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pesterloglog · 4 months

Text

Jane Crocker, Jake English, Roxy Lalonde, Fefetasprite

Act 6, page 5521-5540

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG]

GT: Greetings!

GG: Oh. Hello, Jake.

GT: Im not interrupting anything am i?

GG: Um, not really? Roxy and I are just setting a few things up here.

GT: Ah i see. I would be happy to message you again later if it would spare you any inconvenience.

GG: No, it's fine! It's really nice to hear from you, actually.

GG: I was starting to worry you might have forgotten.

GT: Uh.

GT: Forgotten?

GG: Oh no...

GT: Forgotten what now?

GG: Never mind.

GT: Wait dont tell me.

GT: Is it a tomb or a crypt or somesuch? Are you preparing for another grist seeking expedition??

GT: Oh shit did you schedule my assistance for the raid and i forgot all about it???

GG: No, Jake.

GG: We didn't need your help raiding a tomb. But thanks for thinking of us.

GG: I don't know what this clueless pair of damsels would do without you.

GT: Blast.

GT: Well what in the name of willy howard tafts great tub choking bottom could i be forgetting then?

GT: This is going to drive me CRAZY! Can you give me a hint?

GG: Yes. It has to do with the day I was born, which was almost exactly sixteen years ago.

GT: Of course! Your birthday!!!

GG: Didn't you get Roxy's invitation?

GG: It was my understanding that she gave you and Dirk notice weeks ago.

GT: Yes thats right. Now i remember. The date sure snuck up on us quick didnt it?

GT: Sorry you know how things can slip my mind. The gourd on my shoulders isnt the steel trap it used to be. Nothing like the well oiled puzzlebuster you've got up there.

GG: Mm.

GT: Well damn.

GT: Looks like the egg monster took quite the spirited dump on my face this time.

GG: Jake. I... what?

GT: I feel so dumb. Ill be right over.

GG: Well, if you recall, the party is actually tomorrow.

GG: Like I said, we're just setting a few things up.

GG: Roxy is putting up some decorations. I baked a cake. You were of course free to join us early too. I just thought since I hadn't heard from you in quite some time, you had better things to do.

GT: You baked a cake for your own party?

GG: Yes. So?

GT: I dont know something seems amiss about that. Isnt that against tradition or inviting bad luck or something?

GT: But I guess it makes sense since you love baking cakes. Its like a present you give to yourself!

GG: Jake, what was it you actually wanted?

GT: Oh. I just wanted to get your advice on some stuff.

GT: But since ive been a heel and forgotten about your party maybe i shouldnt bother you with that?

GG: Mmm.

GT: So sixteen big ones huh! The ole sweet sixteen.

GT: Last one of us to notch the vaunted one sixer. Its a big step! I knew youd make it, i always said i believed in you didnt i?

GT: Just kidding, the inexorable nature of times passage virtually assured you would get that old so you didnt really have anything to do with it. I mean not that i dont still believe in you, i do.

GG: ...

GT: I cant believe its already been...

GT: How long?

GT: What, like a year already since we entered? Holy moly, where does the time go.

GG: It's been more like five months.

GT: Oh.

GT: Well thats still a pretty long time.

GT: I have to admit its been a longer stint than i expected. Certainly one involving more downtime than i would have guessed.

GT: I really thought we would have been treated to more action, what being legendary players of a mysterious cosmic game. But no, it seems the primary duty of the so called nobles is to wait around twiddling our thumbs.

GG: Mmhmm.

GT: I am really beginning to wonder when these fabled heroes will arrive? And are they really going to be those we have been led to believe?

GT: I sure hope so. Id so love to meet my pen pal. Dear old departed grandma. But as a feisty youngster! What a hoot thatll be. And you with your poppop. Lets not forget about him.

GT: Not to mention the young strider and lalonde relatives. I bet theyre a barrel of laughs. I met them once but i was too shy to say anything. Then i got in a fight. Did i ever mention that jane?

GG: Yes.

GG: Many times.

GT: Not to say its been all downtime and doldrums. Exploring has been great. Finding treasure, solving riddles, becoming better friends. I wouldnt trade that for anything.

GT: And maybe we are getting close to something big happening regardless? Every day it seems like more and more undead creatures crawl from out of the shadows. Bigger ones and stronger ones. Does their presence herald something worse coming, just as the legends indicate our presence heralds something better?

GT: I just wish we could actually kill the fucking things. Even the little ones can absorb so much damage before yielding any spoils!

GT: Remember jane? Remember at the start how we kept trying to kill them?

GG: Mmhmm.

GT: We would all gang up on like an imp skeleton for an hour just clobbering it repeatedly. Knocking its bones down, waiting for it to reassemble and keep coming at us. Only to finally be rewarded with a shitty pittance of grist!

GT: But i guess the silver lining was it forced us to explore ruins more often and scavenge for loot there. So i think weve learned a lot more this way.

GT: But it sure makes resources hard to come by, having to get them exclusively from chests and whatnot. Sometimes i wonder if weve been missing out on a really rewarding part of the game by neglecting to build up our houses? Makes you wonder. But it just costs so much! Better to stick to making more practical stuff dont you think?

GG: Mm.

GT: Sometimes i wonder if the heroes had the same problems in their game. Do you think they found an easier way to kill skeletons?

GT: Were they just as shameless as us when it came to splurging our precious grist on swanky new duds?

GT: Did the same enigmatic bard haunt their game? And if so which hilarious dead trolls did he throw into the flashy blobs?

GT: Mr erisol tells me he knows many things about the heroes because he saw them in action when he was alive. But he wont tell me a thing about them! These troll sprites sure do love keeping their secrets dont they? Heheh.

GG: That's nice, Jake. I'm kind of busy though.

GG: What did you actually want to talk to me about?

GG: Actually, why don't we just talk about it tomor-

GT: Okay we can talk about that if you insist.

GT: Really jane you sure know how to twist a fellas arm!

GT: I just wanted to get your take on what you might call my own personal ultimate riddle.

GT: It involves dirk.

GG: You don't say.

GT: Its true. I havent seen him in a couple days.

GT: I have been laying low for a while but i just received another series of pushy inquiries from him.

GT: Maybe i shouldnt be too hard on the guy since he was probably just concerned, not having heard from me and all.

GT: But i still couldnt help but detect a tone of desperation, like he could sense i may be having doubts.

GT: This kind of thing has been all too common unfortunately.

GT: Im not sure its going to work anymore.

GG: Mm.

GT: He can be so needy!

GT: If only he could just relax and trust that i wont spontaneously tire of his company.

GT: Although the irony i guess is that his overbearing tendencies are beginning to fulfill his own paranoid prophecy.

GT: Its such a shame. Weve had so many capital adventures together.

GT: I dont know why he has to be like this. He always was an intense fella. But in person... holy cow.

GT: I wonder if it has to do with the fact that he grew up alone in the middle of the ocean? And now he doesnt know how to deal with people without suffocating them?

GT: But then again i grew up under similar circumstances and i think i turned out pretty much ok socially, at least i hope so. Do you think so jane?

GG: Mmmm!

GT: Actually it just occurred to me. Its funny he didnt mention your party in his text.

GT: Im SURE he wouldnt have forgotten. He never forgets ANYTHING what with all his calculations and his computerized brain. Both figurative and literal.

GT: I wonder what his game was? He invited me on an expedition without mention of your party as a potential conflict...

GT: If he sensed i could use some space perhaps he was concerned that if we both showed up to the party it would be awkward?

GT: Or maybe he didnt want to mention he was going to the party in case it would spook me away from attending?

GT: Argh! Do you see jane?? This is what his endless machinations do to you!

GT: Anything he says could be part of some grand convoluted scheme and it just makes you agonize and boggle and wonder until your brain hurts and you just KNOW its a battle you cant win.

GT: You know what i mean jane?

GG: Mmhmm.

GT: Do you think i should just bite the bullet and end it?

GT: Its probably the right thing to do.

GT: Boy am i not looking forward to that conversation though.

GT: Its going to be a doozy. What did i get myself into here?

GT: I think ive made a lot of mistakes honestly.

GT: Not the least of which was getting this shitty tattoo, now that i think about it.

GT: Yes yes i know we all thought it was a riot at first.

GT: I guess it still is maybe? But lately ive been wondering if it might not have been an act of sound judgment.

GT: Can you believe that jane?

GG: Hmm!

GT: I dont know. Its a real pickle im in here but i do feel better just being able to get it off my chest.

GT: You are such a good friend jane, always ready to listen to my relationship woes. What a trooper!

GT: It never ceases to amaze me how excellent you are at this friendship business. Where would we all be without you?

GT: In a way you really have been the glue holding us all together on our adventure. Gosh youre a standup gal.

GT: Oh which actually reminds me of ANOTHER thing thats been bugging me about dirk.

GT: He can often be almost hilariously self absorbed. Dont even get me started on when he starts going off on these long monologues about his philosophical gobbledygook.

GT: I'm not sure he actually has much of a filter when it comes to what others regard as interesting points of conversation.

GT: Not to rag on the guy too hard but i guess at times i would just like to see a little more self awareness from him is all.

GG: Jake.

GT: Did i tell you what happened on our last expedition together?

GG: Jake.

GT: I cant remember if i mentioned. Oh man but thinking back on what happened its even more ridiculous in retrospect.

GT: Where do i begin?

GG: Jake!!!

GT: What?

GG: Shut up!

GT: Huh?

GG: Shut up!!!

GT: Errr.

GT: Did i say something wrong?

GG: JAKE.

GG: PLEASE.

GG: STOP TALKING.

GT: I dont...

GG: JAKE.

GG: I SAID SHUT UP.

GT: Wha...

GG: JUST,

GG: SHUT,

GG: THE FUCK,

GG: UUUUUUUUUUP!!!

GT: Ay caramba.

GT: What in tarnation is the matter jane?

GG: WHAT'S THE MATTER?

GG: WHAT'S THE MATTER???

GG: I AM SICK.

GG: AND FUCKING TIRED.

GG: TO DEATH.

GG: OF YOUR INSUFFERABLE BLITHERING BULLSHIT!!!!!!

GT: Whoa there.

GT: You seem really worked up. Maybe we should just calm down and talk this through like sensible adults?

GT: Also youre going kinda heavy on the caps there arent you? Sort of makes it seem like your shouting. Just saying.

GG: I AM SHOUTING!

GG: THERE ARE LITERAL SHOUTS OF ANGER COMING OUT OF MY ACTUAL MOUTH, AND THEY ARE DIRECTED AT YOU!

GT: Yikes.

GT: Well ok then.

GT: Can you tell me why youre so upset with me?

GT: Is it because i forgot your birthday party? Because i do feel awful about that.

GG: OH MY GOD. WHY ARE YOU SO CLUELESS?

GG: I CAN'T STAND IT!

GT: Really i feel like a tool about forgetting. You know how i am. I forget stuff.

GT: I mean...

GT: Shucks buster. If i knew how to make it up to you i would.

GT: If it ameliorates matters any i am sighing pretty much the shucksiest buster of contrition i can manage.

GG: IT'S NOT ABOUT MY BIRTHDAY!!!

GG: THE FACT THAT YOU FORGOT CERTAINLY DOESN'T HELP, BUT THAT'S NOT IT. SEE, YOU JUST DON'T GET IT!

GG: OH, AND COULD YOU PLEASE STOP SAYING SHUCKS BUSTER?!

GG: SHUCKS BUSTER WAS MY THING! AND YOU STOLE IT!

GT: I thought shucks buster was...

GT: Sorta our thing?

GG: NO, IT WAS MY THING, BUT I ALLOWED IT TO BE OUR THING! BACK WHEN YOU USED TO GIVE A SHIT! BUT NOW IT'S JUST MINE, AND YOU CAN'T HAVE IT ANYMORE!

GT: Uhh.

GT: Ok?

GT: I suppose i could go with shoot buddy. Or...

GT: Fudge junior?

GG: .................

GT: Or maybe forgo an analogous catch phrase altogether heh.

GT: But i clearly stepped in it big time with you and id really like to know what i did.

GG: JAKE, LET ME ASK YOU.

GG: DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER THE LAST TIME WE TALKED?

GT: Hmm.

GT: Wasnt it a few days ago?

GG: NO. TRY A FEW WEEKS AGO!

GG: AND EVEN THEN, YOU MESSAGED ME JUST TO TALK ABOUT SOME STUPID SHIT THAT HAPPENED WITH DIRK.

GG: A TEDIOUS GESTURE WHICH YOU THEN SAW FIT TO REPRISE ON MY BIRTHDAY OF ALL DAYS, WHILST CONSIDERATELY FORGETTING ABOUT IT!

GG: AND EVEN WHEN I REMINDED YOU ABOUT IT, YOU STILL BARGED AHEAD WITH YOUR SELF-INDULGENT RELATIONSHIP CLAPTRAP ANYWAY!

GT: I didnt realize it was so long ago. Sorry about that.

GT: Again all i can say is where does the time go? I guess i have trouble keeping up with everything im supposed to. Which it would seem includes personal relationships as much as calendars.

GT: Im not much of a leader of people. Not like you are jane. I think when it comes to adventuring maybe im more of a solo act?

GT: Which now that i think about it might be contributing to my problems with dirk. Maybe thats part of the reason why i needed some space?

GT: Oh brother there i go again blustering about my problems. I guess i see what you mean.

GT: But really if you wanted to talk sooner then why didnt you get in touch with me?

GT: It feels as though im always the one to say hello to you lately.

GG: YEAH! THAT'S BECAUSE EVERY SINGLE TIME WE CHAT, YOU DO NOTHING BUT TALK ABOUT YOURSELF!

GG: YOU NEVER ASK ME HOW I'M FEELING OR WHAT I'VE BEEN UP TO. YOU JUST LAUNCH INTO YOUR ROMANTIC PROBLEMS, AND I JUST LISTEN LIKE AN ACCOMMODATING FOOL AS ALWAYS!

GG: SO I JUST STOPPED BOTHERING! WHY SHOULD I SUBJECT MYSELF TO THAT REPEATEDLY?!

GG: YOU MIGHT ACTUALLY BE THE MOST THOUGHTLESS, SELF-CENTERED PERSON I HAVE EVER MET!

GG: I CAN'T BELIEVE I USED TO FEEL...

GT: Huh?

GT: Used to feel what?

GG: JAKE, HAS IT EVER OCCURRED TO YOU HOW IT MUST FEEL FOR SOMEONE TO LISTEN TO HER FRIEND GO ON AND ON ABOUT HIS BOYFRIEND PROBLEMS WHEN...

GG: WHEN ALL ALONG SHE...

GG: BUT SHE JUST COULDN'T SAY BECAUSE SHE BLEW IT AND IT WAS TOO LATE TO...

GG: I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY I'M BOTHERING TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU. NEVER MIND.

GT: Now hold the phone.

GT: Jane i think i may finally understand whats been going on here.

GT: In retrospect i cant believe ive been this blind.

GT: Youre right i really can be deplorably thick sometimes.

GT: Looking back i can see how many of our conversations must have been torment for you.

GT: You really should have told me how you felt sooner!

GG: YEAH. I...

GG: I know. :(

GT: If you told me you had the hots for dirk i would have backed off without another word.

GT: What are friends for!

GG: RAAARARRAAUUUAAAAUUAGHGHGGHGGGGHHGH!

GT: Wait...

GT: Did i say something dumb again?

GT: Consarn it.

GT: I think maybe something is getting lost in translation over our respective chat clients.

GT: Maybe we should wait until tomorrow and just clear the air face to face at your party?

GG: NO!

GG: YOU AREN'T COMING TO MY PARTY!

GT: Aw come on jane. Be a sport.

GG: YOU AREN'T COMING TO MY PARTY, BECAUSE THERE ISN'T GOING TO BE A PARTY!

GG: GO RAID SOME TOMBS WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND. GO MAKE OUT WITH HIM OR BREAK UP WITH HIM, OR WHATEVER IT IS YOUR FICKLE, SELFISH HEART DESIRES!

GG: I AM AT THE END OF MY ROPE WITH YOU!

GG: I AM FED UP WITH YOUR STUPID MOVIES AND YOUR STUPID ADVENTURES AND YOUR STUPID OLD TIMEY CHARMS AND YOU STUUUUUUPID DASHING GOOD LOOKS. WHO NEEDS ANY OF IT?????

GT: I say jane. Before you do anything rash...

GG: OH, WILL YOU PLEASE,

GG: JUST,

GG: STFU BUSTER!!!!!!!!!

ROXY: jane

ROXY: yo uh

ROXY: janey

ROXY: u ok there

JANE: I WILL BE PEACHY FUCKING KEEN ONCE I STOMP THIS NOVELTY MUSTACHE HEADSET INTO OBLIVION, AND NOT A MOMENT SOONER!

ROXY: janey uh

ROXY: that aint a reasonable thing you said

JANE: AU CONTRAIRE.

JANE: I BELIEVE YOU WILL FIND THAT ONCE THIS PIECE OF SHIT HAS BEEN REDUCED TO SUBATOMIC PARTICLES, WE WILL ALL COME OUT SMELLING LIKE FUCKING ROSES.

ROXY: jaaaaane

ROXY: stoppit :(

ROXY: ur upsettin fefeta

ROXY: just

ROXY: think of fefeta is all im asking

ROXY: poor fefeta :'(

FEFETASPRITE: 3833 < 383

JANE: OH POOR FEFETA MY SWEET PATOOTIE!

