#blue lock greeting cards

[chodzacaparodia]

Blue Lock Boys Wish You a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

That day, the bus is mostly empty. It's only you, an eldery couple, and the driver. The ebb and flow of traffic slows the wheels as the driver passes by vacant stops. You watch the pavement roll by between patches of grass. 

The dulcet ride lures you into a calm even as your pre-work nerves buzz. You hug your bag in your lap as the driver stops and the doors open to let in another passenger. The axel squeals as the vehicular behemoth pulls away from the curb. 

You continue to watch the city as the new rider strides between the seats. You sense their shadow loom closer and closer. You expect them to claim the empty seat across from yours. Instead, the sit right next to you. It's an odd choice given the few passengers aboard. 

You fidget and make yourself smaller. You turn your head straight as you try to see the stranger from the edge of your vision. They're big. Broad enough that their arm presses to yours even as you try to shrink into yourself. Tall too, his knees against the row in front of you. 

He sits rigidly beside you. Uneasy at his proximity, you fish into your side pocket and slide free your phone. You open it aimlessly, tapping habitually on the crossword app you play at work in the low times. 

The solutions elude you as your mind can't detach from the man crowding you into the window. Why can't he sit anywhere else? You look around at the unclaimed seats. He stays as he is, stiff, straight, unmoving. 

You close out of the came and lock your phone. You clasp your hand around the device as you hug your bag once more. Your other hand toys with the little pom pom that hangs from your zipper. 

The bright bus signs pass by. You're stop is coming up. Now is the awkward part. Getting the man to let you out. 

You pull the cord to signal your intent but he's already on his feet. You glance over and thank him softly, a brief glimpse at his face. A scar ripples from his hairline, through his temple and angles down his cheek to his jaw. His eyes are a bold blue and his nose finely cut despite the large blemish.  

He stands back as you grab your bag and sidle out. You go to the doors. He follows. 

Huh? 

He grips the yellow bar behind you, his large hand gripping as if he might crush the metal. You stare at his knuckles and the bus jerks to a stop. You nearly fall off your feet. The man catches you by your hip with his free hand. 

You set your feet and cough out another thanks. Embarrassed, you slap the doors and they open. You scurry off and the men once more trails after you. As you veer towards the mall, he waits until the bus takes off and crosses the street. With him, your suspicious leaves. 

You're frazzled as you enter work. You don't know why. You just... are. Something about that man sticks with you. Even if he never said a word, it felt like he was trying to tell you something. 

You clock in and try to shake it off. His face flashes in your mind. You can't place what seems so familiar about him. You would remember if you met him before. How could you forget? 

You go to the counter as Layton talks with a customer about the new seasonal blends. The tea shop has its peak times, especially as winter approaches, but it's one o clock on a Tuesday and that's never very busy anywhere. 

You greet the next customers. Two girls interested in the cold brew pots. You show them what you have and explain the store's points card. The buy a sampler and nothing else. Typical. 

Layton finishes at four. The traffic picks up once he's gone. You don't mind as it keeps the time moving. It peters out as the dinnertime rush fills the food court. You can hear the crowd from around the corner. 

You set to wiping down the counter and putting away the few stray canisters left out. As you turn back, you have to swallow down a shriek. You didn't hear the man over the mall's top hits playlist. 

You hesitate as your eyes meet. It's him. The man from the bus. You blink and press your lips together. 

"Hello, uh, how are you today?" You ask.  

He just stares. No answer. No sign he even heard you. 

He's in all black. Boots, jeans, cargo jacket. He stands like a soldier. You part your lips again, "are you looking for anything in particular? Today we have our apple crisp chai as the sample." 

He still doesn't react. Not more than his eyes falling to the nervous twiddle of your fingers on the counter. Your scalp prickles and your nape burns. If he keeps this up, you'll have to phone security. 

He raises his hand to reveal a familiar object. It's the fluffy pom pom from your bag. Your brows pop up, "oh? Thanks. It must have fallen off." 

You reach for it and your mind races. As nice as it is to return the key chain, you can't help but wonder. How did he know where to find you?

As you grasp the soft ball, his other hand comes up and snares your wrist. Your squeak and try to pull back. You're stuck in his grip.  

Your eyes round and flick up to meet his. His gaze bores into you and at last, his stony expression cracks. He smirks, the scar on the side of his face paling as the lines around his eyes deepen. He releases the keychain and grabs a fistful of your hair. 

"Ow!" You squeal and yank again.  

He rips your hair out at the roots and you exclaim again. Hets go of your arm and you hit the shelves behind you. He nods and spins on his heel, clutching the handful of your hair.  

You whimper and rub your head as your scalp burns. Your eyes water and your lip trembles. You just gape at the door. What just happened? 

[lovelyjj]

Honeymoon

jj maybank x reader

wc: 2.4k

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink

idea from @lyndys

Being newlyweds was the highlight of your whole life. Being with JJ was like magic. He understood you like no other. He treated you like you were a queen.

When you were teenagers your relationship was pretty serious. You were young and in love. Doing all the clichés. It was like god decided to be nice and gave you the perfect person for you. JJ was your person since you were teenagers.

The two of you went on your honeymoon to the Bahamas. You were staying at the Grand Hyatt Baha Mar. The hotel room was huge. There was a couch area and a big white lush bed. It was everything you could dream of and more.

There were even rose petals circulating the bathtub. You were in awe. It started to feel like paradise. But wherever you were as long as you were with JJ, it was paradise.

You were taking it all in when JJ slipped his arms around your waist from behind.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it,” JJ whispered.

“Yeah, and all ours,” you giggled.

“What do you want to do first?” JJ asked.

“Hmmm maybe take a nap, I’m jet lagged,” you yawned.

“Whatever my wife wants, she gets. Hot damn I love saying that.”

JJ flopped onto the big bed and you followed suit. You were both facing each other and you got under the covers. You were looking into JJ’s sparkling blue eyes and you were falling in love all over again.

His eyes were like the ocean, you could get lost swimming in them. They were simply breathtaking. JJ was beautiful and you always told him how stunning he is. You were lucky to have such a handsome husband.

“J your eyes, when you look at me, I feel like the most important person in the world,” you whispered.

“You are the most important person in the world,” JJ responded as he booped your nose.

“So are you,” you argued.

JJ smiled and then tucked you into his embrace. Your face rested against his neck and his chin was on top of your head.

Eventually the two of you went into dreamland, wrapped up in each other. It was nice to rest for a little bit after a long travel day.

When JJ woke up he was still groggy. He looked over and saw you peacefully sleeping and he was overwhelmed with love at the sight. Your silk tank top was loose and your breasts were spilling out of it.

JJ would be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on. You looked so beautiful and he wanted to make love to his wife. Even though you previously agreed to being fucked while asleep, JJ wanted you awake.

JJ hovered over the top of you and leaned down to attach his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and gentle. It was a wake up kiss. JJ’s hands were on ether side of your head. He dipped down and locked your lips together.

“Mmmmh,” you moaned with your eyes still closed.

“Hi baby, rise and shine,” JJ greeted.

“Hi J,” you spoke quietly.

“Did you sleep well?” JJ asked.

“I always sleep good when I’m with you,” you responded.

JJ rutted his hip’s between your legs signaling that he was horny. This caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Your heart was palpitating.

“It’s time to christen this hotel room, starting with the bed,” JJ smirked.

“Oh yeah?” you grinned.

“Yeah,” JJ rutted his hips against your core, causing you to let out an involuntary moan.

“Let’s get this off,” JJ tugged at your tank top.

JJ lifted the fabric over your head and tossed it to the floor. JJ’s gaze was hungry as he scanned your bare chest. JJ attached his mouth to your nipple and sucked. His other hand massaged the left boob.

JJ swirled his tongue around the bud and left kisses all around it.

“Missed my girls,” JJ said as he squeezed them both.

Then JJ continued to put the other boob in his mouth. His teeth grazed your nipple and you shuddered. Your hands were carding through JJ’s golden locks.

“You’re so perfect, my beautiful baby,” JJ hummed.

JJ kissed down your stomach til he was just above the band of your pajama shorts. You started to get shy with JJ fully clothed. You tugged on his shirt and he quickly discarded it.

You ran your hands down his sculpted torso. It was almost enough to make you moan, almost. JJ asked if he can take off your shorts which you agreed.

He actually took your panties off with your shorts. JJ thought about eating you out but he didn’t think he could take not being inside you any longer. His dick was painfully hard. It was easy to get hard when he was around you.

“Please J, need you now,” you begged.

“Need me baby? Need my cock?”

“Please.”

JJ was quick to remove his pajamas and pull down his underwear. His cock sprung free hard and red. You were anticipating him going inside you. You couldn’t think of a better feeling than being full. By JJ.

JJ lined himself up at your entrance. The tip of his cock was rubbing through your folds. When he figured he teased you enough he slid into you inch by inch.

Ever so slowly JJ slid into you engulfing him in warmth.

“So wet for me,” JJ moaned.

“Mhmm,” you moaned out as he sunk into you.

JJ began to kiss you on the lips to let himself settle into you. You kissed him back with fervor and passion. Then JJ moved to your jaw and then your neck. He sucked deep purple marks on the skin of your neck.

He slowly started to pull out and slam back in keeping a bruising pace. You cried out as he rammed into you.

“Jayj,” you whined.

“I know baby I know,” he cooed.

JJ kept thrusting into you and you kept whining at the stretch. He was hitting your spot so deep inside you, you were seeing stars. JJ kept looking down to see the place you were connected.

JJ also couldn’t help but admire your beauty. Your hair was splayed over the pillow and your face was contorted in pleasure. He took pride in the fact he was the only one that could make you feel that way.

“My beautiful wife, want me to fill you up?”

Your head was hazy. All you could muster was a “Mhmm.”

“Gonna breed you pretty baby!”

JJ reached down and rubbed circles on your clit and you knew you were done for. JJ could tell you were close with the way you were clenching around him.

“Gonna spill my cum into you and make a baby. You’d like that wouldn’t you, gonna make you a mommy.”

JJ’s trusts started to become sloppy.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, I’m not gonna last much longer,” JJ panted.

“I’m gonna get you pregnant, have you swollen with my child.” JJ rasped.

“Jayj Im close,” you cried his words making you flushed and even more turned on.

“I know I can tell let go for me,” JJ instructed.

With one last particularly deep trust your orgasm washed over as you felt euphoric. Your whole body felt tingly and your skin felt hot. Your heart was racing.

“There you go mama,” JJ praised.

JJ then spilled his cum deep inside you in hot white ropes. He fucked you through your orgasm and you milked him clean.

JJ collapsed next to you and pulled you close to him. The two of you laid there catching your breaths. There was a sheen of sweat decorating yours and JJ’s skin.

“I love you so much,” JJ announced.

“I love you too,” you responded.

“Do you want to take a bath?” JJ added.

“Yes please.”

The hotel bathroom was huge. It was all white and lush. There was a big bathtub lined up by the window. You had brought your own bath bombs and salts with you from home.

JJ got the bath all ready for you. He even put some flower petals in it. The water was getting hot and it was time to get in.

“Thank you J,” you spoke quietly.

JJ helped you step into the large tub. He got in shortly after. The water was relaxing and it felt good on your muscles. JJ started rubbing your shoulders because he knew that’s where you carried your stress.

Being on your honeymoon you weren’t that stressed. You were having the time of your life with the love of you life. You were the most relaxed you’ve been in a while.

When JJ was done with your massage he started to draw hearts on your back with soap. You hummed enjoying the intimacy of the bath. The two of you washed your bodies and hair, taking your time to dote on one another.

When the water in the bath was turning cold you decided to get out. There were some nice fluffy robes from the hotel that you put on. It made you all warm and toasty.

The two of you sat in your robes and ordered room service, and did nothing but relax together.

——————-

The next day you guys went to the beach. It was breathtaking. The water was clear and a nice turquoise color. The sun was shining brightly and it was a good day to be on the sand.

JJ was drinking a beer curtesy of the beachside bar. You looked so hot in your bikini JJ had to control himself not to take you right then and there.

“Will you help me put on sunscreen?” You asked JJ.

“Sure baby.”

JJ squirted the lotion on his hand and rubbed it on your back. He smothered your arms and then he moved to your chest. JJ was mesmerized as he coated your boobs in sunscreen.

“JJ.”

“Sorry,” he breathed as he continued to rub it in.

He got your stomach and your legs even though you were perfectly capable of doing it. After he had put your sunscreen on, you laid back down on your lounge chair.

The two of you sat talking and soaking up the sun. JJ was drinking and you had your water.

The thing about JJ is he gets really clingy when he’s drunk, or even just drinking actually.

“Come here babe come sit on my lap,” JJ beckoned.

You did so happily. You sat on his lap facing him and took his hat off. You put the hat on your head instead. JJ kissed your lips in a hungry way. You let out a shriek but then melted into it.

JJ’s hands were roaming your body, holding your hips, resting on your thigh, holding your ankle. He even wrapped his arms around you and rested them on the small of your back.

“You’re so hot babe,” JJ complimented.

“You’re looking pretty sexy yourself,” you replied.

JJ was shirtless trying to tan. His golden skin was shiny. He looked perfect. His lips were nice and a deep shade of pink. His eyes were sparkling. His hair was fluffy. He looked so desirable.

JJ stood up holding the back our your legs while you clung to him. He made his way to the ocean. He entered the water as you squealed. He then dropped you into the water. Then he went underwater himself.

“It’s cold!” you shrieked.

“I know but doesn’t it feel good,” JJ calmly said.

After swimming in the ocean the two of you decided to go back to your hotel room. Once you got back you chose to take a shower to rinse off all the sad. And of course JJ insisted you shower together.

The shower was wide. It only took a few seconds for both of you to strip down out of your swimwear. JJ turned the water on hot, warming you up.

JJ’s lips were on yours in an instant. The kiss was frantic and fiery. It made you giddy and excited. You could taste the beer on his tongue. Your lips were crushing together. Your stomach was tingling.

JJ trailed kissed down your neck and collarbones. He sucked purple marks on your skin. He then bit at your shoulder and soothed the bite with his tongue.

“Want me to fuck you against this shower wall?” JJ asked.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Ok mama, m’gonna give it to you good,” JJ rasped.

JJ swiped his fingers through your folds and collected your wetness. He then put the fingers in his mouth sucking off the juices.

You wrapped your legs around JJ’s torso, leaning on the shower wall. JJ lined himself up at your entrance and slowly pushed himself in. You let out a moan at the stretch. JJ let out a sigh in contentment.

“Move please,” you begged.

JJ didn’t need to be told twice. He started trusting into you while you clang to him. He pulled almost all the way out just to slam back in. Your heart rate was speeding up.

JJ was on cloud 9. He was reveling in the fact he was having sex with his wife. He was feeling an insane amount of pleasure and he didn’t want it to stop.

“I’m addicted to this pussy it’s like it was made for me,” JJ panted.

