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theragethatisdesire · 7 months

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cabin in the woods - eren x reader x jean - 18+!!!

part three of our polyverse woo! i wanted to write something intense for spooky season, but not like, a slasher fic, and you know eren would have the biggest primal play kink ever so here we are. the besties have been in their little poly relationship for a year and this is their anniversary trip <3 (and they're just so cute i need to put them in my pocket). enjoy what @fictional-d-supremacy and i came up with and....i don't even know what else to say. i love this one, prob in my top 3 of all time, i just love poly!erejean <3

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 9.5k (good lord)

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

*deep breath* CWs: primal play (for some people, it may read as dubcon, so please familiarize yourself with what this means, you are responsible for your triggers!), consensual sex, established relationship, use of names (pet, baby, angel, princess, slut, bitch), breeding kink, biting, fingering, oral sex (fem and male receiving), anal play, anal sex, double penetration, mlm (eren and jean are in an established relationship and kiss at one point), degradation, objectification, multiple orgasm, threesome, bi!eren, bi!jean, dirty talk, creampie, polyamory

OKAY now that that's out of the way.....have fun babies!

There’s something about the crisp autumn breeze drifting in through the open windows, twisting through Jean’s Jeep with the same rhythm as the car itself winding up the side of the mountain, that sends a vicious shudder down your spine. You try to roll your window up to fight the chill, but Eren whines from behind you and thuds a heavy boot against your seat in protest.

“You said if I let you have shotgun, we could keep the windows down the whole time.”

“It’s freezing!”

“But I get carsick,” Eren grumbles, glaring at you in the rearview mirror. Jean sighs in a tone that sounds a lot like exasperation, reaching over to turn your heated seat on.

“Better?”

“A little,” you smile softly at him, laying your palm over the warm hand he rests on your knee, “are we almost there?”

“It’s just around this corner,” Jean assures you, hazel eyes flitting back over to the gravelly, curving road. You take a moment to admire him: strong brow, regal, elegant nose, pouty lips that you know to be soft from experience. The simple knowledge that Jean is yours, yours to kiss and touch whenever you want, is enough to send a thrill through you. Your moment of adoration is cut short by Eren throwing his arms over the seat, digging his hands into your shoulders in a rough massage.

“You’re going to love this place, babe,” Eren says behind your ear. The buzzy excitement thrumming through his voice makes a small grin tug at the corner of your mouth; Eren’s moods are contagious more often than not, and he’s been miraculously cheerful all day. “Mama Kirschstein’s got the hook-up.”

“You’re still calling her that?” Jean rolls his eyes, “she’s been telling you to call her Jane for the last eight years.”

“Are you sure she doesn’t mind us coming up?” You eye Jean nervously, reaching up to squeeze one of Eren’s larger hands for reassurance. “I know she had a bit of trouble, y’know…”

“When I told her it was our anniversary, she offered us the house for the weekend. I didn’t even ask,” Jean veers left onto a narrow dirt path, “I know it took her a minute to come around, but she adores you now. I promise.”

“She’s always adored me,” Eren adds unhelpfully, ruffling your beanie and consequently wrecking your hair, “but I guess she was able to find room in her heart for the both of us.”

“Eren, stop it– ugh, thank you. What has got you in such a good mood?” You turn over your shoulder to look at him, practically brimming with energy. Eren’s always despised road trips, yet he’s been the picture of eagerness all day.

“Just excited to spend some time alone in the woods with my two favorite people, what’s so wrong with that?” Eren grins widely at you, sharp canines glinting in the early afternoon light. Something about his smile seems…not insincere, more like overly sincere. It’s not at all out of the realm of possibility for Eren to have some grandiose, ridiculous surprise waiting for you in his suitcase, or for him to simply be bouncing out of his seat in anticipation of all the weekend away, anniversary sex you’re about to have. You chalk it up to one or the other, ignoring the strangely stern look Jean shoots him.

“Oh my god!” You cover your mouth to muffle the excited squeal that comes creeping up your throat upon sight of the cabin. The “cabin” turns out to be an isolated, sprawling home with several wings, beautiful beyond your wildest dreams. Massive slabs of stone make up the columns supporting an overhang that covers a ten-foot-tall door, the garden beds on either side of the walkway have been manicured to perfection, and there’s a winding stone path that leads to the back of the house through a covered walkway that connects the main house to the garage. It’s practically been ripped out of Architectural Digest. “It’s like it’s not even real.”

“Kirschstein money always gets the panties dropping,” Eren scoffs, practically kicking his door open the moment the car rolls to a stop, “I forgot how nice this place was.”

“Shut up,” Jean grumbles, rolling his eyes at Eren before setting his adoring gaze on you, “you like it, princess?”

“I love it,” you gush, jumping out of the car to get a better look, bag forgotten in the trunk. You can hear the boys bickering about luggage somewhere behind you, but all you can focus on is the vast nothingness around you, the sleepy chirping of cicadas in the trees, and the warmly lit home that belongs to you and your two gorgeous boyfriends for the weekend. Who says no one ever had it all?

“Are you excited?” Eren comes charging up behind you, arms encircling your waist and lips pecking every square inch of your neck he can reach.

“I’m so excited,” you giggle, shoving him off so that you can run to Jean and throw your arms around his shoulders, “thank you both so much—oh, we have to call your mom and thank her! Can we? Please?”

“In a bit,” Jean chuckles, scooping you up into his arms so you can wrap your legs around his waist, “don’t you want to see the inside first?”

“Yes–”

“I don’t know, Jean,” Eren saunters over, something mischievous flitting over his face that, if you were any less drunk on raw excitement, you would know immediately not to trust, “she may want to get a look at the woods before the sun goes down. What do you say, baby? Wanna go for a hike?”

“Eren,” Jean says, a very thin note of hesitation in his tone that you, in your giddiness, stampede right over.

“Just a quick one, Jean? Is that alright?”

“However long you want, angel,” Eren answers for Jean and smiles at you charmingly, entirely ignoring Jean’s widened eyes.

“Let’s do that,” you whip your wide, happy eyes back to Jean, a pleading grin on your face, “and then you can give me a tour of the inside. I just want to get a few Instagram pictures before we end up not putting clothes on again for the entire weekend.”

Jean smiles at you, some odd combination of endearment and something darker that you can’t quite make out—pity?—crossing his face. “Anything you want. Drop the bags on the porch, Eren? I’ll take her out back.”

Eren’s grin grows impossibly wider, a little glint in his eye. “Be right there.”

After your awkward, giggle-filled struggle to monkey-climb from Jean’s front onto his back without dropping to the ground, Jean, arms hooked firmly under your legs, walks you around the house, identifying little points of interest as he goes. He points out his childhood rope swing, tattered and still dangling from one of the massive oaks in the front yard, a few flower bushes that he remembers helping his mom plant. You can feel the swell of your heart in your chest as Jean walks you through his memories, snorting to himself when he recounts the tale of Eren nearly choking to death trying to hold his breath in the hot tub and growing misty-eyed when he points out his grandparents’ initials carved into a wooden bench in the garden.

You reach a point of the property where the meticulously groomed grass gives way to fallen leaves and patches of barren earth, a visible line between civilization and nature. A small wriggle from you lets Jean know you’re ready to hop down, and he bends at the knee slightly so you can slide off of his back.

“It really is a beautiful property,” you tell him earnestly, “I can’t thank you enough for bringing us here.”

“What’s mine is yours,” Jean, in that heartbreaking way of his, looks down at you like you’re the only thing he could ever want for, “you know that.”

“Still. Thank you.” You have to consciously focus on your breathing; you wonder if Jean knows he has this effect on people, if he knows that the way raw love lays itself bare in his eyes chokes whoever’s in his line of sight.

“It’s as much a gift for me as it is for you,” Jean leans down to nip at your ear, two large hands finding their way around your waist, “I’ve got you both away from work, out in the middle of nowhere, all to myself…”

“Jean!” It comes out as a clunky, airy giggle, half of the letters still jumbled in your throat where the breath is caught. He smirks against your neck, sinking his teeth in here, licking over a sore patch of skin there. The mountain breeze follows in his wake, kissing over the wet spots he leaves behind and raising goosebumps on the back of your neck.

“Getting started without me?” Eren’s voice startles you, makes you jump in Jean’s grip. Jean responds to your flightiness by spinning you on your heels and pressing your back to his chest, arms locked firmly under your breasts and head tucked onto your shoulder.

“We were waiting for you,” you answer, letting your eyes graze over Eren appreciatively as he approaches. As long as you’ve known him, autumn has always looked good on Eren. Something about the decaying colors around him makes his eyes that much more vibrant, the glow of them in the late afternoon sun almost reminding you of a predator at night, tucked behind bushes. Big cozy flannels only make his frame look broader, and the curl of his grown-out bangs around his pink ears makes you want to pinch his cheeks.

“Didn’t look like you were waiting,” Eren eyes Jean in annoyance, but the curl of his lip gives him away.

“She’s still here, isn’t she?” Jean counters, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Where else would I be?” You laugh, shoving him back from you. Eren and Jean’s eyes meet, some dangerous, tangible glimmer passing between them. “What?”

“Nothing, angel,” Eren whistles, spinning you around yet again and locking your shoulders underneath his arm, beginning to walk you into the woods, “don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

“I’m not worried,” you roll your eyes, letting him drag you further into the forest, “you guys are just being weird.”

“Are we?” Jean’s arm comes sneaking around your waist, “I don’t think we are. Do you, Eren?”

“Not at all,” Eren shrugs, pulling out his phone, “looks like we still have two hours til sunset. That seems like enough time for a hike, don’t you think, Jean?”

“Oh, that’s definitely enough time.”

You tilt your head up, a slight scowl indenting your forehead, flitting your eyes between the two of them. They’re hardly paying attention to you, staring at each other in a way that you’re not unfamiliar with. That explains the oddities of their behavior today; typical boys, just excited to jump into bed later. You barely contain another eye roll, instead opting to let them have their teasing fun and focus on the grandiosity of the forest around you.

The canopy is tall, taller than you would have expected; it feels like the dwindling population of leaves above your head is in a different world than the crunch of their fallen comrades under your feet. That pesky breeze is still there, keeping your nerve endings jumpy with the ever-present chill, but the warmth of the colors around you almost makes up for it. Everywhere you look seems to be on fire, yellows and oranges and reds blending the landscape together into a closer approximation to an abstract painting than a scene out of nature.

Easily half an hour ticks by as you stroll, all three of you having fallen into a comfortable, contemplative silence. You don’t miss the way Eren’s hand will occasionally drift from your shoulder to the back of your neck, ghosting over the skin and running through the baby hairs there, making you shiver. Jean follows suit, his arm around your waist slipping a bit low once in a while, palm cupping your ass and squeezing appreciatively. You ignore them both in favor of taking advantage of the beautiful scenery, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t affecting you. That familiar warmth curls in your stomach, molten and hungry, and the tips of your fingers twitch in your pockets, aching to replace the fabric that surrounds them with skin.

Eventually, you all reach a picturesque clearing with a gorgeous overhang, and you see your opportunity.

“Wait, stop right here,” you finally break the silence, squirming in the boys’ arms to snag your phone out of your back pocket, “this is perfect.”

“Instagram time?” Jean tries and fails to keep the bored tone out of his voice.

“We only have, like, five pictures together, and we’ve been together for over a year.”

“That’s not true,” Eren protests, “I have an album full–”

“How many of those pictures are share-able?” You cock a knowing eyebrow at him.

“Um, probably like…two.”

“My point exactly.”

Through a bit of manhandling and arguing over who should hold the phone, you make out with at least three usable selfies (the boys refused to entertain your self-timer idea), which far exceeds the amount of photos you expected to leave this trip with.

“Why don’t you let us take a few of just you?” Jean suggests, reaching for your phone with an honest smile and giving Eren a subtle nudge.

“Really?”

“Sure,” Eren jumps in, nodding and smiling along, “a few pictures of our pretty girl out in the woods on our special trip.”

“And it would be cute for your Instagram, right?” Jean adds, patting you lightly on the bottom.

“Okay,” you agree, too thrilled at their sudden interest in your quest for a nice Instagram post to think too much into the way Eren’s tongue swipes along his bottom lip, the way Jean’s holding your phone so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

“Just walk out that way, there you go.” You can hear Jean’s voice, with a strange little tremor to it, growing quieter behind you when Eren ushers you off in the opposite direction. You leave your phone with Jean, alternating between a little jog and a walk away from them, moving further into the clearing and keeping your back to the boys.

“Was that cute, or stupid?”

Your nervous giggle echoes in the clearing, the rustling of leaves the only answer you receive. You make a few different poses, feeling a little silly but willing to endure it in the interest of getting a couple of nice photos. You notice the distinct lack of sound around you, how for just a moment, it feels like the universe consists of just you, Eren, and Jean, alone in these woods and miles from any other human. It hits you that that’s not entirely untrue; the last house you’d seen had to have been fifteen minutes before you’d gotten to Jean’s driveway.

You call back to them, wanting at least a little feedback and, honestly, beginning to feel a bit creeped out by the uncharacteristic silence ringing in your ears. “Are they turning out good?”

Nothing.

“What the hell?” you finally whip back around to face them, stomping your foot petulantly, “are you two like, messing with me?”

When you turn to meet them, however, all the fire in your throat dies out as quickly as if a bucket of ice water had been tossed on it.

Jean and Eren are smiling at you, which wouldn’t be too odd of a sight, if it weren’t for the threatening glitter in their eyes, the way Eren’s tilting his head ever so slightly to the right. You’ve never seen an expression like this on either one of them, never seen something so…dangerous cross their faces.

“Run.”

“I’m sorry?” You scrunch your nose at Eren, confused. His smile only grows wider.

“Run.”

“Run?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Jean shakes his head disapprovingly, eyeing you down through the streaks of sunlight bleeding into the clearing.

“Forgot what?” Your words tremble as they make their way out into the still air. They’re your boyfriends, the men that wake you up with feather-light kisses and hoist you onto their shoulders at concerts, so why are your fingers beginning to shake?

“About that little book of yours we found,” Jean answers, cocking his head. “Surely you didn’t think we’d forget, did you?”

“No, I know she remembers,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, bristling under the soothing palm Jean runs over the back of his neck.

The memory hits you like a train. Coming home to find Jean and Eren hunched over a smutty novel of yours, blushing furiously and frowning in concentration. Confronting them only to find out they’d stumbled across the primal play chapter, that they’d noticed that these pages in particular looked a little well-worn. Jean had asked you if you would ever try it, Eren had raised his eyebrows when you admitted that yes, you would absolutely live that fantasy out if given the chance. Your face had burned as you nervously giggled, brushing the idea off in the sense that it was unrealistic to act out such a scenario in the middle of the city.

But you’re not in the city now. You’re in the forest, alone with your two boyfriends who are looking at you like they might rip you to shreds.

“No,” you murmur, so quietly that if the woods weren’t so still and silent, it wouldn’t have reached their ears, “I–I didn’t…I remember.”

“There it is,” Eren says, eyes glinting at you and arousal practically dripping off of his words as they make their way to your ears, “knew you did.”

“Weren’t lying, right? You wouldn’t lie to us, would you, pet?” Jean’s voice is steely and sharp with the implication that you had better not lie to him.

Words are lost on you amidst the thundering of your pulse in your ears, and you simply shake your head back and forth slowly. Some survival instinct from deep in the recesses of your brain tells you not to take your eyes off of them for a second, has every muscle in your body twitching. Despite the uneasy adrenaline coursing through your veins, a firm knot of arousal has taken hold in your lower stomach, simmering and spitting in excitement from the hungry looks on Eren and Jean’s faces.

“We’ll give you a ten second head start,” Eren says, dragging his eyes over your frame and licking at his bottom lip, “just to give you a fighting chance.”

“Sound good?” Jean tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. You know this is your moment to laugh this whole thing off, to return to the cozy interior of the cabin and put your feet up, have some hot chocolate, be kissed softly and held gently between their two strong bodies. This is Jean giving you an out, if you want it.

“Okay,” you agree, fingers fluttering nervously by your side.

“Good girl,” Jean nods approvingly, clenching and unclenching his fist, “ready?”

You nod back to him, knees shaking under your frame and a cold sweat breaking out over the back of your neck.

“Then fucking run,” Eren growls, grinning feral and wicked in the afternoon sun.

To your own surprise, you turn on your heel almost instantaneously, tearing off into the woods as fast as you can. The boots you’ve decided to wear are certainly not built for speed, but the thick soles are perfect for carrying you over the rough terrain, supporting your ankles and keeping them from twisting as you sprint through the woods.

You veer left, suddenly realizing that everything around you looks…the same. There’s no identifying markers, no path back to the cabin, no way to tell one tree full of decaying leaves from another. It brings you pause, your feet coming to a halt. It strikes you that you hadn’t been paying very close attention during your initial hike through the woods, and that even if you tried, you aren’t sure what direction will lead you back to the cabin. Eren and Jean have actually trapped you out here.

The crushing realization nearly makes your heart stop. You’re unable to suspend your disbelief enough to remember that these are your boyfriends chasing you; the only thought your brain can hold onto is that you’re being chased, and that you need to run.

The thudding of footsteps approaching shakes you out of your realization, has your feet moving at lightning speed the second you hear it. You don’t slow to look over your shoulder to see which one of them it is, just let your feet carry you far away as fast as you can manage. It dawns on you that the feeling coursing through you, bringing warmth to your face, is some unbelievable mixture of fear and arousal.

You can’t tell the color of either feeling apart, can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Maybe they’re bleeding into each other, a symphony of passions ripping their way through every cord of muscle in your body, through every electrified nerve ending as you run away from what you want more than anything in this moment.

The footsteps behind you begin to fade, and as your breathing gets heavier and harsher, you realize you won’t be able to keep this pace; your best shot is running hard in short bursts and stopping to rest in between. You reach another clearing, much smaller than the one you had started out in, and lined with an assortment of bushes and a fallen tree. Just as you hunch over to catch your breath, you hear the return of those stomping footsteps, far behind you, but there all the same. The sharp pain ricocheting through your chest is warning enough to stop you from running again, and your eyes dart around in a panic, finally honing in on an area of the brush that looks thick enough to conceal you in your dark clothing, if you strip out of your light purple flannel.

As the footsteps draw closer, you hurriedly dive into the tangle of leaves and branches of the brush, ripping your flannel off of your arms as you go. You wince at the scrape of thorns and sticks on the soft, bare skin of your arms, but claw your way deeper, crouching down to conceal your body and twirling on your tippy-toes to peer through the leaves into the clearing.

It’s Jean, tall and imposing as he marches into the clearing. His chest is heaving under his shirt, hair mussed from running through the autumn wind. You marvel at him, so large and threatening, eyes blown wide and flicking from one area to another suspiciously, looking. Looking for you.

“Pet?” Jean whirls around, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Are you hiding from me?”

You don’t dare make a sound, positive that your heart is pounding so hard that if someone looked at your neck, they’d be able to see the frantic push and pull of your pulse through the skin. Jean surveys the area, narrowing his eyes at the brush where you’re hiding, but miraculously, turning his head the other way. You need to keep moving, especially considering that you’re so close to Jean, but with the increasingly small distance between you, there’s no way that you’ll be able to quietly sneak out of the brush. Just as you’re formulating a plan to wait and see which way he runs next, so you can run in the opposite direction, Jean’s eyes catch on something that makes your breath hitch.

“Uh-oh,” Jean exhales, stepping closer to you and crouching, his grin growing darker. When his hand comes back into your line of sight, you nearly gasp, one hand flying to the naked top of your head. He’s holding your beanie, grinning down at it. Hardly another moment passes before Jean’s eyes flicker to you, darkening as soon as you make eye contact through the leaves.

“Shit,” you breathe, scrambling back onto your hands and crawling desperately through the branches and leaves behind you, grimacing as a particularly sharp thorn scratches deep into your cheek.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jean laughs cruelly, jumping over the fallen tree trunk and towering over you as soon as you’ve escaped the brush. You stumble to your feet, but Jean’s quick, snagging you by the elbow before you can run off.

“Jean, please,” you gasp, looking up at him with wide, panicked eyes. It occurs to you that now that you’ve been caught, you’re not begging to be let go of– you’re begging to be held. Now that you’re so close to him, face to face with the shine of sweat on his collarbones, the rise and fall of his broad chest, your arousal is tangible, pumping through your veins thick like honey. You wet your lips, feeling the source of your panting move from your lungs to your core.

“Oh,” Jean’s bottom lip pushes out, “what’s the matter? Want to be my little princess again, is that it?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod frantically, looking over your shoulder and then Jean’s to see if Eren’s approaching to spoil your plan, “please Jean. Want to be your princess.”