JANE: YOU AND I BOTH KNOW FEFETA HAS HAD TO DEAL WITH GARBAGE FROM JERKOFF BOYS BEFORE.

JANE: SO DON'T GIVE ME THIS POOR FEFETA CRAP.

ROXY: lol yeah

ROXY: my girl fefeta knows whats up

ROXY: she been around the d bag block a time or 2

ROXY: em i rite fefeta

FEFETASPRITE: 3833 < 3;3

ROXY: shit yes gimme a paw bump

ROXY: BOMP

ROXY: jane u want in on this action

ROXY: come give us a fist fulla sugar

ROXY: complete the 3way for max girl power + solidarity against dumb dudes

ROXY: janey jeez dont leave us hanging here

JANE: SIGH.

JANE: FINE.

ROXY: jane that was the piss poorest paw bump ive ever seen

ROXY: that was like a negative bump

ROXY: we are going to have to bump long and hard into the night to dig us outta this fuckin bump hole you dug us into

ROXY: w/ that tragic bump

ROXY: that bump was like

ROXY: shakespearean

ROXY: makes me want to weep softly and leave a bouquet somewhere

ROXY: someone plays a sad trumpet in the distance

ROXY: look fefeta just sniffled a little at how sad that bump w-

JANE: SHHHHHHHH!

ROXY: ok god

ROXY: was just tryin to cheer you up

ROXY: take ur mind off whatever the hell that was

ROXY: you werent serious about calling off the party were you

ROXY: here let me just get the chess guys to help put the table back on the roof

ROXY: and maybe salvage the cake out of that sand dune over there...

ROXY: aaaaand NOPE the chess guys just finished eatin it

ROXY: lets just bake another k?

JANE: NO, I WAS SERIOUS!

JANE: I'M NOT...

JANE: I'm not in the mood for a party anymore.

ROXY: so it sounds like

ROXY: u got jaked

JANE: >:(

ROXY: why yes

ROXY: that is the face of a girl who just got english'd with extreme prejudice

ROXY: he was a block head and forgot your birthday didnt he

ROXY: im sorry jane

JANE: Yeah, me too. Can we maybe not rehash the whole terrible conversation though??

ROXY: yeah we dont have to

ROXY: just maybe try not to hold whatever dumb shit he said against him forever?

ROXY: thats just how the guy is

ROXY: its like

ROXY: he doesnt mean to be a douche

ROXY: but its just kind of a byproduct of the whole ridiculous jake english experience

ROXY: like his dunkass shenanigans leave behind a residue that looks like douche and tastes like douche but it aint the real thing?

ROXY: like douche substitute

ROXY: "i cant believe its not douche"

ROXY: um

ROXY: im just trying to say not terrible things about him in hopes you dont start hating each other but i guess this isnt what you wanna hear now

JANE: >:(

ROXY: soooo yeah

ROXY: i guess jakes dumpin dirk soon?

ROXY: hahah like the writing wasnt so on the wall with those two from day one

ROXY: poor dirk

ROXY: ive wanted to say something to prepare him for that but

ROXY: never had the heart to bring it up i guess?

ROXY: what can u do....

ROXY: hey

ROXY: but the silver lining is

ROXY: i mean if you can forgive him for shitting on your bday and stuff

ROXY: maybe this is finally your chance to make a play 4 the j man??

ROXY: ehhhh??? ;)

FEFETASPRITE: 3833 < 38D

JANE: ROXY, PLEASE.

JANE: AS IF THAT ISN'T THE FURTHEST THING FROM MY MIND RIGHT NOW!

JANE: I AM SO DONE WITH THAT WHOLE TRAIN OF THOUGHT.

ROXY: so you really think youre just

ROXY: completely over him?

JANE: YESSIREE!

JANE: IF JAKE'S THE RAINBOW, THEN JUST CALL ME A LITTLE HOUSE FROM KANSAS!

JANE: WHEEEEEE!

ROXY: wait rly

ROXY: as in like you dont give a shit if he dates anybody or

JANE: MMMMMMMHM!!!

ROXY: i seeee

ROXY: iiiiiinteresting!

FEFETASPRITE: 3833 < 38O

JANE: WAIT...

JANE: WHAT??

JANE: WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN???

ROXY: nothing!

ROXY: i was just...

ROXY: it was a joke!

JANE: WAS IT REALLY?!

ROXY: ok maybe not a total joke

ROXY: but still mostly a joke!

ROXY: im only

ROXY: trying to

ROXY: blurgh

ROXY: i dont know

JANE: ROXY, I GET YOU'RE TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER, BUT A LOT OF THINGS YOU'RE SAYING HERE AREN'T REALLY HELPING!

JANE: DO YOU EVEN REALIZE WHAT YOU'RE SAYING HALF THE TIME?

JANE: I THINK I LIKED YOU BETTER WHEN YOU WERE DRINKING!

ROXY: jaaane no

ROXY: dont say that

ROXY: i had a problem :(

FEFETASPRITE: 3833 < 38(

JANE: OK, YEAH!

JANE: I WAS WAY OUT OF LINE THERE AND I'M SORRY!

JANE: THAT STUPID CONVERSATION WITH JAKE JUST PUSHED ME OVER SOME KIND OF EDGE AND NOW I AM FEELING REALLY, REALLY DISTRAUGHT!

JANE: THIS GAME IS SO MUCH MORE DEPRESSING THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE! EVERYTHING IS DEAD AND EMPTY AND FULL OF GRAVES AND ALL WE'RE SUPPOSED TO DO IS JUST KEEP WAITING AND WAITING AND WAITING! BUT FOR HOW MUCH LONGER? AND I STILL DON'T KNOW WHERE MY DAD IS, AND YOU STILL HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO REACH CALLIOPE, AND WHAT IF THEY'RE BOTH...

JANE: AND NOW ON TOP OF ALL THAT, I MAY HAVE PERMANENTLY DESTROYED MY FRIENDSHIP WITH JAKE!

JANE: AND NOW...

JANE: Now...

JANE: I just want to be alone.

ROXY: jane wait

JANE: I have to go!

ROXY: where are you going!

JANE: HOME!!!

ROXY: good lard

ROXY: all my friends are being disasters

ROXY: welp looks like its just us

ROXY: party nite w gcat and fefeta

ROXY: fefeta???

ROXY: oh dangit

ROXY: hey you know i could have used some support there

ROXY: where was all that profound shippin expertise when we really needed it!

ROXY: usually i can barely shut you up girl

ROXY: maybe you just clammed up at all the drama?

ROXY: hehehe youd have loved that pun

ROXY: the one i just said about the clams

ROXY: aw its ok you had enough drama in your lives

ROXY: you deserve some rest

ROXY: good night sweet princess

ROXY: sooo

ROXY: gcat

ROXY: i guess that just leaves the two of us

ROXY: wow this is

ROXY: great?

ROXY: you gonna behave urself

ROXY: not do anything too uh

ROXY: vexing or cheshire catty

ROXY: i hope?

ROXY: oh mother fuck

1 note · View note

th3casscad3 · 1 month

Text

In The Heat Of The Night

It Was That Time Of Season For Alastor.. He Locked Himself Away In His Radio Tower Till He Rode Out His Rut.. But What Happens When A Certain Innocent Minded Reader Smells His Scent..? Warnings: Rut, Roughness, Praise Kink, Cream, Tentacles, Pleading, Growing In Size, Antlers, Ear Pulling, Breeding Kink, Knotting. G!N Reader. Words: 1193 Characters: 5523 ************************************************************************

It Was That Time Of The Year Again For Alastor. The Itching Sensation In His Antlers As They Tripled In Size. The Sweating Of His Body, His Hair Clinging On To His Face And Him Finding His Clothes Rather Hot. Alastor Had Been In His Radio Tower, He Was Going Over His Script For His Next Broadcast, Having A Soul He Wanted To Display. When Suddenly The Air Grew Thick And He Needed To Loosen His Clothing. He Threw Off His Pinstriped Coat And His Bowtie. His Fingers Desperately Found Themselves Undoing His Buttons On His Shirt. He Stumbled His Way Over To The Nearest Window, Desperately Searching For Fresh Air. It Was Then That He Noticed The Bulge In His Pants, Throbbing. He Grunted And Resisted The Urge To Dry Hump The Wall. He Leaned His Body Out Of The Window And Dropped His Head Down, His Antlers Feeling The Wind Against Them, Temporally Relieving His Desires. " Blasted This Season.. Such Disgust. " Alastor Growled Out, He Hated The Feeling Of Intimacy And Desire. It Was Nothing More Than A Demons Weakness. Giving Themselves To Another Person, The Mere Thought Made Him Sick. And Yet.. Here He Was Desperately Trying Not To Find A Mate Of His Own To Breed Into. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- On The Inside Of The Hotel, You Were Chatting Up With Everyone. Laughing About Angels Porn Films, Arguing With Husker About Showing Mere Kindness. But, That Just Led To Him Pushing You Off The Bar Counter With A " Whoops", When Suddenly You Found Yourself Rather Bored. So Naturally, You Decided To Go Look For The One Person You'd Be Able To Get A Good Reaction Out Of. You Searched The Halls, His Office, And His Bedroom. After A While You Decided To Finally Give Up When Suddenly, You Remembered You Hadn't Checked His Radio Tower. On Your Way Up To His Tower, You Caught A Whiff Of What Seemed To Smell Like...Cum And Pine? You Let Your Nose Led You To The Door Of Alastor's Tower. You Knocked. " Alastor..? Hey, You In There? " You Asked With A Slight Nerve. In Almost And Instant, The Door Flew Open And You Saw Alastor's State. He Looked A Mess. Before You Could Even Speak Alastor Threw You Inside And Locked The Door " You Know You Shouldn't Have Came Up Here, My Dear. " Alastor Spoke With A Heavy Static In His Voice. He Pressed You Against His Control Panel And Parted His Way In Between Your Thighs, Lifting You So You Were Sitting On Top Of It. " F- Forgive Me, Al. I.. I Just Wanted To Come Bother You! " You Pleaded. You Didn't Like How He Was Acting, You'd Be Lying If You Said You Weren't Scared. Alastor Took Notice Of This And Place His Finger Under Your Chin, Forcing You To Look Up At Him. " Ah, And Bother Me You Did. Now You Must Face The Consequences. " As Alastor Spoke, His Tentacles Came Out From The Shadow And Tore Of Your Clothes, You Were Now Laying There Exposed In Front Of Him. He Drank Up Your Body As His Tentacles, Covered Your Mouth And Pinned Your Wrist Together For What's About To Happen Next. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mouth Covered, The Only Sound You Could Make Were Muffled Cries. You Had Always Imagined Alastor To Be A Gentlemen When It Came To Intimacy, If He Had Ever Chosen To Do Such A Thing. But This, This Was Nothing Gentle About It. Before You Could Even Process What Was Happening, A Tentacle Shoved Itself Inside Of You. You Screamed Out Through The Tentacle And Alastor Simple Chuckled. Your Legs Trembled But Alastor Wouldn't Allow You To Close Them. He Admired Your State While The Tentacles Plowed Into Mercilessly. Watching The Tears Run Down Your Face, Only Turned Him On More. After A While Of Torturing You, He Pulled His Tentacle Out, Not Allowing You To Reach Your Climax. You Whined Out Until You Saw His Body Grow in Size. His Eyes Becoming Dials And His Neck Elongating. If He Didn't Look Like A Serial Killer Then, You Were Sure You Pee'd Yourself Now. He Unzipped His Pants And Uncovered His Throbbing Cock. You Took In His Size And Your Eyes Widened. You Wanted To Plead That It Wouldn't Fit But Instead He Slapped You. " You Speak When I Tell You " He Growled And Lined Himself Up With Your Area. " You Move When I Let You " He Slowly Starting Pushing His Head Inside You, Warming You Up. " And You Cum When I Give You Permission " With That He Pulled Back Out And Jammed Himself In Your Area. You Had To Forced Yourself Not To Cry Out In Pain. It Was Too Big, It Burned, Your Legs Twitched With An Aggression You've Never Felt Before. You Felt His Cock Deep Inside You. You Wanted To Scream, To Cry And Push Him Off But His Tentacles Held Your Wrists. You Couldn't Even Think Straight. Your Mind Was Fuzzy And Overstimulated. You Felt A Knot In Your Core And Knew You Were Close To Your Release. You Muffled Out. Pleading With Him To Let You Release. Alastor Towered Over You And Bit Down Into You Neck. His Moans On Full Effect. " What Did I Tell You. Such A Naughty One, Aren't We " He Then Lapped Up Your Blood Before Pounding Himself Into You Deeper. You Pulled On Your Wrists, Asking Him For Permission To Move Your Arms. He Agreed. Your Hands Instantly Went To His Ears. Yanking On Them With A Passion. Alastor Moaned Out And Bit You On Your Collarbone, Letting The Blood Fall Down Your Beautiful Skin. Red Always Was Your Color. You Muffled Out Again, Pleading, Begging To Release. Your Body Couldn't Hold Out Much Longer. You Needed To Let Go, The Knot In Your Stomach Only Buring More As You Let Out Some Pre-Cum. Alastor Removed The Tentacle From Your Mouth, Wanting To Hear All Those Pretty Little Sounds You Make. " A- Alastor!!.. Hah.. Please, Please.. Ngh.. I Need To- " You Couldn't Even Finish The Words, Your Mind Going Into Overdrive. Alastor's Tentacled Held Your Ankles Putting You In A New Position, One That Gave Me A Much Deeper Range. You Screamed. Your Legs Nealy Touching Your Head. Your Hands Now Grabbing His Antlers For Support. " Mm~ I'm Going To Breed You And Your Going To Take My Whole Seed " He Lowered Down To Your Level, Feeling The Knot In His Stomach As His Release Neared. His Cock Swelling Up Inside You As She Finally Filled Your Pretty Little Hole With His Seed. That Triggered Your Own Release As Well. You Both Rode Down This Crazy High As Alastor Returned To His Figure. His Cock Still Knee Deep Inside You And Stuck. After A While His Cock Un-Swelled And He Pulled Out Of You, Watching His Seed Pour Out Of You. Your Legs Finally Relaxed As You Laid Your Body Down On The Control Panel " You Took Me So Well~! I'm Proud. " He Chuckled As He Zipped His Pants Back Up, Going About His Studies Again, As If You Meant Nothing. " Next Time, I'll Make Sure My Seed Sticks~ "

#hazbin hotel #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin alastor #hazbin smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Text

Tethered.

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Pairing - Benny Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, sexual content, mentions of sobriety

Word Count - 5523

Author's Note - by popular demand!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, it was so helpful!! don't worry, there is still a stewy hosseini fic coming very soon. i love writing for the triple frontier boys, so if anyone has any requests or particular thoughts, please send them my way. i'm also a total will girly, if you couldn't tell. as always, lots of love <3

my other triple frontier fics - Time, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

Will’s strong hand rubs steady circles into your thigh under the table as you all hunch over laughing.

Benny’s telling the story of his bad date from the night before. The combination of his masterful storytelling and the whiskey that seems to be refilling itself is making you giddy, all of you high on the joy of being with your best friends. There’s no feeling quite like it, laughing until you cry.

“Wait, that doesn’t explain why she slapped you!” Santiago exclaims from opposite you, clapping Benny on the back.

“She slapped me because, it turns out, I’d kissed her best friend a few months ago. She called me a dog and everything,” he laughs, tears escaping from his eyes. “She had a strong hand!”

“Did you know who she was when you saw her?” Frankie asks, genuinely intrigued.

“I realised as soon as I sat down. I didn’t know it’d be a problem! Man, fuck blind dates,” Ben chuckles.

“Am I crazy for not seeing the issue here?” Santiago asks, looking around the table.

“I didn’t see it either, apparently. It’s not like me and Lucy ever went anywhere. It was just a kiss.” Benny’s face is scrunched up in confusion. It makes you want to smooth your thumb over the crease between his brows.

“She was giving me the look, I swear,” he continues. “So I went in for the kiss, and she hit me.”

The boys are all laughing again, and as guilty as you feel, you can’t help but join them. Benny has such an animated, expressive face, that even the most boring of stories are entertaining when being told by him. It’s a gift. He just has a way with people.

“What do you think, hermosa?” Santiago asks, looking at you pointedly. “Would you kiss someone your best friend has kissed?”

“I don’t know,” you reply carefully. “Depends on the situation, I guess. I’d try not to, I think.”

Will’s looking at you with amusement in his eyes, slight smirk on his face. It’s clear that no one is putting the pieces together.

“Would you, Santi?” you question, lips quirking up at the corners.

“Probably not. I’d avoid it, if possible,” he replies.

The whiskey is making you braver than usual, a warm buzz running through your veins. Without thinking, you laugh,

“Too late.”

Everyone looks at you, brows raised in confusion. Will’s grinning now, chuckling to himself quietly. You’re giggling at their faces, their naivety making you smile.

You watch as Frankie looks slowly around the table, and then back at you. Shaking his head, he catches your eyes and snickers.

“Minx,” he mutters, still smiling.

“Am I missing something here?” Benny asks, surveying the silent communication happening between you, Frankie and Will.

You sigh sarcastically and throw your drink back, downing it in one go. Well, we’re doing this, you think.

“I’ve kissed every single person at this table,” you start. “Which means you’ve all kissed the same girl your best friend has kissed.”

Santiago and Benny go silent for a moment, processing this new information. Will and Frankie are still smiling, already a step ahead.