“Mhmm,” you mewled.

As the water poured down on you, you clung to JJ as he kept up with his thrusts. JJ moved one hand that was holding you up and started rubbing your clit. You were getting close and JJ could tell.

“Hold on for me,” JJ breathed.

You didn’t know how long you could hold on but you were gonna try your best. JJ’s thrust were starting to get messy. You could feel his dick twitching.

“Alright let go for me baby,” JJ instructed.

With a load moan you came around JJ’s cock.

Shortly after JJ spilled his load inside of you filling you up.

When the two of you caught your breath you actually took a shower. JJ helped wash your hair and your body. You helped him wash his hair and body. Both of you enjoying the intimacy.

When you were done in the show both of you put the hotel robes on. The rest of the honeymoon was filled with sex, love, relaxing, and being with each other and enjoying being husband and wife. The trip was a trip of a lifetime. You were extremely lucky to have a partner as amazing as JJ.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Can you make an AU where Carlos is attracted to the new receptionist at the golf course he and Papa Sainz frequent? Ps. please make her Latina and with curly hair

Thanks in advance!!

Golf Gurl

Anon: Can you make an AU where Carlos is attracted to the new receptionist at the golf course he and Papa Sainz frequent? Ps. please make her Latina and with curly hair

Song: Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

Author’s note: I can't write short stories to save my life. I hope you enjoy this long journey which may take a full day to read. Please like, reblog and share this! <33

Word count: 6.6k

It was another busy day at the golf course, with members coming and going.

You've only worked here for a few weeks, thanks to your best friend who got you the job. She knew you were in desperate need of more staff, and you were in desperate need of money, so it worked out perfectly.

The hours were long and the work could be exhausting, but it was a steady paycheck and you were grateful for it. Every day brought new challenges and new faces, and you were slowly getting the hang of things.

The members were mostly friendly, though some could be demanding. Your friend and you often laughed about the more eccentric characters you encountered, and it made the busy days more bearable.

Plus, the beautiful scenery of the golf course was a nice bonus, providing a peaceful escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

As you stood behind the reception desk, checking in players and handing out scorecards, you couldn't help but notice a familiar face approaching.

It was Carlos Sainz, the young Formula 1 driver, and his father Carlos Sainz Sr.

Carlos Sainz Jr. had a boyish charm that was hard to miss. His chiselled jawline, sparkling brown eyes, and tousled dark hair gave him an effortlessly cool appearance. Dressed in a sleek, navy-blue polo shirt and tailored khaki shorts, he exuded an air of casual sophistication that turned heads everywhere he went.

His father, Carlos Sainz Sr., was a distinguished figure with a rugged, experienced look. His salt-and-pepper hair and weathered face told stories of countless adventures and victories. Wearing a classic white polo and well-fitted trousers, he carried himself with the quiet confidence of a seasoned champion.

As they approached the desk, their easy camaraderie was evident. The younger Sainz greeted you with a warm smile, while his father gave a polite nod, both of them radiating the kind of charisma that comes from a life spent in the spotlight.

"Good morning, how can I assist you today?" You greeted them with a warm smile.

"Hola, we'd like to check in for our usual tee time," Carlos Sainz Sr. replied.

As you typed away at the computer, you felt Carlos Sainz's gaze on you. You glanced up and your eyes met, causing a flutter in your chest.

"Here are your scorecards, gentlemen. Enjoy your round," you said, handing them the cards.

"Gracias, senorita," Carlos Sr. nodded, then turned to his son. "Come on, let's get going."

But Carlos lingered for a moment, his eyes still locked on yours. "Thank you," he said softly, before following his father to the first tee.

A few seconds after they left, your best friend Mariah came running over, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Did you know that Carlos Sainz and his dad just arrived here?" she exclaimed, almost out of breath.

You sighed, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yes, Mariah, I just saw them. I checked them in," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the fluttering in your chest.

Mariah's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she leaned in closer. "Did you talk to him? What did he say? Oh my gosh, he’s even more handsome in person, isn't he?" she gushed, barely able to contain her excitement.

You chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Not much, just a thank you," you said softly, feeling that flutter in your chest again as you recalled the moment.

Mariah nudged you playfully. "Come on, there has to be more! Did he smile at you? Did you feel a spark?"

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't help but blush. "He did smile, and maybe there was a little spark," you admitted, causing Mariah to squeal with delight.

"This is so exciting! Who knows, maybe you'll bump into him again later," she added, winking mischievously.

Over the next few weeks, you noticed Carlos Sainz would often linger a bit longer after checking in, finding excuses to talk to you.

You'd exchange small talk about the weather, the course conditions, or the upcoming F1 race. You found yourself looking forward to these brief interactions, captivated by his charming smile and warm brown eyes.

"Girl, he loves you," Mariah exclaimed dramatically over your lunch break, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You laughed, shaking your head. "That's exaggerating, Mariah. We've just been talking," you insisted, though you couldn't deny the thrill that ran through you at the thought.

Mariah leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Please, I've seen the way he looks at you. It's like you're the only person in the world. And don't even get me started on how he always finds a reason to linger around," she said, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed, unable to suppress a smile. "Okay, maybe there's something there. But it's not like anything can really happen," you said, trying to temper your own rising excitement.

Every time you saw him, your heart would skip a beat, and a warm, tingling sensation would spread through your chest.

You found yourself stealing glances at him, feeling a mixture of nervousness and exhilaration with each encounter. Despite your attempts to remain composed, the mere sight of his easy smile and confident demeanor left you feeling giddy and hopeful for what might come next.

One afternoon, as you were organizing some paperwork, Carlos approached you with a cup of coffee in his hand. "I thought you might need a pick-me-up," he said with that signature smile, his fingers brushing yours as you accepted the cup.

The brief touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you couldn’t help but stammer a thank you, your cheeks flushing pink.

Carlos's smile widened, clearly pleased by your reaction. "You're welcome," he replied smoothly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I hope it helps you get through the rest of the day," he added, lingering just a moment longer before turning to leave, leaving you feeling both flustered and elated.

As Carlos walked away, you couldn't help but replay the moment in your head, savoring the warmth of his touch and the genuine kindness in his eyes.

Your mind swirled with a jumble of emotions—anticipation, curiosity, and a growing hope that maybe, just maybe, there was more to these interactions than simple friendliness.

You find yourself unable to focus on your work, daydreaming about what might happen the next time your paths cross. . . .

It was getting closer to Christmas Day, and Carlos's visits to the golf course were becoming more frequent. Every time he came by the check-in desk, he lingered a little longer, chatting about anything and everything.

"So, are you planning to go spend Christmas with your family?" he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

You smiled, shaking your head. "No, my parents live in Mexico and I'd rather stay here for Christmas. What about you?"

Carlos chuckled, "I think I'll spend the day with my family." His eyes twinkled with a mix of excitement and holiday spirit.

"That sounds perfect Carlos. I hope you'll have a great Christmas with them," you replied.

Carlos nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Thanks! Maybe next year you can join us for a big family dinner," he suggested, his tone genuine.

You laughed softly, feeling a bit more connected. "I'd love that, Carlos. Maybe I'll take you up on that offer someday."

The conversation flowed easily, making the cold December days feel a little warmer.

The day of Christmas arrived quickly, bringing with it a quiet calmness to the golf course. Snow gently dusted the greens, and the usually bustling check-in desk saw only a handful of customers.

You had decided to work today, lured by the promise of bonus pay, but the lack of holiday cheer made the hours drag.

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself reminiscing about Carlos's invitation. The thought of being surrounded by a warm, welcoming family made the solitude sting a little less.

Maybe next year, you thought, as you glanced out at the serene, snow-covered landscape. For now, you'd focus on making the best of the quiet day, knowing that the holiday spirit could be found in the most unexpected places.

The day of Christmas arrived quickly after, and you were one of the two workers stationed at the reception desk.

The other worker, Sarah, had just gone on her long break, taking the opportunity to stroll through the snow-dusted golf course while you handled the few customers that trickled in.

The quietness of the day was both a blessing and a curse; it gave you ample time to reflect but also made the hours stretch endlessly.

As you sat there, a small group of regulars came in to get a quick round of golf in before their holiday festivities. Their cheerful banter brought a touch of the holiday spirit into the otherwise serene clubhouse.

Engaging in light conversation with them helped pass the time, and their jovial moods were infectious.

You then heard a familiar voice as you texted Mariah on the phone. "You should be focusing on me instead of your phone," the voice teased.

You looked up to see Carlos standing there, bundled up in a thick coat and scarf. "Carlos! What are you doing here? I thought you'd be with your family!" you exclaimed, genuinely surprised but delighted to see him.

Carlos chuckled, "I was, but I thought I'd stop by to check on you. I know working on Christmas can be a drag."

He leaned on the counter, his eyes twinkling with the same mix of excitement and holiday spirit from before. "Plus, I brought you a little something to make your day brighter," he said, pulling out a small gift-wrapped box from his coat pocket.

You accepted the gift with a smile, the loneliness of the day melting away in the warmth of his gesture.

"Thank you, Carlos. You didn't have to do this," you said, unwrapping the gift to reveal a beautifully crafted snow globe with a miniature winter wonderland inside. "It's perfect," you added, touched by the thoughtful gesture.

Carlos shrugged modestly, "I just wanted to bring a piece of the holiday cheer to you. Besides, who says you can't have a little fun at work?"

"You always know how to make things better," you replied, placing the snow globe on the counter where you could admire it throughout the day.

"So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?" you asked, curious about how he managed to juggle his time.

Carlos smiled, "Well, after making sure you're not too lonely here, I'm heading back to help my mom with the Christmas dinner preparations."

He chuckled, "You know how it is, I'm the oldest so it's my job to help out." You nodded in agreement, feeling a rush of admiration for his sense of responsibility.

He shrugged, "It's just what family does."

"That's really sweet of you, Carlos. Family traditions are important, and I can see how much you cherish them," you replied, feeling a renewed sense of warmth from his presence.

"I actually miss those big family gatherings, the laughter, and the chaos. But being here isn't so bad, especially now that you're here."

"Well, I hope you get to see your parents soon," Carlos said, his eyes filled with understanding and sincerity.

"Thanks, Carlos. I hope so too," you replied, handing him his scorecard as you noticed a small line forming behind him. "But for now, I'm just glad I got to see you. It means a lot."

Carlos gave you a warm smile, "Take care of yourself, and don't let the holiday blues get to you, okay?" He glanced at the next customer and nodded, "Looks like you've got some more people to cheer up. I'll see you around."

You smiled back, "Thanks again, Carlos. Have a wonderful Christmas with your family." With that, he waved and headed to his golf section, leaving you with a heart a little lighter and a desk adorned with a piece of holiday magic.

As Carlos left, the next customer approached the counter with a friendly smile. "Hi there, I was wondering if you could help me find a gift for my nephew.

"He's really into sports, especially golf," she said, her eyes twinkling with holiday excitement. "Of course," you replied, eager to assist and share some of the holiday cheer Carlos had just brought into your day.

After assisting the customer with a few suggestions for her nephew, you were finally let off for your break. Eager to catch up with Carlos, you quickly made your way to the golf section, scanning the aisles for his familiar figure.

There he was, meticulously arranging golf balls and chatting with another employee.

You decided not to disturb him, content to watch from a distance as he swung his club with practiced ease. The fluid motion of his swing sent the golf ball flying straight and true, a testament to his skill and dedication.

His focus was unwavering, and you couldn't help but admire his passion for the sport. It was clear that golf was more than just a hobby for Carlos; it was a part of who he was.

As you continued to observe, you noticed the way he effortlessly engaged with the customers and his colleagues, offering advice and sharing tips with a genuine enthusiasm that was infectious.

His charisma and kindness shone through in every interaction, making the golf section a little brighter and more welcoming. Watching him, you felt a sense of comfort and connection, knowing that even in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, there were moments of true joy and camaraderie to be found.

"Are you going to stare all day or are you going to come here?" you heard Carlos say, snapping you out of your reverie. You blinked and realized that he was looking right at you, a playful grin lighting up his face.

With a sheepish smile, you walked over to him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just admiring your swing," you confessed.

Carlos chuckled, handing you a golf club. "No worries! Want to give it a try? It's never too late to pick up a new hobby," he encouraged, his eyes twinkling with the same holiday excitement you had seen in the customer's earlier.

"I've never done golf before," you admitted shyly, gripping the club with uncertainty.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "How do you work at a golf place yet don't know how to play golf?" he asked, his tone light and curious.

You shrugged, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I guess I just never had the time or the opportunity. Plus, it always seemed a bit intimidating," you explained.

Carlos's expression softened, and he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Well, today is your lucky day. Let's start with the basics. First, you want to have a good stance," he instructed, moving to position your feet correctly.

"And don't worry, I'll be right here to guide you every step of the way."

You stood in front of him and held one of his clubs, following his instructions but you missed the ball twice. "Don't worry about it," Carlos said, his voice gentle and encouraging.

"It's all about getting comfortable with your stance and swing. Let's try adjusting your grip a little bit." He carefully positioned your hands on the club, his touch steadying your nerves.

Taking a deep breath, you tried again, but the ball still didn't go very far. Carlos laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Hey, you're getting there! Remember, it's not about power, it's about technique. Just relax and let the club do the work." His confidence was contagious, and you found yourself smiling back at him.

"Alright, one more time," you said determinedly, feeling a renewed sense of excitement.

Carlos moved closer, his presence both comforting and electrifying. "Let me help you this time," he muttered, standing right behind you and placing his hands over yours on the club.

Your breath hitched as you felt the warmth of his body aligning with yours, his steady guidance making you feel surprisingly confident. "Just relax," he whispered, his voice soothing, "and let’s focus on the swing together."

With Carlos's hands guiding yours, you felt an immediate difference. The club felt less foreign, and your stance more natural.

As you swung, the ball finally took a clean, satisfying arc through the air. "There you go!" Carlos exclaimed, stepping back with a proud smile. You turned to him, beaming with excitement and gratitude. "Thank you, Carlos. That was amazing!"

He chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Anytime. Looks like you might just have a knack for this after all."

Looking at Carlos, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement and appreciation. His patience and unwavering support were more than just helpful; they made you feel seen and valued.

As your eyes met, you realized there was something undeniably special about this moment, making you wonder if this newfound connection might extend beyond the golf course.

Before you could say anything more, one of the staff called you for assistance. "Excuse me, I need to help with something," you said, reluctantly pulling away from Carlos.

He nodded, his eyes still warm and understanding. "Go ahead. I'll be right here when you're done," he assured you.

As you walked over to the staff member, you couldn't help but glance back at Carlos. He was watching you, a small smile on his face, which only made your heart race faster.

The task at hand was simple enough, but your mind kept drifting back to the moments you had just shared. Finally, as you wrapped up the assistance, you knew you couldn't wait to get back to Carlos, eager to see where this newfound connection might lead.