“Aw,” Jean hums thoughtfully, cocking his head and looking down on you with pitying eyes for just long enough that you smile softly in relief, feel a rush of anticipation shoot through you. Unconsciously, you tilt your chin up, expectant and ready for him to catch you in a kiss. In the next instant, he’s gripping your arm even harder, with a jerk that makes your eyes water. “Too bad. You’re not my little princess out here.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, a clammy sweat breaking over your skin. Just as you’re about to plead one last time, Jean gives you a cruel smile.

“Eren! I’ve got her!” Jean shouts into the woods, turning his head over his shoulder to help the sound carry.

“Jean!” Your betrayal and frustration make your voice hoarse. Jean leans in to you, grinning wickedly.

“If I were you, I’d run. He’s not going to be nearly as nice as me.”

You wrench your arm out of his grasp, turning on your heel and darting further into the woods, grimacing at the feel of your wetness soaking through your panties. Jean’s footsteps are quick to catch up with you; or, at least, you think they’re Jean’s. You’re not going to break your stride to chance a look. You can’t outpace him, but you’re small and nimble enough that you think you may be able to outmaneuver him. You zigzag wildly through the trees, and it seems to be working, as Jean’s footsteps grow softer and softer behind you. Your lungs burn and your eyes water viciously, but you don’t dare relinquish the small distance you’ve managed to put between yourself and Jean, forcing your aching muscles to push harder and harder.

Suddenly, you spot it: a treehouse, with a little wooden ladder dangling from the bottom. It sounds like Jean’s footsteps are far enough behind you to afford you plenty of time to scramble up the ladder, at the very least to plan your next move. It wouldn’t be so bad if he saw you, either; the treehouse, as derelict as it may look, affords a nice sheltered spot for Jean to corner you in…

Your feet make the decision before your mind has the chance to catch up, and you’re beelining towards the treehouse, approaching it quickly. When you step on the first rung of the ladder, you feel the porous, rotten wood give a little underneath your weight, but the pounding of footsteps approaching urges you on. You make it two more steps up when one of the treacherous wooden rungs snaps under the pressure.

“Shit!” You squeal, clutching the ladder harder in an attempt not to tumble to the forest floor. You persevere, looking forward to whatever could await you if the boys were to follow you up to the treehouse. Two more steps up and you’re halfway there, but a pair of strong arms lock around your waist and pull you towards the ground with a harsh yank, ripping a yelp from your throat.

“Not a bad try,” you instantly recognize Eren’s voice, but what you don’t recognize is the rasp to it, the gravelly, dark tone, “but you didn’t really think you could run from me, did you?”

You thrash so violently that you think you must have hit him, because he drops you suddenly with a hiss. As soon as your feet hit the ground you take a few blind, wobbly steps in the opposite direction, only to run smack into Jean’s chest. You look up, wide, watery eyes blinking at Jean as your dizzied brain tries to grasp onto what’s at hand. You’re caught. They caught you.

“Going somewhere?” Jean sneers, grabbing you by your wrists and whipping you around to face Eren. The sight you’re greeted with has you squeezing your thighs together, a thick swallow sliding down your throat.

Eren’s eyes are blown wide, the bottomless black of his pupils nearly eclipsing the beautiful green you’re used to admiring. There’s a little sheen of sweat covering him, making him almost glow in the late afternoon light, and the veins in his neck are prominent with his heavy breathing. He runs his tongue over the now-split portion of his lip, courtesy of you, smearing a bit of blood over his mouth, and drags his eyes along every inch of you like he isn’t quite sure where he wants to start.

“I thought I told you to run,” Jean says, hot and taunting against the shell of your ear, “but it didn’t look like you tried very hard. Almost makes me think you wanted to be caught.”

“Of course she did,” Eren answers for you, stepping forward to run a thoughtful thumb across your cheek, making you flinch when he brushes over a cut on your face, “you want to get fucked, don’t you?”

You’re not sure what to do, whether you should nod your head enthusiastically or choke out a stuttered word of confirmation or maybe bite back; you feel frozen, overwhelmed by their looming figures and the fiery hot adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Eren decides for you, rubbing his thumb over your lips, and shoving it into your mouth. A coppery taste washes over your tongue, and you realize it’s your blood, fresh from the cut on your face. You suck his thumb in obediently, let him fishhook his thumb in your cheek, tugging your mouth this way and the other. Eren spits right in your mouth, nearly missing and splattering it all over your chin and cheeks.

“Nasty little bitch,” Eren snarls, shoving his mouth to yours.

What he does to you can barely be described as a kiss; it’s more like Eren devouring you. Teeth clack together, his tongue shoves into your mouth so violently you nearly bite down in your surprise. Eren sucks your tongue into his mouth, groaning low and hungry when you whimper.

“You taste good,” Eren murmurs hurriedly into your mouth, biting harshly on your lip and grinning against you when it makes you whine, “can taste the blood from that cut on your cheek.”

Jean stutters out a groan from behind you, his restraining grip on your wrists tightening. You feel his mouth begin to venture down your neck much like it had before, but his teeth are more demanding as they sink into your soft skin this time, more intent on taking, on marking you. One of Eren’s hands finds its way to your chest, grabbing harshly at your breast through your shirt. The ache of his strong fingers makes your back arch towards him, a breathless gasp leaving your lips.

“Show me,” Eren pants, finally backing away from you and ripping at your tank top, yanking it towards your head. There’s a shiny mixture of saliva and your blood staining his chin pink; shamefully, it makes a fresh rush of heat fly through your body, makes the wetness collecting between your thighs that much more prominent.

“We’re outside–” you try to protest, but a corrective slap to your ass from Jean shuts you up.

“No one’s around,” Jean says, mouth back on your shoulder as soon as Eren’s removed the offending garment from you, “it’s just us.”

“No one’s going to hear you scream,” Eren voices what you’re thinking with a nasty grin, bringing a hand to each of the cups of your bra and gripping the plush fabric hard enough to turn his knuckles white, tearing the connective fabric with a loud rip.

“Eren!” You squeal in surprise, practically jumping in Jean’s arms.

“That’s it,” Eren groans, leaning down and lathing his tongue across a deep cut above your right breast, something you hadn’t noticed in your fearful escape from the bush earlier, “let me fucking hear you.”

Jean’s got your wrists contained in one of his large hands, not minding the swing of your ruined bra around each of your arms, reaching his other hand around your waist to fiddle desperately with the clasp of your jeans.

“Eren,” he says sharply, drawing Eren’s attention to the fact that your pants are still on. Eren smirks.

“Pick her up,” he answers, voice gravelly. Jean lifts you off the ground, your back pressed to his chest, feet dangling in the air. Eren rips both of your boots off, tossing them to the forest floor. Still pissed about your bra, truthfully, you jerk a foot out harsh enough to hurt him if it should make contact, trying to keep your movement spastic enough to make it look like an accident. Eren dodges and looks at you murderously, returning to his full height to grab your chin harshly.

“Did you just try to fucking kick me?” His forehead is pressed nearly to yours, voice low. Busted.

“You tore my bra.” Your voice has none of the conviction you were trying to find in the depths of your chest, coming out breathy and weak. A sound that can only be described as a snarl rips from Eren’s chest.

“Yeah, I fucking did,” Eren smacks your cheek just hard enough to stun you, make sure you’re really listening to him, “we caught you. Understand that? We’re going to do what we want with you because you’re ours. Keep smarting off, and I’ll rip your panties off next and shove ‘em in that bratty mouth of yours. Got it?”

Speechless, you nod desperately, squirming as the heat between your legs begins to grow unbearable, that tacky, sticky arousal surely beginning to leak down your thighs at this point. Eren makes quick work of your jeans and your underwear, hissing appreciatively as your panties stick to the wetness between your thighs.

“You’re so wet, pet,” Jean reaches around to swipe his hand through your folds. That alone is enough to make your knees buckle, make a wanton moan slip out from your lips.

“I–I want– oh.” You try and fail to articulate a sentence, cut off entirely by a loud groan when Eren’s teeth sink into the supple skin of your breast. Eren grins around the mouthful of flesh he holds between his teeth, raising his eyebrows at how riled up you already are.

“Pitiful little thing,” Jean chuckles, voice husky, “look how bad she wants it.”

Jean reaches down and shoves two fingers straight into your slick cunt, ripping a strangled moan out of your throat. Your hips buck into his hand of their own accord, desperate, tinny whines and whimpers leaving your mouth in quick succession. The stretch of Jean’s fingers is so welcome after all the build-up, that you don’t think you could put it into words if you tried. On behalf of your useless mouth, your body makes a great show of trying to show them just how good their attention feels, rolling and rocking into their touch, no matter how harsh.

Eren digs his fingers into the fat of your hips, your thighs, your ass, gripping you close to him and biting into whatever flesh of your upper body that he can reach as hard as he can, surely coming close to drawing blood. They aren’t the type of bites that require suction and the lathing of a tongue to soothe and leave hickeys; no, these are the type of bites that bruise on impact, little purple half-moons of teeth marks decorating your arms, shoulders, and breasts.

Jean coos in your ear approvingly each time your hips cant towards his hand, seeking more and more friction as the knot in your stomach tightens with each curl of his fingers. You can feel him pressing into your lower back, hard and promising, and your pussy flutters around his fingers at the thought of being split open by him, by Eren, by anything more that they’re willing to give you.

“Want to fuck her,” Eren huffs, “she close?”

“She’ll cum soon,” Jean affirms, licking through the shell of your ear delicately. You revel in the way they talk about you as if you’re not here, as if you possess no consciousness worthy of interacting with. You feel stripped of your higher thought processes, reduced into some pathetic, pliant creature only in search of pleasure– and you love it.

“Please,” you attempt to beg, only to be silenced by Eren’s long fingers wrenching their way down your throat.

“Stop talking,” Eren grumbles around a mouthful of your flesh, “pets don’t talk, do they?”

That draws a heady whine from you, your hips twitching forwards into Jean’s hand eagerly, a blatant attempt to pull forth the orgasm that’s been brewing between your hip bones for the last five minutes. Jean chuckles at your struggles, works his fingers just a bit faster.

“Go on,” Jean whispers, “it’s just us out here. Be as loud as you want, pet. We’re going to need you good and wet, so go ahead, cum hard for us.”

“C’mon, what are you waiting for? Fucking cum already.” Eren echoes Jean’s sentiment from your breasts, licking at another smear of blood just under your nipple.

Your body thrashes in their grip, begging for and yet resistant to the overwhelming waves of pleasure wracking through it. Loud squeals escape from your full mouth, even from where Eren’s got your lips stretched wide around three of his bulky fingers.

“Let us see what you can do, pet,” Jean murmurs, thick and warm against your ear, “just for us, come on.”

With one more vicious curl of Jean’s fingers, your back is arching violently, a muffled scream echoing into the canopy of trees around you as your release hits you hard. You can feel the wetness smearing between your thighs, feel the effort Jean’s exerting into keeping you still and in one place as you buck against him. Eren growls in approval and sinks to his knees, biting harshly into your thigh before sucking your clit into his mouth. That only serves to make you fight harder, the overstimulation getting the better of you.

Eren’s only able to lap at the sensitive folds between your legs for a moment before your twitching thighs threaten to knock him in the head, jerking closed of their own accord. Eren chuckles and smacks the inside of your leg a few times, rising to his feet and smirking at you.

“You squirming? Too much?” Eren sneers, gripping your jaw in his hand and forcing you to keep your half-lidded eyes on him. You push against his grip as hard as you can to shake your head no, earning yourself a pleased glimmer amongst the darkened green of his eyes. “More? You want more?”

When you nod frantically, Eren grins so wide his canines wink at you in the setting sun, flits his gaze over your shoulder to meet Jean’s eye.

“Get her on the ground.”

Jean complies, forcing you to your hands and knees in the dirt. Something about being so exposed, bare and open for them in the ground like this, has your blood running hot in an entirely new way. Neither of them have taken so much as their outer layer off, pinning you between them like…like their little pet. You can feel yourself grow even wetter; it may as well be dripping down your thighs at this point. You hear one of them kneeling behind you, can feel the head of a cock swiping through the mess between your legs.

“So fucking wet,” Eren hisses from over your shoulder, grabbing at your hips and kneading the skin. A hand comes to your chin, tilts your head up.

“Open up, pet,” Jean says, biting into his bottom lip. Obediently, you drop your jaw, tongue out, and blink up at him invitingly, more than eager for the weight of him in your mouth. Jean groans at the sight, slipping the tip of his drooling cock onto your tongue. You swipe your tongue over the tip, eyes rolling back at the taste of salt and sweat and Jean. Jean wastes no time in pushing to the back of your throat, tapping your gag reflex.

Any hope you had of suppressing the cough that threatens you when Jean pushes into your throat is ripped away by Eren shoving himself into you from behind, pushing you an inch too far down Jean’s cock and making you retch.

“All stuffed full of cock, aren’t you?” Eren grunts, driving into you and setting a brutal pace off the bat. You’re powerless to do much else besides squeal and whine around Jean’s cock, punctuating your muffled moans with the occasional gag when Jean taps the back of your throat.

Jean spits several times into the palm of his hand, never losing his pace thrusting into your mouth. If you had any more presence of mind, you’d frown up at him questioningly, but any doubts about his intentions are resolved when he leans over you, spreading his spit over your asshole.

“I want to take her too,” Jean says to Eren, who leans down to spit directly on your only unoccupied hole, lubing you up, “get her ready.”

Eren only offers an affirmative grunt, circling your hole a few times before pushing his thumb in up to the hilt; you’d taken them both only last night, so you don’t require all that much prep, but Eren’s thick fingers are a shock all the same. You squeal around Jean, who shushes you and runs his fingers soothingly along the crown of your head. You lean into his gentle touch, only for him to tighten his grip around the tangled wreck of your hair and shove you down onto his cock harder.

“Told you you’re not my princess anymore,” Jean chuckles darkly above you, driving his hips forward to the same rhythm Eren pounds into you from behind, “not out here.”

Eren’s been busying himself preparing your asshole, up to what feels like three fingers, but with the girth of Eren’s hands, you can never be sure. To have every bit of you full and used is an out of body experience; it’s not something you don’t experience regularly with the both of them, but to be taken so brutally out in the open, to be fucked in such an animalistic way, nearly shuts your brain off.

Eren gives you a few final thrusts before pulling himself entirely from you, causing Jean to follow suit and leaving you empty and whining. You’re tugged to your feet before you can even begin to form a sentence to beg for them back, stumbling in the crunchy leaves under your feet. Eren scoops you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep you firmly pressed to him.

His cock drags along the folds between your legs, and he presses his forehead to yours, short, heavy breaths leaving him in huffs.

“Ready, pet?” Eren mutters into your open, waiting mouth, “ready to take what you were made for?”

Before you can offer anything more than a half-hearted plea, Jean is pressing into you, the all-consuming stretch of him rendering you mute. Eren never stops boring his gaze into yours, something sparking and spitting and wanting in his eyes, demanding more from you. He drinks down your squeal of surprise, spreads your ass cheeks open so Jean can get at you deeper, digging into depths you rarely find yourself aware of.

“She’s still so tight,” Jean growls, sinking his teeth into your neck, smiling around the mouthful when you moan wantonly.

“Give him some more, hm?” Eren, forehead still tacky and stuck to yours, grabs for Jean’s hand, angling it under your mouth. Through your desperate little hiccups of pleasure, you understand; you spit into Jean’s hand, opening your mouth so that a thick line of drool can slick his fingers up further. Eren grins, evil and satisfied. “Good job, pet.”

Jean uses the saliva you’ve given him to wet the last few inches of himself, pushing in to the base with a loud groan. You can almost feel the tangible eye contact they exchange; they love to look at each other unraveling when they’re inside you. “Your turn.”

Eren—no, Jean?—digs his fingers into your hips, making you whimper at the thought of the bruises sure to follow his grip, slides his cock into you slowly and forcefully, like he’s proving a point. The stretch of him– no, of both of them inside you, isn’t anything new, but in this setting, after all the build-up? You’re wailing, openly, your cries echoing off the trees as you thrash in their firm hold, overstimulated and overwhelmed and overpleasured all at once.

“Sh, sh,” Jean shushes you sternly, pinning your head back against his shoulder with a firm fist to the nape of your neck, “take it, don’t fight it.”

“Feel so fucking good, pet,” Eren says gruffly, giving a tentative half-thrust and making all of you moan, “like you’re fucking made for taking cock.”

“She is,” Jean coos, beginning to rock into you in the same easy rhythm as Eren, “just look at her. Not one thought behind those pretty eyes.”

He’s right; your eyes have glazed over entirely, mouth hanging ajar as they take and take and take from you. You can feel an orgasm quickly taking shape in the pit of your stomach, wrapping around itself and squeezing, threatening to pull you under. You’re so blissed out you can’t even be sure of what you’re feeling. Full, exposed, primal, half-conscious; all of those words surely would make the list if you could pull any of them to the front of your mind at the moment.

Your thighs are quivering around Eren’s waist, tightening viciously around his hips as they drive into you, suspending you between two walls of hard muscle. You know your cunt follows suit when Eren groans loudly, jaw dropping slightly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Slutty little thing,” Eren grunts against you, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Jean, “begging to get your cunt filled like a bitch in heat.”

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” Jean practically whispers into your ear, words wrapping around the knot in your stomach and holding it together, “want to get bred, don’t you, pet?”

Eren’s eyes go wide for just a moment, his gaze fixated on Jean. You can feel him pause briefly, twitch inside of you, and then before even a full second has passed, Eren’s determined scowl has twisted his face again, and he’s hammering into you like his life depends on it.

“Is that what you want?” Eren demands of you, eyeing you.

“Tell him,” Jean says to you, like the devil on your shoulder, “tell him how badly you want it. Go on.”

“I–I–” The tears running down your face collect in your mouth, making you hiccup and spit and choke on your words. Eren grabs your face fiercely, forcing you to look at him.

“Say it,” Eren snarls, “tell me you want this slutty pussy stuffed full of cum, our cum.”

“I want your cum,” you whimper pathetically, words stuttering and tripping as they spill from your swollen lips, “want to be full of it, want to get bred.”

“Fuck,” Eren nearly throws his head back, somehow moving his hips faster. Your legs dangle uselessly beside him; every muscle in your body contracts and relaxes wildly as your orgasm sinks its claws into you, threatens to pull you under. The only things tethering you to your body at this point are Eren’s eyes on you, bright and feral, and Jean’s hands around your hips, keeping you in place for them to pound into. You can feel the tidal wave coming up in your throat, your moans and whines growing more and more frantic, your head feeling lighter with each passing moment.

“Such a good girl– good little pet for us,” Jean slurs, hips beginning to falter in their rhythm, “show us how bad you want our cum, let us feel you–fuck–”

“So fucking good,” Eren laughs almost hysterically as you finally snap and cum around them, slapping your face lightly and egging you on, “there she goes.”

Every nerve ending in your body feels like it’s on fire, little shocks of electricity flying down your limbs and making you jerk and flail and contract. You can feel your fingers digging into the skin of Eren’s biceps until they meet something wet and warm, and you know you’ve drawn blood, but you’re spiraling through rapturous pleasure so intensely that you couldn’t release your grip if you tried.

The way you tighten viciously around them has Jean falling over the edge right after you, his hips stuttering and coming to a still pressed against you. He tugs your face to the side, pulling you in for a sloppy, honestly disgusting, kiss, panting heavily into your mouth and mouthing around praises that he’s too spent to fully pronounce. You can feel Eren’s eyes on you both, feel the way his thrusts are starting to grow more frantic. Jean turns your face to meet Eren’s gaze, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Look at her, Eren,” Jean shakes your face a little for emphasis, “needs cum in both her holes, not just one.”

As if to emphasize his statement, Jean pulls out of you, a gush of his cum joining the mess between your legs. Eren throws his head back and groans, nods urgently.

“Said we’d stuff her full, right? Breed her? That’s what she wants, isn’t it, pet?” Jean sneers, landing a smack to your cheek.

“Uh-huh,” you babble mindlessly, body trembling with the force of the aftershocks of your orgasm, “p-please Eren, breed me, I need it–”

“Gonna cum in you,” Eren pants, grabbing your hair so hard you wince, “can you take it? Take all of it ‘til you’re bred and full of me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, nodding against him, “yes, please, I–”

“Give it to her,” Jean’s fisted his hand at the nape of Eren’s neck now, pulling all of you so close that you’re drinking down each other’s breaths, “she’s worked so hard for it, give her what she needs.”

That’s all it takes; Jean’s encouragement has Eren spilling inside you with a lengthy, choked groan. With what little energy you have left, you pepper soft kisses along his neck, knowing how his muscles must be burning with how they’re twitching under his skin. Eren’s fingers are digging into you so hard it hurts, already aching, but you let him cling to you, ride out his orgasm as Jean threads his fingers through the hairs at the base of Eren’s neck soothingly.

