

“Rescue? Your grandfather sent her to wed an old man and didn’t even check if there was a proper physician on board, she could’ve died.” She shifted her stance. “We rescued her, and I won’t let you take her to that lecher.”

Aemond’s heart sang at the protectiveness Alyra had for his sister, he was delighted they’d become so close, it boded well for their relationship as good-sisters.

“I will not force Helaena to marry Tobias, she can marry another, we can find her another suitor.”

Alyra raised an eyebrow. “We? Who is we?”

“You and I, us. Once I have whisked you and Helaena to safety, the captain of my ship will wed us, and together we will find a proper suitor for Helaena.” He stepped closer and she cocked her pistol.

He froze, hand on his sword. “Alyra, please, I have played your game, do not torment me further.”

“Game? There was no game.” She said firmly, chin tilted up.

“You stole my signet ring; it was your plea for me to rescue you.” He motioned to the ring that rested against her chest.

With her free hand, she tucked it under her shirt. “My apologies, Lord Aemond, but I did not steal your ring in a desperate cry for help. I stole it because I could.” She stepped closer to him, pistol aimed for his heart. “I am a pirate, I steal things.”

He shook his head. “No, you are Lady Alyra Laurent, and clearly the Targaryen’s have corrupted your mind.” He held a hand out to her. “Allow me to return you to your rightful place.”

Alyra tilted her head. “My rightful place is as First Mate of this ship, as the one who married your sister and my captain.” A wicked smile spread on her lips. “The one who was forced to hear their cries as your sister willingly gave my captain her maidenhood.”

Aemond unsheathed his sword and held it to her throat. “Cease your falsehood, my sister would never lay with a pirate.”

Alyra giggled, and the sound pierced his heart. He’d longed to hear her laugh since she’d fled his presence those few weeks ago. “Your sister is a pirate bride; her skin bares the marks of their love. It was a beautiful ceremony, pity you missed it.”

He growled and dropped his sword, crashing his lips onto Alyra’s. She kept his pistol pressed into his body, but lowered it. It dug into his abdomen as she fisted her hand in his hair and pulled him closer, nipping at his bottom lip. “I will not miss our ceremony, that I swear to you.”

She snorted, and yanked his head back, his lips trailing fire down the skin of his neck. He groaned when she nipped at his pulse point, and she marked him, before continuing to press open mouthed kisses down to his chest. “You would marry a pirate?” She questioned, oh so sweetly, that his hands gripped her hips for support.

He didn’t answer, so she stowed her gun and pulled him forward by his belt loops, his hips colliding with hers.

She stared up at him from beneath her eyelashes, bottom lip stuck out in a pout, as she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. The ministrations made his eye flutter closed involuntarily. “No I—”

“You do not wish to be my husband?” She asked, voice dripping with disappointment. Heated lips pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, then his cheek, then brushing right over his scar. “You do not wish for me to be yours ?”

His knees felt weak, and he pulled her to the ground with him. “Be mine, Alyra, I beg of you, or plague my mind no longer.” He choked out.

It took all his willpower not to take her here, with a battle raging outside. She would be so sweet, whimpering beneath him, clinging to him as he thrust into her heat at a blinding speed. She would cry his name and he would whisper his declarations of love in her ear as she came down from her high, her soft body pressed against him. Oh, how pretty she would look, lips kiss bruised, chest covered in his marks and her pupils blown wide with desire.

Alyra looped her arms around his neck, nails scratching the sensitive nape of his neck. She pushed him further to his knees and straddled him. “The battle is done, your crew is dead, we will set fire to your ship, and you may join it.” She kissed the tip of his nose, and his eye opened, meeting her golden gaze. “Or you may remain here with me, your sister, and the rest of our pirate crew.”

Aemond’s hands still anchored themselves on her hips, and he bit his lip when she shifted them, feeling his growing arousal. “You temptress.” He hissed out, eye hooded as he looked at her, a growing desire to claim her within him.

“Your temptress.” She countered, dipping her head to connect their lips once more.

His, his temptress, his Alyra, his wife. How could he deny her when she looked at him so sweetly, when she’d played him so cleverly. There truly was no other for him but her.

He nodded. “Mine. I will remain here with you, on the condition that you are mine, I will not share, and when we find the nearest septon we will marry.”

Alyra brushed the hair back from his face. “My cousin could marry us if you did not wish to wait.” She offered, that same wicked smile on her face.

“Alyra? Helaena?” Jacaerys voice rang down the stairs.

Alyra stood holding a hand out to him. “Speak of him and he shall appear.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess

#jacaerys x helaena #helaena x jacaerys #helaena x jace #jacaerys velaryon #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #alyra hawthorne #pirate au #meg's writing #hotd fanfic #hotd #aemond x oc #aemond x alyra #duel povs #not 2A getting spicy right outside Helaena's door XD #t&c series

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