"Thanks for waiting," you said with a smile, walking back toward him. "So, how about another lesson? I think I could use a bit more of your expert guidance," you added, hoping to prolong your time together.

Carlos grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'd be happy to help. Let's see if we can make that swing even better." He stepped closer, his hand gently resting on your back as he adjusted your stance once more.

"Remember, it's all about the rhythm and feeling comfortable."

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

As you were closing up the pro shop, Carlos approached the desk. "Y/N, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner tonight?" he asked, a nervous edge to his voice.

"But what about your family dinner?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

Carlos smiled, his eyes twinkling with reassurance. "We can go after it, if you want to. My family gatherings usually wrap up pretty early."

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the excitement of spending more time with him against the potential intrusion on his family plans. But his earnest expression melted your doubts.

"Alright, that sounds perfect," you agreed, feeling a rush of anticipation.

"Great! I'll pick you up around eight?" Carlos suggested, his face lighting up with relief and joy.

"Eight it is," you confirmed, your heart fluttering at the prospect of what the evening might bring.

As you both exchanged smiles and phone numbers, you couldn't help but feel that this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

The dress Mariah brought was a stunning crimson red, the color of a ripe pomegranate. As soon as you held it up, you could tell it was made of the finest silk, the fabric flowing through your fingers like liquid fire.

"Mariah, this dress is absolutely gorgeous!" you exclaimed, your eyes wide with delight. "I can't believe you found something this beautiful on such short notice."

"I know you, girl," Mariah said with a wink. "I knew you needed something special, so I went straight to my favorite boutique. As soon as I saw this dress, I knew it had your name written all over it."

Holding the dress up to your body, you admired the way the deep v-neckline would accentuate your collarbones, and the way the fitted bodice would hug your curves in all the right places. The skirt flowed out in elegant pleats, promising to move with grace and fluidity as you walked.

"It's perfect, Mariah. Absolutely perfect. Help me try it on?" you asked, already shimmying out of your clothes in anticipation.

Mariah helped you carefully slip the dress over your head, the cool silk gliding effortlessly against your skin. You felt a slight shiver as the fabric settled around your shoulders, and Mariah expertly adjusted the straps to ensure a perfect fit.

As you turned to face the mirror, you marveled at how the dress seemed to transform you, its rich color and elegant design highlighting your best features.

Mariah's eyes sparkled with pride and excitement as she took a step back to admire you.

"Oh my goodness, you look absolutely stunning!" she gasped, her smile widening. "This dress was made for you; Carlos won't be able to take his eyes off you tonight!"

"Do you really think so?" you asked, your cheeks flushing with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

"Absolutely," Mariah reassured you. "Trust me, when Carlos sees you in this dress, he's going to be speechless. Now, let's finish getting you ready—hair and makeup next!"

You heard a knock on your door and jumped, your heart racing as you glanced at the clock. Mariah had already left after doing your makeup and hair, leaving you to savor the final moments before the big night.

You took a deep breath, smoothing down the skirt of your dress one last time before opening the door.

Carlos stood there, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of you. "Wow," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You look... incredible."

You felt your cheeks flush again as you smiled shyly. "Thank you, Carlos. You look pretty dashing yourself."

He offered you his arm, his gaze never leaving yours. "Shall we?" he asked, his voice warm and inviting. "Let's," you replied, feeling a surge of confidence and excitement as you stepped out into the evening, ready to dazzle the night away.

That evening, you two met at a cozy Spanish restaurant not far from the golf course. As you sipped on sangria and shared tapas, the conversation flowed easily.

Carlos was genuinely interested in learning more about you - your background, your hobbies, your dreams.

"So what brought you to work at the golf course?" he asked, popping an olive in his mouth.

"Well, I've always loved the sport, and the job allows me to be outdoors and interact with people. Plus, the members are so friendly," you replied, glancing up at him through your lashes.

Carlos nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. The course has never looked better, thanks in no small part to you."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his compliment. "You're very kind. And how about you? What do you enjoy most about golf?"

"The peace and quiet, the challenge of the game... and the lovely company you get to keep these days," he said, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

We talked late into the night, losing track of time. You were captivated by Carlos' charm, his passion for racing, and his genuine interest in you.

As you said your goodbyes in front of your door, he gently took your hand, sending a warm, tingling sensation up your arm.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and a sense of calm contentment washed over you. The evening had been perfect, filled with laughter, meaningful conversations, and an undeniable connection that seemed to grow with each passing moment.

You felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness, wondering what the future might hold for you two. Carlos leaned in slightly, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

"I had a wonderful time tonight," he said softly, his voice rich with sincerity. "I hope we can do this again soon."

You nodded, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. "I’d like that very much," You replied, feeling a sense of warmth and anticipation as you two lingered in the middle of the corridor.

From that night on, Carlos and you grew closer, our budding romance blossoming amidst the lush greens of the golf course. You had never expected to find such a connection with this famous Formula 1 driver, but every moment spent with him felt natural and effortless.

Our future was uncertain, but one thing was clear - you were falling for Carlos Sainz, and falling hard. . . .

You and Carlos had been dating for a few months, but you finally decided to go public with your relationship. As soon as you did, you became everyone's favorite WAG.

People were captivated by the way you and Carlos would talk in Spanish to each other, often leaving the others around you confused and wondering what you were saying.

"Me encanta cómo podemos hablar en español y nadie sabe de qué estamos hablando.," you said to Carlos one day, giggling. I love how we can just speak in Spanish and nobody knows what we're talking about.

"Yo también," Carlos replied with a smile. "Es nuestro pequeño lenguaje secreto." Me too. It's our own little secret language.

The two of you also had a tendency to judge people from afar, casting subtle glances and whispering comments to each other.

"¿Viste cómo estaba vestida?" you whispered to Carlos, raising an eyebrow. Did you see the way she was dressed?

"Horrible," Carlos scoffed. "Ella no tiene ningún sentido de la moda." She has no fashion sense at all.

Both of your friends would just shake their heads, used to your antics by now. But they couldn't help but be charmed by the way you and Carlos were so in sync, so clearly infatuated with each other.

"They're just so cute together," Mariah said wistfully. "I wish I had what they have."

"I'm right here," Her boyfriend says, carrying her bags and sighing at her disappointment.

You and Carlos would just smile knowingly at each other, happy to be in your own little world, unaffected by the attention you were receiving.

Your relationship was the envy of many, and you wouldn't have it any other way. . . .

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

During summer break of F1, you, Carlos, Lando, and Carlos Sr decided to embark on a fun-filled adventure to the local golf course.

You, who had recently taken a break from your job, was determined to make the most of your time with Carlos. Armed with golf carts, the four of you embarked on a journey to the greens.

As you all arrived, the golf course was bustling with activity. The lush green landscape stretched out before them, dotted with pristine fairways and shining bunkers.

You all parked their carts side by side, ready to embark on a day of golfing camaraderie.

Excited by their newfound freedom, Carlos and Lando couldn't resist the temptation to showcase their competitive spirits.

Without even waiting for Carlos' dad to finish settling into your shared cart, they spontaneously decided to have a race with their carts. Their eagerness was palpable as they revved their engines and took off down the fairway.

As they raced, Carlos and Lando zoomed past unsuspecting golfers, eliciting a mix of cheers and startled gasps.

Their reckless behavior quickly caught the attention of others.

"Carlos, Lando, slow down before you two idiots flip those carts!" You yelled, your heart racing as you watched them careening down the golf course, their competitive spirits in full display.

However, your pleas went unheeded, as the boys' competitive spirits clouded their judgment.

Frustrated by their reckless antics, Carlos' dad turned his attention to you.

Carlos' dad turned to you, his brow furrowed. "Do you really care for my son, or is this just some passing fancy?" he pressed, his tone laced with skepticism.

You took a deep breath, feeling the frustration build within you. "Of course I care for him, more than you could ever know,"

You replied, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Carlos is the most important person in my life. He makes me laugh when I'm down, he challenges me to be a better person, and his smile lights up my world. I love the way he scrunches up his nose when he's concentrating, and the way he always remembers the little things that mean so much to me."

Your speed increased as you spoke, the golf cart practically flying down the course. "He's my best friend, my confidante, my partner in crime. When I'm with him, I feel alive, like I can take on the world. He's the one person who truly understands me, who sees me for who I am, flaws and all, and loves me anyway."

You pulled the cart to a perfect stop in front of Carlos and Lando, who had finally slowed down. Carlos' dad stared at you, his eyes wide with surprise and, perhaps, a newfound respect.

"I love your son, more than anything," You concluded, your voice soft but unwavering. "He's the most important person in my life, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe, even if it means yelling at a couple of reckless idiots on a golf course."

"Eres tan malo como mi hijo, una pareja hecha en el cielo." Carlos' dad said with a smirk as he slowly got off the golf cart. You're as bad as my son, a match made in heaven.

The tension seemed to ease slightly as he approached you, his stern demeanor softening.

"I see that you care deeply for him, and maybe, just maybe, that's exactly what he needs. Someone who isn't afraid to stand up to him, even when he's being a complete fool."

You let out a relieved sigh, grateful for his understanding. "I promise, I'll always look out for him, even if it means being the voice of reason when he's not thinking straight," you said, meeting his gaze firmly.

Carlos' dad nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, then I suppose I can't ask for more than that. Just remember, love isn't always smooth sailing, especially with someone as headstrong as Carlos. But if you can weather the storms together, you'll come out stronger on the other side."

"Thank you, sir," you replied earnestly, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "I understand that loving someone like Carlos won't always be easy, but I'm committed to facing whatever comes our way. He means the world to me, and I'll do everything in my power to make sure he knows that every single day."

Carlos' dad placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his eyes softening further. "That's all I needed to hear. Just keep being there for him, and don't be afraid to push him when he needs it. He's lucky to have someone as dedicated as you by his side."

With that, he turned to join Carlos and Lando, leaving you with a renewed sense of determination and a heart full of hope.

You sighed, trying to relax before getting off the golf cart and bringing the golf bags along with you. The weight of the bags felt lighter somehow, perhaps a reflection of the newfound understanding you shared with Carlos’ dad.

As you walked towards Carlos and Lando, you couldn't help but smile, feeling more confident in your place within this tight-knit family.

Carlos looked up as you approached, his eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of concern.

"Everything okay?" he asked, glancing between you and his dad. You nodded, setting the golf bags down gently. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just had a little chat with your dad," you said, your voice steady.

Carlos' expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand. "I’m glad," he murmured, squeezing your hand gently. "And thank you, for everything."

An overwhelming sense of warmth and contentment washed over you as Carlos' gratitude echoed in your ears. You felt a deep connection solidify between you, knowing that your commitment and love were reciprocated.

In that moment, you realized just how much you cherished being a part of his life, and you silently vowed to stand by him through whatever challenges lay ahead.

"Now let's go destroy Lando in golf," you said with a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood. Carlos chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he glanced over at Lando.

"Hey! I heard that!" Lando yelled from a few yards away, feigning offense but unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He walked over to join you both, slinging an arm around Carlos' shoulders. "You know, I wasn't planning on going easy on either of you, right?"

Carlos laughed, glancing between you and Lando. "Well, bring it on then. We're ready for the challenge." You nodded in agreement, feeling a renewed sense of camaraderie as you all headed towards the first hole.

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the course, and for the first time in a while, you felt completely at ease, surrounded by friends and the love that had become so precious to you.

As soon as Lando missed the hole and lost the game, a triumphant cheer erupted from both you and Carlos. Without a moment’s hesitation, you found yourself running into Carlos' arms, the exhilaration of victory coursing through you.

Carlos lifted you off the ground in a joyous embrace, spinning you around as your laughter filled the air.

The bond you shared felt even stronger now, forged not just through love but through shared moments of triumph and joy.

Meanwhile, Lando stood a few paces away, trying—and failing—to hide his disappointment. "Oh, come on, you two! No need to rub it in," he called out, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

Carlos set you down gently before kissing you, his lips warm and reassuring against yours. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that perfect moment.

When you finally pulled back, you saw a mixture of happiness and determination in his eyes, a promise of many more shared victories to come.

"We make a pretty good team, don’t we?" he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. You nodded, feeling the truth of his words resonate deep within you.

With Carlos by your side, every challenge seemed surmountable, every moment more meaningful.

Lando, still feigning annoyance, walked up and clapped both of you on the back. "Alright, lovebirds, let's see if you can keep that winning streak going," he teased, his smile widening.

As you all moved on to the next hole, the playful banter and shared laughter reminded you just how lucky you were to have such incredible people in your life. . . .

[kaiserthread]

cliche!

romance tropes with the blue lock boys! characters: shidou, sae, kaiser content: pro players, gn!reader first installment of my feb. series! i got so many good ideas for other charas this is def getting a part two

SHIDOU RYUUSEI - meet ugly

your morning could not have gone worse, your alarms didn’t go off, you ran out of your favorite body wash halfway through your shower, and the clothes you planned to wear were sitting in your dirty laundry pile. of course the universe heard your pleas and as you’re leaving your favorite cafe you walk right into the broad chest of shidou ryuusei, spilling your large iced coffee all over his expensive looking jacket. you’re absolutely mortified, frantic apologies spilling from your lips as your eyes well up with tears. ryuusei’s kinda pissed that his jacket is wet but that anger quickly gives way to pity when he sees that you’re more of a pathetic wet kitten than human. he interrupts you and says, “hey, no worries! i can get this cleaned later but do you want a new drink?” he feels a rush when you look up at him, pretty eyes swimming with tears. you look up and find yourself staring at PXG’s superstar striker. you nod and he presses a hand to your back as he leads you back into the cafe. you reorder your iced coffee and he adds in a blueberry muffin and complicated blended drink, pushing your hand away when you try to pay and tapping his card against the reader. “you should’ve let me pay, i ruined your jacket.” you whine, trying to dry your eyes and compose yourself. “no offense, but you look awful darling, focus on calming down before you have to clock in.” he teases, pleased with himself when you flush red at the nickname. as disastrous as it was, the interaction leaves you feeling lighter and you leave the cafe with a fresh coffee and a smile on your face. said smile disappears in the middle of your workday when your phone starts blowing up. unfortunately a few paparazzi caught the tail end of your interaction with ryuusei and pictures of you two are going around social media. people are claiming that shidou ryuusei has a secret relationship and this is quickly becoming your worst nightmare. you pull up instagram to find a dm from ryuusei explaining that his pr team is working to take down all the photos and offering protection from his legal team in case anyone tries to dox or harass you over this whole thing. the fiasco blows over but he keeps messaging you (he thinks you’re adorable sue him) and eventually he’s asking to see you when he has days off and asks if you want to date after meeting a few times. you accept and his pr team sighs when he kisses you on the mouth after a match knowing they have some work ahead of them.