“Wait, what?” Santiago finally speaks. “You have?”

“Oh no. Pope thought he was special,” Frankie laughs, head thrown back.

“Stop it, Francisco! You are special, Santi. It just so happens that they are too.”

You point generally at the other boys, all of them with their eyes fixed on you. You can see that Benny is still figuring things out, the alcohol making his brain work slower than usual.

“I’ve known you guys for years. We’ve been through a lot together. And you’re like, the four most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen! It was bound to happen sooner or later,” you justify.

Everyone’s laughing now, the final piece finally being put into the jigsaw. You can tell they’re all thinking back to their kisses – you are too.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Benny had been the first one to kiss you.

It happened right at the beginning of his boxing career. He’d started working out religiously, meal planning, prepping for his first big fight. He set strict rules for himself – no alcohol, no women, no sex. You were glad he’d found an output for his energy, glad he was taking something so seriously – even if the idea of him getting hurt did terrify you.

The four of you had gone to support him, eager to see him win after months of watching him train and prepare. He’d really committed to the process, which was a surprise – Benny was a notorious ladies man. He loved to relax with a beer. But he’d never broken his self-made rules, not once. No matter the outcome of the fight, you were insanely proud of him. All of you were.

The atmosphere in the warehouse was electric. It was a big venue, with hundreds of people gathering to spectate. You hadn’t realised this was such a popular event. Adrenaline buzzed through the air, making you antsy with anticipation. You and the boys had front row seats by the ring, allowing you the perfect view, the ideal place to support Ben.

“I’m gonna go get us some beers,” Santiago yells over the noise.

“I’ll come help you,” you shout back, linking your hand into his so you don’t get separated.

You make your way out of the double doors and down the hallway in attempt to find the bar. On the journey, you spot a sign that points to the locker rooms.

“You order, I’ll be right back,” you tell Santiago, before following the directions.

You push open the door and step into the locker room. Benny is sat on the bench, headphones blasting music so loud you can hear it from 10 feet away. You make your way over, and touch him on the shoulder gently. He doesn’t startle.

“I don’t want to disturb you, Ben. Just wanted to say good luck,” you say quietly.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit next to him.

“You could never disturb me, honey. You’re my good luck charm,” he winks, and the cheekiness of it warms your chest.

He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you, breathing in the scent of your strawberry shampoo. You inhale with him, and soak up the heat that’s seeping into your skin.

“It doesn’t matter what happens out there,” you tell him. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, and throw a beaming smile at him before leaving. You find Santi at the bar, and help him carry the beers back to the boys.

You’ve never seen this side of Benny. He’s throwing and dodging punches like it’s second nature. The man moves like ocean waves, fluid and constant, never once caught off guard. There’s a lot to be said about the pastime of men fighting each other, but honestly, Ben has found his calling.

Electricity crackles through the air as Benny swings his last punch. His opponent falls to the mat as you rise from your seats. All of you instantly begin screaming, roars of celebration filling the space. Ben throws his fist in the air, signalling his victory. It’s rare, this feeling. The five of you don’t win very often. This needs to be savoured.

Eventually, the cheering dies down, and Benny leaves the ring to go and get changed. The boys are all ecstatic, chattering with pride in their voices about their brother, their teammate, their best friend.

“Be right back,” you tell them, moving to slip out of the doors and down the hallway.

You strut into the locker room, eyes scanning the space for the man you’re looking for. You find him stood, unwrapping his hands. Before you know it, you’re running into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he spins you. His bare chest is dripping with sweat. He’s covering you in it, but you couldn’t care less. You’re both laughing, joy and love filling the air.

“I’m so proud of you,” you breathe into his neck, still in his arms. Your feet finally find the floor, and you lean back slightly to stare up at him.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, pretty girl,” he beams at you.

You can feel the energy coursing through his veins. He’s thrumming with it, buzzing with adrenaline – it feels like he’s going to burst. He’s practically vibrating.

Before you can even register what’s happening, Benny pulls you back to him, smashing his lips onto yours. He skims his hands down your back to grab at the backs of your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself into him.

The kiss is needy, desperate, pulsing - all teeth and tongue. Benny walks you backwards to slam you against the lockers, using the pressure of his body to lean forward into you. Your hands thread through his hair, pulling forcefully. He groans, deep and guttural, and it’s one of the most gorgeous sounds you’ve ever heard.

He’s grabbing at your ass as he dips his head down to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, biting at the column of your throat. Your dress is practically around your waist, and you roll your hips forward, searching for friction. It’s your turn to groan now.

“Fuck, honey,” he murmurs. “Prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

He holds you up with one arm, and moves the other hand to twist into the waistband of your underwear. He’s pulling them down when someone bangs on the door, startling you both.

“Benny! Champion! Get out here, man, or we’re coming in!”

It’s Will’s voice, that deep tone instantly recognisable.

You pull your lips from Benny’s, your head dropping back against the locker with a clang.

“Shit,” he chuckles, gently pressing a kiss to your sternum.

“Shit,” you repeat, giggling gently.

Benny puts you down carefully, smoothing down your dress with those big hands of his. He fixes your hair next, sweetly moving it out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. He runs his thumb under your bottom lip, wiping where your lipstick has smudged.

“Do we look like we just made out?” you ask him, amusement evident in your tone.

“You do. I look like I just won a fight.”

He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back. God, this man. One minute he’s got you whining against the lockers, and the next he’s got you giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Come on,” you urge. “They’re gonna come busting in here any second.”

Right on cue, the door swings open, three men barrelling inside. They all jump on Benny, ruffling his hair and pulling him into a headlock affectionately. You watch from a short distance away, smile still etched on your face. You love them so much you’re worried your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

You look at Will, and find him smirking at you. Always a step ahead. Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you into their celebrations. You’re being thrown around like you’re in some sort of whirlpool, dizzy with the joy of being with your best friends. You wouldn’t change a thing, even if you are a little lightheaded.

You catch eyes with Benny, and he winks. You know that the events of tonight aren’t going to change anything between the two of you. Your friendship is so solid, you’re convinced it can withstand anything. The five of you are connected, somehow. This unexplainable, invisible tether, binding you wherever you go. The kind of friendship that they write books about.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Frankie was the next person to kiss you.

Or maybe you kissed him. You’re still not sure.

The five of you were at a bar downtown, drinking and laughing. The boys were a few beers deep, muscles relaxing and minds quietening.

But not Frankie.

When he’d made the decision to get sober, he’d included everything. He wasn’t a man who believed in partially sober, or ‘California sober’. If he was going to commit, he was going to commit fully. Alcohol included.

Usually, it didn’t bother him. He could go to bars with his friends, happily crack open beers for them when they watched a football game, make a mean margarita when they hung out at his pool in the summer. But that night, he was on edge. He didn’t know why, couldn’t pinpoint any reason specifically, but he was on overdrive. His mind wouldn’t slow down - thoughts barrelling into him at a hundred miles an hour. He was debating going home to bed, before realising that he was designated driver. So, he’d sat back in his seat, taken a deep breath, and tried to pretend like he wasn’t about to combust.

You’d noticed. Of course you had. You, with your observant eyes, your careful gaze, your genuine smile. You’d noticed.

Will had too. He was keeping an eye on Frankie from across the booth, but he wasn’t worried. He knew you were watching him like a hawk. That reassured Will to no end.

“Oh yeah? Come on then, old man, put your money where your mouth is!” Benny’s yelling at Santiago, grabbing him by the bicep, up and out of his chair. You watch as he drags him over to the pool table, determined to prove himself.

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, somehow, Benny and Santiago always managed to turn it into a competition. You, Will and Frankie were always happy to watch – you usually ended up playing referee, only interfering when someone cheated or got too rowdy.

The two of them began setting up a game, leaving you at the booth with the other two.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Frankie says suddenly, standing up and making his way out of the door.

Will gives you a look of concern.

“I got it. Just make sure those two idiots don’t kill each other with pool cues, please,” you joke.

Will chuckles and nods, squeezing your waist as you move past him to follow Frankie.

Outside, you find him around the side of the bar, leaning against the brick wall. He’s breathing heavily, clearly trying to get a handle on things. You watch as he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. He slides down the wall, sitting on the cool ground, legs bent in front of him.

You walk over and sit down next to him, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete underneath your bare legs. You lean into him slightly, placing your head on his shoulder. He breathes you in, and you feel some of the tension melt from his muscles.

Eventually, you speak.

“You okay?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer.

“Yeah, cariño, I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m usually fine in bars, it doesn’t bother me. Guess I’m just anxious tonight.”

You hum in understanding, before realising something.

“What’s today’s date?”

He looks at you with puzzlement written all over his face, but answers you anyway.

“March 16th.”

“Happy one year of sobriety, Francisco.”

You can see it all clicking into place in his head. The reason he’s been on pins all day, the reason he’s been so wound up tonight, unable to settle. You figured it out before he could. Clever girl.

“And I’m celebrating it in a bar, apparently. How appropriate,” he laughs. It’s a real, hearty, genuine laugh. You love when he laughs like this – so hard that he starts wheezing. It’s so endearing, it makes you want to cry.

“I can’t believe I forgot. A year ago, it was like, the biggest milestone ever. And I forgot.”

You can tell he’s almost disappointed with himself. But you’re not. No, quite the opposite, actually.

“You see how great that is though, right?” you ask him. “You’re so busy living your life now, working, being the best dad ever, that you didn’t even have to think about it. It’s not a bad thing that you forgot about it, Frankie.”

He pulls you closer, both arms wrapped around you, your head pressed into the crook of his neck.

“How do you do it, hermosa?”

“Do what?”

“Always know exactly what to say.”

“Years of knowing you, probably. Years of loving you,” you answer.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, but you hear him clear as day.

“No, I don’t deserve you. I’m so proud of you, Francisco.”

He pulls away from you to look at you earnestly. He smiles at you, and you grin back at him. If love could lift you up, you’d be floating, both of you levitating with it.

Frankie leans in closer to you, and you mirror the movement. You’re not sure who kisses who, but suddenly his lips are on yours, his hands moving to cradle your face. It’s careful, and it’s gentle, and it’s so full of gratitude and history that it takes everything in you not to break out into a grin. One of his hands moves through your hair as the other one caresses your cheek. You can’t remember the last time you were kissed so tenderly. Neither can he.

Unbeknownst to you, Will has come out to check on you both. He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. His heart swells in his chest, and he can’t help but smile. He knows that this won’t change anything between you and Frankie. It’s just the comfort he needed – you both needed. He makes his way back inside quietly, grateful for the both of you and the way you look after each other.

Eventually, you both pull apart. Frankie rests his forehead on yours, and takes the first full breath he’s taken all day. His shoulders relax, his jaw unclenches. He’s okay, thanks to you.

“Thank you, cielito,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“Everything. Knowing me better than I know myself. Knowing all of us better than we know ourselves.”

“Someone’s gotta keep you all alive,” you grin, and he chuckles, the vibration of it settling into your bones, warming you up from the inside out.

He pulls you back against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You both sit against the red brick, cold ground underneath you, for what feels like hours.

“There they are!” Santiago yells when he spots you both.

“Mom, Dad, can we go home?” Benny jokes, clearly down one drink too many.

“Of course we can, baby,” you smile, pulling Frankie to his feet with you.

You all clamber into Frankie’s truck – you riding shotgun, the other boys crammed in the back. You reach for your drivers hand, and interlace your fingers, resting your palms in your lap. You hold onto him all the way home, and can’t help but notice how much lighter he seems.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Santiago kissed you next.

The five of you were having a pool day at Frankie’s, trying to cool down in the Texan summer heat. It was rare, for all of you to have the same day off, so you planned to make the most of it.

The four boys were already in the backyard when you arrived. Letting yourself in, you made your way through the house, briefly stopping in the kitchen to put your popsicles in the freezer. You’d purposely picked the strawberry ones, knowing they were Frankie’s daughters favourite. She was at her mom’s house for the week, but you knew she’d be back at the weekend.

“Hey, honey!” Benny yells when he spots you at the back door.

All of them turn to look at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by all the golden skin on display. Benny is wearing swim shorts with an inseam that can’t be any more than 5 inches, strong thighs just begging to be bitten. Will’s navy shorts compliment his blond hair beautifully, and Santiago’s green ones bring out the dark brown of his eyes. Frankie still has his shirt on, but it hugs his biceps just right. Damn, you think. I might just have the most attractive best friends in the world.

They’re all grinning at you as you survey each of them. You know they don’t mind being ogled just a little.

“Eyes up here, princess,” Santiago teases, no seriousness whatsoever in his voice. You scoff and throw your head back in a laugh, all of them simultaneously joining you in your amusement.

You put down your bag and kick off your shoes, before grabbing the hem of your dress.

“Give us a show, Miss Supermodel,” Benny whistles, winking playfully.

You peel your dress over your head slowly, wiggling your hips as you go. You’re left in a little black bikini that admittedly doesn’t leave much to the imagination. You don’t mind. You’re safe here.

They’re all whistling and cheering, make you laugh. You never feel more appreciated than when you’re with these boys. It’s everything. They’re everything.

“It’s like Sports Illustrated in real life,” Frankie grins, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Will says quietly when you catch his gaze. You roll your eyes playfully, but smile at him genuinely, silently thanking him.

Your eyes flicker to Santiago. He has a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It’s more than his usual appreciation. It’s hungry, hot, burning. It makes your skin prickle, the hairs on your neck standing up. You have to get away from his stare before you jump his bones right in Frankie’s backyard.

“Want me to make you a margarita?” Frankie asks, innocently breaking through the moment.

“Yes, please. That sounds amazing.”

He smiles at you before retreating to the kitchen, Benny following him in search of beer.

The heat doesn’t ease up all day. It’s sweltering, covering you all in a sheen of sweat that can’t seem to be wiped away.

Santiago’s gaze doesn’t help your warmth. Every time you look over, he’s surveying you carefully, eyes raking over your body in a way that makes your breathing quicken. There’s always been chemistry between you, sure. You have chemistry with all of the boys. But it’s never been like this with Santiago. Yes, you flirt with each other – it’s in both of your natures. But this is different. This is real.

You spend all day lounging around. Frankie keeps you topped up with margaritas as you make trips in and out of the pool, messing around with the boys. Benny hoists you up onto his shoulders in the water, throwing you up into the air as high as he can and laughing when you splash back down. You and Will throw a ball back and forth, doubling over when he overshoots and hits Frankie, who’s soaking up the sun in a lawn chair. In the late afternoon, Frankie fires up the grill, preparing to barbeque for dinner.

“Pope, you gonna help me?” he shouts from the deck.

Santiago looks at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, before joining him. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. There’s anticipation bubbling at the pit of your stomach, butterflies swirling. Warmth has settled in your core, and Santi’s heated glances are only fuelling the fire.

The sun finally gives you some respite in the early evening. You all settle on the grass, drinks in hand, laughing about nothing and everything. Benny’s telling you about his next fight, describing his opponent in hilarious detail. You look down, and realise your glass is empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone want anything?” you ask, smiling as you watch Benny jokingly pretend to box his brother.

“Can you grab me a beer, princesa?” Santiago asks, pointed gaze trained on you.

You nod and make your way inside, praying that it’s cooler in the kitchen. The sun might have gone in, but the warmth in your core hasn’t left.

You reach into the fridge for the jug of margaritas that Frankie made earlier. You’re rising onto your tiptoes to fetch a new glass from the top of the cabinet when you feel a presence against your back. Santiago grabs one from the shelf and places it on the counter in front of you, leaning forward as he does it. His lips are brushing the shell of your ear, and you shudder out a breath.

“So you’re feeling it too, mi amor?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’re worried you might combust if he keeps speaking to you in that deep, low, raspy tone of his.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into me. Can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispers. He feels a shiver wrack through your body and chuckles.

You turn around to face him, and he steps forward, caging you in against the counter, arms on either side of you. You can’t go anywhere. You don’t want to.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he practically purrs.

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, testing the waters. You catch it with your teeth and pull it into your mouth, biting down gently before sucking, not once breaking eye contact. He groans and tilts his head back, exposing his throat to you. You tangle a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and give him a look that says I dare you.

Santiago surges forward to capture your lips with his. It’s desperate and needy - a perfect representation of both of your states all day. He slips a strong thigh between your legs and pushes upward, making you whine. You’re pressing yourself into him, trying to get as close as possible. His hands are everywhere all at once – your hips, your hair, your back, your ass. He wants to feel all of you, and can’t decide where to start.

You feel drunk off of him as he kisses you. His tongue is making you melt, his steady hands the only thing keeping you upright. You could kiss him like this for hours, surrendering yourself to this man you call your best friend. This man you’ll love forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice Will entering the kitchen. He clocks the situation in front of him and tries to exit silently, walking backwards out the way he came in. He knocks into the recycling bin, startling you and Santiago, causing you to jump apart and hit your head on the cabinet behind you.

“Shit, sweetheart, you okay?” Will asks, genuine concern etched on his face.

Santiago cradles the back of your head as he looks at you, eyes searching yours for any signs of pain.

“I’m good, I’m good, don’t worry,” you reassure them.

Will smirks at you and winks cheekily before he leaves, grabbing a beer on his way out.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning forward to rest your head against Santiago’s chest. He strokes your hair lovingly, a laugh rumbling through him.

You both know Will isn’t going to say anything. He’s the most trustworthy one of them all. Always observing, never gossiping.