You all stay this way for a moment, Jean supporting the majority of your body weight as Eren begins to sag into you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. The breeze swirls by, leaving cold kisses on every inch of your bare skin, reminding you that you’re out in the open, making you miss your sweater.

“Guys?” You speak feebly into the crisp air, blinking sleepily.

“Holy shit,” Eren laughs breathlessly into the crook of your shoulder, pulling you close to him in a sticky hug, “that was–”

“Crazy,” Jean agrees with a disbelieving chuckle, helping you down onto your shaky legs.

“I am…very naked.” You point out weakly, swaying on your sore thighs. Jean’s quick to slide an arm around your shoulders and tug you to him, while Eren wrangles his hoodie over his head to offer you.

“There’s not another house for five miles in either direction,” Jean assures you, lifting your arms so that Eren can pull his hoodie over you, “wouldn’t ever let anybody see you like this, you know that.”

“Better?” Eren, still a little winded, tugs the hoodie down around your thighs, looking you over. He swipes a thumb across the cut on your cheek, an impish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We really roughed you up, didn’t we? I’m sorry, angel.”

“I liked it.” Your eyes are already falling shut; you barely have the energy for a sleepy smile when Eren presses his lips to your hairline. Jean scoops you up into his arms; all the cardio that he does at the gym is making itself known.

“Was it good, princess? Have fun?” Jean murmurs against your forehead.

“So much fun.” You open one eye to see Jean and Eren glance at each other, see the spark of love between them. It comforts you; even amongst the near-constant shivers wracking through your body, the warmth of their presence and the steady rocking of Jean’s steps lull your eyes shut.

“Thank god she ended up running just about to the backyard,” Eren huffs from somewhere to your right, still sounding very much like he hasn’t caught his breath, “I’m fuckin’ beat.”

“It’s because you don’t do enough cardio, bro.” You can hear Jean’s insistent eyebrow raise and visualize Eren’s answering eye roll, chuckling to yourself in Jean’s arms.

“Cardio’s for bitches, I’m bulking right now–”

“Did you listen to anything the team trainer said in college? Honestly–”

“That was three years ago–”

Somewhere amongst their arguing you doze off, letting yourself go limp in Jean’s arms. When you wake again, Jean’s walking you up a flight of stairs, angling you this way and the other to avoid hitting your head on the railing. Jean flits his eyes down towards you and acknowledges your consciousness with a soft smile, carrying you into a bedroom and sitting you on the bed. Wordlessly, Jean and Eren go about their usual routine of cleaning up after a particularly rough session: Jean runs a bath while Eren fetches some antiseptic for the scratches on your face and arms, Eren nearly gets distracted when you start running your fingernails through his hair but Jean gets you both back on track, somehow fitting all three of you in the largest bathtub you’ve ever seen.

Before you know it, you’ve been scrubbed clean, all the grime gone from your skin and the twigs pulled from your hair, and sandwiched between Eren and Jean under a heavy duvet.

“All better, right?” Eren murmurs against your forehead, pressing a kiss to it.

“All better,” you hum, nuzzling into his chest, “but I don’t want to waste the weekend. We’re only here until Sunday– do we really need to nap?”

“I threw dinner into the smoker while Eren was drying you off,” Jean says, words floating over your shoulder from where he’s curled up behind you, “we have at least two hours ‘til it’s cooked through properly.”

“And you need a nap,” Eren grins mischievously, “you had a big afternoon.”

“I’m not the only one,” you giggle up at him, “I heard you wheezing on the walk back.”

Eren scowls, only to have the furrow in his brow smoothed over by Jean’s thumb. You watch in awe as he instantly melts into Jean’s palm, such a volatile man so easily soothed by a gentle touch. As Eren’s mood begins to settle, you feel the atmosphere in the room change; the blankets feel just a bit heavier, the rise and fall of Jean’s chest against your back quells your breathing into the same rhythm, and the circles Eren’s thumb is rubbing into your hip have your eyes beginning to flutter.

“Naps for all three of us,” Jean says, leaving no room for argument, "I set an alarm. I won’t let you sleep through the weekend, I promise."

Something about the warmth and familiarity tucked under the covers with the three of you has your mind ambling on towards sleep, even after your weak attempts to protest. As you drift off, you can hear the quiet, wet noises of Jean and Eren exchanging a goodnight kiss above your head, feel the reassuring squeeze of their arms around your waist, the brush of lips against the nape of your neck, the tip of your nose. There’s a little murmured “I love you” from each of them, and though your mouth wants to form the words to respond, all you’re able to manage is a soft, contented smile as you drift off.

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 1 month

Text

supermarket run-ins (the start of something new)

summary: nathan mackinnon x f!reader // the supermarket meeting...eventually they'll get married (from this)

warnings: nate being adorably awkward

word count: 3.2k

< i'm gonna link this to a series called 'funny how life works out' (in the works) on my main masterlist and if there's anything you want to see from this universe, please shoot me an ask, my requests are open! >

Nate knew there was always going to be a risk of running into someone he went to school with when he came back to Cole Harbour: the place was pretty small, and nearly every time he’d gone out he’d see a familiar face hiding around the corner, but he wasn’t sure if he could take another awkward conversation, least of all when he was grocery shopping.

It was early May, and the second round loss in the playoffs against the Sharks was still a remarkably sore ache, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to offer their condolences for it: he knew people meant well, but sometimes it did just rub salt in the wound – and for that reason, he decided the best course of action was to do his grocery shopping a little way out of town and at the strangest time possible, i.e. seven A.M on a Thursday morning, because who the fuck else would be insane enough to go grocery shopping that early in the morning?

Or, at least, that was part of his strategy. The other part involved wearing his sweatpants and zip up (it was chilly that early in the morning) and a baseball cap inside to make himself seem as glum and as unapproachable as possible. He wasn’t necessarily trying to hide his identity – it never worked with a baseball cap in those superhero movies – nor did he actually believe that people in Halifax would genuinely care who he was, because he wasn’t the only person to have made it to the NHL in these parts, and he certainly wasn’t the most famous, either. In fact, people were more blase about it than not.

Still, that didn’t stop him from keeping his head down when he walked through the doors as soon as the store opened, nor did it stop him from keeping his eyes on the floor as he navigated his way through the aisles, listening rather closely to the faint music playing over the intercom as he picked up a basket and made his way for the fresh fruit and veg aisle.

Despite having only been back home for a few days, he already had plans, and those plans consisted largely of cooking, eating, working out, and then walking the short distance from his house to Sid’s so they could mourn the devastating loss of their Stanley Cup for this year. Though, Nate did feel as though he had more of a reason to mourn this time: Sid had won it three times already, and this season the Penguins didn’t even make it to play-off contention, whereas the Avs had. Second round. Still bitter. And Nate had yet to get his hands on Lord Stanley.

Even the mere thought of it made his jaw clench. He wondered what he must look like to an onlooker: murderous glares at the carrots usually weren’t a good sign for anyone. In fact, even that thought had him swiping a bag of carrots and looking both ways down the aisle as a precaution, as though he was guilty of doing something – yet, as far as he was aware, the only thing he was guilty of was being this miserable sore loser at seven-ten in the morning.

He reckoned that was a new personal record – he could usually hold it off until half past the hour, but it seemed the early morning pining had gotten to him exceptionally early.

He took a step to the right, reaching for the bag of lettuce, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Usually he wouldn’t have bothered looking: he was in a supermarket, and people were expected to walk through pretty often, but he’d been the only person sad and mad enough to wait outside the doors until they opened up, and he knew for a fact that no one else had followed him in immediately after.

Only, when he turned his attention to the end of the aisle, he saw someone. A woman. She was walking down towards the back of the store, the aisle directly in line with his. He didn’t know if she’d seen him, but she had headphones on and was wearing athletic gear: shorts, trainers, a long-sleeved top under a short-sleeved one. Nate knew that because he recognised the logo on her shoulder and he had one of his own, only it a different colour, and it was much bigger.

He blinked, turning back to his own list.

He didn’t make it through another five seconds before giving in and looking back at her. He couldn’t quite shake the air of familiarity she encompassed. Even though he hadn’t seen her face, there was something undoubtedly recognisable in the way she moved and stood.

He’d seen that woman before. Knew her, even. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew that much. He just had a feeling, the kind that settles so delicately in your bones and has your heart pounding just that little bit faster – he couldn’t quite ignore it.

Still, he continued on with the rest of his shopping, even going so far as to treat himself with some cake mix (that he was probably going to just bake and give to his parents, because he’d have one slice and get bored and before he’d know it, he’d have to throw the entire thing away because it’d gone stale), and it was as he was making his way back up to the tills, walking straight through the ready meals aisle, that he saw her again.

She was standing in front of the refrigerated section, her basket on the floor as she held two boxes in her hands, seemingly undecided on something. A small part of him hoped that she’d see someone coming and look at them (him, really), so he could deduce who she was. In fact, a large part of him wanted that. It was all he wanted at that moment. He wasn’t sure if he could leave the supermarket without figuring it out before he left – and he immediately shut that thought down because he sounded like an absolute creep.

He kept his steps mildly loud and purposeful, not moving too fast or too slow to rouse suspicion, and he kept to the centre of the aisle. At some point his hands seemed to have made the decision to take his cap off his head, because when he briefly looked down at his basket it was sitting on top of the cat food (probably for the better, because it’d be weird if he ended up saying he didn’t actually own a cat even though he had cat food – that was guessing he’d even end up saying something anyway: it was all rather a large question mark in that sense), and he ran an anxious hand through his hair, fluffing it up from where it had been squashed, before looking up.

The woman reached down, dropping a box into her basket, the other one nestled safely back on the shelf, and whether he’d timed the entire thing impeccably well, or whether she’d actually seen him, she looked up. Right at him. And, before he could even do anything consciously, his legs had slowed to a stop.

He was right. He definitely knew her. In fact, the very woman standing in front of him was the exact same one he’d had a crush on in school from the age of ten to…well, he wasn’t quite sure when it stopped because he left shortly after that, but now she was standing in front of him, smiling politely, and Nate instantly felt like a giddy ten-year old again.

It was you.

You, who upon seeing he’d stopped in his utterly bewitched stupor, had taken the headphones off from over your ears and had turned to face him.

All because he stopped in his tracks.

“Hi.” You said, picking up your basket on the floor and regarding him with some sense of confusion.

He blinked, his mouth falling open dumbly, the words sitting right there on the top of his tongue, but he seemed suddenly incapable of even stringing anything together.

He shut his mouth almost immediately after that realisation, and the flush in his cheeks almost seemed inevitable — as did your curious quirk of an eyebrow, because even the people that didn’t know him well knew it was never a good sign for someone who was so used to being in the public eye, to stutter and make a fool of themselves simply trying to have a polite conversation.

“Is everything okay?”

He didn’t know it was possible to blush even harder, but he felt it tingle in his toes and the tips of his ears.

“Sorry, I—” he cleared his throat, heart hammering in his chest like there was no tomorrow, “You just took me by surprise, I guess. Haven’t seen you in years.” He managed, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. He’d never struggled so much before, but old habits do die hard and he’d never been completely normal talking to you when he was ten.

A look of pleasant surprise crossed your features, and only then did it occur to him that it might be weird of him to say something like that, because you two hadn’t really known each other at all. A few weeks sitting at the same table didn’t exactly constitute the kind of friendship that’d be so profound you’d shock him.

“Would that surprise also have something to do with the fact that we’re apparently the only two people with the thought to go shopping at this time?” You ignored the latter half of his bumbling ramble, probably for the better, and instead seemed to find some relief in the fact that he had regained his ability to talk.

He didn’t quite know which was worse.

Nevertheless, he stuck on a smile and tugged awkwardly at his earlobe for a moment, “It might, yeah.”

You hummed, rocking back on your heels with the faint trace of an amused smile on your face.

It was only then that he noticed the old, slightly worn in Halifax Mooseheads logo printed squarely on the front of your t-shirt, and he very quickly averted his eyes — only the more he seemed to look at your face, the more obvious it became that you were every bit still as beautiful as you had been to his ten year old self, if not more.

“So, where are you, how are you these days?” He asked, once again the words tumbling straight from his mouth with little thought, but you seemed to appreciate the question, if he read the look on your face correctly.

“I went to college in Montreal, and I’m still there. I work for a law firm as a legal translator…And I guess I’m doing well.” You shrugged, “What about you?”

Nathan swallowed nervously, the crushing weight of the loss almost crashing into him full force, and he knew he froze for a good couple of seconds, trying to get his head back into the present moment. He didn’t know if you could tell just where his mind had gone, or if you were just that patient, but you didn’t say anything or do anything to indicate his lack of immediate response.

“I’m good, yeah. I mean, I’m still reeling from the play-off loss, but it’s nice to come home and recharge.” He inhaled, “But other than that, Denver’s treating me well.”

“That’s good.”

“As good as it can get to say I got absolutely no choice as to where I had to live when I was eighteen? I’d say so, yeah.” He agreed, feeling himself ease up a little.

He couldn’t get his mind to quieten, and he felt jittery; he didn’t know what to do with his hands and he knew all of that would be solved if he just stopped thinking so hard about a simple conversation, but all he could think about was his poor younger self, who, upon finding out he had to move to Minnesota, did wonder what happened to you.

If his younger self could see him now…

You laughed softly at his sarcasm, and he felt the clouds part for a moment – a laugh meant he wasn’t completely making a fool of himself.

“What are you doing here now anyway?” You asked, wandering across the aisle, your basket still on the floor, and he watched, one hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket, as you picked some cheese off the shelf and made your way back to the basket.

“I’m restocking my fridge and avoiding any possible run-ins with people–well, with people I went to school with, actually.”

You just grinned, and for some reason he had an idea of what your next words would be before you even said them, “How’s that working out for you?”

Nate shrugged lamely, “There are worse people to run into.”

And from the comical look on your face Nate had an awful feeling that you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Is that why you’re here too?” He continued, acutely aware of the fact that you were mid-shopping trip, and he knew for a fact that even if he did want to keep standing there and chatting to you for a little while longer, he couldn’t. Not really. Still, it hadn’t been quite long enough yet to end it now.

If he did, he knew he’d regret it if it was the last time he’d ever see you again for the rest of his life.

You shrugged, showing no signs of his presence or conversation either dulling or pissing you off, and answered without hesitation, your basket now in your arms again, “Yeah, but I’m also busy for the rest of the day so I couldn’t go at any other time.”

“Oh, anything nice planned?”

“It’s my Dad’s birthday, so there’s some family coming over and then we’re all going out for dinner.” There was a pause, and for a brief second Nathan felt himself get hot with panic at the mere thought of that brief pause turning into an awkward silence, but you spoke again, and his heart rate dwindled and his body temperature lowered with the help from the fridges, “You got any plans for today?”

Nate felt himself begin to nod before he could spew the words out, “Yeah.” He said, “I’m seeing Sid tonight.” It was only after he finished talking and had the chance to double-check that he hadn’t said anything wrong accidentally, that he realised that you might not know who Sid is.

He had no clue if you even liked hockey. In fact, he knew little to nothing about you apart from that fact that you were clever, played soccer quite violently from what he’d heard from some of his friends, and that you went to college in Montreal, and both lived and worked there now. And it was your Dad’s birthday today.

In fact, now that he thought about it, you hadn’t actually given him any indication that you knew who he was. You’d not said his name, how would he know you weren’t faking it to be polite?

He didn’t voice any of that, though. If he did, it wouldn't matter if you knew who he was or not, because the second he voiced exactly what was running through his head, this entire thing would turn into a car crash.

“Kind of crazy how that works out, huh?” You asked rhetorically, and Nate raised a brow, waiting for you to elaborate, “I remember you talking about him in class, and now…”

Nate grinned, only just resisting the urge to sigh in relief, and all at once his mind seemed to clear. It quietened; he could think properly now. All because you remembered him.

He felt a little bit pathetic, actually, at how easy it was for him to physically brighten because of one vague thing from fourteen or so years ago (fourteen!), that he probably told everyone who would listen – but he had a strong visual in his mind, then, of everyone else on that school table tuning out his Crosby-rambling, and you were the only one listening. He remembered you’d ask him questions, and…you liked hockey, he remembered that now.

It was funny how a moment so insignificant in the past could feel like a tectonic plate shifting under his feet.

“Oh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. God, he really did chat hockey a lot, didn’t he? “And they say don’t meet your idol.”

You fucking remembered him!

You breathed a laugh, and Nate felt something in his chest splinter at the sound, only when he seemed to really look at you next, you shivered, teeth pressed together and shoulders trembling. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before, considering you were standing in a cold aisle with shorts on, and him with full length sweatpants and a hoodie, but it was freezing. Really cold, and the guilt that came with that observation had him immediately stepping away slightly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should let you get back to your shopping.” He rambled nervously.

“It’s okay, I’m not really in a rush.”

What was he supposed to say to that? What did it mean? Was it an invitation to stay longer? To keep chatting? He had no fucking clue, and he was sure the chaos of his thoughts was unfortunately also mirrored on his face judging from the way you were now looking at him (or was he overthinking that, too?); yet, the only thing that came out of his mouth was: “It was nice catching up with you–”

“I have three days left before I go back to Montreal.” You interrupted, and Nate blinked.

He blinked again. His heart was in his throat. What–Oh.

“Do you maybe want to get drinks before you go?” He asked, heart pounding so very painfully against his ribs. He didn’t know why asking that question was so nerve-racking, especially considering you’d half fone the job for him anyway, but there was something tugging at him that had his hands trembling slightly as he put his number in your phone. He looked over to see you doing the same on his phone, and though your fingers were shaking too he couldn’t say for certain if it was because of the cold or your own nerves.

“Tell your Dad happy birthday from me.” He muttered once he’d repocketed his phone and managed to make eye contact with you without a) smiling too hard and looking like a crazy person, or b) looking like he was constipated.

“I will.” You promised, “Have fun tonight, too.”

“I’ll try.” He managed a normal smile, “See you later.”

“See you.”

And he spent the entire walk back to his car trying not to scream out of excitement. He’d never been so giddy for later.

#nathan mackinnon oneshot #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon x reader #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey oneshot #hockey imagine

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The Lord's Daughter

Cassian x Devlon!Reader

Synopsis: You’re Lord Devlon’s daughter, which definitely won’t cause any issues. Right? Fluff and Angst

Warnings: Devlon, misogyny :D, abuse, wing clipping, also you’re somewhat of a housewife because I read to many stories of people that end up with Cassian, Azriel or Rhys where they want to train and be strong. You can be strong and take care of a house, fuck that fighting shit. Also, I use female terminology, but you could read it as a more feminine male, FtM or even MtF if wanted.

Words: 7.6k

The High Lord was coming to the house for a meeting, and then dinner. Father stated they were to talk about the camp, what the High Lord wanted to change, to talk about the girls training. Father stated it was because ‘that bastard general of his’ has reported once again the girls aren’t training. The other lords of Windhaven have all agreed that the girls can train just after their chores.

The only issue with that is the males of camp have just been giving us more work. So where I used to have time to myself to read, or play piano, I spend most of my day now doing chores and helping the younger girls of camp.

I don’t mind it, truly, it helps them out to do what they want. Train. I just don’t have an interest, and it’s not because my Father believes a female’s place is the house, I just don’t enjoy it. I’ve spent enough time helping patch up the warriors in the infirmary to know I want nothing to do with it.

I’d rather be a ‘housewife’ likely to the High Lord’s displeasure.

It doesn’t help that the General has been pestering all the girls lately to see why none of them are training.

It doesn’t help he pestered me before about it. Just before Rhysand became the High Lord. That thought caused me to look to my father, who had been in the sitting room sipping his whiskey.

“Father, do you know how many will be attending the meeting and meal? So, I might be prepared?” I ask, and the look on his face either turned to anger because I interrupted his thought or because of who will attend.

“The bastard lord, and his two-bastard ilk will attend. Not sure about his whore cousin.” He answered and downed his glass. Yea the anger is from the guests.

I wiped my hands on the apron I wore and untied it to set to the side, “Is there anything you’d specifically want for the meal? I can head to the butcher’s tomorrow when he opens. And I believe that the Huxley’s just finished canning and harvesting some of their vegetables for the season, I can stop and see what they have.”

“Get something from a pig. Just what they need to remind them what they are. No better than anyone else. Just nicer versions of pigs.” He poured himself another glass. Three fingers full this time.

“Pig sounds good, it’s been a little while since I’ve made a pig roast. I get some beans and potatoes to mash with it if that sounds good father.” If I’m to roast an entire pig for dinner, then I’ll have to go to the butchers early. Hopefully Elias can help bring it to the spit for me.