ITOSHI SAE - fake dating

sae’s relationship with the media hasn’t improved a bit since he was eighteen and his manager is getting fed up. said manager loses his shit when sae pisses off yet another reporter and offers him an ultimatum, sit out of practice to attend media training or find a way to convince the media that he’s turned himself around. sae would rather die than give up playing soccer so he pitches an idea to his manager: the good ole’ pr relationship. he approves and sae sets out to find his perfect match, eventually having shidou connect him to you, a high fashion model. perfect timing really, you’d just signed with a few brands and your agent had been nagging about marketing and exposure. the two of you strike a deal; he goes to a few of your shows, you come to a few of his games, meet up for dinner once in a while, sae becomes the perfect media darling and you get your name out there. the soft launch is cute, you fly out to one his games and he takes you to dinner, a hint of red hair and two plates in the resulting photodump. he’s spotted at one of your shows and doesn’t give the paparazzi a hard time, showing a ghost of a smile when he greets you after the show. social media is suspicious from the jump and he knows he’s gonna have to work for this one. so he pulls out all the stops for the hard launch, getting you a jersey with his name on it and kissing you after a big win. from there things get progressively more serious and several months later he has a clean sheet with the media and you’ve exploded in popularity. but you had noticed that he’d been acting like a real boyfriend six months in, sending you daily texts and holding your hand where no one can snap a photo of you two. you manage to completely forget about the fact that it’s supposed to be fake until your agent reminds you that the terms of the contract have been fulfilled and that the two of you can break up and move on. so after just under a year you decide to be the one who breaks things off before he can break your heart. you show up to his apartment with a rough draft of a break up speech in your head. he realizes then, watching you hold back tears and stumble over your words, that he can’t lose you. pulls you into his arms before you can finish and whispers, “let’s make this real, angel.”

MICHAEL KAISER - secret relationship

reporters are constantly asking him if he has a special someone and the answer is always the same: he prefers to focus on his career, but then he meets you, the luxury sales associate who sold him a cartier watch. and boy was he enamored, going as far as returning to the store to try on jewelry just to speak with you. you’re lowkey flirting with him but he knows better than to ask someone doing their job for a date so he waits for you to drop a huge hint before asking you out. you tell him when your shift ends and he wastes no time in getting a dinner reservation at his favorite restaurant. he asks you to be his partner after the third date under the condition of keeping everything between the two of you secret and you accept. it’s fun at first, there’s a rush when he smirks at the cameras and denies that he’s in a relationship, knowing that he’s coming home to you. the two of you sneak around like romeo and juliet, secret meetings and walking around with your faces covered when you go to meet each other. but it gets old after a while and you start prodding him about going public, kaiser always asks that the relationship stays private to protect you, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if people started getting nosy and critical with you just because he’s so far into the public eye. you agree because while it’s getting annoying to sneak around, you’d rather keep him private than not have him at all. the last straw is when social media concots a story about him dating some singer he was hanging with and kaiser doesn’t deny it when reporters ask him about it. you’re furious with him because if he can admit to a fake relationship he should be able to admit his real one and you refuse to be his side chick. you break up with him and he's MISERABLE, his performance in matches suffers to the point where he’s benched. so he comes back and grovels at your feet for your forgiveness, you take him back under the condition that the two of you go public. he literally whips his phone out before you finish talking and starts taking pics of you to post because what’s the point of protecting you if you’re not even there?

[spidybaby]

Gold digger

Summary: A lost item at the airport and a miscommunication can be the end of your relationship.

Warning: cursing.

Part two

A/N: This is pure exaggeration. Please don't believe this is based on any real action. ❤️

Stress

Was a short-term for Kylian current status.

He lost his toiletry bag at the plane, even tho you fly private, he managed to lose his personal things.

"Kylian, can you please calm down. Everything is going to be okay. We have already changed the house locks, and we froze you credit cards, and they're looking for it." You say massaging his shoulders.

"I can't help but worry, that's my whole identity. I have nothing now."

He was worried because his father suffered from identity theft.

"You have something."

"What?"

"You have me," you hug him from behind. "I know it's not too much, but I'll make sure all your things return to you Kylian. Even if I have to search the plane myself."

He smiles at your reflection on the mirror.

"You're more than enough."

After a small talk, you both were getting ready for his birthday dinner, planning it, and having everything ready from where you were vacationing was hard, but you managed to do it.

When the family started to arrived, you greet everyone and made sure they were all conformable.

"Honey, can I use your bathroom, the two down here are busy."

Wilfrid asked you.

"Yes, use any of the upstairs bathrooms. You don't have to ask, please do."

Wilfrid went upstairs to his sons bathroom, he sees Ethan getting out of your room. "Gotcha," he jokes.

"Jeez, the bathroom is still busy downstairs?"

"Yes, it is. Why do you think I'm here?"

"I'll be with everyone, be careful with the hand washing, y/n got her makeup very close to there and we don't want to ruin anything."

"I'll be careful, go have fun."

Wilfrid did what Ethan told him. He was careful with your makeup.

"Oh, merde," he couldn't find a towel to dry his hands and didn't want to shake them scared to ruin something.

After looking around a little, he noticed the navy blue hand towel on top of a travel bag. Probably Kylians.

"Oh, Ethan, always so messy."

He picked the towel and dried his hands. He was about to leave when he noticed what was inside of the travel bag.

Kylian lost toiletry bag.

He grabbed it, checking it inside. Everything was there, his wallet, his keys, his documents. He was relieved that everything was there.

He was about to turn around and go find everyone to share the news, but he notice other thing.

The travel bag wasn't his son's.

It has some of your personal belongings.

"What?" He's confused about why you have it.

To be honest, he wasn't your biggest fan. He always got that feeling about you that didn't quite convince him about you.

Kylian, of course, always told him off.

But this time, he had proof.

He exists the room as fast as possible, looking for Kylian.

"Arrête, Kylian." He called when he saw him doing shots with Tchaga. "Come with me."

He was confused but did what his father told him. Wilfrid dragged him to his room.

"What is going on with you?"

"Shut up, did you find your things?"

Kylian rolled his eyes. He got asked the same question several times.

"Non."

"What if I told you that it has been on your home all this time?"

"Quoi?" He asked confused

Wilfrid walked back inside the bathroom to grab the big bag, throwing it onto the bed.

"Look inside." His father ordered him.

He does as he's told.

Opening the bag that was originally his, but after a few vacations with you, you made it your own.

When he opens the bag, the first thing he sees is his lost bag.

"You find it." He says excited. "Merde, thank you so much." He was happy. All his things are secured with him.

He's about to hug his father but notices his cold expression.

"I found it, but I found it here."

Kylians frowns.

"That's impossible."

"Is it?"

"Dad, c'mon, what are you implying?"

Wilfrid thinks his words before saying them. "She had the bag Kylian."

But he knew she didn't. He was sure his girlfriend, the one who saw him cry in distress because of the lost of the bag.

"Non."

"Kylian, why would I lied?"

"Non, there has to be another explanation."

"Oh really, then tell me what it is?"

"Don't move."

He's furious. He walks fast looking for you.

"Y/n," he called your name, noticing you and his mother were talking. "Can I borrow you for a second."

"Sure, bébé. I'll be right back."

When you started walking upstairs, he grabbed your arm and hurried your steps.

"Ouch, Ky." You tried to let go, but he wouldn't.

Once he enters the shared room, you see his father.

"Ky, let go, please. You're hurting me."

His father is looking at you with an angry expression.

"What's wrong?" You ask, arm still on his hand. "Kylian, let me go. Please."

He let go of you. He was angry, you know by looking at his face.

"I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me." He says elevating the tone. "Where is my bag?"

"What?" You were confused. "Why would I know?"

"Don't." Wilfrid says. "You sure you don't know?"

"Why would I know?" You repeat. "Kylian, what the fuck?"

He walked to the bed, where the bag you used for your things during this vacation was laying. He opens it and pulls his bag.

"Want to explain yourself?" You look at Wilfrid and then back at Kylian.

You stayed quiet, the tension was thick.

"You believe I did this?"

Kylian is not looking at you anymore. He's looking at the window.

"Kylian," you call higher this time. "You believe I did this?"

He shakes his head. "No, I know there has to be an explanation for this."

"I don't understand." You wanted to cry. "Why would I do this?"

"I'll tell you why?" Wilfrid says. "Take this as you want, but you're a broken college student. You're full of debts. Don't think we don't know that." He says harshly. "So you did it as a way of pretending someone else did it. You know all his card codes it was easy money and bye debts."

You can feel your heart breaking. You didn't know his father had that image of you. Wonder if his whole family thinks the same.

"Kylian." You say out of breath. "You think that too?"

"No, of course no." He's trying to get to you, but you're backing away. "Dad, I don't think. No. Maybe you forgot you put it there."

You shake your head. "I didn't take it. Believe me."

"Then why was it there?" The harsh tone didn't cease.

"I don't know." You start to cry. "I didn't take it, Kylian, please."

"I think," he says before kylian could talk. "You need to pack your stuff and leave. I don't trust you around my son, and I'm not going to allow you to be here seeing what you did. I'm not going to allow a gold digger to be with my son."

You feel humiliated. The man you love is hearing how his father insults you and won't bat an eye.

"Kylian." You tried one more time.

"Kylian, go outside, go back to the party."

The way he obeys his father is incredible for you. He didn't even look at you. His head is hung down.

Once he left you two alone, Wilfrid walked up to you. "Pack your stuff, and don't try anything, I'll call you a cab." You nodded, scared.

He left the room, going downstairs, he sees Kylian chugging a whole glass of liquor. He can't imagine how he's feeling.

"Hey, dad." Ethan called his father attention. "Come here."

Ethan takes his father a little far from where his brother and friends are.

"Guess what I did." He's smiling like crazy.

"I don't know, tell me."

"Well, I spent the whole day at the airport, I found Kylian bag, I know he's down because of that, y/n told me how he's all sad. So I went there and they found it with the covers of the seats at the laundry station."

Wilfrid feels his blood turn cold.

"I left it in one of his bags and covered it with the towel, I'm telling y/n so she can surprise him. Have you seen her?"

The smile on Ethan face is making him feel worse, his eyes turning to Kylian, sitting at the couch trying not to break down. All because of him.

"Merde," he turns around, looking for you.

When he opens the door, he finds uncontrollably crying, packing all your stuff.

"Y/n," he says, getting closer.

"Don't worry, I'll be quick, I'm only taking my own stuff, that I bought with my own money."

He saw how you pack, not knowing how to fix the mess he created.

"Y/n." Ethan calls. "Y/n? What are you doing?" He's now worried. "Dad?"

"Ethan, please go downstairs." You say not wanting him to see you like that. "Please, it's okay, I'm fine. Just go."

"But."

"Go, I'm fine, E."

Wilfrid feels like throwing up, even when he had treated you like crap and accused you of something so terrible, you treated Ethan with such love.

Etha runs downstairs, looking for his brother.

"Kylian, come, please. I don't know what's going on, she's crying, she's packing."

All his friends turned to him, getting worried about the angst scene the little Mbappé is on."

"Kylian, move your fucking ass."

"Don't bother Ethan, just forget about it. Go eat something and ignore everything."

Everyone is looking at Kylian with amused expressions.

"Kylian, is this about the fucking bag? Because if it is, I already told dad that I found it, it's on your dior travel bag. Now can you please come."

His eyes snapped back at his brother. "You did what?"

"I found the fucking pouch, now come upstairs quickly."

Kylian pushes his friends in order to run upstairs. Finding his father outside of the door.

"What the fuck did you do? You told me she had it." He screams. His whole family and friends are now aware of the situation. "What the fuck?"

He enters the room, finding you closing your big suitcase. "Amour, please hear me out."

"Why?" You say angrily. "So you can let your father call me a gold digger again? For you to let me get humiliated by him?"

"What?"

You both turned to Ethan and Fayza, they're standing outside of the closet.

"Dad called you what?" Ethan asks.

"Ethan, please don't get involved into this."

"No! What the fuck is wrong with you, dad?"

"Ethan," you call him. "Please, don't do this."

Fayza and Wilfrid are arguing. She's trying to understand the situation.

"You," E, says, pressing his finger hard into his brothers chest. "Let's him call her a Gold Digger?"

"He said she took the fucking bag" he justified.

"Oh and you fucking believe that?" He laughs "Kylian, your girlfriend have had your whole bank account information for years, she had been taking care of important and expensive jewelry. And you believed that shit?"

You wanted to cry again, Ethan was right. You have been helping your boyfriend with his finances for a long time now, all because you were studying a financial career.

"Y/n, darling, grab your stuff, we're leaving." Fayza says angrily. "And you, she turns to Kylian. "You disappoint me so much, how could you?"

"Fayza, it's okay, I already called a friend." You don't want his family to have a fight because of you.

"Nonsense, you're coming with me. Ethan, help her with her things." Ethan runs to you. "You don't deserve this, I'm sorry."

You let Ethan take your suitcase downstairs.

"Y/n, please amour."

"No!" You push him away. "I've never done anything for you to doubt about me. I was the one who offered you to pay for the things at the hotel, I've been the one who takes care of your wallet and watches during games or parties." You pause, taking air, you wanted to let out everything. "I rejected your help when you offered to pay for my loans, I said no. You want to know why?" You turn to Wilfrid.

At this point, both Kylian and you are crying.

"Because I'm not here for the money, I earn my own, and yes, I'm a broken college student, but I know how to work hard for what I want."

He only look at his shoes.

"Please don't go, I need you."

"No, Kylian." You laugh. "You don't need me. Why would you need someone like me? To feel more important?"

"No, amour."

"Don't call me like that." You scream at him. "I don't want to see you again, I'm done."

"Please," he begged. "What am I going to do without you?"

"I don't know, Kylian." You shake your head. "But if you ever need a gold digger, call me up. Apparently, your father thinks I'm one."

[gisele0127]

Being Kunigami’s girlfriend after the wildcard :(

Warnings: Spoilers!, angst to fluff, grammar mistakes, not proof read, kind of rushed.

2 posts in one day😉☺️

You miss your boy. You miss how rensuke would look at you. You miss all the nicknames he’d call you. You miss how affectionate he used to be. You miss all the the dates he would take you on. You just miss your old boy.

Rensuke misses you too. He hates himself for what he has become. He’s afraid.

Rensuke has gotten buffer, his hair longer and messier. But most importantly his face. He looks so sad, so defeated. His eyes starting to have bags his whole demeanor has changed.

Rensuke remembers when he lost and got kicked out of blue lock. He hates himself. He hates how he let you down, how he let his sisters down, and how he let himself down. He doesn’t know how to face you when he goes back home. He knows you’ll be sad, he knows that he will cry in your arms when he finally sees you. But then the wild card happened. He thought he didn’t have to face you just yet. Maybe he can redeem himself one last time.