“Love you, hermosa,” he chuckles.

“Love you too, Santi,” you reply, wide smile painted on your face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Will was the last to kiss you.

It had been a long time coming.

Some people think Will is hard to read. He’s introverted, quiet, a wallflower of sorts. But he isn’t hard to read. Not really. You just have to know what you’re looking at.

He’d called you up one Sunday morning, asking if you had plans. When you’d told him you didn’t, he invited you over for a day of pancakes and terrible movies. It sounded perfect.

Which is how you found yourself lying on Will’s couch, legs tangled together, your back to his chest. His strong arms have found home on your waist, wrapped around your middle. You’re not sure how you ended up here, as you started the movie on opposite ends of the sofa. No one’s complaining.

It’s rare, this kind of intimacy. Casual, effortless, easy. No thought goes into it. You just fall into each other as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Will’s always had that gift. He makes people feel comfortable. No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, one look from those big blue eyes is all it takes to calm you down. It doesn’t matter if you’re being shot at on a battlefield, or just getting overwhelmed in a supermarket. Will’s there, and he knows exactly what you need. You’re convinced the man might be a mind reader, honestly.

He’s not, in fact, clairvoyant. He’s just a listener. No matter what you’re talking about, Will’s looking at you like you’re the centre of his universe. He’d be perfectly content to listen to your voice, to watch the way your eyes light up when you tell stories like this forever. You feel like the only girl in the world, as you lay here in his arms.

You’re deep in thought before you decide to break the silence, voice floating through the warmth of the room.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”

You feel him hum from behind you before he answers softly.

“Every day since I met you.”

You nod gently before relaxing back into him, sighing in contentment.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?” he asks, mirroring your question.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think about kissing you, William,” you murmur.

His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you impossibly closer. He presses a kiss into your hair, and another to your bare shoulder.

You sit in the silence for a while, letting the questions hang heavy in the air. It’s not awkward – no, it’s the exact opposite. It’s comfortable.

“I’ve kissed Benny, Frankie and Santi,” you confess quietly. You’re not sure why, but it just feels like something you need to get off your chest. You don’t want him to judge you.

“I know,” he speaks softly. He knows. Of course he does.

“Does it make you think differently of me?” you query. You almost don’t want to know the answer.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replies earnestly. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t look good for me, I guess.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. They’re your best friends. You love them. A kiss doesn’t have to change anything - not always, anyway.” He pauses. “Do you regret any of it?”

“Not at all,” you whisper.

“Exactly. We all think the world of you. You should know that by now.”

You shift and turn so that you’re sitting in between his legs, facing him. You press your forehead into his, and he smiles gently.

“I love you,” you say softly.

“I love you too,” he replies, grinning widely.

Suddenly, he jumps off the couch, pulling you up with him.

“Let’s go outside,” he prompts, dragging you out the door behind him.

“Will, it’s raining!” you squeal as he practically carries you into the backyard.

He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, both of you laughing. The downpour has drenched you both, clothes sticking to your skin, hair dripping. He puts you down and looks at you as if he’s reading the words off the very surface of your soul.

Gently, he pushes the hair out of your face, moving it to behind your ears. He uses his thumb to catch a raindrop that’s making it’s way down your cheek, swiping it away. You’re both soaked through, but you can’t feel the cold. You feel the warmest you ever have, love illuminating your bones.

Will leans down and presses his lips to yours. His hands are on your waist, and he pulls you closer, plastering you together. It’s tender, and it’s sweet, and it’s a perfect amalgamation of Will. You’ve never felt more at peace.

When he pulls away, you remember his words from earlier.

“Does this kiss change anything?” you ask, megawatt smile etched on your face.

“Everything, sweetheart,” he replies, grinning widely. “It changes everything.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“You saved the best until last,” Will beams, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

The boys all scoff, laughing as they do it. You smile broadly, moving to peck his lips tenderly.

“Sure did.”

Benny and Santiago roll their eyes jokingly, while Frankie jabs them both with his elbows.

“Idiots,” he murmurs, still chuckling.

Will’s hand finds yours under the table. His fingers twist the ring you’re wearing absentmindedly, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I love you, Mrs Miller.”

“I love you too, Mr Miller.”

“Guess I just had to kiss a few frogs to find my prince,” you wink at him, the whole table erupting into protests. You throw your head back in a laugh, your whole body vibrating with it. All four of them agree it’s their favourite sound in the world.

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kckt88 · 1 month

Text

The Lost Dragon XI - Freedom.

Summary:

The Lost dragon finds his way home.

Warning(s): Childbirth, Dragons, Reunion, Fluff, Kissing, Language, Anger, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Oral Sex (F Recieving), P in V.

*Features a Time Skip*

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 5523

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

As Vaelys cried out in agony, her voice piercing the air with the intensity of her pain, Vermithor, let out a thunderous roar that shook the very foundations of Dragonstone. His mighty roar seemed to echo the anguish of his rider, a primal cry that reverberated through the castle walls.

“Aemond” begged Vaelys her voice filled with desperation and longing. She knew he couldn't be with her, not now, not while he was in exile but still, she couldn't help but yearn for his presence, his strength, his love.

Rhaenyra and Helaena exchanged worried glances, their hearts breaking for Vaelys in her moment of need.

“I want AEMOND” screamed Vaelys, as she clutched at the sheets beneath her with white-knuckled fists, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she fought against the agony that threatened to overwhelm her.

The sound of Vermithor's roar filled the birthing chamber, drowning out all other noise with its raw power and intensity. It was a sound born of empathy and solidarity, a testament to the bond that existed between dragon and rider.

Helaena knelt beside Vaelys' bed; her touch gentle as she reached out to grasp her hand. There was a warmth in her eyes, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes more than words ever could. In that moment of shared vulnerability, Helaena offered Vaelys the comfort of her presence, a silent reminder that she was not alone in her struggle.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra stood on the other side of the bed, taking Vaelys' other hand in hers. Her touch was firm yet gentle, a grounding force amidst the storm of emotions that raged within her daughter's heart.

"You are stronger than you know, my dear," Rhaenyra said, her voice filled with conviction. "It might not seem like it now, but you can do this. You have the strength and the courage to face whatever comes your way."

"Aemond should be here," she sobbed, her words choked with anguish. "I need him-I can't do this without him."

The weight of her longing bore down on her, the absence of her beloved husband a gaping wound in her heart. Each wave of pain only served to amplify her yearning for his presence, for his strength, for his love.

"He should be the one holding my hand” cried Vaelys.

Rhaenyra clasped her daughter’s hand tighter, but her gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the confines of the birthing chamber. There was a tension in her posture, a guardedness in her demeanour, as if she held secrets too weighty to share.

"I know how much you long for Aemond to be here with you in this moment. He would give anything to be by your side, to share in the joy and pain of bringing new life into this world, and even though he can't be here physically, his love for you knows no bounds. He carries you in his heart, just as you carry him in yours” said Helaena, her words carrying a soothing warmth.

"Now I need you to focus your strength, Princess” urged Maester Gerardys, his voice a steady anchor amidst the tumult of emotions that swirled around them. "It's time. I need you to push."

With a guttural scream that echoed through the chamber, Vaelys pushed with all her might, her muscles straining against the weight of her labour. The roars of Vermithor outside grew louder and more intense, as if echoing the pain and determination coursing through her veins.

Helaena held tightly to Vaelys' hand, her own fingers trembling with emotion as she offered silent strength and support. Rhaenyra leaned in close, pressing gentle kisses to Vaelys' furrowed brow, her words of encouragement lost amidst the cacophony of noise.

The sheets beneath Vaelys were stained with blood, a stark reminder of the battle being waged within her body. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, every fibre of her being screaming for respite. But still, she pushed, drawing upon a wellspring of inner strength she never knew she possessed.

And then, with one final, push, the babe emerged into the world, a tiny, wailing bundle of life. Vaelys collapsed back against the pillows, her chest heaving with exertion, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks.

Helaena's eyes widened in awe, Rhaenyra's breath caught in her throat, and even Vermithor's roars seemed to falter in the presence of the miracle before them.

"It's a boy," Maester Gerardys announced, his voice filled with wonder as he cradled the newborn in his arms.

As Vaelys gazed upon her son for the first time, a rush of emotion flooded her heart as she whispered, her voice barely a breath, "A son, Aemond-we have a son."

The babe was a vision of beauty, with silver hair that shimmered in the faint light of the birthing chamber and eyes the colour of amethyst, mirroring that of his father. In that moment, he looked the very image of Aemond.

As Rhaenyra and Helaena gathered around Vaelys and her newborn son, their hearts overflowing with love and joy, they knew that their family was forever changed. For in the face of new life, hope blossomed anew, filling the chamber with the promise of a brighter future for them all.

Rhaenyra's eyes shimmered with pride and joy as she looked down at her grandson cradled in her daughter’s arms.

"What are you going to call him?" she asked, her excitement palpable.

Vaelys' smile widened as she gazed upon her newborn son, her heart overflowing with love. "Daevyn," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "It means freedom”.

The significance of the name was not lost on Helaena, who shared a knowing glance with Vaelys. Daevyn was the name that Aemond had chosen for a son before Sovia was born, he saw it as s symbol of hope and resilience.

Helaena's smile grew as she reached out to gently caress her nephew's cheek. "Prince Daevyn Targaryen," she declared proudly, her voice filled with pride.

Sovia, with her bright eyes and messy silver curls, toddled into the room, her tiny hand gripping a plush dragon toy tightly. She paused in the doorway, her gaze fixed on the bundle nestled in her mother's arms.

"Sweet girl," Vaelys whispered, her voice soft with affection, as she gestured for Sovia to come closer.

With cautious steps, Sovia approached her mother and the newborn babe, her curiosity piqued. She reached out a chubby hand, her fingers gently brushing against Daevyn's tiny fist.

Daevyn stirred at the touch, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal bright, amethyst eyes that mirrored Sovia's own. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he gazed up at his sister with wonder.

Sovia's face lit up with a radiant smile as she giggled with delight, her laughter filling the room like a melody. She leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Daevyn's forehead before settling down beside her mother to admire her new baby brother.

Vaelys' heart clenched with a mixture of longing and sorrow. She cradled Daevyn closer to her chest, her thoughts drifting to Aemond, who was still far away in exile.

In that bittersweet moment, Vaelys couldn't help but wonder if Aemond felt the same ache in his heart, the same longing to be with his family. She whispered a silent prayer, wishing for their reunion to come swiftly so they could share in the joys of parenthood together.

Vaelys walked along the sun-kissed shores of Dragonstone, the soft sand beneath her feet yielding with each step. Daevyn nestled snugly against her chest in a sling of cloth, his tiny breaths warming her skin with each exhale. Beside her, Sovia skipped along, her hand clasped tightly in hers, their footsteps leaving imprints in the sand.

Helaena strolled beside them, her three children darting ahead, their laughter mingling with the gentle lapping of the waves. Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor chased each other along the shoreline, their playful antics painting the air with joy.

Behind them, Daeron kept a watchful eye, smiling as he observed his nieces and nephews.

As Sovia giggled and darted off to join her cousins in their playful chase along the shoreline, Vaelys couldn't help but pause for a moment, her gaze drifting across the vast expanse of the sea. A pang of longing tugged at her heart as she wondered quietly to herself: Is Aemond okay?

Sensing her turmoil, Helaena stepped closer, her presence a comforting anchor amidst Vaelys' inner turmoil. With a gentle touch, she wrapped an arm around Vaelys' shoulders, offering silent solace and reassurance.

"He's okay, Vaelys," Helaena murmured softly, her voice carrying the weight of conviction. "Aemond is strong, and he will come home to you".

Vaelys drew a shaky breath, her worries momentarily eased by Helaena's words of comfort. She leaned into her good sister's embrace, finding solace in the warmth of her presence.

Vaelys turned around and a flicker of panic shot through her chest at the sudden absence of Sovia. She scanned the beach frantically, her eyes darting from one spot to another, searching for any sign of her daughter amidst the swirling chaos of laughter and waves.

"Sovia?" she called out, her voice trembling with worry, the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

Vaelys' heart pounded in her chest as she rushed over to Daeron, desperation etched into every line of her face.

"Daeron, where is she?" she demanded, her voice tinged with fear.

Daeron's expression mirrored her concern as he met her gaze, his eyes scanning the beach in search of any sign of Sovia.

"I... I took my eyes off her for just a second," he admitted, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't see where she went."

A surge of panic washed over Vaelys as she processed Daeron's words. She clutched Daevyn closer to her chest, her heart racing with fear for her missing daughter.

“Silver and wing, together the two will sing, an egg for a King” muttered Helaena her voice carrying a cryptic note that gave Vaelys pause.

Before Vaelys could question her further, a sudden roar pierced the air, reverberating through the surroundings with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

Their attention snapped to the source of the sound, their eyes widening in awe as a shadow passed overhead. Against the backdrop of the sky, the silhouette of a dragon emerged.

“Silverwing” exclaimed Vaelys her heart skipping a beat as she watched the beautiful silver dragon land on the beach with a thud.

But her wonder quickly turned to panic as she heard Sovia's giggles nearby.

"Sovia!" Vaelys cried out, her voice tinged with fear as she saw her daughter toddling toward the dragon, her tiny hand outstretched in curiosity.

Fear gripped Vaelys' heart as she raced forward, her maternal instincts urging her to protect her child. But to her astonishment, Silverwing lowered her head with a gentle grace, her eyes shimmering with warmth and affection as she regarded Sovia.

A sense of wonder washed over Vaelys as she watched the unlikely encounter unfold before her eyes. With cautious steps, Sovia approached the dragon, her laughter filling the air with joy as she reached out to touch Silverwing's scaled snout.

To Vaelys' astonishment, Silverwing responded with an affectionate purr, her massive head nuzzling against Sovia's tiny hand with a gentleness that belied her formidable size.

"I guess Silverwing has found her rider,” remarked Daeron quietly, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and admiration.

"She's not even two name days old," Vaelys murmured, her voice tinged with wonder as she watched Sovia interact with the majestic creature before her.

In Sovia's innocent laughter and Silverwing's gentle purrs, Vaelys saw the undeniable proof of a bond being formed.

Daeron's laughter rang out across the beach, a buoyant and infectious sound that filled the air with mirth and warmth.

"Imagine Aemond's face when he comes back and discovers that his daughter is the youngest Targaryen in our history to ever claim a full-grown dragon," he exclaimed, his voice laced with amusement. "The guy is going to be so insufferable!"

Vaelys couldn't help but chuckle at the thought, the image of Aemond's proud and boastful demeanour bringing a smile to her lips. She could already picture the gleam of pride in his eye as he regaled anyone who would listen with tales of Sovia's remarkable feat.

Vaelys' gaze shifted to Vermithor, who lay basking in the warmth of the sun, his massive form sprawled out lazily on the sand. With a hint of playful sarcasm, she addressed the dragon.

"Thanks for all your help," she remarked dryly, her tone tinged with amusement.

Vermithor, sensing the sarcasm in her words, cracked open one eye, and let out a low, rumbling huff in response, as if to say, "She’s fine."

Vaelys couldn't help but grin at her dragon's playful reaction, a sense of camaraderie passing between them.

Vaelys turned to Helaena, a flicker of concern crossing her features as she thought of her newborn son. "Sovia has her dragon now, but what about Daevyn?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with worry.

Helaena smiled reassuringly, placing a comforting hand on Vaelys' shoulder. "Don't worry, Vaelys," she said gently. "Daevyn will have his dragon soon enough."

Vaelys nodded, her heart eased by Helaena's words. She knew that in time, Daevyn would find his own companion, a dragon to call his own. With a grateful smile, Vaelys turned her gaze back to Sovia and Silverwing, feeling a sense of peace wash over her as she watched them play together on the beach of Dragonstone.

The wind rushed past Vaelys' face as Vermithor soared through the skies, his powerful wings beating rhythmically against the currents. With Sovia securely fastened in the saddle in front of her and Daevyn strapped to her back, Vaelys felt a sense of exhilaration coursing through her veins as she flew with her children.

Beside them, Silverwing and Sapphyre soared gracefully, their scales gleaming in the sunlight as they danced through the clouds. Sovia, almost three years old now, squealed with delight, her laughter echoing through the air as she reached out to touch the sky.

"Look, Mama, look!" Sovia exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder as she pointed to the world below.

Vaelys couldn't help but smile at her daughter's infectious joy, her heart swelling with pride at the sight of her children flying alongside her. Daevyn, just fifteen moons old, gazed wide-eyed at the world around him, his tiny fingers grasping at the air in excitement.

As the winds carried them higher into the clouds, Vaelys couldn't shake the memory of Helaena's comforting words. "Daevyn will have his dragon soon enough," a promise of hope and possibility that lingered in Vaelys' mind.

It wasn't long after that when Silverwing laid a clutch of eggs, each one a shimmering promise of new life. Among them was a single egg, chosen by some unspoken instinct, to be placed in Daevyn's cradle.

Days passed, marked by anticipation, for the egg to hatch. And then, one morning, as the first rays of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, the egg cracked open.

A dragon of silver and blue emerged from the shell, its scales gleaming in the early light as it stretched its wings and let out a triumphant roar. The little hatchling, bonding immediately with Daevyn, curling up at his side.

As time passed, Sapphyre grew swiftly, his scales shimmering in the sunlight as he stretched his wings and tested his strength. Despite his youth, he was already a good size for his age, his lithe form exuding a sense of grace and power that contradicted his tender years.