Father just grunted in reply, I’ll have to see what good alcohol I can find on short notice to serve. Possibly a cheap wine for me in order to get through it all.

Father was to spend most of the day showing the High Lord, the General and the Shadowsinger how the troops were, and how the girls’ training were proceeding, whilst I prepped the house for dinner. Turns out a pig roast doesn’t take as long as one would think to cook.

So, I got to spend some of my morning and afternoon outside tending to it and watching the camp show what they’ve learned. What new techniques have been taught from the war, whilst some of the girls stood to the side doing simple maneuvers like breathing or stretching.

It was strangely beautiful seeing the males move how they did. Like it was a dance whilst they were paired off, a dance that turned bloody and violet sure, but a dance nonetheless.

I tried my best to ignore the eyes of the three guests but at some points it couldn’t be avoided, and I’d quickly look away and go back to peeling my potatoes. Like a game of camp and mouse, except each time I’d glance there’d be some type of questioning look in one of their eyes. The General’s.

Whilst one of the three would pop in for a visit to the camps occasionally, I was never around. I’d just hear my father’s complaints later. With the occasional slap if it was a real grueling day. They weren’t the worst punishment you’ve received from the man. By the time it gets to the point he wants to slap he’s had a few glasses full, and he doesn’t have much strength.

Besides he wanted me to look beautiful so he could still possibly find me a husband. Being the camp lord’s daughter did have its benefits. A pick of husbands, not that I’d get to chose but, and less beatings than some of the other women. Because whilst father would have rather had sons, he only has me. And as cruel as he can be I can say he doesn’t hate me. Detest me for not having a cock, sure.

But I am still his child.

Cauldron, part of me thinks just a little he hates he clipped my wings. He’d done it properly, thankfully. Had the best healer tend to it, so I still have functions in my wings and no real pain. Many of the girls and females in camp can’t say that. I’ve tended to many of them after the fact of how mangled their fathers make them. How they can barley even function.

The High Lord has attempted to ban wing clipping, imposing harsh punishments on those who still do it. It hasn’t stopped many of the fathers from clipping in secret. Which has caused more injuries than needed. It doesn’t help many of the males of camp beat their wives and daughters.

No wonder some many of the fae hate us. No wonder the High Lord and his friends hate coming around. Maybe that’s what the meeting is about. More changes to make to the camp. I’m sure father will love that. Something I’ll have to listen to until the next demand the High Lord makes.

I’d been so busy peeling and cutting up potatoes I didn’t see the massive imposing figure next to me. Red siphons littering his body, stature casting a shadow over my body, wings just posed enough to not be aggressive but catching my attention.

“Why aren’t you training with the other girls?” It was the General, Cassian, who had walked up to question me. And I’m shocked to find him talking with me. I’m trying to remember when the last time it might’ve been, and the only time I can think of it was around the time of their Blood Rite at a bonfire.

The war came not long after that, and then once it ended, I started taking care of the house more. Learning how to be a good wife from my mother, learning from some of the healers how to care for wounds.

“I’m peeling potatoes…” It’s the most obvious thing that I’m doing. He can see the potato in my hand, the others that had been peeled, and the skins on the ground around me.

“The girls of camp are to train just everyone else. So… why aren’t you training yourself?” He asked again, as if it’s the strangest thing in the world to not want to train. To rather cook, clean and care for a home than fight and get bloody and bruised.

“Because I’m prepping for dinner. After the meeting with the High Lord.” It’s a simple answer, one anyone should be able to guess, especially the General.

“Lord Devlon has been instructed that all girls of training age, or those that wish to, train before doing chores.”

“I know the rule Lord Cassian,” He cringes lightly at the title, “My father tells the camp of the rules the High Lord has created and has been enforcing. Believe it or not, I am not of training age nor do I want to train. I am perfectly content doing what I have been.”

The General almost seemed shocked at what I said. And just as he went to add something else, someone called him back to the others. He looked at the voice, then back to me, as if he was going to ignore them. Continue to question me; but he left.

Once he left, I took the food inside, to finish cooking it. The Generals presence reminding me of that bonfire. What the night brought, what rare fun you got to have. Before many of you had responsibilities for the real world….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If your father finds out I allowed you to go out tonight he’d have both our heads.” My mother had stated glancing hesitantly at me from over the counter.

“Well, father is going to be in meetings with some of the camp lords, and other males of camp. Hence why this party is happening tonight.” I told her, the crunch of an apple piece ending my statement from the fruit she had given me for a snack.

“You’re not going to do anything… reckless are you? Nothing to…-“

I interrupted her, “Mother I’m not going to sleep with anyone. My pureness will be intact when I leave the house and will still be present when I come back. You’ll have no issue marrying me off. Even then, you and father are still able to have children.”

My mother had walked around the counter and pulled me into her chest, kissed my head and stated, “Why would I ever try to mess up perfection?” She had always said I was the best thing she made; no other child would be able to compare.

By the time I had gotten to the party it was in full swing, liquor and ale being passed around in cups, people sneaking off to the shadows to feel or hook up.

I had just planned on seeing some of my friends, only have maybe one or two drinks, I hadn’t expected the heir to the Night Court to be there. Which meant his two shadows would be around him too, both bastard low-born males, one who fought for his place in Windhaven and slid his way to the heir’s side. The other, the one everyone says was kissed by flame and shadow, who was dropped off here by his father’s guards as a favor to whoever his mother was. Just because the Lady of Night was a family friend.

The three of them weren’t much older than I, maybe by a few years, they were nearing the age and power to compete in the Blood Rite, where many Illyrian males aim for the age of 30 to compete. The name is self-explanatory, it’s a rite of passage where lots of blood happens.

I had spotted the long-hair male, I believe his name is Cassius or along the lines, standing by the fire passing a cup of ale to another female. Brushing through the crowds, I made my way over looking at the different drink options feeling hazel eyes looking at me.

Without even looking at the person staring I ask, “Going to give a suggestion or just keep starring?”

“I mean either works for me. Which allows me to stare longer?” Cassius… Cassiel… shit what is his name…

“Hmmm… giving a suggestion allows me to sip something as you stare.” I finally turn to look at him, and realize how much taller he is. He’s standing at least a head over me, if not two heads. Maybe a head and a small head.

“Ale is always a good choice. If you’d like something harder, a whiskey mixes or rum. Something sweet, I saw someone walk by with wine earlier so that’s somewhere… Cassian by the way.” CASSIAN! That’s his name.

“Y/N, and I’m okay with ale. My mixed drinks either varies by too strong and mainly the liquor or not enough and its basically just soda.” He nods his head and takes to pouring me a cup, getting no foam in it before handing it over.

“So, Windhaven native orrrr….?” He asks, and I can’t tell if he expects to end the night in my pants or not. If he actually just wants to get to know me.

“Native, my father is one of the lords sooo. Kinda have to follow the line. Only reason I got to come tonight was the meeting.”

“Yea, that was the main reason for this soiree. Helps that the High Lord is there taking the attention off of us to do it.” My eyes widened just a little, not realizing that the Lord of the Night Court was present.

“I didn’t realize he was coming to that meeting… how do you know that, figured it’d be a bit of a secret.” I watch as he points off to the side, following his direction I see how he knows, the heir, Rhysand is against a tree. Kissing another male with a female between them.

“He’s… committed?” I don’t even know how to describe it, and whilst it wouldn’t be me… I won’t judge others. That’s wrong.

“Oh,” the sharpest grin spreads on Cassian’s face, “He’s a very committed High Lord.”

“I’m sure the Night Court will be in… loving hands?” It’s a questionable laugh, one I hope doesn’t offend him or his friend.

“He will be, he’s got plans. Hopes to make Illyria a better place. But none of that, you’re drinking with one of the next Carynthian!” He’s proud of the statement, as if knowing he’s going to win no matter what.

“Oh, you’re competing this coming spring? Are… are all three of you doing it?” It’s a simple question, one because I know my father has already complained about them signing up together. It’s somewhat nice seeing others give him a headache rather than I.

“You can bet you’re sweet ass.” My eyebrows raise as I blink at what he exclaimed, “We all plan to complete it together. We started as one, we’ll end as one.”

“That’s… sweet. To many Illyrians die during it… To much blood shed just to come out on top just to come out with bragging rights.”

Cassian shrugs as if it isn’t too much of an issue. “Everyone in this camp is out for someone’s blood. The blood rite keeps everyone… sated. It’s a way to get rid of your enemy’s or people you hate without having to deal with a punishment from Lord Dickhead. Illyria is awful anyway with how everyone gets treated, if there weren’t challenges or the blood rite, we’d never be an army. Be to busy fighting each other.”

He's right but the name ‘Lord Dickhead’ throws me off… he’s not talking about…? “Lord Dickhead?”

The biggest grin ever splits across his face, and that’s how I know 1. He’s talking about my father and 2. He doesn’t know I’m his daughter. “Lord Dickhead, Lord Devlon. He’d answer to both I think.”

It had caused me to laugh, Windhaven is a big camp so not everyone realizes that my dad is one of the lords, let alone realize I’m his daughter. We talked more that night, but Cauldron knows I can’t remember. The ale was pretty strong, and I hadn’t drunk much before. But I do remember the night ended with a sloppy kiss.

We had moved to just the outskirts of the party, and he made a comment about going to be the best warrior the camp has seen. His goal was to be a general one day. And I had made a silly little comment about me being the fair maiden and him being the amazing knight.

He told me that the knight always gets a kiss before and after saving the maiden. So, he said he earned a kiss before the Blood Rite. So, I risked it. One of the only times I ever risked my status and the ire of my father.

I pressed my lips against his, hesitantly. He cupped my cheeks in his hands, tilting his head just slightly and pressed his lips against mine a rush of heat flowing through me. My brows furrowed just as he ran his tongue along my lip and in my confusion, I followed instinct and raised my hands to cup his face.

It had been a hot, hungry rushed kiss. My first kiss, something no other male got from then on. The war came after, among a thousand other things. But it always felt like a part of my soul was missing from then on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Present~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had been so lost in my daydream I had finished the potatoes. The type of ‘blackout’ where you just rely on muscle memory and continue doing whatever you were and come back out after going “Oh I actually cooked those right and didn’t just imagine it right?”

I quickly started setting everything out on the table, laid out the glasses, with a pale of ice cubes if wanted and the slightly expensive whiskey I found set out as well.

And just as I finished stirring the mashed-up potatoes, I heard my father lead the males in. In walked the High Lord, the Shadowsinger and Cassian. I walked into the doorway of the eating room, watching my father lead them in, the whiskey and glasses already on the table from earlier today.

My father nodded to me, seeing that everything was out for them already. He then turned to the others and nodding in my direction and three sets of eyes lay on me. Each holding different twinkles in their eyes. “I’m not sure if you all remember back from, you’re all’s youth, but this is my daughter. Y/N Devlon.”

The High Lord’s and Shadowsinger’s expressions stayed neutral, but Cassian’s eyes widened just a bit. Either from realizing that I would in fact know the rules because of me being his daughter. Or because he finally remembered who I was.

Either way I bowed just enough to be respectful, “Hello. Dinner is ready, and I left the option of drink choices. I hope everything is to your guys’ liking.” The Shadowsinger’s gaze glanced over the table, likely trying to see if anything would be poisoned but his gaze stuck on the roasted pig sat out, glistening with juices.

As if realizing what caught the shadowsinger’s attention, the High Lord and Cassian’s attention moves to it as well. Cassian only really seemed to have an issue with it, his teeth clenched and fist slightly clenched.

The High Lord took it in stride however, “Devlon, I’m glad you remembered how much I loved a roasted pig. Did it come from the Collymore family? They still have their butcher shop don’t they?”

My father leaned over his seat, and poured himself a glass, “You are correct Rhysand, the Collymore’s still have their butcher shop, their son has helped take it over. Truly it was them to remember your love for pig. Too many of you boys I raised and sent off to remember it all.” There’s a little eye twitch in his eye at the dig. “Please sit. Let’s not let this meal go to waste.”

I helped pour glass for the males, asked if anything else was needed before being waved away by my father. Walking back into the kitchen for my own dinner, I felt eyes follow me.

My own meal was smaller, consisting of really only the sides, pork wasn’t my favorite choice of meal, especially when it came to having to look at the face of a pig while eating. I spent most of dinner trying to ignore the conversation happening one wall over.

Voices varying in differing heights as disagreements and agreements happened. Why they elected to have a meeting over a meal? I’m not to sure. Doesn’t seem like much eating is actually happening. And as the person who cooked the meal, it kind of upsets me that my work is going to waste.

I could see the little shadow join me in the kitchen as I ate. Giving me some company, granted I’m sure it’s reporting back. As soon as that thought happens, it shoots off and another replaces. At least I think it’s a different one.

I’d been so distracted by the noises from the other room and the little shadows I didn’t see the massive frame entering the kitchen from the back. I jumped a good foot when I heard him speak.

“Why didn’t you say you were Devlons’ daughter?” General Cassian.

“Pardon?” It comes out quickly, just with one breath as I stare at him. His wings flexing with a slight irritation to them.

“You know what I asked.”

“Are you talking about earlier today or when we first met?” It’s a good question. Simple enough that if he doesn’t remember then I don’t have to possibly deal with the fact we drunkenly kissed. Or I can let him have some panic for calling my father ‘Lord Dickhead’. Even if that shoe fits.

“That depends. When do you think we first met?” I just slightly narrow my eyes, then glance in the direction of the dining room and back. What’s his game? And how do I play?

I’ve grown up around these warriors. Whilst I’d rather stay at home, I can bite back. “’Lord Dickhead.”

A saccharine smirk grows across his face, a glistening white canine peaking out. “What would Devlon thing about his daughter kissing an Illyrian bastard?”

“He didn’t know. The only one who did was my mom. Maybe your friends. But I never said a thing. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“That why you don’t train? Because he’s your father and he doesn’t allow you to?” He seems almost pissed as if it’s my father not letting me train.

I finally set my fork down with my plate and glare, “If I wished to train with everyone else. I would. It’s my choice whether I do or not. The High Lord doesn’t require me to train, he just states that the girls that wish to train, do. And I don’t want to.” My wings have started to flare just lightly, likely the only amount of dominance I’ll ever show.

He glances at my wings, eyes narrowing as if now realizing that my wings were clipped. A slight growl coursing through his chest. “So doesn’t allow you to train and clipped your wings. Wonder how Rhys would feel about him breaking both rules he’s imposed.”

I pull my wings back in close and tight to my back almost self-consciously before saying, “My wings are none of your business. It especially doesn’t concern the High Lord. What I do is not any of your business either. If I wanted to train, I would.”

“It matters if the Lord of this camp is breaking the laws that have been imposed by the High Lord. Rhysand has explained in great detail what the punishments are for wing clipping, and for not allowing the girls of camp to train.” I understand they want change. I do. But the punishments he’s talking about is either a beating or death. To “prove a point” they just kill them.

We’re in silence for a few minutes, him waiting for me to bite back likely. And when he seems to think I won’t, he turns to leave. To go back to his precious High Lord, but as he hits the doorway something makes me open my mouth, “They were clipped before I met you. Even before the bonfire.”

It makes him pause, but he continues back to the dining room.

It’s a week later until I see him again. I had been walking around the farmer market the camp has. And he seemed to be walking around buying some of the food, either for a quick lunch or just to support some of the families of Windhaven.

So, being the peace maker, I try to be, I go up to him, “Hi.” Simple, if he wants, he can ignore me, or he can engage.

“Y/N. How are you?” Okay so not an immediate ‘fuck off’ so that’s good.

“I’m doing great! How about you?”

“Good.” Okay so maybe he’s just being polite.

“…What brought you to the market today.” He just glanced at me, and it’s really making me rethink trying to be nice.

“Have you been over by the Monroe stall since being back at the camps? Cade and his wife Calliope run it now. I think he did the Blood Rite a couple years after you.”

He sighs, “What are you doing?” He just barley looks down at me, an emotion in his eye I can’t pinpoint.

I just shrug, “I don’t know, I figured you’d maybe like the company. I know you’re not the most popular in the camps all considering. Plus, that first time we met we were friends,” I look down at that, “At least I think we became friends. Even if it was just for that short time! I didn’t really see you after…. And I know the second time we met it was tense, but you were eating dinner with my father-“

He cuts me off, “Whilst you were eating the bare minimum in the kitchen. Alone.”

My eyebrows furrow just lightly, “I couldn’t really eat with you guys. You were discussing camp policies. Not really a place for me.”

“Because you’re a female?”

“No, because I don’t know anything about camp policies. It wouldn’t make sense for me to be there. It’d be like if I showed up for a war meeting. No reason for me to be there.” It makes sense in my head so I would think it makes sense in his.

“That’s your home. You prepared the meal; you welcomed us into the home. You should have sat at the table and ate.”

“Can I ask something General Cassian?” It’s something I want to know. But his face makes me smile just a little.

“You can just call me Cassian; but yes.” It’s almost a grumble with how he answers.

“Why does it bother you so much? How I decide to do things with my life?” He pauses in his step as if debating something. Either to answer or to tell me.

“That night. The… night of the ki- of the bonfire.” He rephrases his statement as if remembering we’re around others of camp. As if he realizes if anyone overhears, my virtue will be in question. My reputation in the camps, ruined. “I… I know we’re older. Now. But I thought I felt something… that night. Something deep in my soul. And then you were gone, the Blood Rite happened, then the war.

Just to find out you were under my nose the entire time. Did you know that Rhys didn’t know Devlon had a wife, let alone a child. One so close in age. Let alone one who’s wings had been clipped, doesn’t train with the other girls and females of camp.”

“He doesn’t have a wife anymore. My mother died not long after the war ended. And I told you the other night that my wings were already clipped the first time we met.” I sharply turn in front of him, “Also, I didn’t realize I had to inform you who I was when we met. I don’t usually walk up to people go ‘Hi my names Y/N, my father is Lord Devlon lets go make out!’ When we met, we were nobodies. You didn’t have a title, such an important role, so many responsibilities. So, I stayed out of the way. No matter what I might’ve felt that night.”

It's like a ripple is sent out. Something in the wind has changed. But all we can do is look at one another. Both breathing slightly heavily from what’s been shared.

Cassian looks away for just a second, nostrils flaring. “Is that why you didn’t come around? Because I’m a bastard? A fatherless motherless brute with no standing?”

I scoff at what he’s trying to imply, “Why would your parents matter to me? I didn’t come around because 1. How did I know you wished me to? You were sent to the Blood Rite the night after, then the war came, Rhysand became the High Lord and you left. 2. You forget that even though my father is Lord Devlon, I am a woman, a daughter to a brute that cares more for this camp than I. I have no standing which is something I’ve accepted.”

“So, I just assume I’m supposed to sit here and believe, that even when I was not a general, you would’ve had me? Would’ve let me court you?”

“YES!” I exclaimed, the few people still wondering around the market glancing in our direction. I hold my stuff a little tighter before glancing back at Cassian’s eyes, “Come on, follow me before we get into any more trouble.”

The winged male slowly followed behind, as if he were a child that had gotten in trouble. Luckily, father was to be with the ‘troops’ and wouldn’t be at home until late. So, we would be left in peace for a bit.

“Won’t Devlon get pissed your in here unchaperoned with a male?” He’s almost hesitant in walking into the house, as if he’ll be run off for just walking in.

“Believe it or not, even though I’d rather stay in the house and raise kids than fight, I am allowed to make my own choices. Much to my father’s anger.” There’s just the smallest smile that graces his face, it lights up as he does.

“Is that why you don’t want to train? Because you would just rather keep house than be a warrior?” It’s as if he’s finally understanding me, finally realizing that everyone wants something different.

“I’m an only child, I always begged for siblings, always played with babydolls, or played house. My mother couldn’t have anymore kids, I never truly knew why I just know she couldn’t. Because of that, I spent most of my time playing ‘mom’ with different things and people. That’s all I wanted to be… Then my mother passed away after the war, that disease that passed through the camps, remember? The dreams of a sibling kind of… shattered, unless father remarries.

Then the High Lord became the High Lord, started changing the rules of the camps, trying to make change. Think what you want about my father, I know how he seems and gets viewed, but he’s always been like that distant in his own way. Cass, I wish I was one of the females of camp that wanted to train, he’d allow it if I truly wanted to, but I don’t. It’s not something I want for me, I want to be in the home taking care of people, raising kids if I get to have them. And if that’s not something you can accept… then I don’t know if there could be an… us.” I glance up towards him, and the most heartbroken look is on his face.