You don’t know what happened exactly during the wildcard. But when blue lock got their 2 weeks off so did Rensuke. You didn’t even know he was back until his little sister texted you. “Hey y/n, can you come over please Rensuke is acting super weird” your heart dropped. Why didn’t he text you the second he got out? You got so anxious thinking about it, you were nervous the whole walk to his house. You knocked on the door and Mrs. Kunigami opened it. “Oh y/n I missed you so much. Ren has been acting super weird and looks so…different. Do you know what’s going on?” Your heart drops again. “Uh no I’m sorry. I didn’t even know he was back until you guys texted me”

The walk to his room was nerve wracking. Why were you so nervous? You’re finally seeing your boyfriend after months. You walk in and you’re surprised to see your boyfriend who takes care of his appearance look like total shit. He didn’t notice you come in until you whispered “Ren baby, are you okay?” He looks startled to see you in his room. “What are you doing here I didn’t tell you to come over? What do you want?” You’re surprised by his reaction, because you expected your boyfriend to spring on to you and kiss you. You’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks and this is how it turns out? You turn visibly upset.

“What the fuck Ren? This is how you greet me? What’s wrong with you? I came because my own boyfriend is back and I haven’t seen him In months. I thought you’d be happy to see me. I missed you so much.” Your eyes start to turn glossy, you’re frustrated. He looks at you then scoffs. “Get out. I don’t want to see you right now” Now you’re extra pissed, why does he have an attitude? Ren never has an attitude he’s always so patient. Your anger gets to you and now you’re the one yelling “are you seriously kicking me out?! I want to spend time with you before you have to go back why are you acting so different. Why do you look so different?! You look like total shit and you’re acting like a total fucking douche!” Okay maybe you’re acting a little over dramatic but this better knock some sense into him.

“Get the fuck out. I don’t wanna see you right now, not tomorrow, not ever again. Don’t talk to me again. We’re over.”

Woah. Did he just break up with you? This is the last thing you expected. You turn pale your heart is beating fast. “Wait Ren! No you can’t mean that. Hey just talk to me babe! I’m your girlfriend that’s what you’re supposed to do!” He looks at you and with such disgust he says “ex girlfriend”. That’s when you walk out, into the living room where his family is sitting on the couch. Yup they definitely heard your argument. You can’t see the looks on their faces because you’re tearing up but you walk out.

You get back home, mascara ruined and your dad asks you, “where’ve you been?” You don’t answer him. You don’t want to because what are you supposed to say? You just got broken up with? Hell no it’s embarrassing enough that his family heard yalls argument. You go into your room and scream and cry. The last thing you expected just happened to you.

3 days pass by. Not a single text from Kunigami. To be quite honest, now you’re the one looking like shit. You haven’t gone to school, you can’t show your face anywhere. Your dad is worried but he’s on a work trip right now so he can’t comfort you. “Ask Kunigami to come over, he can always cheer you up.” Right. You still haven’t told your dad.

You hear a knock on the door. You don’t bother getting it, it’s probably just a package arriving. Another knock, harder and faster. By this time you’re annoyed. You go to the door yelling “coming!!” You swing the door open ready to tell someone off but right in front of the entrance to you house is your newly ex boyfriend. Kunigami Rensuke.

You’re flustered, not expecting him. Even more flustered because of what you’re wearing. Spandex and Kunigami’s old shirt. “Uh hey, is there something I can help you with?” You ask awkwardly. “I need to get all my stuff back” he says with no emotion. “Oh sure come in, uh lemme go grab some of your stuff from my room” Kunigami waits patiently on the couch, truth be told you had none of his stuff packed. You wanted to keep all of it.

After about 10 minutes you’re about to finish getting all of his stuff ( he had a lot, it was practically his second home ). Just as you stand up you feel big muscular arms wrap around your waist. You’re startled and mad. Who does he think he is? “Kunigami let me fucking go” you say with so much venom. “What happened to Ren?” He asks. “I’m not going to call you that anymore, we’re not dating remember?” At that he perks up, and lets you go. This time y’all are both facing eachother you get a good look at him and see his puffy eyes. Has he been crying?

You send him off his way and after 5 minutes since he’s been gone you hear another knock on the door. Ugh what does he want? You open the door and before you could say something he comes running in hugging you. “I miss you so much I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry. Please just let me explain myself please.” You know you should’ve said no, but you can’t this is the man you love. The man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

You let him in. You both are sitting on the couch awkwardly. “Uh what did you have to say” Kunigami stands up and sits closer to you, looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting. I’m so sorry. You know I love you right? I’ve loved you ever since I laid eyes on you. I love everything about you. I messed up. I should’ve told you what’s been going on, I should’ve told you everything from the start. Baby, I lost. I got kicked out of blue lock. I’m sorry. I let you down. But they gave me another chance, I could redeem myself. I took it obviously, my dream couldn’t just end there. But baby it was so hard. So fucking hard. I had to train till my body gave out. They wouldn’t let me talk to anyone. I was so lonely and isolated. I struggled for others people entertainment. I’m sorry. There’s so much more I wish I could tell you but that’s not the point. I can’t use that as an excuse for how I treated you. I was a shitty boyfriend. I’m sorry. I regret everything that I said. Every single thing. I was just ashamed of myself. Embarrassed. Baby I should’ve never broken up with you. I’m so scared right now. I just broke up with the girl I want to marry, the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with, the girl who I love most. I’m sorry. Please just take me back.”

He looks back at you because you haven’t said anything. You’re crying. Shit did he say the wrong thing? “Babe?” “Fuck you ren” you stand up and go to your room. So this is it? Kunigami will never forgive himself. Just as he’s about to open the front door, you come running and you jump on his back.

“HEY where are you going??!!” Kunigami looks back, and sees you carrying tissues. Oh. You left to get tissues. He didn’t notice he was crying until you force his face down kissing his tears away. You lean your forehead into his. “We will talk about this in the morning okay? I’m too tired to think” Kunigami is speechless. What? “You’re not mad?” “Im absolutely pissed right now, but I know you’ve been through a lot so I’m letting you go easy just this one time”

He smiles just as he’s about to say something you kiss him. The kiss is passionate and hungry leaving both of you off of breath. “What was that for?” “Just missed my beautiful boy. Come give me cuddles we haven’t cuddled in months”

He smiles thinking about how lucky he got.

[jackiepackiee]

𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝐹𝑒𝓂! 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒩𝒮𝐹𝒲

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - 𝒪𝒻𝒻𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓍

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎

Chuuya Nakahara. Gravity manipulator, port mafia executive, skilled martial artist. Your boyfriend… no, your man.

Stalking into his office, you offered a polite knock before entering. Knowing he didn’t mind your unexpected appearances on and off hours.

“Yes?”

His brown and blue eyes stayed focused on the paperwork in front of him. Fountain pen clutched lazily in his hand, carful to not drip ink.

“It’s me.”

“I know…”

Looking up at you, his chair shifted with his body weight as he moved himself from his slump over his desk to sit straight.

“Close the door.”

Obeying the order, you did. And the heavy mahogany clicked into his frame.

Long fingers motioned you over past his desk and into his lap.

“Fine, I’m coming I’m coming.”

He grabbed at your waist, and shifted you in his lap so you were both comfortable. Needy hands reaching to the plush of your thighs.

Without further warning, slightly chapped lips graced your neck. Gloved hands shifting your black button down to create an open patch of skin.

“Mmm.”

Every little groan was involuntary, but greeted without hesitation. More natural than breathing.

You shifted in his lap, the muscle of his thighs making a nice seat.

“You’re mine.”

He demanded, licking the soft skin on your neck. Speaking as if he was declaring something you both did not know. His girl.

“I know.”

Biting your lip was the only way to suppress the noises.

“I’d kill anyone who would try and change that.”

Hesitantly, you pull away. Carding your fingers through his hair. Taking out its band and swirling a lock. Eyes training on his, and his expression.

One of frustration, greed, and impatience.

“Did something happen?”

He seized your hand, and kissed the knuckles. Appreciating the lack of scars and bruises on your skin.

“Damn subordinates were eyeing you today. Pissed me off.”

His gripped tightened slightly, and his free hand traveled to secure your waist.

“Gentle now.”

“Sorry…”

Seconds later his lips were on yours. Softer, more care and consideration than desperation.

Until he moved to your neck again, and his teeth drove into your plush neck. Pulling a whimper you didn’t know you could make.

“You’re mine.”

Strong hands motioned your body to straddle his legs, which gave him a perfect view.

His lips moved back to yours, and his neck pushed forward to gain more contact.

“You’re such a good girl.”

Little whispers left his mouth between kisses.

“No one can touch you, or see this side of you. So fucking pretty.”

His hands roamed your body slowly and calculated. Making you shiver. Not a single thing would make him let go of you. Not now.

“I can feel you under me.”

You spoke as he moved his attentions back to your neck.

His hands landed on your hips, and started to move you again. Back, and forth. Grinding you onto him.

Every inch of himself was against you, and it pushed perfectly against. Sending a course of shocked through you, and forming a knot in your stomach.

Everything was warm.

“Mmm!”

You jumped a bit when he pushed you down onto him. His body felt perfect even with clothes on.

He smirked at your state, and let one of his thumbs wander up and down your waist.

“Having fun?”

“Mhm.”

You managed out, steadying yourself using his shoulders.

“Use your words, love.”

Fuck, he was so convincing.

“Yes.”

He kissed you gently. Tongue tracing your bottom lip.

“Good girl.”

Before reverting to a more teasing way that suited him.

He slammed you down, while be it very safety, onto him in a grinding motion. A groan left his lips, but he was far too focused on you.

Brown and blue eyes staring at you. Your face struggling to handle the pleasure, nails scratching his shoulders, mouth open from whimpering. And god, the sounds you made almost made him cum on the spot.

All you could do was close your eyes and enjoy the ride.

“Such a pretty sound baby.”

He praised, before halting your motion completely.

“What’s my name?”

Gloved fingers traced your jawline, and questioned you.

“Chuuya.”

A smirk adorned his face, and lust filled eyes looked at you with adoration.

“Atta girl.”

He allowed you to continue grinding, moving your hips against his. Forcing friction with his strong arms to make sure the pace stayed fast enough. Knowing your stamina was nothing compared to his.

“Say it again.”

“Chuuya.”

His grip grew tighter, and you moved impossibly faster against him. His pleasure providing the perfect hard spot to generate friction.

“Again.”

You choked out. The sound getting stuck in the mush of pleasure in your head. And his name couldn’t be said.

“Chuu.”

“One last time, my love.”

This was it, and he knew that. You, well you couldn’t really rationalize much.

“C…Chuu.”

Your thighs clamped around his hips, and started to shake and buck against him. He didn’t attempt to spot you, and allowed your movements to carry on.

“Good girl, good girl.”

Needy hands traveled to your chest, and played with the sensitive yet clothed mass.

“Gonna…”

He shushed you, and kissed your neck.

“It’s okay. It’s all okay love.”

Your nails dug into his white button up on his shoulders. Allowing yourself to not fall off of him.

You cried out a moan, mouth wide open and chest moving with breath. He watched in amazement.

"Good girl.."

He whispered again, holding you tightly against him. Chuuya was proud of himself for making you cry out like that, watching as you came down from your high.

"You're so good to me.."

Patting your head, he let you cuddle yourself against his body.

“Do you want me to do-”

He quickly shut down your offered of returned pleasure.

"No, darling.. No need."

Chuuya shook his head, he didn't want to push you too far. The man felt guilty even thinking about touching you when you were like this, exhausted.

"Let's just.. cuddle.. okay?"

He gave you a reassuring kiss and held you, nuzzling you against his body.

“Okay~”

You replied, body relieved at the peace.

“Was I too loud?”

"Just a bit.. you'll have to bite that lip of yours.."

He smirked, pulling your bottom lip down by your teeth, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

"But I liked every moment of it~"

[thecuriousbeauty]

One more to love

(Famous!reader x Husband!harry )

Synopsis- You decide to surprise your husband for Valentine's Day. Harry's on Tour in Canada, not expecting you at all. You get back home after a few fun filled days with him and only when you fall sick does a doubt arise in your head. Can love making on the day of love lead to a baby?

This can be treated as part 2 to this, or you can read it as a stand alone.

Word count:6.7K

Warnings: Smut, some really sweet intimacy, praising. Lots of fluff, Harry being the sweetest husband, mentions of performance anxiety, pregnancy. Oh and watch out for best friend! Niall

_____________________________________________________

You leaned over the mirror as you swiped red lipstick over your lips. You reserve wearing red lips for special occasions. It was safe to say that today was one. You were in Toronto, to surprise your husband for Valentine’s Day! He was on tour, and you were busy with a few song recordings so neither of you could see each other in the last two months.

"Do I look okay?", you asked your friend Kiara, as you smack your lips together, before stepping away from the mirror. 

"Hell, you look amazing.", Kiara said. You were wearing a sheer black top, ripped blue jeans and boots. You let your hair down in waves, and you were pretty satisfied with your look.

"He's going to get hard from just looking at you.", she said, making you laugh. “You sure you can’t come along?”

Kiara, one of your best friends is a model. You had flown out to Toronto with her from London. She had some work here for the next few days.

“Wish I could, but gotta go babe.”, Kiara pulls you into a hug. “Have fun with your man, eh?”

“Oh I will.”, you grin at the thought of seeing Harry. “I’ll see you soon Ki, thanks for helping me get ready.”

“Of course. See ya!”

You were now alone in the hotel room, your car was going to be here soon, that’ll take you to the venue Harry’s performing at. While you were putting on your heels, you got a call from another one of your best friend’s.

"Hello Nialler!”, you answer. If it wasn’t for Niall, you’d be a complete mess whenever you felt sad and alone about Harry being on tour. Even though Niall always annoyed the crap out of you, you know you’re lucky to have him as your close friend. You can count on him. 

"Can yeh explain why there is a huge bunch of roses, chocolates and a big teddy bear on yeh doorstep?", Niall asks, making your face light up. 

“Aw! That must be Harry. He might have had it shipped.”

“Yeh, looks like. I forgot it’s Valentine’s Day.” 

“Wait, why are you at my house? You breaking in when I’m not around?”, you gasped.

“Not sure if it’s breaking in if the owner gave me the keys.”, Niall snorts. “And I’m just dropping by to search for my favorite hoodie I think I left here.”

“Can you please move all the things Harry sent safely into the house for me?”

“What if it’s not Harry? What if it’s your secret admirer?”, Niall gasps, and you laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, wait! There’s a card. Yes, it’s Harold, alright.”

“Of course it is. What does the card say?”

“You can see for yourself when you’re back.”, Niall says, and you hear noises of him moving things. “I’m gonna leave everything here except the chocolates. They look good, y/n.”

“No! Harry got them for me!”

After you convinced Niall to leave your chocolates alone, and he found his hoodie, he was locking your house and rushing to work. Your car was here to take you to the venue, and you took your bag having things you got for Harry, before getting in. Jeff greeted you backstage and unfortunately for you, the show started a little bit earlier than the scheduled time so your man was already on stage. 

Never mind, you could wait until the show was over. 