With each passing day, Vaelys watched with pride as Sapphyre honed his skills, his flights becoming more confident and his movements more fluid. He soared through the skies alongside his mother, Silverwing and Vermithor.

Together, the three dragons danced through the clouds, their wings beating in perfect harmony as they embraced the freedom of the open sky. And as they flew, Vaelys felt a sense of wonder wash over her, grateful for the beauty and magic of the dragons.

Vaelys stood on the sandy shores of Dragonstone, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. As she waited for Aemond's return, her mind drifted back to the night before he left, their final moments together etched into her memory.

"Meet me on the beach of Dragonstone," he had said, his voice filled with determination and longing.

In that moment, Vaelys had promised herself that she would wait for him, no matter how long it took. But now, as she stood there, the weight of uncertainty pressed down upon her, her thoughts swirling with doubts and fears.

What if Aemond didn't come? What if the two years apart had changed him, irrevocably altering the bond they shared?

The air seemed to grow heavy with her doubts, the silence stretching out before her like an endless abyss. But just as her fears threatened to consume her, a deafening roar shattered the stillness, echoing through the air with a force that sent shivers down her spine.

And then, Vhagar descended through the clouds, her majestic form cutting through the sky with a grace that defied description. In that moment, all of Vaelys' doubts melted away, replaced by a surge of hope and longing that burned brighter than the sun itself.

With tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, Vaelys watched as Vhagar landed on the beach.

Aemond began his descent down the rope ladder, his movements eager and impatient. But halfway down, his haste overtook him, and with a determined glint in his eye, he let go of the ladder and leapt down onto the soft sand below.

Vaelys stood there, stunned by the sight of her husband, his features etched with determination and longing. In the two years they'd been apart. Aemond had grown even more handsome, his sharp features softened by the warmth of his smile.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Vaelys drank in the sight of him, her heart overflowing with love and longing. And as Aemond approached her with outstretched arms, she felt a surge of joy wash over her, and with a cry of joy, Vaelys sprinted across the sand toward Aemond, her heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. As she reached him, she leaped into his arms, her laughter mingling with his as they tumbled into the soft embrace of the sand below.

Giggling uncontrollably, Vaelys peppered kisses all over Aemond's face, her lips finding his cheeks, his forehead, and his nose in a flurry of affection and adoration. With each kiss, she felt the weight of their separation lift from her shoulders, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for the man who held her heart.

Aemond wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they lay entwined in the sand, their laughter echoing across the beach.

Aemond's voice trembled with emotion as he spoke, his eye searching Vaelys' face for reassurance. "I was worried you wouldn't be waiting for me," he confessed, his words heavy with the weight of his fears. "That the years apart would mean you no longer loved me, that you had taken another husband-"

But Vaelys shook her head, her eyes shining with love and devotion as she reached out to cup his cheek. "It's you, Aemond," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with conviction. "It's always been you."

With those words hanging in the air between them, Aemond's fears melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. And as their lips met in a passionate kiss, the world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's embrace, their love stronger than ever before.

"Brother!"

Aemond turned to see Daeron and Helaena hurrying towards them, their faces alight with joy and relief. With a smile spreading across his face, Aemond rose to his feet, pulling Vaelys up beside him as he greeted his siblings.

With open arms, Aemond embraced Daeron and Helaena, pulling them into a tight hug. The warmth of their reunion enveloped them, filling the air with a sense of familial love and unity.

Tears of happiness glistened in Daeron's eyes as he clapped Aemond on the back, his voice thick with emotion. "It's good to have you back, brother," he said, his words echoing the sentiments of everyone present.

Helaena joined in the embrace, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she held her brother close. "We missed you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

With their arms wrapped around each other, the three of them stood together on the beach of Dragonstone, united once more.

As Aemond's gaze scanned the surroundings, his eyes fell upon a small figure standing with Ceci near the steps, a little girl with silver curls cascading down her shoulders. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized her instantly.

"S-Sovia?" Aemond stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His daughter—his precious little girl—stood before him, but she was no longer the baby he remembered. She had grown so much in the two years he had been away, her silver curls just as wild and untamed as ever.

Stunned, Aemond approached her slowly, his steps faltering as he reached out a trembling hand. But Sovia, shy and unsure, backed away, seeking refuge behind Vaelys' protective embrace.

His heart aching with longing, Aemond knelt down before her, his eyes filled with love and longing. "Byka grēges," he whispered softly (Little bug).

At the sound of her father's voice, Sovia's eyes widened in recognition, and then, as if a dam had burst, she uttered a single word that filled Aemond's heart with boundless joy.

"Daddy."

With a cry of delight, Sovia threw herself into Aemond's waiting arms, her laughter ringing out like music on the breeze.

As Aemond basked in the joy of reuniting with Sovia, Vaelys stepped back, allowing father and daughter a few precious moments together. She watched them with a tender smile, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for the sight before her.

But as the moments passed, Vaelys knew it was time to share another precious gift with Aemond—their son, Daevyn. With a gentle nod to Ceci, she took her son into her arms, feeling the weight of his tiny form against her chest.

Taking a deep breath, Vaelys turned to face Aemond, her heart fluttering with nervous anticipation. She could see the stunned expression on his face as his gaze fell upon the boy in her arms.

"I-Is he?" Aemond's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief and wonder.

With a soft smile, Vaelys nodded, her heart overflowing with joy. "Yes," she replied, her voice trembling with emotion. "This is your son. His name is Daevyn, born nine moons after you left."

As Aemond took in the sight of his son for the first time, his initial shock quickly gave way to a surge of overwhelming emotion. His heart pounded with a mixture of disbelief and anger, his mind struggling to process the revelation before him.

He had a son—a son he never knew existed. The realization hit him like a bolt of lightening, filling him with a sense of betrayal and fury. How could this have happened? How could his wife have given birth to their child without his knowledge?

His anger simmered, threatening to boil over as he grappled with the enormity of the situation. He knew it wasn't Vaelys' fault—she had been left in the dark just as much as he had. But still, the injustice of it all gnawed at him, fuelling the flames of his rage.

His gaze hardened as he turned his thoughts to Rhaenyra, the woman who had sent him away, tearing him from his family and his home. It was her decree that had forced him into exile, robbing him of the chance to witness the birth of his own son.

Bitterness welled up inside him as he thought of the time lost, the moments stolen from him by forces beyond his control. Anguish mingled with fury as he cursed the circumstances that had kept him apart from his loved ones, leaving him to wallow in ignorance while life carried on without him.

"Aemond," she began softly, her voice filled with warmth and compassion, "Would you like to hold Daevyn?"

Aemond's gaze flickered to his son, in Vaelys' arms, his features serene and innocent. For a moment, the storm of anger and resentment that brewed within him threatened to consume him entirely. But then, with a heavy sigh, he nodded silently, his resolve to confront Rhaenyra simmering beneath the surface for the time being.

Wordlessly, Vaelys carefully transferred Daevyn into Aemond's waiting arms, her touch gentle and reassuring. As their son nestled against his chest, Aemond felt a wave of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the anger and frustration that still lingered in his heart.

The soft glow of candlelight cast a warm ambiance over the small dinner gathering, illuminating the faces of those gathered around the table. Vaelys sat at the head, her radiant smile lighting up the room as she doted on their children, Sovia, and Daevyn.

Beside her, Aemond watched with a sense of overwhelming gratitude, his heart swelling with love as he beheld the sight of his family together once more. Daeron sat across from him, a grin on his face as he regaled the table with tales of his time at Old Town and how he once filled Lord Ormund’s boots with manure, his laughter filling the air.

Helaena sat beside her brother, with Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor by her side, their youthful energy adding to the lively atmosphere of the evening. Aemond couldn't help but smile as he watched them interact, their laughter and chatter a soothing melody that filled him with a sense of peace.

As he looked around the table at the faces of those, he loved the most, Aemond felt a surge of contentment wash over him.

He watched as Vaelys tended to their children with a grace and tenderness that took his breath away, her love for them evident in every gesture and smile. In that moment, Aemond fell in love with her all over again, grateful beyond words for the woman who had stood by his side through thick and thin.

As the evening stretched on and the laughter continued to flow, Aemond found himself lost in the warmth of the moment, his anger towards Rhaenyra could wait because he was home at last.

As soon as the door was closed, Aemond was on her, he wrapped his hand around Vaelys’ throat and pressed her against the wall.

“I can’t wait any longer ābrazȳrys, I need to have you” exclaimed Aemond (Wife).

“-Pār gūrogon issa “ replied Vaeryna as Aemond suddenly lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers (Then take me).

Their kiss was rough and desperate. Consisting of teeth and tongue.

It was an eruption of frustration and passion. Hands everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and pulling at one another.

Aemond spun Vaelys around and pressed her face against the wall, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other quickly untying the laces of his breeches.

Gods, he was so fucking hard, he'd been hard the moment he saw his wife again, and in truth if Daeron and Helaena hadn't of been there, he would have fucked Vaelys in the sand.

Aemond nudged her ankle with his foot, signalling for her to open her legs wider.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Vaelys moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

“Two years-two fucking years I’ve waited-“ growled Aemond.

“Kostilus” begged Vaelys (Please).

"Two years with nothing but my own hand-I fucked my fist everynight, thinking of you"

Aemond pulled up his wife’s skirts and slipped his fingers into her small clothes.

“Fuck” moaned Aemond, gods she was so wet that he almost spilled in his breeches.

Aemond ran his hand up and down the hard length of himself, eyeing his wife with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she bent forward for him.

He pulls aside her small clothes as he guides himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her.

“THAT’S IT!” groaned Aemond.

Vaelys couldn’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts, Aemond set a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers, his hard cock reaching deep inside her.

Then he withdrew from her and span her around, lifting her into his arms, his mouth pressed against hers as he quickly sheathed himself back inside her.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Vaelys.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

He withdraws from her again, making her whimper in frustration.

But Aemond ignored her as he laid her on the chaise lounge and fell to his knees.

Sliding his calloused hands up her legs, bunching the fabric of her small clothes in his hand before he rips them from her body.

“Aemond” shrieked Vaelys as Aemond’s mouth descends on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into his wife’s core with his tongue, in and out, much faster than his cock ever could.

Still gasping, Vaelys clutched at his head with one hand, her other digging into the fabric of the chaise.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Vaelys ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Aemond growled, deep in his throat. The vibration of his vocal cords rippled through to his tongue and Vaelys gasped; she felt every vibration keenly. Her body tensed for her peak– But Aemond pulled away from her and smirked, his chin shining with her slick.

“A-Aemond” gasped Vaelys, the tears of frustration spilling down her cheeks.

“Be a good little wife and take what your husband gives you” said Aemond as he reached for the laces of her dress before he grew impatient and tore it from her body, leaving her body bare before him.

His own hands moving to his own breeches and shirt, removing them as quick as he could before he surged forward and worshipped his wife’s breasts. His tongue licking at the stiffened rosy peaks

“P-Please. Husband” sobbed Vaelys as she felt his hard cock sliding against her folds.

“Hmm” growled Aemond as he wrapped his hand around his wife’s throat and sheathed himself inside her once more.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Vaelys.

He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance. He marvelled at her body. Such a beautiful, succulent thing his wife was. Allowing him entry into the most sacred parts of her body.

Aemond began to fuck her in earnest, his fingers digging into the flesh of her throat, using her as leverage as he repeatedly plunged his cock into her cunny, over, thrilled to hear Vaelys’ moans of need echoing around their chambers.

His thrusts, brutal and unrelenting.

“Come for me, love” breathed Aemond.

Vaelys screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

Gods, he needed to spill his seed, but not like this.

So, with his cock still nestled inside her, Aemond manoeuvred himself into a sitting position with Vaelys on his lap.

“Give me another-I want you to come on my cock again” growled Aemond.

Vaelys ran her hands over the defined muscles of his chest, her nails digging into his pale skin.

“Oh” gasped Vaelys as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on Vaelys’ hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Vaelys dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Vaelys as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.

Vaelys’ thighs began to burn, as she felt her second peak approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaelys her vision going white as she came around his cock.

“God. Vaelys” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed inside her, collapsing against the chaise, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses. Meanwhile his wife had collapsed against him, her face pressed into his neck.

"Rest a while ābrazȳrys and I shall have you again-we've got two years to make up for" rasped Aemond (Wife).

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blouisparadise · 4 months

Text

There are so many amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of December. We’re entering a new year feeling incredibly grateful for the amazing fics we got in 2023, and excited for the many we’ll get in 2024! Happy reading!

1) Say Yes To Heaven | Mature | 2818 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Ethan Hawke.

Later when he’s back at the apartment with Oli, as Louis is somewhat dreamily waxing poetic about Ethan, Oli interrupts.- “Does he quote Shakespeare when you fuck?” he asks, poking at the sizzling eggs on the stove. Louis’ cheeks turn suspiciously pink. Oli peers at his face. “Oh my god, he DOES. I KNEW IT.” He triumphantly brandishes his spatula in the air.

2) Shut Your Mouth, Baby | Explicit | 3028 words

While fooling around in a closet at a New Year’s Eve party, Louis can’t seem to keep quiet. All he needs to do is hold off until midnight, when Harry will finally uncover his mouth and let him come at full volume.

3) Bank Holiday Weekend | Mature | 4135 words

Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-two year old omega who doesn’t give a shit. The omega knows his heat is coming up but still decides to attend Reading and Leeds Festival with his nineteen year old alpha co-worker Harry Styles.

4) Walk In Your Rainbow Paradise | Mature | 4151 words

Louis feels emotional after he watched Harry told the interviewer about the fish in his latest music video, leading up to him thinking about their 'secret' relationship throughout the years. Harry comes home to his husband who's feeling pissed off and needy of his comfort and warmth.

5) One | Explicit | 4188 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Tommy Shelby.

When omega Louis Tomlinson becomes pregnant after an unexpected encounter, he decides his only option is to flee his pack. But Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, might not be willing to let him go so easily.

6) Dreaming of a Green Christmas | Explicit | 4226 words

Harry opens the wrong package by mistake and finds the sex toy Louis ordered for himself. That's not an opportunity Harry can pass up on.

7) Never Felt More At Home (Then When I'm In Your Arms) | Not Rated | 5361 words

Louis and Harry are on tour with the band when Louis is struck with an unexpected heat. He's always known in the back of his mind there was something between him and his best mate, and when opportunity strikes... well, it hits hard.

8) Cat Got Your Tongue? | Explicit | 5523 words

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry screeches and jumps back in surprise. The man drops the popcorn bowl on the carpet and stands up, raising his hands in surrender, “Hey, it's me.” Harry frowns. He has never seen this man in his life. He stares at the wide blue eyes and… holy shit. There's no way. Harry rephrases his question, “what are you?"

9) I’m So Drunk On You (Baby, You’re All That I Want) | Explicit | 5875 words

A lucid celebration yet of nothing in particular, and it was that he found alluring, begged to make himself a part of. "Come on, H live a little." Louis pleaded without care for the sigh that slipped his lips, for the smile that they both formed were proof enough he'd given in. So giddy within skips toward the centre where they gathered, the smaller carried Harry close behind to join the chaos.

10) Snow At The Beach | Mature | 7885 words

The little Matthew Styles had been throwing objects into his cute omega neighbor's yard only for the adorable blue-eyed boy to come to his house to return them and talk to his father. "I'm starting to believe that he does it on purpose just so he can hug you" Harry appeared behind them and Louis smiled at him. "I wouldn't complain if it were like that"

11) Don’t Let The Fire Die | Explicit | 8850 words

Harry makes a long trip to take back what is his.

12) The Box | Explicit | 8895 words

When the signal comes, Harry dips and slides into the box, settling himself on his back with his knees bent. Louis lifts the side of the box to close it, and as he does so Harry goes to pull his jacket from behind his back a little. The last sight that Louis is presented with before Harry is gone from view is the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen arching his back, with his head thrown upwards, mouth slightly open. And fuck.

13) Touch Me (Like Nobody Else Does) | Mature | 11459 words

The alpha’s grin returned tenfold, deep dimples popping into his cheeks. Holy shit, he has dimples. “No, I don’t mind at all. I know where to find you when I need it back,” he said with a chuckle before leaning back into his seat. Louis let out a small giggle before nodding. “I’ll be sure it gets returned to you…?” He trailed off, one eyebrow raised at the other man. “Harry,” he replied, amusement still shining in his eyes. “And you are?” “Louis,” the omega responded before leaning back into his seat averting his eyes once again. “Thank you, really, for the charger. You’re a lifesaver. I’m not sure how I would’ve made it through without my Netflix.”

14) Cause I’m Really Not Fine At All | Mature | 13679 words

Louis Tomlinson, one of the famous members of One Direction, is involved in a car accident that caused him to have amnesia, wiping all the last five years of his life from the memory. The interesting part is he may not remember that he has a girlfriend now, yet his mind seems to think that he has been in a relationship with one of the members, Harry Styles. Harry is baffled and shocked at the situation that's thrown in his face. He finds himself learning how to be a good boyfriend for Louis. It has to be easy.. 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?

15) Roommates | Mature | 18604 words

Louis and Harry are roommates. Harry had put up an ad for a roommate, and Louis moved in. Harry notices that Louis only survives on takeout out, and when he leaves for his shift, he cooks an extra plate of food for Louis with a note.