“I couldn’t care less if that’s what you truly want. I only cared because I thought you were being kept from what you wanted to do. I didn’t know you truly didn’t want to train, I thought you were being forced to keep house. That’s why I was pushing for it so much, that’s why I cared.” He still has the look on his face, as if I’ve killed his mate…. Wait….

“Earlier… you said something… about the night we… kissed. That you thought you felt something… What did you mean?” It’s like a white sheet has draped over him, his tan Illyrian skin lighting to an unhealthy look.

“It-it’s nothing. Just I don’t know Y/N we were drunk, but I just feel like-“ He’s twiddling with his fingers as I interrupt him. Something I never picture the general doing, the famed Prince of Bloodshed.

“It felt like something more? Something… in the making, or in the forming?” His hazel eyes make contact with mine, an almost knowing glint in them. Like he’s already thought that’s what it was, although there’s still a look of fear.

“I’m not sure if that’s what it is. The only experience I have with mates is Rhys’ parents’… and they weren’t… the best examples. I just know that night I felt something, and ever since then it felt like something’s been missing. Until we met again, and that feeling came back.” I chew on the corner of my lip, chewing on the skin some.

“So… are we mates?” That beautiful grin is back on his face, the color her lost coming back to the usual tan.

“I think we’re mates.”

Right as he says it, as if talking about it summoned it, that beautiful golden bridge is formed between us.

It’s been almost a week since the mating bond formed between us. Something that I’ve kept away from my father, which Cass has been in full support of. He has started to buy and give me courting gifts, which I can’t tell if my father noticed and is ignoring or not. Granted I did want to put feelers out at dinner tonight.

“Father?” I hope my tone isn’t as anxious as it sounds, but I fear it might be.

“What would you like Y/N?” He asks still reading the report he has in his right hand as he eats.

“Would....” How do I approach this? “Would it be okay if someone… started to court me?” This makes him pause mid-chew, and it’s then I start to wonder if maybe he is just slightly more male than I thought, than I saw.

“Is there a male in the camps courting you? Because if so, they should be coming to me for permission. Who is it?” Okay yeah maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up.

“I don’t think it’s actual courting, I just think someone has been giv-leaving gifts for me. Just little things that usually get seen as courting gifts. I just wanted your opinion on it father.” Simple, appeasing to his pride.

“I’m not sure which game you’re playing child, but if someone does wish to court you, then the proper way is through talking with me and allowing me to approve it. Are they a respectable male? The one leaving gifts.”

He doesn’t believe he’s respectable, but he’s more respectable than the males in camp. “What if they’re my mate? I know it’s rare, but if The Mother and Cauldron wished it, would you still accept them?”

My father stops chewing once again, as if getting tired of my questions during our usual meals. “You’ve been reading to many of those books again, haven’t you? They still need to speak with me if they wish to court you. Mating bond or not.” Okay so maybe he will accept Cassian then! “But if he is not a male of good standing, then it won’t be happening. I won’t have my child marrying some bastard, mating bond or not.” Shit.

“The books bring me joy father. Something to do once I’m done with my chores.” Entice my father with the sweet words for the females of his time, where we’re happy with doing chores. Which for me I am but still.

It wasn’t until hours later when I go meet Cass that I told him.

“How’d your father take it?” He asks, wrapping me up in his arms holding me close to him. The bond thumping along our chests, even unmated and it thrives with life.

“I chickened out… Don’t look at me like that! I asked how he’d feel if someone started courting me, and he said he wanted them to come to him to ask permission. So, I asked what if they were my mate. But he said if that was the case, even so rare it is, that he’d technically allow it, unless they weren’t in ‘good standing’.” Cass lightly pushes me slightly away from him to look at me.

“So, your father’s definitely not going to allow me to court you. My mate. I knew your father hated bastards but…” He sounds upset about the fact, which is understandable.

I look up and run a finger along the length of his nose, “You could always rescue me, be the amazing knight again and me being the maiden. Take me away to the Moonstone Palace safely tucked away.” He gets some kind of guilty look on his face at the mention of Moonstone Palace.

“Is that what you’d want? For me to take you away from your father, bring you back to my home with me?” he’s sincere in his question, and I know he’d do it in an instant.

“I wanted my father to approve. I wanted him to be okay with our relationship, with our eventual mating. To be happy for me that I was able to find a male that could care for me. Mates aren’t something that happened, let alone happen in these camps. But I’d never forgive him if he tried to keep me away from you.” And I wouldn’t. He’s my father and I’d do almost anything for him, like he’s done for me, but this is a chance at my happiness.

“I’ll see what I can do, speak with Rhys about seeing if there’s anything that can be done. If there’s a loophole.” He’s sweet and doesn’t even have to do what he plans to do. Really, he could just cut his losses and move on.

The issue was we were wrapped up in each other, we never even noticed the male watching from the shadows. So, when I awoke the next day, my bedroom door locked; I didn’t know what was to happen. Was even more shocked when I found my father in the corner of my room waiting.

“Are you fucking him?” It was all he said. Just like that my loving father was replaced with the male Lord of the camp.

“What?” No, seriously, what?

“Are you fucking that bastard?”

“Father what are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone, you know this.” Really, all me and Cass have done is kiss. Yet that little brush of question down the bond from him makes me wonder if it could be seen as more.

“It’s been reported to me that you have been seen sneaking out. Then meeting that bastard born foot solider. So, I’ll ask you again. Are you. Fucking. That Bastard.” He’s pissed, I’m pissed that someone’s followed me to him. Because this is going to fuck over whatever plans me and Cass made.

The anger on his face makes me pull on the bond and send just the smallest rush of panic down the bond. Hopefully letting him know that somethings wrong, that I might need assistance. “Father, I don’t know what someone claims to have seen but they are wrong. You know I would never do that, compromise us like that. You’ve raised me better than that.” He didn’t necessarily raise me at all, my mother did. He just kept us alive in terms of money.

“So, the male is lying to me and your telling the truth?”

“Father, you have nothing to fear. You know I am waiting for your approval and marriage. It would be unladylike of me to not have my maidenhead before being married.” It’s not a lie, I do still have my maidenhead, but I am kind of sneaking around with Cass.

Speaking of who, responds with my earlier tug, with one of his own, and a questioning feeling down the bond. I tug back almost instantly, sending back reassurance but still a little push of panic. Hopefully getting the point across I need him.

“If that is the case you won’t care for me to go get the male and question him again. See which of you are lying.” He knows something. Either there’s actual evidence of me and Cassian sneaking around, or someone is trying to screw me. I’m not happy about either.

I just shrug in response, “I just planned on cleaning up around the house today. So, I’ll be here if you wish to ask me anymore questions.” I smiled at him kindly.

I need to figure out a way to get out of camp.

My fathers’ eyes just narrow at me, before his lip curls and he leaves the room completely. Not locking the door behind him thankfully.

It was only two hours later I heard a knock on the back door; a sharp tug following after telling me who it was. Picture my surprise when I let Cass in and the High Lord and Shadowsinger follow in behind him.

I start to try and bow but before I can even attempt to Cass pulls me into a hug. “What’s going on?”

I push back lightly, “Someone saw us the other night. When we met and talked about leaving. Someone had followed. Father thinks we’ve…” I stop, and glance at the other two before finishing.

The High Lord leans against the wall, the Shadowsinger joining him, “So he thinks you’ve slept with him and thus are basically worthless in terms of any marriage deals.”

My face rushes to a heated tint, and Cassian growls in response, “Rhys.” It’s a simple command he makes. Don’t speak about my maidenhead so casually.

“Do you know who the male was that reported seeing you guys?” It’s the Shadowsinger that speaks now.

I shake my head, “No, he locked me in my room, waited for me to wake then basically came and interrogated me. Just said someone reported to him that they watched me ‘sneak out’ then followed me and saw me meet up with Cass.”

He shares glances with the Lord and Cass, before Cass asks, “How pissed is he?”

“Well, I can almost guarantee that when he comes back later after questioning that male again it won’t be a happy dinner.”

Cassian runs a quick hand down his face, and it makes me feel bad that I’m putting him through this stress. As if noticing my feelings, the High Lord speaks.

“Devlon would be pissed no matter what. The Cauldron themselves could be your mate and he’d be upset. It does slightly complicate things, but this is an easy issue to solve.”

“Rhys. Don’t insinuate my mate is an issue.”

“Not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Az do you think you’d be able to intercept Devlon before he finds out to much information?” Cass asks, and before I can tell them it’s likely to late, he’s gone. Shadows hiding him away taking him… somewhere.

“Y/N, do you want to stay and see what happens or would you like to pack some stuff to leave?” The High Lord—Rhys, I guess is what I should call him now. Cass has told me enough about him I feel it’d be appropriate.

“Do you think it’s needed?” I don’t want to leave my home. It’s the home I was born and raised in, the home my mother lived and died in. The home I learned my purpose of life in.

Cassian answers instead, “Me and my brothers were talking. The three of us think it may be safer if you come with us. But… I’ll leave you with the option. The choice to see how your father reacts. We just think it’ll be safer if you come with us at the end of the day. We… we don’t know what Devlon will do once finding out we’re mates.”

I must look sad about that because Cass brings me closer, if possible, and his wings just slightly curl towards me. “He wouldn’t hurt me. He might be some type of monster but he’s still my father.”

Rhys answers for Cass, “It’s not that we think he’d intentionally hurt you, but he said it himself, he wouldn’t marry you to your mate if it wasn’t a… good match. But it wouldn’t be a happy life if you stayed. I know it’s a big ask, this is your home, all you’ve known. But I also know Cassian would be a lot happier if you were with him. Safe.”

Closing my eyes, I sigh because I know they’re right. I’d be happier in the long run with him. “I’ll go pack some things. Should I wait or just leave a note?” My voice is solemn.

Cassian and Rhys look at one another, but Cass answers, “I’d leave a note for now. We can always come back if you want to see if he’d like to make amends.”

And so, I do, I leave a simple note apologizing. Telling him that I was in fact still a maiden, even if he thinks I’m not. Tell him that Cass is my mate, and I couldn’t have a higher-ranking male as my husband. If he wishes to speak with me, he can send letters.

Other than that, I take my most prized possessions. Some of my mother’s jewelry, books, a few more odds and in’s I’ve collected in my few hundred years of living.

Then we left. So, I can be happy with my mate, and his family.

Author's Note:

This was going to be 5.6k words but last night I felt it needed just a little more angst because we all know Devlon would be pissed.

Like, comment, share/reblog.

dividers came from @firefly-graphics

DO NOT REPOST. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR THIS TO BE POSTED TO ANY OTHER SITE.

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juno-of-wonderland · 2 months

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Monster Au: Lord of Thorns route

You stopped cleaning, looking at the horizon, your eyes passing over the rooftops and going straight to the sunset, the colors matching the current autumn, you didn't understand why people didn't stop to admire the beauty that nature had. You stayed still until the moon shone in the sky, going back to work, cleaning the mansion's gargoyles, do you remember that you once heard that these beauties protect and prevent the excessive runoff of water from damaging the stones and here it is so lonely that they end up being their only companions. “Good evening Laylah, Nisha, Ayla, Estela and Luara” “So they have a name” The sudden voice made you let out a scream, jumping back and losing your balance, tripping over your own feet, gravity doing its work and pulling you down, beyond the roof, you dropped your work tool and closed your eyes, bracing for impact, but only the broom hit the ground. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You opened your eyes, he held your hand, you knew it was a man from the voice, but you couldn't see clearly because of the hood, but the green glow in his eyes was so intense that it cut through the darkness, keeping you mesmerized and breathless . “(Y/n) are you okay?” A voice shouted from below, one of the mansion's maids. "Hmm? A-Ah, yes I am! I ended up tripping, I’ll go down to get the broom” you stuttered as her screamed, you attention focused downwards When you turned your eyes to the front, he wasn't there, you didn't even notice when he let go of your hand, but the feeling of the glove touching your skin was still there like a ghost. “Be more careful!” The maid screamed You continued looking at the empty space, wondering who he was, you raise your hand and look at it. “Cold…it was cold” you whispered

…

The trees on the property make you work harder than usual, sure, it's leaf fall season, but why does the butler make you remove even the leaves from the roof? You would never know. You climbed the stairs without rushing, using the metal bars that surrounded the roof, you leveraged yourself, placing your flashlight in the chimney to light your way, already starting to sweep the orange colored leaves, the rhythm and the sound lulling you into work . Without realizing it, that same figure from last night was watching you, waiting for you to get off the edge so that it wouldn't happen again. “How do you know they’re all girls?” He asked You let out a shameful scream, which got a laugh from the guy, embarrassing you even more, your shoulders shrugging as your forehead touched the broom handle. “Um, they faces give me the sensation" you replied without looking at him “huh” he let out a murmur of recognition and remained silent You guys stood in the same place, he looked at the property and you found the courage to speak, taking a deep breath, you asked the most important question. “Who…who are you?” your voice came out almost like a whisper, but his ears seemed to be sharp, because he looked back at you and you looked at him. "You do not know?" He said they seem surprised You remained silent, why would you have to know, unless…he was the owner of the mansion!? No, it wouldn't make sense, you've never seen the owner of the mansion, but you don't think he would be hooded in his own house. “You seem to have reached a conclusion” he said No, you were more confused than ever, but he didn't seem like a bad guy, he even saved you from falling two floors yesterday. “My name is (y/n) and yours?” He blinked, intrigued and surprised, a smile forming on his face. “You gave me your name so quickly… you really don’t know who I am” he laughed low and short, but so attractive “you can call me whatever you want, but a word of advice, a name has great power” You looked slightly irritated and confused at him. "What? You are the devil and you are going to steal my soul? Since it's like that, I'll call you Tetsunotaro.” And oh how that amused him even more.

…

Nights passed, sometimes whole nights, you didn't understand why he only showed up at night, which he responded with that he was kind of invading someone's territory just to see you, which you swallowed and honestly, he clearly isn't not even trying to be charming, your new friend is naturally charming. "What are you thinking?" Tetsunotaro asked. “How long will they believe I’m coming here to see the stars?” “But it’s the truth, isn’t it?” Tetsunotaro said with a smile “Hehe, I am” you replied with your own smile You looked at the stars, Tetsunotaro was some kind of scholar or a nobleman, he knew so many things that even surprised you, especially the gargoyles, you didn't even know half of the things he told you. “The master is coming back this week” you said suddenly "And even? What kind of man is your master?” Tetsunotaro said, getting closer to you, touching his shoulder, wanting your warmth. "I don't know" "You do not know?" Tetsunotaro cocked his head to the side, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yeah, well, I've heard a lot of gossip about him, but I don't know if they're true and I've never seen him in person… do you want to hear the things I heard?” Tetsunotaro nodded enthusiastically "I heard he looks like a prince, he is the best at swordsmanship, a little lonely and loves trees, he also has an obsession with dreams, as if he wants to enter it, looking like a physical place" Tetsunotaro narrowed his eyebrows , but not for the reason that you thought “I know, haha, it's a little crazy, ha! The butler said he is an ancestor of a dragon slayer.” Tetsunotaro tensed, his smile didn't waver, nor did you seem to notice his body change as you said a few more things about your employer, he himself got lost in his own thoughts. “Tetsunotaro, can I ask you something?” “Of course, son of man” and there’s your weird but intriguing nickname that Tetsunotaro gave, did you think it was fair "You work?" Tetsunotaro let out a laugh before replying, “No, my parents left me enough money that I wouldn’t worry enough about it.” You squirmed in place, your knee coming closer to your chest, the tone he used left you with a strange feeling, he spoke about them as if they had… “They are” he laid his head on your shoulder “…I’m sorry” you squeezed his hand in comfort “Okay, it’s been…years since this happened.” “…if you need anything, just talk” you said Tetsunotaro looked into your eyes, surprise and relief reflecting and you finally noticed his hair, as black and shiny as the night, but one part of it looked strange. “Thank you” he lifted your hand and entwined his fingers with your, holding it tenderly, placing a kiss on the back of your hand “I was… very lucky to meet you” …That was so natural…damn, you know your face is red and he's smiling, you're sure you saw plenty of protruding fangs. “Hey” you try to distract yourself, pulling your hand “do you think they still exist?” "Who?" “The Dragons” Tetsunotaro smiled, the kind of smile that knows what he's talking about “yes, I believe so”

…

You were making your way upstairs, when someone touched your shoulder, startling you, the boy laughs lightly. “(Y/n) you really like the stars, don’t you?” An employee named Rain said "Oh yes! I love watching them” “But it would be good if you stayed below today, apparently the master doesn’t come alone” And with those words, several employees hurriedly passed through the same corridor as the two figures, they looked at each other before following. Everyone lined up in two lines next to the door, shoulder to shoulder, with their heads lowered and waiting, the butler walked in the middle, his feet quickly passing over the red carpet and opening the two huge dark wooden doors. “Master, gentlemens, it is a pleasure to have you here” the butler spoke with respect and reverence You risked a look, seeing a well-dressed man who clearly had everything easy in life with three others behind him, these caught your attention the most, dressed in black and with heavy bags and an emblem, the emblem of Noble Bell, monster hunters, your stomach dropped. You had a theory about Tetsunotaro. A theory that there was no way someone like him could be human, his skin was very white and cold, his eyes were so bright and you are sure you saw fangs in his mouth and he was always hooded… these men here and now only increased your suspicions . You looked away, staring at the ground like your savior, the five men passed by and everyone went back to their tasks, you took a deep breath, if you were going to do something it would be quick. You tried to act as normal as possible, walking to the wing that led to the stairs that led to a closed opening in the ceiling, you went up the stairs, opened the little door and there he was, waiting for you, smiling as soon as he saw you. “You need to go” you said His smile disappeared, replacing it with a frown. “Is it because of the hunters?” Tetsunotaro asked “Yes” you said and nodded “Are you afraid of me now?” “…I don’t really know what you are, but Tetsunotaro, what you are doesn’t matter, but who you are and you are my friend, my dear friend” You spoke with all your heart The man seemed ecstatic but hesitant, he looked at the moon and then at you, you hadn't fully left the opening yet, he walked towards you and held out his hand, helping you to stand, he held your chin so you could look directly into his eyes and for the first time he took off his hood. You held your breath, for the first time seeing his full face, seeing his horns and realizing who you were talking to all these nights. "You are-" “Lords of Thorns!” An arrow flew towards the two of you, Tetsunotaro took it out of the way with a single hand, growling at the newcomer, he held you by the waist, close to his body. “Release this human!” The hunter proclaimed Which had the opposite effect, because Tetsunotaro only held you closer to him. “Of course a proud creature like you wouldn’t cooperate.” A second voice, this time from behind Tetsunotaro and your only question: HOW THE HELL DID HE GET UP!? THE MANSION HAS TWO FLOORS! The man glanced sideways and his annoyance increased, as did his amusement.

“Flame” he said, like some kind of old friend You stretched your head, managing to see the hunter with black clothes, gray hair and a tired, serious face and with that black cloak, you also noticed the sword in his hands. The man looked sick, swinging his shining sword to the side. “Your dirty soul is trying to corrupt this sheep, this is not something I can allow, Draconia” the man, Flame, said with determination “I can't” Draconia said, as if he were talking about the weather This attitude only made the hunters angrier, another arrow was shot and Flame threw himself forward, the arrow went straight through while the sword didn't hit any matter. Tetsunotaro began to float above the men, holding you like his precious treasure in his arms. He throws himself to the ground, running at surprising speed into the forest, the two hunters unable to catch up to the vampire lord. After some time,you struggled in his arms, leaving him confused, he slowed down until he stopped, placing you on the ground, he could hear your heart pumping blood at full speed. “I’m sorry” the man said sullenly like a kicked dog. You moved your hand, waving that it was nothing, waiting for the adrenaline to subside and your heart to calm down. “Will you come with me…do you (y/n)?” Draconia extended her hand for you to hold

What will you do?

⬜hold the hand ⬜ do not hold

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twst #alternate universe #monster au #malleus x reader #twst rollo #twst malleus #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus twst #rollo flamme #twisted wonderland rollo #twst x gn reader

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shadeysprings · 1 year

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The Princess of Asgard

—Loki x F!Reader

Summary: Your supposed vacation on Asgard takes an unexpected turn.

Warnings: kidnapping, non-consensual arranged marriage, betrayal & violence.

A/N: Written for @lokisgoodgirl as they've been wanting some Dark!Loki recently. Ngl, I do miss writing him. Un-beta so may be meh.

Your feedbacks and reblogs are highly appreciated. Support Content Creators! And I hope you guys enjoy! ❤️

The tears continue streaming down your face as you stare at your reflection in the vast mirror hanging on the wall. The emerald gown you were forced to wear shimmers beautifully against the light of your chambers and you wish you could appreciate such a delicate garment, to bask at the regality being laid upon your feet.