Your heart did a leap as you finally saw your husband. He wore a pink suit, hair perfectly done, and the crowd screamed as he moved around on stage. You loved watching Harry perform. He was in his element. 

Something was thrown to him onstage and he caught it. He got to know that it was a bra only when he looked at it and he shrieked, throwing it away. 

"Excuse me?", Harry said into the mic. "No throwing me bras, you know why?"

"WHY?”

"Because I'm a happily married man!", he did a dramatic hair flip and showed the crowd his hand bearing the wedding ring, making you giddy. That was your man right there. "The only bra I'd like to catch is my wife's and my wife's only!"

You blushed.

You hid when the team came off stage.

“Good show, guys, well done.”, Harry says as he makes sure to hug all his team members.

"Wait, Harry, we have a surprise for you.", Claire said. 

Harry turns to look at her, smiling already. He loves surprises. "I do?" 

"Yes.", she said. "Would you kindly close your eyes?"

"Why?"

"Mitch, please do the honors."

Mitch closed Harry’s eyes with his palms. “What the hell?”

Mitch just laughed in reply. You came out of your hiding place, and the people on his team who didn’t know that you were here gasped, some of them clapped waiting for Harry’s reaction. 

"What? Is it the President?", Harry joked.

As he stood there clueless, Mitch pulled away and you wrapped your arms around him. You were so happy to be in his arms again. You squeezed his waist, pressing your head against his chest. Harry quickly wrapped his arms around you when he realized it’s you. Only you could fit like a perfect little puzzle in his arms.

Harry hugged you tighter and kissed the top of your head. "y/n?”, he whispers.

"Happy Valentine's day baby!", you smiled at him and pulled away. Then you got down on one knee and pulled out a rose bouquet from behind your back offering it to him. His hands flew to his mouth in shock.

"F-For me?", Harry squeaked looking at the beautiful flowers. You beamed and nodded. Other guys might not like flowers so much, but Harry does, and you know it.

"T-thank y-you.", Harry stuttered and took them. He remained speechless with shock for a while and you let him take his time. You were still on one knee so he shifted the flowers to one hand and held your hand with the other, pulling you up. 

"H-Hi.", Harry blurted out and you giggled, kissing his cheek.

"Hey."

"Are you r-real?"

You laughed and stood on your tiptoes, closing your eyes before pressing your lips to his. Harry closed his eyes too, pulling you closer by your waist, feeling himself getting lost as the kiss deepened. As much as you wanted to keep kissing him, you were around others, so you pulled away slowly. “Does it seem real now?”

"Too much PDA!", Mitch complained, covering his eyes.

"Deal with it buddy!", you said. 

 Harry looked from her to Mitch. "Did you know?", he asked Mitch.

"We all did.", he said motioning to the rest of his crew. 

"See babe, Kiara had the fashion week here, so I flew with her to surprise you. I told these guys and made them promise not to tell you. I'm sorry for not answering your calls today, now you know why. Did you get surprised?", you explained, still in his arms.

"I-I yeah!", Harry said and you giggled and hugged his neck. 

"Oh H, you look like a tomato.", Sarah said. Harry shot her a glare. 

"Cute though.", you  kissed his nose. "I love you.", Harry whispered. He cupped your cheeks and stroked his thumbs on them, taking in every part of you, a smile tugging at his lips. His eyes fixed on your plump red lips, his favorite lipstick on you. “God, I fucking love you. You look incredible, love."

“Thank you, so do you! And, I love you too.”

Harry grinned. “Thank you so much for coming, this is the best Valentine’s day present ever. You! I’m so happy. Did you watch me perform!?”

“Of course I did! You were great!”

"Thanks! How long are you gonna be with me?"

"Um, four days. I go back to London Saturday morning.", you said softly, and his face fell. 

"I-Including today?"

You shook your head. "From tomorrow."

You know Harry still wished he had you for some more time.

"Babe, it's okay, we'll make the best out of what we have.", you said. "And soon you're going to be on the UK leg, so we can see each other more, cheer up now.", you said, poking his cheeks with your index fingers and he smiled, nodding.

“I’m so glad you’re here, I was going crazy without you.", he said, nuzzling his head into your neck. You ran your hand through his hair and smiled in content. "Me too, I will fly over anytime for you." Harry kissed your neck.

"These are beautiful. Wait, so you didn't get the ones I sent you?", Harry asked about the flowers.

"Sorry no, but Niall’s got it all safe in the house..", she said. "Aw, here, we'll share.", he said and took a single rose out and gave it to you. You chuckled. "Thanks babe."

"Give me a few minutes to freshen up and we can get out of here.", Harry said, already shrugging off the suit. You went to talk to the crew while Harry was gone. He got back in record time.

"Let's go?"

 "Yep." He kissed your cheek, as he took your hand in his. "How can someone be so pretty?", he wonders, making you blush. "Stop it, babe."

He laughs, nudging his nose against your cheek. "What do you wanna do tonight?"

"Whatever you want."

"No, your choice."

"I'm fine with anything."

"I am too."

"Harryyy.”

He laughed as you walked. “We could go out for dinner at some fancy place. Or we can go to the hotel room, just me and you there." Harry was leaning to the second option but he still wanted you to pick. He was already having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

“Let’s go to the hotel room, I like me and you time.”, you winked.

So you made it to his hotel room, and while your luggage was being brought in, Harry kept the roses you gave him safely in a vase. Then he closed the door and tugged you into his arms, lips attacking yours again. You jumped a little so you could wrap your legs around his waist, and he hums in pleasure as one of his hands grips the back of your neck, and the other around your hip, keeping you steady. He bites your bottom lip, and you open your mouth, letting his tongue explore your mouth.

“I missed you so much.”, you breathe when he pulls away for a second. 

“I missed you more, kitten.", Harry moves his lips to your neck, making you moan softly as you arched your neck back. You loved that nickname he had for you. “What did you miss about me?”, he asks.

“Oh everything.”, your hands play with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Everything about you, Harry.”

“Yeah? Did you miss my cock?”, Harry asks, taking your top off with one hand. He tossed off your bra in seconds, groaning as he squeezed your breast in his hand. You moaned at the feeling, you missed being touched by him. “S-So much.” 

You could feel his dick getting hard, it was pressing against his stomach and your clothed center. “You miss my pussy?”, you ask him.

“Bloody hell, I’ve been dreaming about it every fucking day.”, Harry mumbles as he takes you to bed, lips leaving marks down your neck. “You gonna let me fuck your pretty little pussy today? As a Valentine’s day gift for me?”

“I don’t know, should I? You left me all alone to go on tour.”, you pout, gasping softly as you land on the bed, and Harry slides out of his pants before crawling over you. 

“I know, I’m sorry, my heart.”, Harry mumbles, sliding his hands to your hips. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah? Make you feel so good.”

“I’d love that.”, you smile, and moan as his lips wrap around your nipple. You move your hand to feel his crotch, making him groan. “Get it all off, let me see you.”, you whisper. Harry listens, letting your nipple out of his mouth with a ‘pop’ and quickly pulling off his shirt and his boxers. You slide down your jeans, while your eyes roam over his body. His broad tattooed chest was heaving up and down and his sculpted abs made you want to run your hand over them. Your hand dips lower to his dick, which was hard and standing up straight. 

“See what you do to me, kitten?”, Harry asks, fingers looping around the waistband of your panties. He moans as you stroke his dick. “I need to be inside you.”

“Yes, fill me up, babe.”, you lift your hips so he can slide your panties down your legs. “Let me see that pussy, been waiting for so long.”, he pushes your thighs apart and groans at the sight of your pussy. It was glistening, dripping down with your arousal. 

“Never seen a pussy this pretty.”, Harry collects the arousal, bringing it to his lips. “Oh. You taste so sweet, baby.”

You moan as he dips his fingers inside you. “I think your little hole has gotten tighter, sweetheart. Didn’t have my dick in it for two months, hm? Poor baby.”

“P-Please Harry.” You needed to feel full. 

“Gonna give you what you need, love. Always take care of you.” Harry circles his thumb over your clit, making you arch your back and let out another moan. “Did it feel good when you touched yourself, baby?”

“Y-Yes, but not as good as when you do it.” Harry smiles, capturing your lips in a kiss. “Don’t worry baby, I’m here to take care of you now.” 

Harry slips his dick inside your pussy, and you throw your head back on the pillow, moaning. He slowly pushed his dick inside, and you realized just how much you missed having him inside you. Phone sex does the job for both your needs, but the intimacy, the closeness that you get when you’re together, phone sex doesn’t give you that. 

“Oh fuck..it feels so good.”, Harry moans, hovering over you. He was letting you adjust since it has been a while. You pull him down closer, hands going to his back. “Y-You can move, babe.”

Harry thrusts his hips, and the rooms fill with sounds of pleasure. No other man has ever made you feel so good. You didn’t even know sex could feel so amazing, until you met Harry.

“Fuck you’re so perfect.”, Harry squeezes your boobs. “You’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, yes, all yours, fuck, right there....” His dick moved in and out of you at a steady pace, hitting all the right spots. He knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what you needed. You saw pure love and adoration in his eyes when you looked at him, and you brought your hand to the side of the bed, opening your palm. Harry grabs your hand, letting you hold it. 

“Shit, are you c-close babe?”, Harry asks, quickening his pace, making you curl your toes. “Oh yeah, yeah I’m gonna cum..”

“Cum around me, kitten, all over my dick.”, Harry presses kisses to your shoulder. You reach your high soon, and Harry kisses you through it. Harry couldn’t hold on any longer, he also cums right after you do. 

“I love you.”, he breathes, collapsing on top of you. You smile, holding him close, running a hand through his curls. “I love you too.”

He brings your tangled hands up to kiss the back of your hand. “M’ so lucky you’re my wife, and proud.” 

“Me too. Seeing all those girls going crazy for you today, and knowing that you’re gonna be in my arms later? No better feeling.”, you winked, and he laughs, pressing another kiss to your lips before lifting up on his hands and moving down on the bed, separating your legs again.

“I’m very hungry.”, he explains, looking away from your eyes and to your pussy. He hums, pushing some of his cum leaking out of you back inside with his fingers. “Gonna let me eat, kitten?”

______________________________________

“Those butter tarts were so good, I should have thrown some in my bag for later.”, you whisper to Harry as you walk back from the breakfast buffet, hand in hand. The plan was to go out sightseeing today, Harry said he could arrange a car. 

Harry hums. “They were good. Think Canada’s famous for them.”

"Good morning!" Mitch and Adam popped out of nowhere, just as you were about to step into the elevator. "Where did you guys come from?", Harry chuckled. "Oh we were just-"

"Hanging around.", Adam completed.

Mitch nodded. "Hanging around."

"Great, morning, we gotta go.", Harry said and you nodded, waving to them. "Wait.", Mitch said. "Did you have a really nice night yesterday?"

"Yes.", you both said in chorus. He smirked and exchanged glances with Adam as they giggled. "I could hear you guys even with earphones.", Adam said and you blushed.

"Oh shut up.", Harry said, waving him off.

"No kidding, I was this close to banging on your door.", Mitch said, showing a little bit with his index and thumb fingers. "How was your night Mitch?", you ask back. 

"Um, just like every other night, play video games after the show.", he mumbled.

"But yesterday was Valentine's Day.", you said.

"Uh huh so?"

"So, you’re just lonely cause you can't make a move on Sarah, how long are you going to keep saying you're friends?", you shoot back, making Harry and Adam burst out laughing. Mitch gave you a glare. 

"Roasted.", Harry whispered to him and kissed your cheek, continuing to walk. "That is not true!", Mitch said.

"Yeah right.", Adam said sarcastically. "Come on mate, she's right, you had the perfect chance to take her out yesterday."

"He should learn from me.", Harry said, slipping his arm around your waist pulling you closer. "Ask the girl out before she goes away, cause she might just be the love of your life."

"Is it?", you tease. "Mhm. I love you."

You kissed him. "I love you too."

______________________________________________________________

“Ok, lets play a game…”, Harry started.

“You have to shoot these grapes into my mouth and every time you miss I get to dare you to do something in front of all these people."

 “Ok but only if you play too.” Harry nodded. After some sightseeing, you wanted some place quiet and to be alone, so you found a place for a picnic, got a basket from one of the stores and sat by a lake. It was your kind of perfect.

“I'll go first.", Harry said while taking a grape. "Open wide." You moved a little away from him and opened your mouth wide. 

Harry squinted his eyes aiming and shot it into your mouth. “WOO!” Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and doing a victory dance.

"Yeah whatever, my turn." He grinned and opened his mouth. You carefully aimed and threw it, but it hit the side of his lips instead of going in.

"Nooo."

"Yeah!! I dare you to…hmm… go ask that little boy for his number.” he said, pointing to a little boy.

 “WHAT?! That's creepy, he's like 7 years old!", you said. "A dare's a dare kitten.", he smirked.

"Okay fine, watch me.", you ruffled his hair before getting up and walking to the boy who was playing football all alone. 

"Hey buddy?" You wave at him. He looked up at you. "What?" 

"I look at your shirt, it’s cool.”, you said and smiled. "Uh, thanks.", he mumbled in a Canadian accent.

"Hey can I get your number real quick?” You cringed at how that came out, but it was a dare.

He looked at you again, now checking you out. "Where are you from, pretty lady?"

You chuckled. "Um, London?"

"You can get my number on one condition."

"What?"

"You have to play soccer with me."

You smiled and nodded. "Sure, can we call my friend too?" You pointed at Harry giggling in the distance. "Of course."

"COME ON FRIEND, WE'RE PLAYING SOCCER!", you yelled. His eyes grew wide as soccer balls.. 

"FRIEND?  YOU ARE MARRIED TO ME!", Harry marched up to you and you laughed. The boy took your hand and looked at the wedding ring.

"That is not cool, you want my number after being married?"

"It was a dare, you are not giving her your number.", Harry caught up. You pinch his arm. "Come on babe, he's a kid."

"What's your name?", you ask the boy. "Dan.", he said. "Is the offer still up for soccer?" He grinned and nodded. "Foot ball.", Harry muttered under his breath and you chuckled and kissed his cheek.

"What's your name tattoo man?", Dan asked Harry and he scoffed, as if the boy was some competition to him.

"I'm Harry."

He grinned and pulled you off to play with him.

"What is it with you and kids? You're like honey, and they're like bees.", Harry said as he tackled Dan with the football.

"I'm quite likable, you know...", you say as Dan passes the ball to you.

"We're going to get arrested if his mum finds us and thinks we're kidnappers."

___________________________________________________

"I have a show tomorrow.", Harry said slowly, leaving kisses down your neck. You were cuddling in his bed.

"Uh huh, and?”

"And, I can have special guests on my shows."

"Who do you have tomorrow?"

He looked up and gave you a look. "How did I end up with you?"

You grinned, tweaking his nose. "I give an awesome blowjob?"