16) Play By The Rules | Explicit | 21835 words

“Okay,” Harry clears his throat. “Sit on the bed, um, slut.” A beat of silence passes between them as Louis raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “You want to try saying that like you mean it?” Harry pouts, jutting out his lower lip. “But I don’t mean it, Lou. I feel like I’m being mean.”

17) You Bring Blue Lights To Dreams | Explicit | 30177 words

A body slid up behind him and he tensed until he realized it was Jailen, “So… Louis’ pretty cool huh?” He whispered so Louis wouldn't hear from the other side of the barn. “I mean yeah,” Harry responded, brows furrowing together before he realized what Jailen was really saying, “Jailen no that’s not- no. Nothing’s going to happen so don’t meddle, I’m serious.” “I’m not doing anything my dear Harold, I cannot control what happens naturally. Come on Harry, I know you’ve been getting restless with the whole finding your soulmate thing, it might be time to just try and put yourself out there for a while.”

18) He's Driving Me Crazy... But... I'm Into It | Explicit | 56219 words

The boys are organising a holiday in France for Louis, and Harry is able to make the trip at the last minute thanks to Niall. While things seem to be off to a bad start between them, it seems that some of the behaviour is just pretend. And of course, Louis is annoying, and Harry is his usual calm self... But the others don't seem to understand Louis' feelings, and that's not something Harry will let pass. If they gain more than friendship, that's just a bonus.

19) Your Eyes Are Tired But Keep Them Open Cause You Wouldn’t Wanna Miss A Thing | Explicit | 137451 words

Louis is an omega in an abusive relationship everyone forced him into; he’s miserable until he meets his favorite student’s uncle, Harry, a gentle alpha with a big heart.

20) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167485 words

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won't be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family's business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend's couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #blp

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incandescentlysomething · 25 days

Text

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 9

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 5523

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

From the moment of her birth, Aemond Targaryen swore himself to the protection of his niece Aelinor Velaryon. As the two grew up inseparable, they find themselves entangled in the Dance of Dragons, battling to stay together even as their families try to pull them apart.

A/N: Started a new job this week so things have slowed down a bit! Only three chapters left!! Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Aelinor did not come back to herself until after the King had been carried away, his moans of pain swallowed by the din of the crowd. Luc had her by the hand, pulling her along as they all hurried from the hall.

“It is an outrage, Mother!” Jace was protesting. “He cannot just give Aelinor—”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra cut him off, one hand rubbing her stomach. “He can. And he has. Now we must find a way forward.”

“Don’t worry, Sister.” Luc squeezed her hand. “We’ll fix this.”

“I don’t think that this is a thing to be fixed, Luc.”

They pushed through the main doors, and out into the corridor when they became aware of people following them.

“Aelinor!” Aemond was pushing through the crowd, his brother at his side.

Aelinor paused, starting to turn. She needed to speak with him. He was probably the only person in the world that she wanted to speak to at this moment.

Gods above, they were betrothed . Her mind had not quite wrapped herself around what that meant. To think only a few hours before she had been celebrating her brothers’ betrothals, and now she had one of her own.

She supposed that it had always been somewhat of a possibility. Aemond would certainly never have been an option in her mother’s mind, but as the daughter of the Heir, Aelinor had always known that she would be betrothed to some lord somewhere, if she did not end up marrying Jace. She had once even heard rumors that many years ago, when things were better between their families, that Rhaenyra had suggested marrying her to Aegon. All of these options had seemed impossible and distant to Aelinor, a series of mediocre options when she knew there was only one person in the world who she cared for enough to marry.

And now, thanks to her grandfather, it was a reality.

“Aelinor!” Aemond shouted again.

She stopped, facing him as he came to a stop in front of her. He was breathing heavily, his eyes alight with something she didn’t recognize. His gaze slid from hers, down to where Luc held her hand, and then over her shoulder. She glanced back, surprised to see Prince Daemon standing directly behind her. Something passed between the two men, something that sent a chill through Aelinor’s veins.

“We should talk.” She said quietly, drawing Aemond’s focus back to her.

She half expected him to reject her, to meet her with the same hostility that he had held when they spoke before the trial. But she needed to speak to him, to find out how he felt about all of this. Aemond wasn’t one to appreciate having his life chosen for him, and she worried that he may resent her for the King’s announcement.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded. “Perhaps we should—”

“Aelinor,” Luc tugged on her hand. She was very aware of just how many people were watching this interaction, and she very desperately did not want to have this conversation with an audience.

“Aelinor, we need to go.” Jacaerys was at her other side, pulling on her arm.

She gave Aemond an apologetic look. “Perhaps we can—”

But Aemond was sneering at her brother. “I have a right to speak to my betrothed.”

“You have no right!” Jacaerys shouted.

“She isn’t your anything!” Luc protested.

“Can we well just—” Aelinor begged, trying to pull Jacaerys back as he stepped forward.

“Children!” She had never been so grateful to hear her mother’s voice. “Enough, all of you.”

Rhaenyra came to stand between them, casting a long glance over Aemond. “The King has requested a dinner this evening, Prince Aemond. You can speak then. As it is, my family and I will retire to our chambers.”

She watched Aemond clench his jaw, clearly unwilling to contradict the Princess when they were surrounded by so many other people.

“Mother,” Aelinor said gently, managing to shake free of Jace’s grip and reach for her hand. “Perhaps Aemond could walk me back? We’d only be a few minutes behind.”

“Absolutely not.” Jacaerys said. “It would be—”

“That will be fine, Aelinor.” Her mother acquiesced. “But do not take too long.”

She gave her mother a grateful smile, and the one Rhaenyra offered made her appreciate her mother all the more. Even though she did not want to, she was listening to what Aelinor wanted, giving her some of the control in this situation. It was more than most parents would offer.

“I won’t.” She promised.

Rhaenyra took Jace by the arm, leading her family away. Aelinor was left surrounded by nobles, a seething Aemond at her side.

“Arm.” She hissed.

“What?” He looked confused.

“Offer me your arm.” She repeated.

Snapping back to awareness, Aemond quickly offered his arm. She looped her own through his, wrapping both of her arms around his as they started to walk. There were appearances to keep up, after all.

Once they were walking, the nobles fell away, not bold enough to be so obvious in their eavesdropping.

“Well,” She began. “That was eventful.”

“Are you alright?” Aemond asked. “Those things he said, and your…Prince Daemon…that can’t have been easy for you to see.”

No it hadn’t been. Aelinor could handle being called a bastard and a whore, and would much rather that those insults be directed at her than at her mother or brothers, but she had never seen someone die before. She had certainly never seen someone be cleaved through the head. But that wasn’t what she wanted to spend her time with Aemond talking about.

“Grandfather’s announcement,” She looked up at him. “Did you know?”

“No,” He gave the answer she had expected. “I have not spoken to my father in….in a long time. I don’t think anyone knew what he intended.”

“No, certainly not.” Aelinor sighed. “I thought my mother was going to faint.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed her.” Aemond’s steps were slowing, trying to draw out their time together before she was returned to her family. “Lina…it’s…”

She could not bear to hear his rejection, which was surely coming. “I do not know what I thought he was about to proclaim. He could have been betrothing me to a Baratheon for all I knew, or gods forbid, a Lannister.”

Aemond tensed. “That wouldn’t have been…ideal.”

“No,” She dipped her chin. “I’m sorry, Aemond.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He said stiffly. “I’m certain this was not what you wanted either.”

Either . He did not wish to marry her. He had all but said it outloud, and she felt her heart crack a little bit.

But Aemond was still speaking. “Having our betrothal be announced as a political machination, after bloodshed was never what I wanted for you.”

They were nearly at Aelinor’s family’s chambers, and she slowed nearly to a stop. “What are you saying? I thought you were unhappy to be betrothed. You looked…honestly you looked horrified when your father announced it.”

“I was horrified,” Aemond turned, grabbing his hand in hers. “I was horrified for that terrible moment when I thought you were being promised to another.”

“Oh?” She breathed.

“I have never truly imagined myself as having a wife,” Aemond said. “But I think…if the idea ever did enter my mind, there was no one I would have pictured but you.”

Aelinor let out a shaky exhale. “Truly?”

He squeezed her hands. “Truly. And it is I who must apologize to you.”

“What for?” Her mind was still reeling, trying to process what he was saying.

“I was harsh with you, this morning, and you did not deserve it.”

Aelinor gave a small laugh. “You were upset. For reasons I still do not know, and which I intend to uncover.”

He looked troubled. “It should not concern you.”

She clicked her tongue. “It will always concern me when you call yourself a monster, Aemond. You are not capable of being a monster.”

His eyes darkened. “I’m capable of a lot of things.”

“But never that.” She believed that wholeheartedly. Aemond might be prickly at times, he might be quick to anger and a bit too rash, but he could never be monstrous. “As it is, we have bigger things to worry about.”

“Yes, you do.” A voice spoke from behind them, and they both turned to see Jace and Luc standing there.

“Oh, would you two just leave me be?” Aelinor groaned.

“Sorry, little sister.” Jace shook his head. “Mother’s orders.”

She sighed, turning back to Aemond. “Well, I guess there is no arguing with that. Will I see you at dinner?”

“Of course.”

She gave her a small smile before reluctantly dropping his hand and walking away. As soon as she was within reach of her brothers, Luc linked arms with her. She caught both of them looking behind her, but when she turned Aemond was quickly walking away.

“What was that?” She asked. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing, Sister.” Jace placed a hand on her back. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

*************************************************

The sight of family gathered in the parlor, solemn expressions on their faces, was enough to force Aelinor to push all thoughts of her conversation with Aemond from her mind. Her mother was seated on a couch, a cup in her hand and a frown on her face.

“Are you well, Mother?” Aelinor shrugged off her brothers and sat down. “That was a great deal of excitement for you and the babe.”

She leveled a glare at her father, who leaned against the window frame. “I’m sure the impromptu decapitation did not help.”

“His insults were not be borne,” Daemon said. “Or are you so soft that you thought we should let him go on his merry way.”

“Of course he deserved to die,” Aelinor said, meaning every word. Vaemond had questioned her brothers’ legitimacy in front of the entire court. It was treason. “I only think that there was perhaps a more…polite way to do it.” Her father gave her a curious look, as if he were trying to figure out exactly what she was thinking.

“Though perhaps not so effective.” Rhaenyra sighed. “Aelinor, did you have any idea about this…this betrothal?”

“No!” She exclaimed. “No, of course not.”

“Then where would my father get this idea?” Rhaenyra asked, looking to Daemon, who just shrugged.

Aelinor felt her blood run a bit cold as she remembered her conversation with her grandfather the night before. Well, conversation may be slightly overstating the exchange. She had begged aloud for a solution, and she thought he had been in too much pain to hear her, let alone answer. But perhaps he had heard her. Perhaps this betrothal was his answer to her pleas. A way of bringing their families back together.

“It is madness,” Rhaenyra was saying. “Am I to leave my eldest daughter in this pit of snakes? Are we to take Aemond back with us to Dragonstone?”

Daemon shook his head. “She will stay here, with his family. That’s how these things work.”

“It can’t be!” Jace protested. “I’ll…you can’t leave her with Aemond. He’s dangerous.”

“He is not!” Aelinor exclaimed.

Rhaenyra gave him a questioning look. “I know the incident with Vhagar has left its mark on you, but that was many years ago. I admit Aemond is a little wild, and almost certainly under her mother’s thumb, but why would you say that he is dangerous?”

Aelinor tried to silently plead with Jace, begging him to keep the secret, but he just shook his head and pulled aside the collar of his tunic. “He did this to me. Last night, over an imagined insult.”

Rhaenyra gasped, holding one hand to her chest. “He attacked you?”

Aelinor stood, her fists clenching at her side. “Jacaerys!” She cried. “That is not the truth of it. He may have overreacted but he’s…he’s protective of me. And it was not an imagined insult.”

“What is this insult?” Luc asked, looking thoroughly confused.

Aelinor spoke before Jace could offer his interpretation of events. “Aemond felt that the announcement of Jace and Luc’s betrothals were a slight against me. There were some people gossiping at the ball, and things just got out of hand.”

“So he was defending you…against your brother?” Rhaenyra clarified, her face softening a bit.

“Exactly,” Aelinor said. “And I have already spoken to him about it.”

“It is because I am your brother that I cannot allow this to proceed!” Jace was still arguing, and Aelinor wanted to stomp on his foot. “What if the next misunderstanding lands Aelinor at his mercy? And gods forbid she have a run in with Aegon. Do you know the things they say about him? Would we expose Aelinor to that violence?”

“I am not a child!” Aelinor protested. “I can handle Aegon. And Aemond would never hurt me. Besides, we cannot disobey the King.”

“To hell with that!” Jace shouted. “I am your brother! I’ll challenge him, if that's what it takes, but you will not marry him.”

“It isn’t your decision!” Aelinor shouted back.

“No, it isn’t.” Daemon’s voice was low, such a jarring change from their own that both Aelinor and Jace turned to look at him.

Daemon picked a piece of lint from his sleeve. “Do you object to marrying Prince Aemond, Aelinor?”

She gaped for a moment. “I don’t…what do you mean?”

“It’s a fairly simple question. Do. You. Object?”

Aelinor’s silence was answer enough.

“That will be quite enough of that,” Rhaenyra sighed. “Whatever our feelings on this arrangement may be, there is not a solution to be found today. We must prepare for dinner this evening. And you all must be on your best behavior.”

“Do you intend to voice your objection?” Aelinor asked quietly.

Her mother leveled her with a long look. “Do I intend to argue with my bedridden father? Or to sow discord during a family meal? No, I do not. As I said, this will not be solved tonight.”

“So we’re just supposed to go to dinner?” Luc asked, incredulous. “And what…not address it?”

“Exactly.” Rhaenyra said. “We will not address it beyond what is required to make polite conversation.”

Her tone ended the conversation, and Aelinor sank back onto the chaise as her mother and father left the room. No doubt there had been too much excitement to be good for the babe, and there was certain to be more excitement to come at the dinner that evening.

“Are you alright, Aelinor?” Luc perched on the armrest, reaching out to play with the ends of her hair.

She gave a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Luc.”

“Well everything is going to be alright,” Jace was pacing by the window. “Because you aren’t going to marry him.”

“Can you just stop talking?” Aelinor begged. “Please?”

“Sister, he is dangerous ,” Jace glared at her. “I know you think I am being harsh, but I care for you too much to see you married to him. It would be the same if you were married to some Dornish savage or a Northman who bathes in blood. I would protect you.”

“Aemond does not bathe in blood , Jacaerys,” Aelinor shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“He will hurt you.”

Aelinor was growing tired of having the same argument, and she tilted her head back against the cushion.

Luc ran his fingers through her hair, his ministrations serving to calm the tension boiling through her body. “This is a pretty hair bauble, Sister. Where did you get it?”

Aelinor lifted a hand, feeling the dragon pin on the back of her head. “Oh, that. Prince Daemon gave it to me this morning.”

“Isn’t it Valyrian steel?” Luc asked.

“I believe so.”

“What?” Jace strode toward them. “Why is Prince Daemon giving you Valyrian steel trinkets?”

“Good gods, Jace,” Aelinor jerked away when he reached for it. “It’s like I’m five years old again. Tell me, is it a natural instinct to snatch away anything I might have, or is it a conscious choice? Would you like to toss this into the hearth as well?”

A shocked silence met her words, and when she looked up she saw Jace drawing his hand back to his chest, guilt in his eyes.

“You know I…I have never meant to hurt you, Sister.” He said quietly.

“I know.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I did not mean that. As obtuse and idiotic as you often are, I have never questioned your affection for me.”

“Which is second only to mine,” Luc teased.

Aelinor snorted. “Oh certainly. There is no contest there.”

Jace rolled his eyes. “You two are insufferable.

Aelinor tilted her head forward and let Luc play with the pin, shaking her hair free when he finally pulled it out.

“Why did Prince Daemon give this to you?” Luc asked.

Aelinor’s breath caught in her throat. She had often wondered if her brothers knew the truth of her parentage, if they knew that neither Laenor Velaryon nor Harwin Strong was her father. Some days she thought it was too obvious for them not to know, and other days she prayed that they never discovered what she felt in some ways to be a double betrayal. The man who raised her was not her father, nor was the man who had carried her about the palace when she was young. Ser Harwin had kept her cradled in a single arm, never wavering no matter how long he held her, carrying her from room to room to distract her in those first weeks after her hand was burned. And Ser Laenor had always been waiting for her when she returned to their family’s chambers, a plate of stolen sweets and a tale of his father’s seafaring ready to distract her from the pain. Those men, she believed, had loved her. They had loved her brothers.

But neither of them were her father.

“I don’t know,” She lied to Luc. “It’s pretty, though.”

They were silent for a long moment, all of them reeling from the morning and trying to come to terms with what was next.

“I will not cease to object,” Jace began slowly, holding up a hand when Aelinor opened her mouth. “But I will not challenge him.”

“You won’t?”

“Unless he hurts you,” Jace said sternly. “But if you are choosing to be so foolish, then you will have my support. As you always do.”

“Dear Brother,” She held out a hand, which he took in his own. “Thank you.”

Jace just huffed, looking slightly put out by her display of affection.

“It’s not like the Aemond we know would ever hurt Aelinor,” Luc added. “He might have always been an arse, but he wasn’t cruel.”

Jace pulled aside his collar, pointing to the bruising.

“As I said, he’s an arse.” Luc snorted. “Perhaps you should have put up a better fight.”