But you can’t, not even a shred of happiness can be found within, for such gifts have come with a price, one you know deep down you cannot pay.

You blame your naivety, for it’s what brought you into your situation in the first place. The excitement burst from you when Thor and his brother, Loki, invited you to see their home. The stories of Asgard have held a vice on you since you were young, mesmerized at how beautiful the images scholars painted of a place they’ve never seen before. And being given that opportunity, to witness what no one else on earth has, was too irresistible not to take.

“What are you wearing?” Loki asks upon seeing you when you open the door, his eyes trailing down your body before stopping at your face.

“Oh, am I underdressed?” You ask, looking down at the graphic tee and canvas shorts you put on that morning. “I just thought of dressing light since it’s summer here.”

“Not at all, darling.” He smiles before ushering himself into your room along with a stout middle-aged woman with stacks of fabric nestled in her arms. “But I was thinking you would dress like an Asgardian during your stay here.”

The woman, who Loki introduces as Thyra, lays the assortment of fabric on the foot of your bed, dresses of silk and satin, looking delicate to the touch. You look up at Loki, eyes wide in disbelief and awe.

“Take your pick.” He instructs but nears the emerald dress all the same and runs his fingers against its skirts. “But I personally think you would look good in this.”

You scan the garments, the gold and beige sitting idly on the mattress, both in the same cut and style. Only the emerald dress stands out from the bunch, looking regal and elegant. But regardless of his suggestion, your eyes still land on the beige, hand reaching over to caress the silk before taking it.

“But this would look more in season, don’t you think?” You tell him, a smile playing on your lips. He smiles back but you can’t help but notice how it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Though after that morning, the dresses presented to you were all of the same color, emerald fabrics dancing against the lights of your room, leaving you no choice but to wear the green thrust upon you.

Your first week on Asgard was spent touring the palace and the outer grounds, Loki always at your side, arm intertwined with yours as he introduced you to his friends, along with the other lords and ladies in Thor’s court. A feast was even thrown in your honor, and even if you found the extravagant event fun and entertaining, the way you were regarded by royals and commoners alike threw you off guard.

But it didn’t stop there. Even after the feast, people bowed at your wake and called you princess, the title off-putting considering you were not close to such status, a mere civilian and average citizen on earth.

You thought they were doing so to show respect to the king and the prince’s visitor, but that one-morning exchange with Thyra, when she entered your room without your permission and started laying out a dress on the top of your bed, told you otherwise.

“It’s unheard of in all the realms for a princess to dress herself.” Thyra says in disbelief when you try to dismiss her. “I would not want the prince to scold me for not doing my work accordingly.”

“Oh—but I’m not a princess.” You tell her with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Not yet.” She simply responds before bending low and turning to leave.

And that chance encounters with Lord Fandral as you walked through the corridors of the palace alone.

“Are you lost, princess?” He asks.

You don’t understand why you’re being addressed as such. Is it customary to give visitors of the royals such titles?

With your brain too muddled with errant thoughts, you choose to brush it off and ask Loki later why they are treating you as such, you give the golden lord a smile and ask him where you can find the kitchen.

“I’d be happy to escort you, princess.” Lord Fandral says with a smile as he offers his hand for you to take.

As the days turn into weeks, the once magnificent palace felt all too suffocating; with Thyra’s constant insistence to serve you, the whispers you heard from the servants as you walked past them, and most of all, Loki’s indifference each time you asked him why you are being treated in such a weird way.

Until that day, all the answers were finally laid at your feet.

“Darling, Thyra has told me that—what are you doing?”

You don’t spare Loki a glance, irritation filling your senses as you pack all your things. “I’m leaving. I thought visiting Asgard would be great but things here are just fucking weird.” You spit, shoving your clothes in your duffel but stopping when Loki places a hand over your bag.

“You will do no such thing.” He says and you scowl up at him, but your anger shifts into curiosity, and your spine shivers when you see the seriousness in his emerald eyes. “You’re not to leave Asgard until I say so.”

“Why?!” You push his hand away and try to grab your bag but he latches onto the strap, pulling it completely from your grasp, and throws it on the ground. “What the fuck?! You can’t keep me here, Loki! I’m telling Thor and you won’t be welcomed back to the compound!”

“Go on then. He’s in the throne room right now.” He says, moving away and gesturing to the door. But the tone of his voice, calm and resolute, has fear crawling up your skin.

Yet still, you push on and walk past him, marching yourself through the halls as you try to navigate your way. You sense Loki following behind, but give him no mind, though once you find yourself lost, his chuckle resounds in your ear and you stiffen when his hand rests at the small of your back and whispers, “Just through here, darling.”

He leads you through a set of double doors and you look ahead to see Thor sitting on the throne, Mjolnir laying inanimate at his feet while addressing the people surrounding him.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles, dismissing his subjects when you march up to him. But the friendly smile fades when you stomp up the steps, a frown playing on his lips. “My lady, you seem to be in distress.”

“Hell yeah, I am.” You almost shout, pointing an accusing finger at Loki who stops at the foot of the steps. “Your brother is being an asshole. He said I can’t leave Asgard without his permission.”

Thor looks startled at your words, eyes shifting to his brother and then to you. “But why would you leave Asgard when you’re to be wed?”

You stiffen at the word. Wed? What does he mean? Your eyes dart to Loki who casually stands by the steps before climbing up toward you. He reaches for your hand but you quickly pull away, your eyes focused on him before looking at Thor who stands from his seat.

“Have you not told her, brother?” Thor asks, but his eyes remain on you.

“Told me what?!” You respond in a rush, panic rolling through your veins.

“I was supposed to while we ate breakfast but she banished her handmaiden and I caught her packing her things.”

Thor sighs but chuckles after. “Loki, you know midgardians are more unrefined in these situations than us.”

“I took your word into account, brother. Thought I would break it to her gen—”

“What the fuck are you both talking about?!” You shout, anger and fear mixing within you. “What the hell is happening?! What are you not telling me?!”

“Do you want to tell her or should I?” Thor asks his brother and Loki simply grins, giving a solemn bow to his brother. Thor faces you, blue eyes serious yet full of mirth. “You’ve accepted my brother’s gifts, have you not?”

“Gifts?”

“The dress.” He waves a hand in your direction and you look down at the green silk hanging from your shoulders. “You wear his colors, you’ve accepted his invitation to come home with him. Your chambers, adjacent to the prince’s, and a handmaiden for you to use as you please. Each one deserving of a princess.”

“But—” You stammer and shake your head. They can’t be gifts, you never even thought them to be; simply thinking that everything was part of Asgardian culture and you were not one to question their way of life. “I didn’t know they were gifts. I thought they—”

“I thought you were a smart girl but you’ve proved me wrong, little one.” Thor laughs and waves to his brother. “Enlighten her with the situation, we can’t have a scene played before the court on the day of the wedding.”

“But what if I decline?” Your voice trembles as you speak, body shaking as everything starts to make sense; why everyone calls you princess, Loki’s looming presence, and Thyra forcing you to wear the dresses instead of putting on the ones you brought with you. “I should get to decide, shouldn’t I?”

“But the decision has already been made,” Loki rebuts and you take a step back when he steps closer. “And it is seen as treason and punishable by death to go against the will of the royal family.”

You blink slowly, the air leaving your lungs as you try to process all the information that has just been said. You can’t get married, Loki may be handsome but you have no feelings for him. You feel betrayed, played with, and the pain feels too overwhelming as you saw the brothers to be your friends.

Why would they trick you? What have you done to merit such devious intent?

“It will be easier once you’ve had some food in you, darling.” Your eyes meet Loki’s when he stands close to you, his hand wrapping around your arm, thumb gently caressing your skin. “And realize that being my wife would be the best thing that has ever happened to you.”

You don’t want to agree. What the hell do they know about what’s best for you and what’s not? But you don’t fight back, instead, you nod and allow Loki to take your hand, bowing your head to Thor before following his brother out of the vast throne room.

But as soon as you pass by the doors, the guards closing them at your wake, you stomp down on Loki’s foot and clench your fists before thrusting it towards his neck, making the god stumble back while he chokes.

You don’t waste any more time and run as fast as you can, sprinting through the halls and staggering down the stairs. Several servants squeal in shock at your wake but you give them no mind, set on finding your way out of the palace and towards the bridge that you once crossed when you arrived.

Several footsteps stomp behind you and you push further, urging yourself to run faster. You can hide in the forest once you leave the palace and plan from there. All you want now and all you can do is get away from Loki and his brother and hope that you can find someone to help you and take you back home.

But you grunt when something solid catches your waist, your back pressing hard against a surface that you soon realize is someone’s chest. You try to pull away, clawing on the arm that restrains you to set yourself free, but you whimper when you feel the edge of a blade pressing against your neck, tilting your head back to avoid being cut.

“I will not be insulted by your insolence, darling.” Loki drawls against your ear. “I have been very patient with you, I have been kind. You do not want to test these waters only to end up drowning.”

“Please, Loki.” You cry and hiss when he breaks the skin, the metallic tang of your blood wafting in the air. “Why are you doing this? I thought we were friends.”

He chuckles and you let out a breath when the blade leaves your neck. But such reprieve is lost when his fingers wrap around your throat, his nose trailing down your temple and to your cheek then pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

“Well, darling,” He breathes, feeling rather than seeing his grin. “You thought wrong.”

Quickly, you wipe your tears away when you hear the door of your room open. You keep still, hearing soft footsteps pad through the open room and into the bedchamber, your body going stiff when you see Loki’s reflection in the mirror and resting his hands on your shoulder.

“I hope those are happy tears, darling.” He says as he greets you with a kiss on the cheek. “Today is a joyous day and I expect nothing but.”

You stay silent, unsure how to respond for you feel the opposite of happy. You’re trapped, kidnapped, into a foreign land, and betrayed by the people you’ve spent years who you trusted, and depended on to keep you safe.

Your eyes then shift to the side when Loki holds up a necklace with an emerald crystal hanging by the chain. He takes the liberty of clasping the chain around your neck, whimpers leaving your lips when his hand grazes the tops of your breasts, his finger caressing the jewel that sits on your cleavage.

“A beautiful present for my bride.” He whispers, the words stabbing your chest and you can’t help the tears from spilling once again. His brow furrows, turning you from the mirror to face him and you look down when he cups your cheek. “What’s the matter, darling? Do you not like it?” He asks. “I can get you another one, a bigger one if that’s what you want.”

“I want to go home.” You blurt out and cover your face as you sob against your palms. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

Loki then pinches your chin, making you wince and you drop your hands to your sides when he lifts your head and forces you to face him. A breath catches in your throat as you’re once more filled with fear, seeing his green eyes glow dangerously and the mischievous smirk forming on his lips.

“But darling,” He breathes, “You are home.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

#loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #dark loki #dark!loki #dark fic #mcu #au #the princess of asgard

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igotanidea · 4 months

Text

Gift shopping : Morpheus x reader

Christmas bingo day 17: gift shopping

She loved Christmas. Truly. Every tradition, every dish, every carol. All that came with the holiday season.

Except one thing.

Gift shopping.

Wondering around the stalls trying to figure out what the donee would like was a literal nightmare. Doing her best to choose something better and at least a bit more original then the scented toiletries set became equal to being slowly burned on the stake in her mind. The hell was she supposed to know what smell of a body wash would her cousin like? Or what colour was her aunt's favourite?

And that itself wouldn't even be the worst if it wasn't for the advertisements coming from every way giving her anxiety.

But when she suggested that maybe the family could do one year without the presents they all gave her as condemning looks as if she was at least an antichrist.

Damn.

She was putting off this duty for so long, repressing it from her mind that in the end, she was forced to rush through the shops at the last minute, feeling the pressure on her shoulders. Which was also bad for her self esteem cause y/n was always considered the one with the greatest and most creative ideas.

Yes, but only given the right amount of time, not acting in a hurry.

But what she didn't expect was to end up sleeping on her desk one night and getting some help.

Once she opened her eyes, she was in a quite different place. Yes, it did look like her hometown, but giving a strange vibe that only confirmed her beliefs that she was in fact far away from reality.

"Lucid dreaming" she muttered to herself with a deep sigh. Waking up (sort of) in dream's domain and co conscious about it could only mean one thing. She was here for bussiness. Morpheus wanted something from her, cause he rarely did things selflessly. "Dream of the endless!" She called "how can I be of service to you today?!"

The silence was the only answer she got, and such treatment made her groan in frustration. She really didn't have time for silky games with Dream, the duties falling upon her shoulders...

"you are in the only place when imagination knows no bounds and you dare complaining?"

"I'm merely thinking." She retorted crossing her arms. "Lord Morpheus."

"long time no see y/n"

"don't tell me you missed me or something."

"one cannot really miss the way you address him"

"that's not the answer. Why am I here?"

Dream didn't answer instead turning his back to her and starting walking ahead not even caring whether she follows.

Which she didn't not really wanting to give him satisfaction of complying. At least not until the ground started cracking behind her and she was forced to rush after dream, causing about him acting like a kid.

"Morpheus." She said getting bold enough to use his name even though he ignored her once again. "Morpheus." She repeated, foolishly hoping for another outcome but it was futile. "Lord Morpheus" finally the official title made him look at her with tiniest amused smile.

"yes?"

"why am I here, um- consciously?"

"your imagination seems to be running short."

"not sure if that's an offence, state of facts ot reveling that you were stalking me..."

"you think too much of yourself" he said with the flat voice leading her across the dreaming bridge

"then why-?"

"I'm going to boost it"

"boost what?" Now she was almost running after him trying to keep up the tempo pretty sure he was making her move slower on purpose. "My imagination? Why? To prove you are better or something? You're the lord of the dreams, damnit, a creature of centuries old. I think it's pretty obvious you are more qualified in the ideas subject than me."

He didn't even give her a word of response, guiding her inside the palace to the ground where no one else was allowed to and it was making less and less sense by a second. And since asking questions was obviously pointless she decided to just settle on observation. Taking it the huge Christmas tree, decorations placed here and there and colours that seemed to take over the whole palace. It gave such a contrasting vibe to the usual outlook of the place and dream's character that it left the girl with eyes wide and mouth agape.

"you did this?" She whispered almost feeling the warmth coming from the interior instead of darkness and gloominess.

"dreamers did" Morpheus retorted sternly, but time it had a tone of softness to it. "It's the only thing on their mind of late."

"you could have prevented it though. And didn't." She smiled "never took you as for a fan of festivities"

"why?" Dream seemed truly interested about it.

"why?" There were so many reasons to assume that he didn't enjoy Christmas but she was not going to bring them up "I don't know. Maybe I was being judgemental, sorry. It is actually pretty beautiful. Holiday spirit kingdom of dreams" she pointed out, her gaze now resting on the boxes under the tree.

"You can open them."

"i can what now?" She frowned in confusion even though her hands were tingling in anticipation to see what was hidden inside "why?"

"cause you lack inspiration." The answer made her frown even more.

"and you're really going to help me out here?" There was this little fear in the back of her mind that if she didn't follow the order she would actually encounter some nightmares on her way. "Why? Why would you--" it made zero sense. She was just a human with no greater meaning. A human, whose path happened to cross with Dream's when he was retrieving his attributes and restoring his kingdom back to greatness. She meant nothing, right?

Right?

Dream didn't make it easy on her giving her the silence and just pointing towards the packages stacked under the tree. Leaving her with no choice but to grab the closest one and pulling at the ribbon, innate curiousity taking over.

However, before she could actually take a peek inside -

"y/n! Y/n wake up! We've overslept! We'll be late for classes!"

Shit.

Y/n could not care less about adulting, duties and classes right now, torn from the Christmas version of the Dreaming, groaning at the lost opportunity of seeing what Morpheus considered a gift. And getting her imagination boosted. Once in a lifetime opportunity cause she was aware Dream would not be generous again.

Shit

But her still hazy mind, slowly started working and much to her surprise she found out, that even without seeing the box in the Dreaming actually got the gifts ideas.

***

"did your family like the presents?"

"they actually did, thank you" she smiled softly as the familiar dark dressed silhouette joined her on the bridge. She has been watching the skaters on the ice rink, not really expecting company but dream's appearance was actually warmly welcomed.

"it was all you who did this. It was your imagination"

"Maybe. But it was only because I was given the right incentive" her eyes sparkled a bit as she gave him a happy look "thank you Morpheus, even though I still don't understand why you did it. Guess I'll be left waiting for some sort of collecting the debt on your part" she chuckled before turning head back to watch the people skating.

Maybe that was why she missed the tiny amused smile formed on Dream lord's face.

The smile that was screaming without words.

This was not a debt he was going to collect in the future. Not when it came to her.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #lord Morpheus x reader #Christmas bingo

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dany-is-my-queen · 1 year

Text

A Question Of Loyalty II

Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 6.8k

Note: First of all, I cannot thank all of you guys enough for the love you’ve given to this story. To be completely honest, I don’t know how many chapters are left, maybe 2, maybe even 4. After the 1 season of House of The Dragon ended, I’m in blank really. I’m currently reading Fire & Blood, where “The storm broke and the dragons danced”. So, I don’t want to spoil you, therefore I’m unsure on how much to include in futures chaps… I already have a few ideas though, solid ones that you’ll read soon. Anyways, sorry for my rambling lol. Enjoy! These are flashbacks, to give context of what occurred before the part I.

Part 1

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.

Oh how you rejoiced in taking off to the mountain tops to liberate your mind for a while. You didn’t take after your father, not being a big fan of the sea and sailing, instead, you fell in love with the skies. Silverwing was the best dragon you could ever dream for. Not having hatched one of your own, unlike Laenor, you claimed the she-dragon when you were only nine, you almost gave Rhaenys a heart attack when she was told you’ve been seen soaring the skies atop of her. “Your great grandmother would be proud. But don’t be hot-headed, Y/N.” The Queen Who Never Was remarked. You wore a grin of satisfaction when your mother praised you.

You admired Queen Alysanne, you’ve read all about her contribution to the Realm in the ruling of her husband, King Jaehaerys I, therefore, you aspired to become like her, that’s why you gathered the courage to mount the silvery beast. She was relatively docile and friendly to strangers, so it was natural the bond that bloomed between you.

You lodged in King’s Landing since then, with Silverwing residing in the Dragon Pit with the rest of the dragons.

“Care to join me for a ride, cousin?” Rhaenyra offered beaming.

“Today is your nameday, my Princess. Do you want to spend it with me?” Rhaenyra was turning ten and five, you were the same age and that aided you to feel comfortable around one another. And you found common ground on flying. She nodded eagerly, grabbing gently your forearm.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

How could you refuse the Princess of the Kingdom? You were being reckless and selfish, to say the least. King Viserys and Queen Aemma were hosting a huge feast and jousting to celebrate the “Realm’s Delight”, but she had other plans in mind. You tagged along without a second thought.

“Where are we going?” You asked once you were ready to take depart.

“Home.”

Dragonstone was a short flight from the Capital, the dank island was forsaken, except for a dozen servants that kept the Castle in good conditions. You landed ashore, unsure on why Rhaenyra would want to be there.

“We could move here. Just the two of us.” The Princess’s voice unwavering. You modestly chuckled. After all, it is rightfully mine”

“It would get a bit lonely, don’t you agree?” You demurred, she shook her head.

“Not really, we have Syrax and Silverwing. They can keep us company.”

“Would that suffice, my Princess?” She looked you straight in the eye, you had never felt so intimate with anyone before.

“It would, for me. I’ll never be the son my father so desperately seeks. There’s no place for me there. Not one that will lead me to a happy ending.” The confession staggered your heart, the princess felt so alone, so isolated, under the shadow of an unborn male child. “We could visit Driftmark from time to time. I know you’d miss your family.” She insisted, you contemplated this absurd notion for a minute.

“What about Alicent?”

“What about her?”

“Wouldn’t you miss her?”

“Would you?”

“Yes. She’s our friend.”

“She’s way too dutiful. She will marry soon and forget about us.”

“You reckon?”

“We could do as we pleased here. I needn’t worry about you marrying some fat Lord. We could wed instead, I’ve read about the ancient Valyrian ceremonies. I would make you happy.” There was no malice, nor ambition, solely innocence and hope. You were bewildered, couldn’t believe what Rhaenyra was professing, she was not jesting. Her stomach knotted, worried you’d look at her with disgust, but you cupped her face in your hands. The moonlight shone on the water and on her blue eyes. Rhaenyra has never looked more beautiful, her hair waving gracefully in the blowing wind, her lips so inviting, flushed cheeks.

The naive, ingenious part of you wanted to seal your consent with a fiery kiss, your first kiss. To affirm to her that you would marry her to the tradition of your Houses. Then that vision faded in your mind, she was the Princess, the only child of the King & Queen. That hunch… telling you she was destined for something greater than breaking the rules and committing this kind of madness. It could never be.