He smiled and bit your nose. "True that. And I was talking about you, you dummy! You can sing a few songs with me if you’d like.”

"What-no.", you began shaking your head. "Harry there are more than twenty thousand people in your shows, not all of them like me."

"They love you, darling. You don't have to worry about the few who are just in their own imaginary world. I’d really love if I had my wife on stage singing with me.”

How could you say no to that face? Harry jutted out his bottom lip, making him look all cute. "Jeff will talk to Mel, I'm sure she'll agree.", he says. Mel was your manager. And before doing anything that might send the public into a frenzy, you had to talk to Mel.

"What if I freak out at the last minute?"

"That's normal."

"How's that normal?"

He chuckled and kissed your collarbone. "For you it is. You freak out before going onstage, then when you get in your zone, you're wonderful."

You smiled and pecked his lips. "You'll be there, promise? And will you protect me if your fans throw their heels at me?"

He giggled and kissed the tip of your nose. "I will darling, promise."

The last time you sang with Harry on stage was during One Direction’s last show. You had been their opening act. That’s how you started your music journey. Singing for the boys was like a dream come true. It was the best opportunity you got at that time, when you were just starting out. That’s also how you fell in love with the curly haired, dimpled lad. 

_____________________________________________________ 

"Yeah but, I haven't sung in front of that many people in a long time, Ni.", you murmur as you talked to Niall on the phone while you got your makeup done. You had done rehearsals with Harry, and all was good, but you have a ritual of freaking out a little before going on stage. 

"y/n, you'll do fine.", Niall said. "And Harry's onstage with you, so what's there to worry about?"

"Yeah, you're right. And um what do you do with your hands when you're not holding a guitar onstage?" You were not going to have a guitar around you like you do on your shows. Niall burst out laughing. 

"I'm being serious!" 

"You're so funny. What can I say about doing things with your hands? I think you'd better ask your husband that." You groaned. "Niaaaaall."

He laughed. "Stop over thinking, y/n, it’ll be fine..”

"Right, see you soon.”

"Yep. Love you, all the best, you don't need it but just in case his fans throw eggs at you?"

You gasped. "WILL THEY?"

"I was kidding! No, they won't."

 "Hopefully. Love you too, bye Nialler."

“Bye love, tell Harold I said hi!”

You smiled and got up from the chair as the stylist handed you a beautiful dress. "This is cute!"

After you put it on, and got your hair done, you went backstage where the rest of the crew were.

Mitch let out a whistle as he saw you and Harry looked up who was fiddling with his ear piece. Harry's eyes widened and his lips spread into a smile.

"Do I look okay?", I asked him, who looked unbelievably good in that purple suite. 

"Okay? You look beautiful!", Claire squeezed your shoulder.  "Thanks, so do you.", you said back and she smiled and bowed. "Why thank you."

"You're stunning, darling.", Harry said. "That rhymed!", Mitch played a dramatic strum on his guitar. 

You saw Sarah shaking her head and smiling at him from the corner of your eyes. "Thanks, you look amazing." You said, pecking Harry's lips. "Thank you.", he beamed.

"Will you be mad if I mess up?", you ask.

He chuckled and kissed your nose. "You won't mess up."

"I might, you know."

"Baby you won't, trust me, I know. And no, I won't be mad, I'm really happy that you agreed to sing on my show, it's the effort that counts."

"Yeah right, say that when I mess up."

He laughed and tugged you into a hug. "Famous young sensation or not, you haven't changed one bit, love."

"Famous young sensation?" You laughed.

"That's what the media calls you!", he said laughing too.

You smiled. "You love me the way I am, why would I change?" 

He grinned. “Exactly, glad you know that. I love you, will you be okay?"

"I'll be okay."

"Don't go anywhere."

"I won't."

"See ya."

You kissed his lips and then his cheek. "I love you too, have fun."

"Will do." He grinned and kissed your forehead before he had to get going.

You did some vocal exercises in the meantime. You've dealt with some anxiety when it comes to shows, and Harry really helped you during your early days. He's helped you a lot, to get to who you are today.

You figured Harry prepared his set list for you, because it had all your favorite songs of his. You sang along with him from where you stood. He also sang If I could Fly, which he wrote for you during 1d days, and you got a bit teary eyed as he looked straight at you after the song.

Finally, it was time for you to be on stage.

"We have an extra song for you guys today." Screams just as he said that. "And a very special guest who has stolen my heart.”

You smiled.

 "PLEASE WELCOME, MY WONDERFUL WIFE Y/N STYLES!"

YouI took a breath before walking to the stage and the crowd started roaring. You waved with your hand not holding the mic. 

When you walked up to Harry, he smiled, hugging you gently and kissing your cheek. "SURPRISE?", he said to the crowd and you laughed as they shouted back 'Yes!'

"I thought so. She's here to sing one of her songs, also one of my favorites, with me!" 

You said hi to the crowd, and nodded at Harry, telling him you were ready. The band started playing the music and you started singing. Harry took his ear pieces out wanting to hear you.

His face broke into a cute smile as he swayed and looked at you while you sang. Harry didn't join you for the first verse and chorus. He sang the second verse. 

He looked at you while singing and you both eventually forgot the crowd and faced each other.

When you finished the song, Harry had a proud grin, like that’s my girl. You grinned back, wrapping your arms around his neck as you hugged him.

"I love you, y/n.", he whispered, kissing your hair. "I love you too, H.”

__________________________________________________

It was the day you were flying back to London. The last few days were so much fun and it went by so fast. Both of you were quiet that morning. You got some cuddles in, showered together, just enjoying each other’s presence before you had to part again. You were stuffing some of your last minute things into your bag with a sad frown on your face.

Harry was sitting on the bed, watching you. “Babe.”, he calls and you turn around to look at him. 

“Come here.”, he pats his lap.

You happily sat on his lap and cuddled into his arms. Harry held you close, kissing the top of your head. 

"So you'll come over and sing for free whenever I call you?"

"Hey, who said it was free? I need a hefty paycheck before I go.", you joked.

Harry laughs, kissing your cheek. "Think your manager has got it already."

"What? I was just joking, babe. I don't need to be paid for your show, you're my husband!"

"Yes, but you're also a gifted singer.", he squeezed your thigh. You press a kiss to his forehead. "All because of you. Thank you for everything you've done for me."

Harry shakes his head, smiling. "It's all you, love. Your hard work."

You played with the curls on the back of his head, as you remained quiet for a few minutes.

"Thanks for coming to see me even while having a busy schedule, love. It means a lot to me.”, he murmurs.

You kissed his neck. "Of course. We should do it again soon.”

Soon, it was time for you to go. Harry came with you to the airport, where you met with Kiara again.

"You shouldn't have come.", you tell Harry as you wait for the flight announcement.

"Why not? You didn’t want me to send you off?"

"Because I'll start crying in front of everyone."

He chuckled and squeezed your hand. "When has that ever stopped you before?"

"Not important.", your voice dropped a little. "Come with me?"

The bright green of his eyes faded. "You know I can't sweetheart, I would love to.". he said, putting his arm around you, and curling you to his side. You nodded, curling your fingers around his shirt.

"Hey,"he whispered, kissing your shoulder. "Don't be upset."

"I'm not.", you wiped under your nose.

"But don't lie either." You smiled a bit and kissed his forehead. "Maybe I am a bit."

He smiled back, brushing his fingertips along the skin peeking out of your top.

"If you need anything, seriously, anything, just call me. I don't care what time it is, or whatever. Even if it's just to talk, or take something off your chest, don't carry it around babe.", he said.

You nodded and ran a hand through his curls. "What are you going to do after reaching home?", he asks.

"Sleep and cry."

He chuckled. "Don't cry."

"You have no rights to say that after doing this to me."

He laughed again and pressed a kiss to your nose. "You’re so cute. I love you so much.”

______________________________________________

As soon as you got home, you saw the huge packages that Harry had sent you for Valentine’s Day. You began tearing it open. You saw a huge shiny red heart box. You opened it and out popped a teddy bear holding 'I love you'. You giggled and took it out. You set the box of your favorite chocolates aside to devour later. Then there was a super soft and fuzzy blanket which you rubbed against your cheek, instantly falling in love. Harry's the best. There was also a scented candle.

Then your eyes fall on the card Niall mentioned. The front is decorated with balloons and hearts. You knew Harry took the time to make it himself. You opened it. 

Hi darling, good morning, good afternoon or good night. I'm not really sure when you'll get this, you know. Happy Valentine's Day! 

So where do I start? I miss you, that's a good point to start. I miss you and I would do anything to be with you now but I am so sorry that I can't. I do want to cover you in kisses and hug you and never let you go. This is our first Valentine's Day after being married, and the third in total. This is supposed to be a day dedicated to your loved ones but I don't get it sometimes, my whole life is dedicated to you.

"Don't cry, don't cry, keep it together y/n.", you mumbled to yourself, while sniffling... 

Did you know you make me so happy that sometimes I actually forget to breathe? I'll be looking at you, my chest explodes and all I want to do is take you in my arms and kiss you. You're breathtakingly beautiful. My life found a new meaning and passion when I met you. The way you look at me, talk to me, touch me, hug me, kiss me, everything, makes me feel very special. I wanna thank you for always being there, for forgiving me whenever I have messed up horribly, for trusting me after everything you've been through and for loving me. I hit the jackpot when I found you, you're perfect y/n, so damn perfect, I swear. I could go on and on about you, you know, I have to wind up. I hope you like everything I sent you. I miss you and I love you, y/n. I'm always here for you, whatever you need, I'm here. 

P.S- Sorry if the drawings are bad, but I wanted to do it myself. If that makes you laugh then so be it, your laugh could cure diseases, that's how beautiful it is. I have to stop, god, I'm rambling even while writing. I'll call you as soon as the show is over. Have an amazing day my gorgeous forever valentine. 

Bucket loads of love,

Your sexy hot husband, Harry.

______________________________________________

1 month later:-

"Uh how about lunch?', Niall asked.

"I'm not hungry.", you whined and curled around in the blankets.

"But you have to eat when you're sick.", he said. You were in the couch, curled up. You’ve been feeling a bit sick since the past few days. 

"I might throw up if I eat.", you said.

Niall sighed. "Have you told Harry?", he asked, looking down at you in concern.

"No, don't tell him."

"Why not?"

"Cause he'll be worried for no reason and he can't concentrate on what he's doing.", you said. YouI just wanted to cuddle in your husband’s arms right now but of course that can't happen.

“Do you want me to go grab you some medicine or something?”, Niall asks. You smile and shake your head.

“I’m fine, Ni. You can go if you’re busy..”, you tell your friend, patting his arm. Niall was worried about you, so he dropped by to see for himself.

“I’m free today.”, Niall said.

"Can we watch a movie?", you asked hopefully. He smiled, ruffling your hair. "Course we can, if I get to pick.", he added. 

You talk to Niall as you watch the movie, and when Niall goes to get some snacks from the kitchen, you get a thought. You hadn’t got your period this month. Now, you were feeling sick. 

“Oh shit. No way.”, you gasped, and sat up.

“What’s wrong? You gonna puke again?”, Niall asks, munching loudly as he comes back with two bags of chips.

“No. I didn’t get my period!”

“Isn’t that good? You complain about cramps.”, Niall shrugs, sitting down beside you. You smack his arm, making him yelp. “Ow! What’s that for?”

“I-I could be pregnant!”

Niall’s big blue eyes widened, his munching slowing down in pace. “Wow.”

You stood up, your heart beating fast. So many thoughts ran through your mind. You know Harry wants to have kids someday, and so do you, but it’s not even been a year since your wedding and you both are so busy right now, with your careers. 

“Oh god..i-it can’t be, right?”

Niall sees just how freaked out you’re getting in, and he cleans his hand before keeping it on your shoulder. “y/n, look at me. Deep breath. You don’t know for sure. And if you are pregnant, I’m sure you both will figure it all out, okay?”

You nod, taking a deep breath like he said. “I s-should take a pregnancy test.”

Niall nods. “Do you have any?”

“I think I have one. I’ll get some more later. I-I’ll uh..be right back.”

Niall gives you a hug. “I’ll be here, hm? You do what you have to do.”

“Thanks Niall.”, you whisper, squeezing him before pulling away and heading upstairs. You had two pregnancy tests laying around just for emergencies like these. It wasn’t the first time you were having pregnancy scares.

You decided to use both the tests, and you waited anxiously. You’ve always wanted to be a mom, and Harry would make an amazing dad, no doubt. You were just worried about the timing of it all. 

Finally, it was five minutes and you took a look at both of them. Both showed a similar result.

Two lines.

“O-Oh my god.”, you gasped, your eyes welling up with tears. There was a human life inside you. You were going to be a mother!

_____________________________________________________

You were counting down days, waiting for Harry to come home. Tour would still go on once he’s back, but it would be the UK leg, so at least he’d be close. The only people who knew you were pregnant were your gynecologist, Niall and Kiara.You didn’t want to tell your husband the news over the phone, so you waited.

You thought of different ways to tell Harry you were pregnant, but then you decided just to show him the pregnancy test. You were too nervous for anything else. 

Finally, it was the day Harry was coming back home, and you rushed to get the door as you heard the doorbell.

There stood your tall, curly, handsome husband. He wore a black shirt with the first few buttons open showing off his tattooed chest, paired with his usual skinny black jeans. His eyes were bright, and his face broke into a charming smile as he took you in.

Even after traveling for hours, he looked like that.

He let his luggage drop to wrap you up in his arms. “I’m home, baby!!”

“You are!”, you giggled as he spun you around. He grinned as he kept you down, only to grab your face. “You gonna kiss me or what?”, you smirk, and he laughs, closing the distance between your lips’. 

You pulled him inside and closed the door. “Oh it smells so good, darling, and I’m starving.”, Harry hums, putting his arms out again. “Another hug, please. Missed you so much.”

You smile. “I have a surprise for you before that.”

“You’re surprising me every time we meet, kitten.”, he chuckles. You pulled out the pregnancy test from your pocket, and held it out. 

Harry’s jaw hung open and a range of emotions flashed through his eyes.You waited for him to come down from his state of shock and when he did, he choked out, “R-Really?”

You nod, smiling through your tears. “I-I’m pregnant, Harry.”

Harry laughed, but the tears were gushing out of his eyes. “W-We’re gonna have a baby. y/n, sweetheart, this is amazing.” Your head crashed against his chest as he tugs you into his arms again. 

“You’re happy?”, you whisper, looking up at him. 

“Of course I’m happy.”, he sniffles, touching his forehead to yours. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too, Harry.” Harry brings a hand to your middle, and you smile, placing your hand over his as he greets your baby.  “Hey there, little Styles. It's your daddy."

_______________________________________________

Taglist: @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan

Please let me know if you want me to add you to my taglist! Please Reblog and like to support my writing. Thank you so much for reading:)

[chodzacaparodia]

And again, Blue Lock boys wish you a nice day  ♡ ♡

Part 1

[lady-ashfade]

Can I place an order of Blueberry Pie with Villain Class 1-A. Please and Thank You.