“Oh quiet, both of you!” Aelinor protested. “He isn’t an arse now, and he wasn’t then.”

“He’s an arse.” They said together.

“You’re both arses.” She stood, retrieving her hair pin from Luc’s grip. “Now, I intend to get some sleep, and prepare for what I shall pray will be a quiet family dinner.”

“Throw in a prayer from me as well,” Jace called after her. “We’ll need it.”

*********************************************

Dinner was not going well.

“You do know how the act is done, correct? Where to put your cock and all that?”

Aelinor resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands as Jace reprimanded Aegon, who had managed to be nothing but crude and inappropriate in the five minutes they’d been seated. When she glanced to Helaena sitting at her side, her friend made no reaction to her husband’s remarks.

Choosing to focus on her grandfather, Aelinor tried to turn back to the center of the table.

Someone, and she wasn’t sure if the more likely culprit was the Queen, her mother, or Jace, had sat her on the opposite side of the table from Aemond. He had offered her a strained smile when she had taken her seat, but they had been unable to speak.

“And, of course, the bond which will strengthen our great house, the betrothal of Prince Aemond, to my dear granddaughter, Princess Aelinor.” King Viserys was standing, offering her a smile that seemed to pain him. She did not know how he had the strength to live, let alone to stand and make speeches as he was doing. Still, she smiled brightly at him, trying to convey her love for him.

When she glanced back at Aemond, his expression was unchanged.

The others began to make speeches, her mother, then the queen, but Aelinor was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to listen.

Aemond was being…strange. She could not quite put her finger on it, but she knew that something was wrong. She had thought from their conversation earlier that he was satisfied with their betrothal, and yet his body was wracked with tension. Every glance he sent her way was softened, but quickly returned to ice as he studied the others. It unsettled her, and made her wish that she could just take him by the hand and lead him away, so that they might sort this out once and for all.

Jace was sitting down — why was Jace making a speech? — when Helaena muttered “Beware the beast beneath the boards.”

“What was that?” Aelinor whispered, but then Helaena was standing too.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena and Aelinor. They’ll be married soon, and it isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you, except when he’s drunk.”

Aelinor’s heart broke as her aunt dropped back into her chair, her hands shaking as she took a sip of wine. Someone called for music, and Aelinor reached forward to take Helaena’s hand.

“My darling, are you alright?” She whispered.

Helaena shrugged.

Aelinor glanced across the table, finding Aegon guzzling a cup of wine. When she looked over at Aemond, she thought she saw something like anger flicker across his eyes. Aegon had never been her favorite, nor had she ever particularly liked him. She would never have chosen him for Helaena, who was sweet and docile and required far more patience than Aegon could ever offer. But for him to be so callous to her obvious distress….it made hatred sink deep into Aelinor’s bones.

“Yours will be different.” Helaena mumbled.

“Mine…you mean me and Aemond?” Aelinor asked.

Helaena gave a jerky nod. “Aemond is not Aegon.” Before she began to sing something quietly under her breath.

“No, he isn’t.” Aelinor agreed, sitting back in her chair. She had almost relaxed when she realized what Helaena was singing. “Blood and bars and iron. Blood and bars and iron.”

The words sent a chill down Aelinor’s spine, as if she had heard them before.

Suddenly Jace was right next to her, leaning down to offer a hand to Helaena, sweeping her away into a dance. She had to give it to her brother, he knew how to liven up a somber affair, and soon everyone was laughing and clapping. Her grandfather chuckled weakly, his laughter soon giving way to a wheeze.

Aelinor stood slowly, attracting only the notice of Aemond and her father, the rest of the party too engrossed in the dancing.

Stepping around her mother, Aelinor moved to the King’s side, kneeling on the ground next to him. The azure silk of her dress pooled beneath her knees as she lightly rested her hand on her grandfather’s elbow.

“Grandfather?” She said quietly.

“Aelinor, my heart.” He turned her way, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

“You have given us all quite the surprise today,” She said, aware that people on both sides were listening in.

A familiar twinkle lit up his eye. “Not so much as the one I received when I visited my library the night before last.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That was…you were…” She wouldn’t have thought he would have the strength to get out of bed, but then, hadn’t she and Aemond heard someone moving in his chambers, heard the door creak closed behind the voyeur.

“I hope you are not upset with me, my heart,” King Viserys lowered his voice so that only the two of them might hear. “Only, I thought to make you happy.”

Aelinor glanced up, not at all surprised to immediately find Aemond’s eyes on her. “I think you have, Grandfather. I hope so.”

“Good.” He patted her hand, before collapsing back into his chair.

Aelinor returned to her seat, her heart feeling a hundred times lighter. Her betrothal to Aemond was not some grand political machination, nor was it a result of old age or delirium. No, her grandfather had wanted to make her happy, as if that was all that mattered.

She met Aemond’s eye when she sat, and something in her expression caused him to look away. But it did not matter, because once he knew the truth of their betrothal, he would come around. She knew it.

*************************************

Aemond had had a long time to think. Over the course of the rest of the day, and the first half of this agonizingly long dinner, during which he had done nothing but stare at Aelinor, he had reached three conclusions which were almost certainly going to ruin him.

The first he had learned from watching his brother egg on his nephews, and from hearing his mother rant and rave about how the trial had gone that morning. He was not sure that she had realized that he was listening, but he had heard regardless. As he watched his father get wheeled away, little more than a rasping husk in his chair, he realized that the civility of this dinner thus far had been nothing more than a performance. They might be a family, but they did not like each other.

The second realization was that Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon were not going to allow him to wed their sister. He had spent the better part of the day wondering what might have happened if he had refused to let them take her into their family’s chambers, if he had just insisted that she stay with him. But he knew that they would never have relented, that they likely intended on standing in his way, as they always had when they were children. He wished he could forgive them for it, for it wasn’t completely understandable. He likely would have had the same objection if his father had chosen to marry Helaena to one of the bastards. But his resentment of his nephews ran deep, and it was not something that he could forgive.

And the third was that his attachment to Aelinor could surpass these two obstacles. In his mind he rationalized how they would convince her brothers, how they would do what the King had intended and bring their families together. For when Aelinor returned to her seat after speaking with the King, he saw such bright hope shining in his eyes that he knew he would do anything to make their future a possibility.

Their future .

Gods, he didn’t even know what that would mean. He only knew that he would have to find great strength to look past decades of anger, to put her first so that all could be well.

But then they set the pig on the table.

Lucerys Velaryon laughed .

And Aemond was remembering all the reasons that he could never forgive them, never try to make peace. He remembered that damned pig with the wings, remembered Aelinor’s hand in the fire. The sound of his eye being cut from his head, of hands pulling on Aelinor’s braids. Of them laughing, laughing, laughing.

No, it was because of Aelinor that he would not let them be. Let them live their lives unscathed by the pain they had caused. Pain that had scarred not only him, but also the sister they claimed to care so much about.

“Final tribute,” He was standing, a cup balanced in his outstretched hand. All eyes were on him. “To the health of my nephews Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey.”

“Aemond,” His mother said quietly.

But he saw only the black hair of the bastards, and he steadied his gaze on them over the rim of his glass.

“Each of them wise…handsome…” He watched Aelinor push up from her seat, but she was too slow to stop him. “And Strong.”

“Aemond!” His mother said, louder now.

“Let us drain our cups!” He declared. “To these Strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again!” Jacaerys stepped forward.

“Jace,” Aelinor was hurrying around the table. “Stop it.”

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”

“Aemond, stop it!” Aelinor cried, leveling him with a look of disappointment that made his insides curdle.

But Jacaerys was stepping forward, and then Aemond was pushing back, and the bastard was sprawled on the floor. Aegon was shoving, punching maybe, and he thought one of the other girls, either Baela or Rhaena, might have been screaming.

“Stop now!” Aelinor stepped in front of him before he could lunge for Jacaerys again.

Aemond stopped himself, stepping back at the same moment that Prince Daemon appeared between them, lifting a finger to ward off Prince Jacaerys.

“Go to your rooms, all of you!” Princess Rhaenyra declared.

Aelinor stared at him over her father’s shoulder, her eyes narrowing in a way that let him know how upset she was. But she listened to her mother, storming from the room with her brothers at her heels.

He could have challenged Prince Daemon there and then for coming between them, but he did not. He could not be sure whether it was the look of amusement that Prince Daemon cast his way, or some bizarre respect afforded to Aelinor’s true father that stayed his hand. He would never admit that it was cowardice. But he followed the others into the corridor.

Everyone else was already gone, so he took a moment to lean against the stone.

Gods, why had he done that? It wasn’t that he regretted it, not truly. The bastards deserved everything they got and more. He only regretted that Aelinor had been hurt by it. He could not find satisfaction in his insult, not when Aelinor was probably in her family’s chambers already, comforting her brothers as they licked their wounds.

A throat cleared behind him, and he turned quickly, surprised to see the Princess Rhaenyra standing there. He did not feign politeness with a bow.

She clasped both hands over her stomach. “Aemond.”

“Princess.”

She sighed, sounding so motherly and disappointed that he wondered how they could be siblings. She seemed so much older than him, something in her gaze making him feel like a small child.

“I will not insult you by attempting to scold you for your behavior,” She said. “You’re a man, and because of that, you must live with your actions.”

He did not respond.

“I only wish to remind you,” She continued. “Of two things I once asked of you. I asked you to protect Aelinor all your life, and you swore to do so. Do you remember this?”

“Of course.” He had only been five years old at the time, yet the memory rang clear as day in his mind.

“And I once asked you not to call my sons….not to call them what you called them today,” He thought that the Princess might have looked a bit uneasy, a bit unsteady on her feet. “Do you remember that?”

“Do you remember that your daughter was being held down by maesters as they repaired the flesh that your sons had mangled beyond use?” He hissed.

“Yes!” Rhaenyra snapped. “And her screams echoed in my mind for years. They echo still. But my sons were boys then, as were you. They were punished.”

Aemond could vaguely recall several months in which Jacaerys and Lucerys were not permitted in the Dragonpit, and were not permitted dessert at their meals. But at the time it had seemed unsatisfactory, hardly justice for what Aelinor had suffered.

“I advise you not to live in the past, Aemond,” Rhaenyra said quietly. “Aelinor has moved forward, and I should hate for you to drag her back.”

She started to walk away, her head lowered slightly.

“Do you return to Dragonstone, then?” He asked sharply. “On the morrow?”

“We do,” Rhaenyra said.

Something sharp drove into his heart, something final that threatened to send him to his knees. She was leaving again. Aelinor had barely been home for three days, and already she was leaving him.

“But Aelinor will remain.”

His head snapped up. “What?”

“It is tradition,” Rhaenyra sighed. “Since you are betrothed, she will remain in your household for some time. I will return on dragonback when I can.”

He swallowed. “Aelinor is…to stay here?” With me , he thought desperately.

“As I said,” Rhaenyra sighed, carrying on down the hall. “Unless she does not wish to after tonight.”

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #fanfic #fanfiction #game of thrones #lady of the ashes #aemond one eye

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 6 months

Text

In The Middle of Nowhere (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 1. Drugging, 5. Kidnapping, 17. Hypothermia, 20. Dehumanization Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, dark!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, dark!Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reader (no relationships) Summary: You wake up to find that you have been drugged, tied up, and taken to the middle of the woods on a cold, snowy night. The two men grinning down at you scream trouble but you are about to discover it is worse than you could have possibly imagined... Word Count: 5523 TW: Drugging, Kidnapping, Tied Up, Frostbite, Forced Undressing, Language, Mentions of Murder and Mutilation, Hunted for Sport, Getting Off on Thoughts of Violence/Death, Bradley is Taller than Reader, Reader's POV Notes: I am EXTREMELY proud and excited about this series and hope you enjoy! Huge thank you to @loverhymeswith and @green-socks for all of your help!💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Series Masterlist

Something cold and wet lands gently on your cheek. Though very light, it’s enough to rouse you from your sleep. As you shift, trying to find a more comfortable position to lie in, your head pounds painfully in time with every beat of your heart and you moan softly. You must have had a few (or more) shots before leaving work last night because you can’t remember getting home…or how you got home…or even closing down the bar. How much did you have to drink?

It’s cold—much colder than it should be—and you vaguely wonder if your heater crapped out again. The last time that happened, it took your landlord almost a week to fix it so you really hope that isn’t the case. You try to reach for your blanket, wanting to just curl up in a warm cocoon to sleep off this headache, but your arms seem stuck or tangled together somehow. Could you have fallen asleep in the middle of taking off your shirt again? It has only happened twice but both times were when you were blackout drunk so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities…

Reluctantly, you force your eyes open so you can figure out what stupidity you have gotten yourself into this time–only to freeze as your vision comes into focus.

You had expected to see your bedroom ceiling or even possibly the ceiling of the bar’s break room above you, but instead, you open your eyes to see a man leering down at you, his face twisted into a sort of predatory grin.

Though the gleam in his eye is giving you the creeps, you try to remain calm even as your heart begins pounding in your chest. There could be a thousand perfectly innocent reasons this man is here looming over you like this and it’s best to not jump to conclusions until you know what’s going on. Besides, there is something vaguely familiar about this burly brunet. You know you have seen him somewhere before, though your groggy mind can’t quite place him. However, as soon as a second man (this one blond) steps into view, it all comes rushing back—these two had been at the bar earlier.

You hadn’t interacted with the first man very much, just took his order, poured him his drink, and topped it off once or twice when he got low. However, it hadn’t escaped your attention that he never took his eyes off of you the entire time you chatted with his buddy. And while the brunet had kept his distance, this blond had bent over backward trying to capture every ounce of your attention all night long. You had been bartending long enough to know exactly what kind of guy he was and what he was angling for, but you had to admit, those mesmerizing green eyes and the way that cocky smile curled around the toothpick he was chewing on all night did make you a little weak in the knees.

However, all of that quickly flies from your mind as your eyes settle on the large hunting knife the blond is currently spinning in his hands as he licks his lips, grinning at you.

Something is wrong. Very wrong. Get out now! A wave of terror clears the remaining fog in your mind as all of your instincts scream at you to flee. But as you try to scramble up off your back, you finally notice the thick rope wrapped around your wrists and another around your ankles. And to make matters worse, you seem to be lying in a small metal box of some sort. Your body has been crammed and twisted at a weird angle in order to fit, and the way it resembles a coffin makes a fresh chill run up your spine.

As you release a shuddering gasp, you realize that though restrained, your mouth has been left uncovered. Instantly, you begin screaming as loud as you can, alternating between “help” and just a wordless high-pitched shriek as you thrash around within the box. Pain shoots through you as your knees collide with the sides of the box and you hit one of your funny bones, but you ignore it and just keep screaming.

After a moment, you catch sight of your kidnappers’ faces and your heart sinks. They are expecting this. And what’s worse, based on their sadistic smirks, they are enjoying this. Which means they’re not concerned about anyone hearing you, no matter how much noise you make.

Though terrified by this realization, you force yourself to fall silent and lie still, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of watching you continue to beg for help.

Seemingly satisfied you are done with your freak-out, the brunet pulls himself up the side of the box until he looms over you, his broad frame filling your entire field of vision. His gaze travels down your prone form, lingering on your ass, breasts, and lips before he finally locks eyes with you. His lips curl into a sickening grin as he says, “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Ready to have some fun?”

Without waiting for an answer, he looks at the blond and jerks his head in your direction. Suddenly, everything around you begins to shake as you hear a metallic thud followed by the loud thumping of boots, and the blond appears towering next to you. He gives you a wink and a small click of his tongue before his hands slide under your shoulders and he lifts you up. As he does so, the brunet grabs your feet and you are roughly hauled out of the container.

As they lift you out, whatever insolation or protection the box had been providing you disappears and you are hit with the full chill of the late winter’s night air, causing you to instantly start shivering. For the first time, in the light of the electric lanterns the men had placed around the area, you get a good look at yourself and realize that while the men are dressed in heavy jackets layered over the flannel shirts they had on at the bar, you have been stripped down to your underwear and the thin tank top you were wearing that night under your uniform. At least you had opted for your boyshorts tonight instead of your thong, but you still shiver once more—and this time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

There is no telling what these men did to you while you were unconscious. Obviously, you must have been manhandled to some degree if they undressed you, tied you up, and stuffed you into a box, but was that as far as they went? Or did they have a different kind of fun with you while you had no way of fighting back or saying no? Tears sting the corners of your eyes as a hundred different scenarios play out in your head, and you hope it just appears like your eyes are watering from the cold. You would hate for these two to think they have broken you already.

As they stand you up on the snow-covered ground, your bare feet sink in the soft powder almost up to the top of your ankles. You gasp as you try to bounce from one foot to the other in an attempt to provide your poor feet any relief from the cold, but the rope around your ankles causes you to almost topple over. The only thing that keeps you from crashing into the snow is the brunet who reaches out to steady you. Silently, he bends down and unties the rope, though once he’s done, he walks away without touching the one still wrapped around your wrists.

Now able to bounce more steadily as you try to keep your feet from going completely numb, you begin to take in your surroundings. Glancing over your shoulder, you see a big, black, lifted pickup truck with an open metal toolbox in the bed—which explains why you were so cramped in the box. Looking past the truck, all you can see is rows and rows of trees. They seem to go on forever until disappearing into the void of darkness just beyond the glow from the lanterns. No wonder these men hadn’t worried about your screaming. There are enough woods outside of town that you could currently be ten or fifteen miles from anyone who could help you.