“Nyke’m isse jorrāelagon rūsīr ao. (I’m in love with you) Even if for some bizarre reason my father decided to make me his pronounced heir. I would give it up, I’d give everything up to be with you. In a heartbeat.” In this moment in time, Rhaenyra bared her deepest desires and dreams to you. Despite this, you balked off. Fixing your coat and climbing on Silverwing before she could stop you, dodging her face. This was the right thing to do, the wise action. They wouldn’t let you be together, she was more than you deserved. You felt like an absolute coward, you were. The silver dragon flapped her wings into the night sky, heading back to King’s Landing.

Syrax hopelessly yowled. Which meant she was feeling her rider's heartache.

**********

There are days… where you find yourself wishing you had said yes to Rhaenyra, to had carried on with her unhinged proposal. Your parents haven’t urged you to get married, for which you were grateful for. After the incident with the Princess at Dragonstone, you grew asunder. She avoided you like the plague, barely granting you a word when in the same space. Whereas with Lady Alicent, you only grew closer. You enjoyed her company, and making her laugh.

“Do you get homesick?” Alicent asked while reading a book with you laying on her lap.

“Of course. Being apart from my siblings is hard. But being here allows me to spend time with you. That’s a fair exchange.” You missed the way Alicent blushed. “Do you?”

“Yes, I miss my brother Gwayne. My cousins. Hightower was warmer… I felt closer to the Gods. And to my mother.” You knew she still had a difficult time recalling the demise of her mother.

“Let’s pay a visit to Oldtown then.” You bluntly suggested, attempting to lift her spirts. Alicent giggled.

“It’s a prolonged way from the Keep. It’d take months… my father won’t let me be absent for that long.”

“Lucky for you. I happen to know someone who could take us there in no time.” You smirked, Alicent understanding now who your carriage was.

“Y/N, are you out of your mind! I would fall off Silverwing somewhere across the Roseroad and my body would never be located.” You chuckled at her overemphasis more so cause she possessed a serious look on her delicate features.

“Don’t be dramatic, Alicent. You’d be clutching my waist the entire flight. I’ll have the dragon keepers saddle her properly for your safety. It would be an unforgettable quest. C’mon, my lady. Picture it, instead of reading old tales and histories we can have an experience of our own. We can even make a quick stop on Highgarden, have you been there?” Alicent did want to go, it felt like a lifetime opportunity. If only she wasn’t terrified of mounting a dragon…

“The many rivers, the canal crisscross and its cobbled streets, the breathtaking mansions. I wish to see the place where you grew up. Please?”

It didn’t take much to convince Alicent, she was surprised herself. She was willing to overcome her fear for those beasts… if it meant to share this voyage with you.

Alicent approached your dragon with dread creeping in. “Touch her.” You encouraged her, she delayed, you guided her fingers to the long neck of Silverwing.

“Promise me if I die you’ll say to my family that I’m sorry and that I love them.” Alicent quipped but did mean it. You pressed a peck to her temple to soothe her.

“I’d never let anything happen to you.” That was all the reassurance Alicent needed.

“May I?” You asked gently.

“You may.” You helped her climb, following behind, she cleaved steady your lower back. “I still don’t know how I persuaded my father to let me go.”

“He was in a good mood, I guess. Now, don’t make a hasty move cause if you do Silverwing might toss us away by accident.” You tried to feign a serious tone. She stiffened and tighten her grip, you bursted out laughing again and she nudged you softly.

“Y/N! Don’t tease.”

“Sorry sorry. You’re stuck with me. Sōvēs, Silverwing!” The ride to her home was pure bliss. She never would have wager that she’d enjoy riding in dragonback. She wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of it or the mere fact that you were the one with her. That was the very journey that showed her what true love felt like. Disguised as adventurous friendship, she realized she was head over heels for you.

**********

It hasn't been long since you returned to the Capital from your excursion with Lady Alicent. You sat next to her at the tournaments, this time celebrating the upcoming birth of the King's first son. Rhaenyra watched you from her seat. You felt quite uncomfortable, more so because that fire inside you kept burning wildly whenever she was around. There was a new knight in town, Criston Cole, you overheard, the Realm’s Delight seemed smitten by him, and you suddenly felt sick, jealousy twisting in, you paid no attention, Alicent was gossiping about the other participants.

Queen Aemma died in childbirth, you wished you were there for Rhaenyra, but she built her walls higher than they have ever been.

Rhaenyra was proclaimed heir by the King, as you once suspect it would happen. She’s destined for greater things. The same tape replaying in your head. The Lords from all across the Kingdoms swore fealty to her, your House among them.

A few moons passed and Alicent was betrothed to the King, news that surprised Rhaenyra, though not you. It relieved you, for he wasn’t to take you nor little Laena to wife. Alicent has told you about her private visits to Viserys, solemnly swearing it was his father’s goal all along.

“My interest for men is as dull as dishwater.” She commented one day. Gaining your curiosity.

“Whatever do you mean? I know you desire not to marry him. Does that…-“

“I’m not going to elaborate. Just… remember this. I will always be yours.”

“Wha-“

“I need to prepare. See you at the ceremony, lady Y/N.” She ran out, leaving you very, very confused.

**********

It’s been four years since the royal wedding. Four years since you decided to leave court to be with your family and stop pondering about her, or rather, about them. Then proceeded to head for the fighting on the Stepstones, aiming to bring some help to your father and brother, only to be dismissed upon your arrival. You argued with your sire at the Valeryon camp on Dwarfstone. “No, Y/N. Not a chance.” Corlys rejected you. There was no bargain on the table. “This is no playground, no training yard. This is a dangerous zone. I cannot and will not risk your life.”

“But father- my dragon can make the difference, I’m capable of fighting as well-“

“I know, sweet daughter. I know you are. Even more capable than half my men here, but you are no soldier, Y/N. You have no practice in these things. I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen while you’re in this bloodshed.” Your father finished explaining his concern. You were upset about it, by all means. How were you to learn if not by being in an actual war.

That didn’t halt you though. Laenor disagreed at the beginning. Unhappy to oblige to your request, you implored for his help on this one. And so he gave it. He unfolded the plan of supposedly surrender to the Crabfeeder and the Triarchy, proposing a desperate gambit, using Daemon as bait to lure the Crabfeeder's forces into the open to eliminate them all at once. “Gods be good, if father kills me after this, know that it’ll be on you.”

You ready yourself, locating on the top of the highest peak, standing by until further signal from Laenor.

It was time when you spotted Seasmoke emerged. You trailed behind them, setting ablaze the Triarchy soldiers astride Silverwing, wiping out the archers overlooking the battlefield. A lost arrow almost hitting you, you dodged it effectively. As they forced reel, Corlys and Vaemond leaded a brutal counterattack against the enemy, while Daemon pursued Drahar into the caves. As the Velaryon forces claimed victory, Daemon dragged the upper half of Drahar's bisected corpse behind him. Your father’s vassals gazed upon the skies to find you and your she-dragon roaring with strength.

**********

You were back at Driftmark. Your father scolded you, and Laenor. But it was worth it, you knew deep down he was proud of you. Quite the woman you were becoming, what did you need a husband for?

Your mother welcomed you with a hug that lasted for hours, she also reprimanded you though, “Still hot-headed.” And Laena hugged you as well. “I can’t believe you went off to war to escape your feelings from a certain Targaryen princess.” Your sister hissed, mocking you.

“I can’t believe you claimed Vhagar.” She smiled warmly at you. “I’ve missed you, little sister.”

“So have I.” Then you proceeded to visit your dragons.

**********

“Rhaenyra flew in here weeks ago. You were on the Stepstones. She seemed to be in a hurry. Like she sought rescue.” Laena nonchalantly depicted. Why would she?

“What did she want?”

“Other than to say hello to her favorite cousin, I have no idea. She said something about the King organizing a tour for her with the most noble lords in the Realm. At this time, she is to continue holding audiences for her hand in marriage.”

“Oh?” Rhaenyra on the search for a husband… that didn’t sit well with you.

“She’s to be here too.” The youngest Valeryon added.

“I doubt that she’ll find her golden knight here.” You scoffed, you couldn’t face her, not yet. “However, none of my business.” Laena looked at you incredulously but didn’t push it. “I will go to King’s Landing to check on the Queen. I didn’t even say goodbye the last time. Accompany me?”

“I’d love to, but I don’t want to leave mother. And you will surely be wrapped up.”

“Off with me then.” You said your farewells to your parents & siblings and set your route to the Capital.

**********

It was perfect timing, you thought. The Princess was touring the Realm, therefore she wouldn’t be any near the Keep, you could visit Alicent without fretting of seeing Rhaenyra.

You still loved her, that was very much true. It was different now though… you felt braver than you did those days back in Dragonstone when you fled and abandoned her. You owe an apology, to both of them really. “I’ll always be yours.” What did Alicent mean with that? Always be your best friend? Did she was enamored by you? Was that another reason for the girls to be in odds with one another? Were you to blame?

You arrived at the gates of the castle, you were nervous but masked it pretty well, then proceeded to greet the King, “Lady Y/N! So good to have you back. Your non-appearance hasn’t gone unnoticed.” Viserys hospitably welcomed you.

“Thank you, your Grace. I’ve missed it as badly. How’s Princess Rhaenyra?”

“She’s… disobeying me as usual. Don’t know if you are aware but we arranged a tour for her to choose her own consort. Yet she came back earlier than scheduled, moons for it to be over.” You opened your eyes in realization of what that meant, fortunately Viserys didn’t notice it.

“I see, your grace. That sounds a lot like her.”

“You’ve grown distant. That saddens me. Since her fifteenth nameday she’s hasn’t been the same, she’s upset and depressed. Perhaps you could rekindle your relation with her now that you’re both around.” He encouraged you, you played the part.

“You’re right, you’re Grace. That would warm my heart, hopefully hers too.” Rhaenyra did remember what happened that evening, it still burdened her, guilt swamping all over.

The tide was set the other way around. But you longed to see her, them.

Daemon was there, as expected. And you were invited to the gathering held in the goodswood to the younger prince’s honor. The King got somewhat drunk, and was sharing stories of his teenage years along with Daemon, who had a smirk on his face. The Queen and the Princess were there as well.

“Oh lady Y/N. Glad you could join us.” Viserys alluded to you in such an effortless manner, you approached them, situating in between him and Rhaenyra. “You know, this is also for you. I heard about your bravery on the latest war. You did brought fire and blood to the enemy. What is it you want as a reward for your courage? Never would expect you were a warrior but you are very much like your sire Lord Corlys.” Daemon sniggered under his teeth, and Alicent was blowed.

“It is not glory I’m after, nor a reward, your Grace. But I truly appreciate your nice words.”

“How modest. You’re one of a kind, my lady. Lucky the man that gets to keep you.”

“Yes, indeed very lucky.” Daemon mocked. You paid no mind. Viserys spoke again. Did the prince was always this annoying?

“My lady wife has told me about the trip you once ventured in together. Wandering the skies on dragonback. If I had a dragon myself, I could take her on a similar adventure. Just like my grandparents once did.”

“Yes, husband. I had a great time with lady Y/N. We visited the Citadel also, it was magical. I cherish it dearly.” Alicent reminisced fondly, so did you. The Princess shifted awkwardly.

“If you excuse me, I’ll go see the new tapestries displayed in the gallery.” She excused herself and dashed from you. Daemon tracking after her.

Shortly after, you requested to speak to the Queen alone.

“Before I start apologizing, let my tell you. You look stunning in that dress.”

“I was not sure that the Targaryen colors would fit me.” Alicent bashfully answered the compliment. You admired her under the afterglow.

“They certainly do. Red and black highlight your skin, your Grace.” She was as red as the morning sun, feeling like lady Alicent Hightower again, not “The Queen.”

“You flatter me. But what is that that I heard that you went to war? You didn’t even say goodbye, Y/N. I was left alone.” You felt bad, too selfish really to stick around Alicent’s side, but living in the same place that the silver-head was way too intoxicating, you wagered she hated you, not realizing you had hurt Her Grace along the way. “I…- realized that I have few friends lately.”

“I’m sorry, Alicent. I needed time away from court and also, you had your duties. Tending to the King, looking after your children. I can’t wait to meet the little princelings.” She softened, albeit, it was true, she had limited time to spare yet she would have found it for you.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You came back.”

“The King requests your presence, my Queen.” Rhaenyra declared, faking a courtesy.

“Thank you, stepdaughter.” She barely spared a glance to the Princess. “We will resume our conversation later.” You bowed and she was gone. Rhaenyra was walking away from you.

“Princess… may I speak with you for a minute?” You attempted. Rhaenyra didn’t stop her pace. “Rhaenyra.”

“My uncle is waiting for me.”

“How long are you going to ignore me?” The question coming more like an accusation. She turned around.

“I? You were the one that brushed me aside years ago. You didn’t care about seeking me out. You then left the city. You return and launch into her arms first. I do not owe you anything, Y/N” You didn’t have a reply, for it was the truth.

You did jilt her, and she was far from being over it. But you fairly did leave because you loved her, more than your heart could admit, and the fact that you couldn't be with her was too much to bear. Little did you know that that was all she wanted, even though you spurned her once you were younger, she still wished to court you, woo you. You were dying to tell her she swept you off your feet a long while back.

A big terrible lack of communication set your paradise ablaze, the two of you burned and turned to cinders, but… where there were fire, ashes remain, right? You were a wine stained gown, one Rhaenyra could no longer wear.

**********

Did Rhaenyra resented you? Or did she harbored her old feelings for you? She was a mystery, one you wanted to unravel. You love her, not past tense. You love her in the present.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t resume your talk with Her Grace, a servant girl came shyly to inform you that she was nursing her newborn daughter Haelena, and later the King might “need” her. You didn’t dwell on the last part, as it was a duty she had, yet in her face was written her distaste for her obligations.

Later that evening you derived in a lengthen bath. You lit up some candles, wrote a couple of letters meant for Driftmark and leaned on the big window frame that had a gorgeous view of the city. The Dragonpit and the Sept could be spotted from there. Averting your thoughts as far as possible from the Targaryen Princess, to no avail, then back to the young Queen, “Alicent must be exhausted, the King ought to let her have a break” you pondered.

When slumber was finally kicking in, all of the sudden, you listened loud thumps on your door, it startled you. One, two, three times in a row. You rose and unlocked it to find the culprit of your insomnia. The Princess was wearing common page-boy’s clothes. Her hair was messy, her lips slightly swallowed? She was trying to catch her breath.

“Ummh…-“ She studied you for a lingering moment.

“Are you not going to let me through?” You stepped aside while you closed the door. Puzzled and doubtful of her abrupt appearance.

“The hour is quite late, Princess. Are you lost?” You cursed and cringed at the dumb question you had just made. “Are you tipsy? And why are you wearing that?” Rhaenyra seemed overwhelmed by your interrogation.

“Nyke’ve missed ao, ao kostagon’t imagine skorkydoso olvie.” (I’ve missed you, you cannot imagine how much) The Realm’s Delight blunted out, you hardened. It does something to you when she starts speaking in Valyrian… “Skoro syt haven’t ao sought issa hen? (Why haven’t you sought me out?) Ao jikagon naejot zȳhon, se dōrī rūsīr issa. Skoro syt?” (You go to her, and not to me. Why?) Rhaenyra inquired with bitterness in her airing. You focused on your feet, a coward you were.

“Nyke…-“ (I…) What the hell were you suppose to say? She horned in, stepping closer to you. The atmosphere growing thicker and thicker.

“Ao fucking gūrotan zȳhon isse Silverwing. (You fucking took her on Silverwing) She snarled. Gaomagon ao jorrāelagon zȳhon?” (Do you love her?) Mere inches from your mouth, Rhaenyra stood dangerously near, not being cautious at all. You were to give in. “Daor, ao don’t. Ao jorrāelagon issa.” (No, you don’t. You love me) That was an statement. Her body was calling on you. You melted under her fiery, powerful gaze and grabbed onto dear life to her waist, splashing your lips with hers with pure desire.

Those embers rising from the dead, turning into raging flames. Rhaenyra shoved you roughly to your bed muttering no more word, she unbuttoned her shirt, removed your own garments just as rapidly, you were now completely naked.

“Take off my pants.” She commanded, you unfastened the zip and she climbed to your lap, tangling herself onto you, kissing you again. “I want your fingers inside me, your mouth, I want you.” She impeled, a wild animal ready to attack their prey. “I need you.”

Rhaenyra mentioned nothing about loving you that night, nothing about running away together or anything of the sort. Her hunger and thirst for you the only things present in that room. She was intoxicating, addicting, all your cares in the world gone once you were inside her and she you. Nothing else mattered.

You’ve been up in the clouds with her, and now you understood what it felt like to be consumed by dragon fire.

**********

The aftermath of such events have not left consequences, but what you learned afterwards stirred your feels.

In the morrow, the sun rays were making their way in, you found a small letter under your pillow, you unfolded it and peeped at Rhaenyra’s fancy handwriting. “Rhaenagon issa rȳ Rhaeny’s Hill, nyke jaelagon naejot show ao mirros.” (Meet me at Rhaeny’s Hill, I want to show you something)

You were beyond content for the night prior, Rhaenyra was all you ever wanted, the love of your life, you naively convinced yourself. Mayhaps this time around you could declare your love, flee to Dragonstone and wed. Fuck them all, you thought. We will make our stand if anyone should dare oppose. Surely she would leave it all behind, like she said those years ago.

There was already another potential heir, Aegon, Alicent’s son would be accepted, all Viserys had to do was change the proclamation. Rhaenyra and you could have your happy ending.

You were on your way to assemble with her, but halted on the way to glimpse at Rhaenyra and Alicent seemingly arguing. You’ve never been one to eavesdrop, yet curiosity got the best of you.

“What happened last night, Rhaenyra?” Alicent bluntly asked, she was taken aback. So were you. Alicent was angry no doubt. “My father made worrying allegations, that you’ve been with your uncle.”

“Well, yes. I haven’t seen him in years. We went out to have some fun in the city. What of it? Other than sneaking out of the castle and drinking wine. I did not do anything serious.”

“He said that you fucked Daemon in a pleasure house!” Alicent lowered her tone and curtly exclaimed, you made sense of the sentence. Your heart sank at it. Did she? she was with you…

“That is a vile accusation.” Rhaenyra retorted.

“You Targaryens do have queer costumes.”

“Daemon took me to several taverns, we got very drunk, yes. I wanted to go home but he wished to continue. He was my escort and without him I couldn’t head back, we ended up in a brothel, we did see a show there but I was solely a spectator. Then he ran off with some whore therefore I had to make my way to the Keep on my own anyway.” She concluded by embellishing word-for-word that "Daemon never touched her" at all and swore this on her mother's memory. If that was the version she had explained to you, would you actually believe it? Nothing else happened… Something was amiss.

“How do you think Y/N will react to these news?”

“She need not to find out.” Rhaenyra was now… planning on deliberating keeping secrets from you. Not from your protection but to save face. She went to you the way she did, because she WAS to have sex with Daemon but he got cold feet, so she then went to her alternative, to satisfy her own needs, ones aroused by another person? Your eyes were welling with sour tears. You were only a second choice, she didn’t miss you, she didn’t even love you anymore. You were merely a vessel, one she needed to find release, no love was involved.

“Why do you keep behaving like this, after me and the King have strived to find you a good, suitable match, you go putting yourself in a position where your virtue could be call into question. Spitting the ones that care?”

You ran off, unable to keep listening to the bickering, you climbed onto your dragon as fast as you could, shrugging off the one belonging to the culprit of your crying. You didn’t show to the Hill, for obvious reasons. Leaving Rhaenyra waiting until sundown with your favorite flowers and the same unhinged proposal.

**********

A couple of days have passed and you barely have spent time in the castle, instead riding all day. Alicent haven’t told you what she has learned, yet the rumors were all around like flies. You knew she didn’t because she was trying to shield you, to spare you the pain, not to save Rhaenyra of shame.

On the the third day since the conversation between them, it was announced that you would be traveling to High Tide, to propose the marriage between your brother Laenor and Rhaenyra. It hasn’t even been a week yet and now this? Rhaenyra was becoming your sister? The Gods were being cruel to you, punishing you for your sins, most likely. You knew of Laenor’s nature, as he did yours. As a matter of fact, your parents also knew, Corlys only to waved it off describing them as “phases”.

Lord Lyonel Strong has been made the new Hand of the King, surely Rhaenyra had Ser Otto dismissed from his rank for filling her father’s ears with his denouncements. He has always been calculated, he wants a Hightower on the throne.

It was good to be back, home always offering some fresh air. Laena politely invited the guests in, in the courtyard was Laenor with Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, a good friend of yours too, and his closest “companion”. You hugged them tightly, no welcoming party for your father was one to hold grudges, since the King rejected both his offers to marry their daughters a rift has been set between House Velaryon and the Iron Throne, you never would have wed His Grace though, thanks the heavens he didn’t persuade it nor ponder about the it too much.

“It is so rare to see you on a boat.” Your mother jested. “You never grant Silverwing a break.” You tittered warmly.

“Wherever has Laena gone to?”

“She’s with Rhaenyra. They’re having breakfast. Wanna join them?”

“No, no. It’s fine, I’m not hungry. How’s Meleys?” You shifted awkwardly and changed the subject, staring at the sea.

“Are you okay, daughter?” She looked at you expectantly. “I know that your love for her runs deep. I’m your mother, dear. A mother knows her children’s heart. Don’t shun your emotions, my darling girl. There’s nothing to be embarrass of. This is what’s best for our Houses, for the Realm. Your brother will do a good consort, your father may take advantage for his pride, know that I do not. I care about your happiness as well, you’ll find a pretty lady, or a maiden, you’ll find someone for you to spend your life with. That in my bones I know. And your mother will support you no matter what.” Rhaenys embraced you firmly, pecking your forehead. How lucky you were to have her.

Laenor encountered you nearby the beach. He approached you.

“I’m not enthusiastic for this marriage, Y/N. Not more than you, or her. It does not mean anything, I have just talked to her… we’ve come to a mutual arrangement; we will perform our duty for our families, produce heirs… but otherwise we will both continue having our own private romantic relationships. It will be hard, painful even. I am sorry, Y/N, so so sorry.”

“If I was a man, I could wed her instead of you. Everything would be perfect. Everything. A secret behind close doors…- I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Joffrey agreed to it. Better than nothing, better to lose you. She is very keen to you, she claimed to love somebody, genuinely… she did not say who. But she assured it, she was referring to you, Y/N.”

“It is not your fault, Laenor. I… I’m doomed to feel the way I do. I wish I could get over her and go on with my life.” There was resentment in your voice, hurt.

He gave you an apologetic smile, and squeezed your hand in a comforting manner. You would care not for the Throne nor political station, but for taking her to wife, a sad, sad reality.

**********

You were prepared to set sail, this time your whole family attending the latest royal wedding. You couldn’t find sleep as usual and headed to the balcony of the castle. A turmoil, one you so wretchedly wanted to get rid of.

“You are very, very elusive, my lady.” Rhaenyra’s voice startled you, your only exit was jumping off the cliff. “I’ve been trying to locate you.”

“Princess.” Again, she looked gorgeous, her hair down on her shoulders.

“You didn’t show up. Are we back here again?” We shared that night together, we were one. And yet… I’m once more a stranger to you?” She spat, wounded by your actions as if you were the one to blame.

“You got what you wanted, Rhaenyra. You have no use for me now.”

“What? What are you talking about? I need you, Y/N. Now more than ever.” She strolled closer, attempting to caress you. You deflected, her touch would only ignite a further wildfire.

“You needed somebody to fuck with!”

“Has Alicent uttered her gossips again? She does that to tear us apart, she’s always aiming for that.”

“No, Rhaenyra. Alicent has nothing to do with this, drop it.”

“My lady… I’m so confused right now. I came to you because I did miss you, we were separated for too long it was time we reconciled. I still want you, Y/N. As much as I did when we were fifteen. Things have changed, I’m the heir to the Throne, I’m to marry your brother, who would have visualized any of this? There’s a role I got to fulfill now, something that’s bigger than both of us. But that does not mean that we cannot still be intimate, I spoke to Laenor about it and he’s agreed.”

“You want me as what, as a lover? A friend? A companion? A whore?” The last noun was a whack to Rhaenyra, a punch to her heart and an insult to her alone.

“You’re unbelievable.” She stormed out from the rooftop, leaving you sniveling, for the hundredth time.

**********

The long-awaited royal wedding ceremonies finally began; first a grand feast in the Red Keep, to be followed by seven days of tournaments and spectacle, culminating with the marriage ceremony. The Velaryons arrived on their dragons, Laenor on Seasmoke, Laena on the older Vaghar, and your mother Rhaenys on the Red Queen, Meleys. Meanwhile, your father Corlys, yourself and the full Velaryon fleet rolled in the harbour, (Silverwing was nesting on the Dragonpit) as the city's bells tolled out to greeting you for the festivities. Alicent saluted you warmly, taking in your accent, you reciprocated.

At the Great Hall; Viserys and Rhaenyra sat at the middle of the high table set up in front of the throne's base and received each group of Lords with their respective families. You decided to contrast your sibling’s outfits by wearing an imposing golden dress. At the high table you sat beside Rhaenys and Laena. Daemon appeared out of nowhere, but you paid no heed to him.

Shortly after, Alicent entered through the main doors, intentionally interrupting the King in the middle of his speech. She was dressing in a green gown, her features cold as ice.

You engaged in a cordial chat with some of the Tyrell acquaintances you’ve made while visting Highgarden, Rhaenyra and Laenor were on the dance floor sharing the first ball, couples following behind.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” The youngest son of Lord Tully submitted his hand to you, he was being a total gentleman, but the glare Rhaenyra sent his way shot to kill.

You flown graciously side by side to her, cursing your pace, she saw this a good opportunity to whisper with audacity; Issi ao naejot sagon bisa āeksio’s, līve pār? (Are you to be this lord’s whore, then?) Rhaenyra taunted you, thanks the Gods no one there understood Valyrian, you didn’t get the chance to defend yourself at her boldly rudeness when you were swapped to dance with Laenor.

“You’ll have dozens of suitors after my wedding, dear sister. I bet none of them will be as infatuated with you as the Green Queen herself.” You poked him softly, he chortled. From across the room, Alicent was staring at you in awe, she was drooling and she care not to camouflage it.

However, you got distracted when you observed Rhaenyra and Daemon speaking to one another awfully close, it angered you, how dare them? Your blood boiling ever hotter when he grabbed harshly her cheeks, in an attempt to kiss her. The entire Hall was interrupted by a piercing cry from a different part of the feast floor.

A brawl has broken out in the packed room, but it became clear that at the center of it Criston Cole has begun pummeling Joffrey Lonmouth. Your brother managed to struggle his way through to them and tackled Criston off Joffrey, but Criston rose and punched out Laenor, resuming his aggressive punches. You watched from afar, having reached the high table, you spotted Rhaenyra being carried in the arms of Harwin Strong, you sighed but worried for your brother. That fucker murdered your brother’s lover and no one did nothing to seize him.

As the result of it, some hours later, all of the guests have been ordered out and King Viserys has cancelled the seven days of festivities and games leading to the wedding ceremony. Instead, determined to finish this as quickly as possible, Viserys called in the High Septon to wed Rhaenyra and Laenor in a private exchange of vows in front of their respective parents and close advisors, you among them of course, too shocked for the queer behavior of that “knight” (if he can be considered as that anymore). They were proclaimed husband and wife, Rhaenyra pretended you were not there, your heart breaking for the whole situation, and for the loss of your friend and your brother’s paramount. Alicent in the other corner with Viserys, he dropped to the floor in a full faint. They are not to consummate their marriage tonight, that was unquestionable.

**********

You felt nauseous, tossing and turning, you wanted to go flying but Silverwing was most certainly napping, you didn’t want to bother her just because you were a mess, again. The way Daemon and Rhaenyra were interacting with each other, you were repulsed by his fucking cockiness in her fucking wedding, her disrespectful and degrading comment. Recalling not so long ago she was in a brothel with him doing the Gods know what, jealousy, anger, sadness… all flooding you. And to make matters worse, she was officially married to Laenor, how were you to endure it? She didn’t fight for you, didn’t show you more than lust. It was too much, simply too much.

You got out of your chambers and found yourself on the Queen’s quarters, fortunately the King was beyond worn out from today to request her, you didn’t bother on waiting for Ser Harold to announce your presence, you shouted for her. “My Queen! My Queen!” You alarmed her and she was confused as to why would you be yelling her name this tardy.

“Ser Harold, you may go. Lady Y/N, come on in.” He did as instructed, you walked inside, she scowled, was she angry now too?

“Would you slap me if I were to kiss you right now, your Grace?” You cut to the chase. “May I?” Already breathing her in.

“You may.”

You pulled Alicent to you, pressed her mouth to yours, she was indeed mad, for Criston has told her he eavesdropped the night the accusation of the Princess and her uncle transpired, he longed for her as well, so out of range, by the brief chat he had with Ser Joffrey, and the constant rejection of the Princess, he had a breakdown. Alicent’s heart broke too, but in all honesty she saw it coming, she was only relived neither of you could get the other one with child, yet her hatred for Rhaenyra only grew darker. Alicent loathed Rhaenyra, but she did not despised you, on the contrary, she adored you with all her might, she was sick of being repressed by her feelings, by her “sins”, that she bursted and kissed you back like she’s never kissed anyone before.

She undressed more than her body to you, she demonstrated all the things she’s been feeling since you were on dragonback together, not a speck of regret in her. She was shy at first, way too unexperienced unlike the Princess, altogether she find out women are the only ones that make her feel this way. Never one of breaking vows, that night she stopped being a wife, a queen, she was a teenage girl making love with the one she loved, and you, you took her as she was, a mother of two, the consort of the King, a childhood friend. You were to discover your feelings for her, and it wasn’t like you were using her to get the Targaryen Princess out of your system… for it was impossible. It was all connected, but that night you made sure to reciprocate all that Alicent felt for you, and it wasn’t one sided at all.

#game of thrones fic #got #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen x reader#rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower x reader #alicent x reader #alicent hightower #the blacks #the greens #the blacks vs the greens

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misc-obeyme · 11 months

Note

Hi gor the prompts could you do Barb and Diavolo 1, 3, and 13?

Hi there, anon!

Okay so I realized I didn't quite make it clear in my event post that the requests should have one prompt and one character! I am going to update that, but I still wanted to do your request. So I went ahead and did Flowers (1) for Barbatos and Song (13) for Diavolo and well there's kisses in both of them lol. Hopefully that's okay!

Thank you for participating in the event!

GN!MC x Barbatos with prompt Flowers

GN!MC x Diavolo with prompt Song

Warnings: none!

Barbatos - Flowers

You sat at a table in the garden at the Demon Lord's Castle, a delicious spread of tea and pastries before you. As always, the items were immaculately displayed. Directly in front of you, a delicate teacup steamed gently and beside it was a plateful of adorable cookies. Aside from being aesthetically pleasing, they were also delicious.

Barbatos had invited you over that afternoon to spend some time in the garden because a specific type of flower had recently burst into bloom. They were beautiful flowers with large dark purple petals and a sweet scent. They were seasonal and would only last a few weeks before the bushes they grew on became thick with green leaves.

Barbatos had placed the table so that it was nestled among these flowering bushes and the subtle scent of them lingered in the air around the two of you as you sipped at your tea. He had also cut a few to put in a vase that sat as the table's centerpiece.

"These flowers are amazing, Barbatos," you said, touching one near you gently. Its petals were silky and had a sort of prismatic sheen to them.

"I thought you might enjoy them, MC," Barbatos said with a smile. "Their time is short, so it is best to appreciate them while you can. They are quite like humans in that way."

You looked across the table at him and though he still had his soft smile, you could see a hint of melancholy in his eyes. You reached across the table to take his hand.

"Forgive me," he said. "I did not mean to make you worry."

Despite his words, his grip on your hand was tight. You knew it was something all of the demons thought about. The day you inevitably left them in one way or another.

You stood up from your seat so you could come around the table. You put your arms around Barbatos's neck, his hand still in one of yours. "I'm not worried. I know things will eventually end. But for now, I'm here and you're here and that's all that matters."

"MC…"

Whatever Barbatos was about to say to you was lost in the sudden fluttering of wings. You both looked around to see a swarm of opalescent butterflies descending from the skies. They landed on the small branches of the flower bushes and sparkled brightly.

You gasped, amazed, and let out a laugh that you couldn't hold in. The butterflies were completely unconcerned by your presence, flitting here and there between bushes. Their wings seemed to be illuminated, catching the prismatic sheen from the flower petals as they moved through the sweet scented air.

One landed on your shoulder briefly before fluttering toward the flowers in the center of the table.

You turned to Barbatos, who was now standing beside you, his usual smile in place. Your previous conversation was forgotten as you saw the gleam of happiness in his eyes.

"I believe I forgot to mention that these flowers attract opalescent butterflies," he said. "They often alight in swarms like this to feast upon the flowers' nectar."

You took in the mischievous smile on his face and shook your head in amusement. "How convenient of you to forget such a detail," you said. You tugged him closer so you could kiss him, a giddy warmth bubbling up in your belly there amidst the sparkling wings and honeyed floral scent.

Diavolo - Song

You arrived on the front steps of the Demon Lord's Castle with the demon brothers. You could hear the party happening inside, a sort of muted cacophony that burst into the night as soon as the door opened to admit you.

The hall was sparkling with beautiful demons moving here and there, an enormous buffet table full of elaborately made desserts, a Demonus fountain, and crystal vases full of dark roses.

You were dressed to the nines in an outfit that Asmodeus had helped you choose. He had also taken over styling your hair for the evening. You were as done up as any of the demons here, but you were still keenly aware of the fact that you lacked horns and wings or a tail.

The brothers dispersed the moment you all entered the room. Beel predictably went to the buffet table while Mammon and Asmo made their way over to the Demonus fountain. Lucifer was instantly roped into conversation with some demons you didn't recognize. Levi found a dark corner to hide in and Belphie was already half asleep on a velvet chair. You couldn't even see Satan anymore, so you had no idea where he had gone.

You thought about making your way over to the food, but you didn't even have a chance to take a step in that direction before you found Diavolo standing before you.

"MC!" he said, spreading his arms in greeting. "I'm so happy to see that you could make it tonight! You look absolutely stunning."

You couldn't help but think that he was the one who looked stunning. He was in full demon form, the gold on his horns and wings sparkling in the brightly lit hall. Something about the dark red of his hair and the rich brown of his skin against the gold adornments he wore made him look more like a king than ever.

You noticed that the demons around you were sneaking glances at the person talking to Lord Diavolo, but you tried to ignore them.

You smiled at him. "Thank you for inviting me, Lord Diavolo," you said politely.

Diavolo laughed. "I wouldn't dream of having a party at the castle and not inviting you, MC."

Suddenly, a quartet at the back of the room that you hadn't noticed before began to play a hauntingly beautiful song. Diavolo's expression became soft as he looked at you. You could feel your heart begin to race because you could tell what was coming.

"MC, won't you dance with me?" he asked.

"I would be happy to," you said.

Diavolo took your hand, leading you out onto the dance floor. People made way and the two of you were the only ones dancing. As the song went on, you could feel everyone's eyes on you and you couldn't keep the blush from heating your cheeks.

"You seem uncomfortable," Diavolo said quietly.

"Everyone is watching us," you said.

Diavolo chuckled. He led you through a few more steps of the dance before expertly escorting you not just off the dance floor, but out onto an empty balcony and into the night air. There was no one here, but the sweet notes of the song still reached your ears.

"Now, won't you dance with me while no one is watching?" Diavolo asked, a bright smile on his face.

You felt your unease melt away. You laughed and stepped into his waiting arms. With no one there to see you, the two of you danced slowly, bodies close. In the warm light of a nearby candelabra, you let yourself kiss him. You knew that soon enough, both of you would need to go back to the party and the watchful eyes of the demon elite. But for now, in this moment, you belonged only to each other.

the original prompt list

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfiction #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x mc #diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #misc 500 followers event #misc writes

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frost-queen · 7 months

Text

To have and keep (Reader!Scratch x Weird sisters)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

A/n: I apologize for the shortness of it, but I wanted to write something with little time.

You rushed out of your room, your brother waiting for you outside. – “Got everything?” – he asked removing himself from against the wall. You hummed loud with your backpack strap hanging over one shoulder. – “I’m actually quite excited about doing classes outside.” – you told him as he followed your pace. Nick scratched the back of his head with a nod. – “Yeah sure it is something else.” – he answered.

You nudged him in the rib for his obvious lack of enthusiasm. – “What?” – Nick said smirking. – “Nothing just your enthusiasm is to die for.” – you responded with a laugh. – “That could be arranged sister.” – he came leaning in closer with a wide smile. Shoving him away from you, you rolled with your eyes. Hiding that smile on your lips. Nick and you rounded the corner coming into the open hall with the statue of the dark lord.

By the entrance stood the Weird sisters. They turned at the same time making Nick quirk his eyebrow up. Elegantly they walked in sync over to you. – “Y/n.” – Prudence purred out with a catty smile. – “You must be cold darling.” – She snapped with her finger as Agatha undid her of her jacket.

“We wouldn’t want you to have a cold in this lovely weather.” – Agatha spoke placing the jacket over your shoulders. Nick furrowed his brows. – “Why are you so tentative to my sister?” – he questioned dumbfound by their charm towards you.

Dorcas sighed deep with a shake of her head. – “Little Nickie.” – she said belittling him a bit. Nick gave her a disgusted look, clearly not liking her tone as she grabbed his shoulders. – “We like your sister.” – she whispered in his ear. Nick brushed her off him, brushing his hand over his ear with a shudder. – “We adore her.” – Agatha said hugging you from the side. Prudence stared at Nick. – “She is ours to share.” – she stated as Nick pulled you back.

“Not in hell.” – Nick answered with mockery in his voice. Prudence pulled her lip up in annoyance. – “Nick.” – you said gently touching his arm. – “It’s alright. They are very gentle with me. I promise you they aren’t doing anything weird with me.” – you reassured him. – “They better not.” – Nick answered brushing his thumb down your cheek.

Agatha cleared her throat wanting your attention again. Dorcas grabbed your hand pulling you closer to them. – “Come Y/n let us escort you to class.” – Prudence said wrapping an arm around you. Dorcas took your other arm, letting her head lean against your arm.

Nick sighed deep going after you. The Weird sister’s couldn’t stop touching you, wanting you close. A cool breeze swept some leaves over the ground. The coming of October slowly announcing itself. A glamorous season for witches.

Prudence closed your jacket better so no wind could draft underneath your clothing. – “Warm kitten?” – Prudence asked while Dorcas was stroking your arm. You hummed softly seeing your brother roll his eyes behind you. Nick came closer pestering the Weird sisters away like a flock of annoying birds. Waving his hand around for them to move. They hissed at him, clamping even harder onto you.

“Oh get over it!” – Nick called out annoyed taking you by the arm. He pulled you away from them. The Weird sisters started to cry and whine loudly at the loss of you. – “Babies.” – Nick told you as he kept pushing you away from them. – “Don’t you ever get annoyed with them?” – he asked. You had to think for a second. – “Not really… sure they can be invasive, but they are always gentle and sweet with me. Unlike any stunts they performed on Sabrina.” – you and Nick recalled it very clearly how wicked the Weird sisters were towards Sabrina Spellman when she first came to the academy.

They never did any tricks like that on you for some reason. It was as if you had charmed them by just being present. They worshipped you. Nick and you walked into the forest close to the academy to where the class would be held. Some leaves already started to fall. Leaving you with that cozy end of September feeling. Fall was your favorite season. Pale trees. Crunchy leaves scattered on the ground. Pumpkins, full moons, and witchy hours.

By the witches circle of mushrooms stood Sabrina. She waved at Nick. Nick and you waved back at her. Nick patted you on the back going over to her. The moment Nick had left your side, you felt a pair of hands grab onto you. Getting pulled a bit back, there were more hands on you. – “Little kitten I have missed you.” – Prudence said brushing her cheek against your shoulder.

Agatha nodded with pouted lips letting her head rub against your upper arm. Dorcas stood on the other side stroking your arm with delight. The three of them guided you towards the witches circle forcing you to sit down. Agatha came laying her head down on your lap. Dorcas and Prudence each by your side. Dorcas took out your book, holding it open for you.

“Can you read it well enough?” – she asked holding it up. You nodded with a soft hum taking the book from her. – “Shall I take your notes Y/n?” – Prudence offered. – “That is alright Prudence.” – you told her. Agatha looked up to you with sweet eyes. – “Pretty sister.” – she said humming afterwards. Prudence nodded. – “If you didn’t have a blood link with Nickie, you’d be our fourth sister in a heartbeat.” – she said.

The teacher arrived as he didn’t say anything about how the Weird Sisters hung over you. Dorcas kissed your cheek sweetly during class. Agatha played a bit with your hand as Prudence kept brushing her hand over your back. It was still a bit of a mystery how the Weird sisters came to like you. From across the witches circle you saw your brother shake his head in disappointment. You simply shrugged your shoulders not even minding that much.

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