There’s no one but you and the two men who brought you here.

You don’t know what their plan for you is, but you decide the best course of action is to just be as agreeable as possible until the situation changes. So, forcing yourself to give them a lighthearted chuckle even as another shiver shakes your scantily clad body, you try to make your voice as positive as you can. “Hey guys, I don’t know what’s going on here, but if this is your idea of a joke, I don’t find it very funny. So why don’t you just untie me and we can all head back to town.”

“Oh, this is no joke—it’s a game. And you are the missing piece we were looking for,” the brunet says and your forced smile slowly fades. “What do you remember about tonight?”

Still willing to go along with them for now, you close your eyes and try to search through the cloud of fog and fear that is filling your mind. “I…I went to work like usual. Then you two came in an hour or two into my shift.” You nod at the brunet. “You were drinking whiskey, neat.” You nod towards the blond. “And you were having old fashioneds. You sat at the bar for a few hours talking to me in between customers. Yo-you mentioned you were waiting for a couple of friends to make it to town, but they never showed up. Then…” Your memories get fuzzier the later in the night you try to remember. “Then, you left after I announced last calls. You said…you said you’d be seeing me around…”

The two men exchange excited glances as the brunet nods. “You remember more than most….good. It’s more fun when they remember.”

The blond takes a few steps closer to you and reaches out to slowly drag his finger across your lips. “I wonder if you also remember the taste of my tongue in your mouth.”

You flinch away from his touch, diverting your eyes as you feel your stomach threatening to heave. Yes, you remember that too. Against all of your self-made rules and instincts, you had allowed yourself to be charmed by one of your soon-to-be-kidnappers towards the end of the night.

He had bet you a kiss that he could hit the bulls-eye on the dartboard without looking and you had taken him up on his offer, never imagining he could actually do it. But when he threw the dart behind him, his eyes locked firmly with yours as he did so, and it hit the dead center of the board, he had taken his prize. More than that, you had allowed him to get to second base while he shoved his tongue down your throat. In the moment, you enjoyed it—a lot. In fact, you had even considered asking him to meet you out back once you closed down, but now even the slightest brush of his skin against yours makes you sick to your stomach.

As you cower into yourself, the blond’s grin grows even wider, his green eyes sparkling in the lantern light. “Fuck yeah, you do remember. I gotta admit, if you hadn’t downed that shot so quickly, I was going to try to postpone this whole thing once I got that taste of you. Fucking delicious. I can only imagine how sweet the rest of you must taste. Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to find out later tonight.”

The feeling of nausea rolling in your stomach intensifies and you can feel the bile burning the back of your throat. Swallowing it back down, you choke out, “The shot? What shot?”

“The other part of our bet. Remember?”

Thinking long and hard, you try to recall what else you had agreed to in your bet. When it suddenly comes to you, you gasp, “I agreed to one drink. You put something in it!”

“You made it so easy,” the brunet says, practically purring with delight. “Usually, I have to really struggle to find just the right moment to slip our little concoction in when the target isn’t looking, but you were so preoccupied with your makeout session, I could have injected it straight into your veins and I doubt you would have noticed. And you made it easier still by choosing Fireball. The flavor covers all traces of the drugs unlike vodka shots so I’m not surprised you didn’t have any clue what had happened. That is the point, after all.”

“To get me out here to play your game?” Both men nod. “What kind of game?”

“The rules are simple,” the brunet explains, the electric lights casting sinister shadows across his face as he stalks closer. “You run, we chase. If you make it out of the woods or stumble across anyone else to help you, you win and we disappear into the night, never to bother you again. But if one of us hunts you down before you escape, that person wins the game and their prize is the right to do whatever they want to you as long as they finish the job before sunrise.”

Their prize is the right to do whatever they want to you as long as they finish the job….

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” you spit, all attempts at fake pleasantness abandoned as you are hit by the reality of how epically fucked up this situation truly is. Both men seem slightly taken aback by your drastic shift in tone and you straighten up to your full height as you continue. “I am not a fucking toy for you to play with o-or a prize to be won. One of you will win the right to do whatever they want to me? I don’t give you that right and I’m the only one who has a say in that. You can’t do this!”

“I hate to break it to you, but we can and we have and we will again. This is our game, and we’ve never lost.” The brunet stalks forward until his chest is just a few inches from yours and he sneers down at you. “Do you really think we haven’t heard all this before? Please. We’ve been playing this game once a month for over a decade. ‘Oh, please let me go. I have kids who need me.’ ‘I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me!’ ‘If you let me go right now, I promise I won’t tell a soul what happened. No police, I swear.” His voice switches between various high-pitched mocking tones as he imitates their past victims and your heart aches for the hundred or so women who found themselves in this same situation over the years.

Returning to his normal voice, the brunet leans over until you are enveloped by the visible cloud of his breath in the cold air. “No. The moment we chose you, your life was over. You belong to us now and we are the only ones who have a say in what happens to you now. And tonight…tonight we say you are a fox and we are the hounds who intend to chase you down and rip out that beautiful throat of yours. You are the prey and we are the predators; the hunted and the hunters. And the sooner you accept that the better this will be for all of us. Do you understand?”

You understand. You are about to die out here in the darkness of the trees, hunted down like an animal and subjected to God-only-knows-what horrors before you are finally murdered in cold blood. And while they are pretending to give you a way out, you have lost all feeling in your feet long ago, you can barely bend your fingers in the cold, and you are shivering so much you can barely see straight. In other words, you don’t stand a chance.

The brunet continues to look at you for an answer so you slowly nod your head. Satisfied, he straightens up and walks back over to the blond.

But before either of them can say anything, you ask, “Why me?”

The brunet turns around. “What?”

“Why did you pick me?”

“Why not?” the blond grins.

The brunet chuckles softly and shakes his head at his friend. However, he then decides to give you a real answer. “Well, first of all, you’re gorgeous which doesn’t necessarily affect the game but it’s a little of an added incentive to win the prize. Second of all, watching you dart around behind that bar all night, lifting boxes of alcohol, and holding your own against a few unruly customers made us think that you could hold your own out here, at least for a while, which makes things more interesting. And third of all, we could tell you have some fire in you. We like fire. That means you won’t just roll over and give up.”

“Yeah, we do not want a repeat of Des Moines,” the blond groans. “That chick just curled up in a ball crying and wouldn’t even leave the clearing. We finally had to just put her down. It ruined the whole trip.”

“But she’s not going to do that, are you, little fox?” the brunet purrs at you. “No, you’re gonna be one of our fighters. Like our girl outside of Austin. Oh…she was a wiley one.” He traces one finger over the scars littering his face and neck that were partially covered by his scruff. “Fought like a hellcat until the very end, scratching and biting and making sure to leave her mark. But I made her pay for each and every one of these. Just something for you to keep in mind once we start.”

“Oh, damn, I forgot about that.” The blond lets out an impressed whistle. “When I found you two, I didn’t even realize it was at first. I thought you had killed a coyote or a deer or something. And even once I knew, I could barely tell that mess used to be human. You were riding that high for weeks.”

The two men begin talking over each other bringing up their favorite hunts in the past, each one more horrible than the last. Each story you hear adds a new fear of what might happen to you before the end of the night. However, it also adds fuel to the anger building in your belly. How these two men had been getting away with this for so long, after doing this to so many women, was incomprehensible. Surely someone must have noticed over a hundred women disappearing over the past decade and started to investigate. These two didn’t seem like criminal masterminds by any means, so how had they managed to avoid detection for so long?

As you continue to watch them go back and forth with tales of past hunts, you shake your head and softly murmur under your breath, “Who the hell are you two?”

The two men stop reminiscing and turn to face you. You hadn’t meant for them to hear your question, but apparently they had.

“Have we not introduced ourselves? Aw, where are our manners?” the brunet asks, taking a step closer to you. “You can call me ‘Rooster’ and that Casanova over there—” he jerks his head towards the blond “—is ‘Hangman’.”

“Rooster and Hangm– What the fuck kinds of names are those?”

“Well, you see, our boy here—” Hangman comes over to wrap his arm around Rooster’s shoulder and slaps him on the chest “—he’s a crooner. Loves to crow when he catches his prey so everyone knows he won. He’s a bit of a showoff. And me…let’s just say my name’s a bit more self-explanatory.”

With the hand not draped across Rooster’s shoulders, he shifts his arm so his jacket pulls back to reveal a length of rope ending in a noose tucked into his belt. “As much as I love a little foreplay with my knives, it can’t compare to watching someone gasping and struggling for air as they flail wildly three feet off the ground. Then seeing that moment when everything goes still and the light softly dims in their eyes?” He shivers with a small “whoo” of delight. “There’s nothing like it in the world. It’s even better than sex.”

Just when you think these two can’t get any worse, they somehow manage to top themselves. Your voice dripping with disgust, you ask, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Hangman shrugs. “Because we are killing time until we can start the game and then, in an hour or two, it won’t matter that you know. Plus, it’s nice actually getting to share our accomplishments with someone else for once. That’s the worst downside to having an illegal hobby. You can’t tell anyone about it besides the few people who were there when it happened.”

Suddenly, Hangman’s pocket lights up and the muffled sounds of “Slow Ride” fill the air. Rooster glares at the sheepish blond as he pulls his phone out and glances at the screen. But any contrition he seems to have quickly evaporates and he answers the call as a wide grin splits across his face.

“Hey, you almost here? We’ve got a real spitfire this time. It’s gonna be one hell of a competition.” Hangman listens for a moment then his face falls. “Damn. Yeah, no, I understand.” Glancing up at Rooster, he mouths ‘not gonna make it’ before turning his focus back to the phone.

With a heavy sigh, Rooster looks down at you. “Sorry, little fox. We weren’t lying before. We were supposed to be meeting some friends who wanted to play too. But it looks like it’ll just be the three of us after all.”

That predatory gleam you had seen on his face when you first woke up returns as he leans in until his lips are practically brushing against the curve of your ear. In a soft whisper, he says, “But it wouldn’t have mattered. You’re mine, baby girl. I’ve known from the second I laid eyes on you in that bar that I had to have you. Hangman might get to you first and slice you up a little bit, but at the end of the night, it’s going to be me with my hands around your throat as the light leaves your eyes and you take your final, desperate gasp of air.” He leans back with a moan as his eyes flutter closed and his tongue runs across his lips. “Fuck…I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

You have never felt such deep, burning feelings of disgust or anger like you feel towards Rooster. But using that fire coursing through your veins to give you strength, you clasp your bound hands together and drive them into the side of Rooster’s head. Because his eyes are still closed as he revels in the idea of your murder, he never sees it coming.

Your fists slam into his face and you feel the crunch of his nose behind your force. Both of you topple sideways to the ground but you instantly try to scramble to your feet before he comes to his senses. However, you struggle to use your tied hands to push yourself to your feet in the soft snow and just as you are starting to figure out how to stand, Rooster’s elbow drives into your right temple.

Collapsing like a ton of bricks, the soft snow cushions your fall. Darkness begins closing in until there is just a single circle of light swimming in the center of your vision. Waves and waves of pain are radiating throughout your body and a low moan flows from your lips.

In that small dot of light, you see a blurry Rooster come into view. There is blood flowing from his nose and a hungry rage burning in his eyes. Leaning in close, he spits, “Be glad the game hasn’t started yet. Otherwise, I would be cutting off each of your fingers one by one before shoving them down your throat. But don’t think I’ll forget this once the hunt has begun.”

Ignoring his threats, you press your aching temple deeper into the snow, using the cold powder as a sort of ice pack to ease the pain a little. It is the first time all night you are thankful for the freezing snow surrounding you. However, you can also feel it soaking into your tank top and underwear, and you know that being wet in this environment is just going to make things a hundred times worse. But seeing as there’s nothing you can do about it, you just try to focus on the slight relief the snow is providing your pounding head.

Distantly, you hear Hangman end his call and hesitantly approach where you lay. Rooster spits a wad of bloody saliva onto your cheek before rising and turning towards his friend. “What happened?”

“There was a big snowstorm just east of here and the roads are coated in ice. Even the truck can’t make it through for at least a few more hours. So it looks like it’ll just be us this time.”

“Just like the old days.”

“Just like the old days.” Hangman glances down at you. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Rooster says as he wipes the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand. “She wanted to start the game early, but I made sure she’ll follow the rules from now on. Isn’t that right, little fox?” He nudges your side with the toe of his boot.

The pain throbbing in your head is still overwhelming despite the slight relief provided by the snow and your vision has yet to clear. However, you lift your head slightly and glare at the man towering over you. With all the viper you can muster, you hiss, “Fuck you.”

Rooster’s face splits into a cruel grin, made even more sinister by the blood still staining his face. “That’s my girl.” Then, turning to Hangman, he says, “Well, if they aren’t coming, I guess we can start. Get her up.”

Hangman walks over and hauls your limp body to a standing position. Though you are still unsteady on your feet, you manage to stay upright. Then to your surprise, Hangman pulls out one of his knives from earlier and cuts the rope binding your hands. Your arms ache from being held in the same position for so long and your wrists are rubbed raw from the rope burns, but it is still a relief to be free once more. You immediately shove your numb hands under your armpits in an attempt to get some feeling back to them, but you can already tell it won’t do much good. The rest of your body is too cold to provide much relief.

Grabbing your elbow, Hangman leads you over to where Rooster is standing next to a pile of supplies in the middle of the clearing. He positions you so you are standing facing Rooster and then he goes to stand next to his friend.

Satisfied everything is set, Rooster says, “It’s time for the game to begin. You have a five-minute head start to get as far away from here as you can. Once your time is up, we start the hunt. The only rules are what I said before: If you find help or civilization before we catch you, then you go free. If one of us finds you before then, the game is over and the winner gets to claim his prize. And your time starts now.” He presses a button on his watch and you hear a soft beep.

Five minutes. That’s potentially all the time you have left in this world. You know you should take off and try to put as much distance between yourself and this place as you can, but if these are your last moments of life, you are going to give these two psychos a piece of your mind before you go.

“You two are so pathetic,” you snarl. “You see yourselves as these great hunters and killers but you’re shooting fish in a barrel and then boasting about your prize. You drug these girls, strip them down, send them off without a way of even trying to protect themselves, and then brag you are mighty warriors when your victims can’t even put up much of a fight. And the only reason you don’t give anyone a real chance is because you know you might actually lose.”

Hangman nervously glances at Rooster as he shifts uncomfortably. Your words have had their intended effect as doubt settles in on him. However, Rooster doesn’t seem the least bit phased. Instead, he smirks at you as his eyes narrow.

“Nice try, but we’re not falling for it. Now, get going while there’s still time on the clock. We want a challenging game but don’t think for one second we won’t kill you right here if you haven’t moved when the timer goes off. We’ve done it before.”

“At least give me my jacket or shoes or pants or something! I’m gonna get frostbite or hypothermia before either of you can catch me, and then where does that leave your game?”

“What did I just tell you? We’re. Not. Falling. For. It,” Rooster growls.

“I don’t know, maybe she’s right.” Rooster turns his glare to Hangman who shrinks back but continues speaking. “I mean, we’ve never done this in the snow or the cold so we might need to adjust slightly. Plus, her lips are already starting to turn blue and she’s shivering really hard. I don’t want this to turn into another environmental death like last time when the girl fell off the cliff or that time in Reno where the girl got bit by the rattlesnake. If she’s gonna die, one of us should get to be the one who does it, not the cold.”

Rooster sighs as he considers this, his hand scrubbing across the short scruff along his jaw. He turns back to stare at the truck for a long time before he finally nods. “Fine. She can have her jacket back. But that’s all.”

Relief floods through you at the thought of any kind of warmth, but your smile fades as Hangman jogs over to the truck and pulls your jacket out of the back seat. You had forgotten which one you wore to work today.

While it did have the added benefit of being one of the warmer jackets you owned—a thick hooded jacket with fuzzy sherpa lining that falls to the top of your knees and has several pockets to warm your hands in—it was also a light burnt-orange color that will stand out like a beacon amongst both the pure white snow and darkness of the night. Rooster smirks at you and you have a feeling that he didn’t forget about the color. The olive branch he had extended was in fact covered in thorns.

Yet, as soon as Hangman tosses you the jacket, you quickly pull it on, zip it up, flip the hood up over your head, and jam your fists into your pockets. You are still completely bare from your knees down, but at least the coverage from the snow and the warmth you can already feel melting the chill in your upper half is a vast improvement. You just wish you had been given your boots back as well. Your feet have been completely numb from almost the minute they sunk into the deep snow, and the idea of trying to run miles and miles like this terrifies you.

But what choice do you have?

Glancing at his watch, Rooster says, “You now have…three minutes forty-eight seconds. Time is ticking.”

There’s no point in wasting any more of the time you have left, so you pick a direction and start walking towards the wall of trees at the edge of the clearing.

When you pass him, Hangman winks at you, runs his tongue over his lips, and whispers, “I’ll be seeing you real soon.”

At this point, you aren’t really sure which man you are more frightened of tracking you down. But then your mind flashes back to the pure pleasure on Rooster’s face as he talked about watching the light leave your eyes, and you know who you would rather have find you.

As soon as you leave the clearing, you take off into the dark woods as fast as your frozen feet will allow.

Part 3 coming soon!

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sexylonestar · 4 months

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Nylon # 5523

#nylonfetish

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 6 months

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The Middle of Nowhere (Part 2)

Series Masterlist