Broken Shoes

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Villain!Au!Class 1A x College!Waiter!Reader. (Reader doesn’t have pronouns in this)

WORDS: 2.1k

WARNINGS: Yandere!Behaviors, Everyone is in their 20s, Posted Late, Dark!Romance, Reader Is Just From America But Any Race, Villan Au, Non-Quirk Au, Is the reader is claimed any pronouns tell me so I can fix it.

Bakery event.

A/N: I got a idea from the requester of what they wanted since it has taken me so long, thankful so much for them!!

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚ 🫐 🥧 ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

The first incident was when your shoe feel apart on your way home, the bottom coming undo and looked and sounded like a flip flop. It was rough because they had been your shoes for years, they had to give up sometime. But you didn’t have enough money to pay for a new pair. The only thrift store was a long ways away from where you live and you’d never have the extra money for train ride. So you did what you could…And tried to make it work again. With glue and your sewing kit and then had something to last you a few more weeks.

You set up a new jar in your kitchen by the window, next to the bigger blue jar with the labeled “computer”, while this one was pink and for shoes. You worked at a shitty diner in Japan, a American experience which was perfect since you moved here in your late teen years from the US. The day belonged to collage classes for you’re own business degree to work in more places and maybe start a chain of your own. And after you worked as long as you could to make it through life.

“Mornin’,” you greet your manager. The older woman smiled as she took the rag and whipped off the white counter, the lights from the screens hitting her back to make her pink outfit pop. Hana was the nicest woman you ever met, she was shorter then you with a plump body, her age showing in her skin but her face remained chubby and almost wrinkle free. After any day you had, you knew her warm smile could make you feel better.

While helping around you both chatted about your day and how it went, her more leaning towards your story while making short answers for her day. So, you told her all about school and even some things you learned and studied before customers began the walk through the doors, one after the other and so forth. The conversation died and you did your job.

“Enjoy your evening!” You shout as the last pair of people leave and you lock the doors behind them before exhaling as your body grows tired. The night had come to a end as the moon stood in the darken sky to shine just a bit of light on the streets. Not like they need it with the street lights and building lights.

“Hana, I’ll be in the bathroom.” You shout. Making your way to the bathroom your feet drag as the night hits you like a ton of bricks. The rush hour today was busier then it had been in a few weeks.

Hana was in the back to punch in all the things that happened while taking the money out of the cash register to count it. Her eyes trailed up to the metal door where the trashcans stayed after someone had knocked. It wasn’t un normal to her since she gave a few homeless people food when there was some left over, so she figured it would be them. Her feet took her to the door and her fingers unlocked the handle, before pushing it open with a bright smile.

“Kenji, how can I help you?” She spoke to nothing but air.

Hana blinked her eyes a few times before realizing no one was there, not a person in sight just a empty alleyway. Now this was strange. The knocking was loud and had to be made intentionally. The one thing that made sense of it was when she looked down there was a box with a bow.

Hana brought it to the main room and set it on the counter, just in time for you to exit the bathroom with a sour look on your face. “You got a present.” She exclaimed.

As you examined the box you saw a card attached,

“To: Y/n.

Hope you can find this helpful, thank you for the amazing service.”

The first thought you had was, who could have sent it, before even opening the box. There was a older couple who commented on your shoes but they didn’t seem like the type, and a man in a suit also had his opinions on your attire though he seemed too stingy for that. But you stopped thinking to see what was inside and hoped it wasn’t to grand.

When your eyes hit the shoes they widened a bit, they were perfect. They didn’t look too expensive but brand new with no stains on them or nothing. They looked good to work in, to jog, and to do anything you wanted.

“I bet it was that yellow haired man,” Hana commented out of the blue. You turn your head and tilted it to the side, who was she talking about? You’ve seen so many customers with yellow hair…

“Don’t give me that look dear. The cute one who always stares at you, and never complains and has you talking for hours.” you blink a few times before placing a face to the scenario.

Denki? Yeah, you think that’s his name. He always comes in every other Thursday with the same order, same questions and never wants you to leave his table. He was a sweet man, but flirtatious and sometimes you think you’ve seen him before but never have a clue. Today he came in just as before, made a few flirty jokes that you played along to, and had to rush off since it was a full diner.

“Hmm, maybe. I’ll just have to wait and see if they reveal themselves.” You hummed before going back to cleaning.

That wasn’t the only time random gifts showed up.

Each couple of weeks a new one popped up out of the blue. You’d be in the library and looking of books to help your course studies but find non, or even looking them up on the computer and find out they are too expensive to buy on your own. Then, they show up where you sit each day in classes. No one would look your way, no one was suspicious. It wasn’t just school things, but it was the things you see in windows. You’d see something pretty, look at it and imagining wearing it, then walk away knowing your wallet couldn’t handle it. Your house started to be filled with things you didn’t even buy.

Weeks of things being left you started to grow more and more worried, things you didn’t speak about. And things arriving at your door step. The last thing that made you freak out completely was a computer, the best money could buy and the note made you break. “Ditch the jar, we’ve got it covered.” Who the hell knew about the jars you had? No one did, not even Hana knew because you knew she’d give you money. Someone knew where you lived- someone sent a gifted, someone looked into your apartment or went in to see the jars.

“We’ve got it covered.” Those words stuck into your head every day after.

The blinds to your apartment now remind closed, you took the money you were saving for a computer and got extra locks for your windows. And you never took the gifts that arrived anymore. If it was at class, you’d leave them, if they came to your door you’d say they got the wrong person, if it came to your work the dumpster ate it.

Soon the gifts came to a stop. Nothing show up anymore and you felt relief, like you could breath without worrying about being watched. You stoped looking around the place for suspicious activity, your life went back to normal — Shitty, but normal.

Just as you suspected — Things went wrong for the last time.

Nosies woke you up from sleep, you had been too tired to notice anything or actually think about your actions. So you went out of your bedroom towards the noise, no plan, no worries about your life, but tired and wanting it to end. So as you turn the corner of the hall you hear hushed voices.

“Dumbass— Shut up, you’re making too much noise.” Someone, with a deeper and more grit to their voice spoke. They sounded angry…Like a man you once met on a bus.

Someone whined in response. “Don’t be mean to him Kacchan, and you’re being equally as loud. Now, everyone quiet and lets get our darling and head out.” That voice was strange to you, it was high pitched and loving but there was something else to it.

A little bit of awakening hit you and you started to look around the hall for anything of use. Wait, everyone? — That means there are more people then the two who spoke. The only thing you had that you could hit somebody with was a umbrella but you had to make do.

So, you grab ahold of the handle and hold it like a bat, then go sprinting to the doorway and popping out to surprise who ever was there.

You probably should have thought of more threatening words….

“I don’t have much!! If you’re here to rob me you’ve chosen poorly, but if anyone touches my computer you’re dying.” and like that, you point at the people in front of your umbrella-bat.

Your mind acted so quickly that it just took in everyone standing in front of you. People you have met before. The man from the train with a darken snarl that’s the same.. Denki, the guy who flirts with you at work. Another man who is always nice and friendly when he enters your work, Izuku?

“Hey honey!” A squealing voice takes your widen eyes off the green haired man. The woman who spoke was someone who you’ve talk to at school, one of the pretty girls that sit below you, Mina Ashido.

“Wha… What are you all doing in my apartment?” Your arms held up the umbrella and body still stiffened and alert.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t here to hurt you,” Izuku smiles and walks aloug your kitchen table, “and definitely not here to rob you, most of your things, expensive things, came from us.” he slides the computer along the table towards you. It started to make a bit of sense of how you’ve been getting everything.

Denki and Izuku know where you worked and gave you the shoes, they had both been in the diner that day. Mina had given you the books you looked at in the library and saw were too expensive. And the mean blonde had saw were you get off of the bus. They must have all been following you.

“What do you want then?” You backed away from them. Your eyebrows frown and arms began to tremble in heightened fear and adrenaline of your life being threatened.

“We want you, sweet thing,” the rough one spoke and the nickname sounded strange from his mouth. “The question is,” he stepped closer as your inched backwards, starting a game of chase.

“Are you gonna’ make this easy or not?”

You hummed in fear of what’s to come and wanted to run. Your body was almost about to move before a warm hand covered your mouth and made you scream and wiggle against the chest that was pressed against your back.

“I told you not to bring weapons,” the person behind you snapped at the others, making them all roll their eyes.

“I wasn’t going to hurt them!” Mina shouted.

“The gun was for looks, had to look badass for my babe.” Denki smirked.

“I wouldn’t hurt them badly, my knife would only stab their horrible neighbors.” Izuku laughed.

“And why would I listen to you, old man?”

A sharp pain in your neck shot throughout your body as your limbs began to numb up almost immediately. Your vocal cords wouldn’t make any sound when you wanted to scream, your legs couldn’t run, there was no fighting back. All you could do was keep your eyes open for as long as you could while being picked up.

A older man had you placed in his arms. Dark long hair with gray at the roots, the same for his beard. He looked tired but deadly with the glare he gave them. You knew this man. He was a teacher in the lecture room beside yours, the same man you greeted each morning — The man you served coffee to on Saturday mornings.

“You know damn well what I’ll do if you hurt them, if anyone of you spoiled brats hurt them.” His voice started to get drowned out by ringing in your ears. You wanted to listen and to stay away but your eyes just felt too heavy to go on….

There wasn’t just five of them waiting for you to wake up again, but 20 villains going insane for you.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Date Night

PARING: Tangerine x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SUMMARY: Tangerine has been away on a mission for the last week, and is back in time for date night. Missing each other like crazy, you decide to have a not-so-quiet night at home

TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ only. mutual masturbation, lazily handjob, cowgirl, unprotected p in v, creampie, established relationship. MDNI no mentions of y/n

A/N: this is a repost, bc i accidentally deleted the original🥲

rewritten 07/12/23 - deleted big chunks (1.2k words to be exact) as badly written and adds no context, just a load of waffle

Every alternating Friday, you and Tangerine would have a date night - a special night dedicated to prioritise each other. An evening together, no distractions. 

Today was date night, your favourite day. The same day that Tangerine returns home from his ten-day-long mission in South Africa.

As you pace the living room impatiently -waiting for your husband to come home to you- you see car headlights shine through the blinds, your favourite indication that Tangerine made it back safe.

Feeling giddy at his arrival, you run to the front door, ready to greet him with a kiss and a smile. 

Keys jingle in the lock, and you rush over to him. "Ah!" you shriek, wrapping him in a tight, welcoming embrace. "God, I've missed you," you blurt out, planting quick, hurried kisses over his cheek.

He chuckles, gripping your waist, hugging you with one arm as he walks into the house. "Missed you, love," he adds, dropping his bag to the floor to wrap his now-free arm around you. "How you been?" he asks, lingering a kiss on your lips, blue eyes lit up huge.

"Good, bored. Same old, same old," you smile. "How was your business trip?" you jest, pulling away to shut the door behind him. "Get many kills? Win mvp?"

He snickers, kicking off his shoes to follow after you. "Dickhead." 

You make your way into the kitchen, but he hangs back, sifting through his away bag. He meets you at the island a moment later, a bottle of wine and a single red rose in hand, a sweet, sincere smile on his face. "For you," his grin brightens, placing the gifts on the countertop. 

"You're annoyingly sweet," you smile, placing the rose into an old wine bottle - half-filling it with water. "Puts my present to shame," you playfully frown, nodding to the gift bag on the dining table.

He rolls up his sleeves, adjusting the collar of his shirt as he makes his way over, laughing almost obnoxiously when he sees what's inside. He picks up the small bottle, turning to face you. "Lube? Really?"

"I know, I know. It's stupid," you offer an apologetic smile, scratching the side of your neck - almost embarrassed. 

"Should I be insulted?" he jokes, walking back over to you, standing on the other side of the island, resting his hands on the surface with a wide stance.

"No," you dismiss. "It's, you know... my way of telling you I missed you," you respond suggestively, leaning over the counter to kiss him. 

"Oh, yeah?" he grins cockily, eyes half-lidded as he focuses on you. 

You hum, checking the time on your phone. "We got over an hour til dinner arrives," you innocently suggest. "Want to play cards? A board game?" you tease.

"Mh-hm," he nods, playing along. "Monopoly. That will kill the time."

"Okay then, great," you grin. "Let's go play," you add, walking away - heading for the stairs.

You halt when you reach the bottom of the staircase, waiting for Tan, hand extended for him to take. You lead him upstairs, him holding onto your hand from behind, following after you like a dog on a lead. 

Walking you both through the door of your shared bedroom, guiding him to the armchair in the corner of the room, you ask him to sit. He does as asked, adjusting his groin in the chair, manspreading in the way he knew you liked - keeping his eyes fixed on you in front of him. Gaze lidded and focused as he slowly unbuttons his shirt.

You stand a mere foot away, undressing yourself of your baggy sweater to reveal a black lace bra - one you wore specially for tonight. You're close but not close enough, just out of reach, just out of his grasp. You keep your attention locked on Tangerine as you tug your pj bottoms down, revealing a matching pair of slinky underwear. 

"Fuck," he sighs, exasperated, biting on his fisted knuckle. 

You perch upon his thigh and slip your arms around his neck, leaning forward and brushing your lips over his teasingly. "Missed you," you whisper, slowly circling your hips over his spread thigh. 

You lazily drag your palm over his chest, stroking down his stomach, pausing when you reach his belt. He makes haste movements at unbuckling it, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks the second he's free. "Fuckin' missed you," he replies, voice strained and hoarse against your mouth. 

You slip your hand into the front of his trousers, fingers leisurely trailing over his pubic bone til they reach the edge of his aching hard-on. You make a soft coo, silently instructing him to lift his hips.

A soft smile forms on your lips when you pull his thick cock out of the waistband of his boxers - tip messy and leaking, waiting impatiently to be touched. You place your thumb over his head, applying slight pressure as you swirl his precum around, lightly brushing down the side of his cock.

His grip tightens on the side of your face, cupping your cheeks firmly, groaning and mumbling into your mouth about how good you're making him feel. You make a soft hum noise - an almost moan, rolling his cock in your hand, slowly rubbing him off. Nice and gentle.

His hands fall from your face to stroke down your bare back, halting when he reaches the clasp of your bra. He undoes it with ease, dropping the flimsy piece of lingerie to the floor, letting your tits spring free, just mere inches from him.

Tangerine slides a hand between you, reaching for your underwear the way you did him. Teasing at your clit through the damp fabric, flicking his thumb over the sensitive mound as you continued to make those desperate whines he loved so much.

"Get on my dick," he instructs, voice strangled and urgent as he handles you, spreading your legs over his other thigh - making you straddle him. 

You reach between you, parting your underwear aside and grip his base, pushing his reddened head through your slick, puffy folds - rimming his head around your hole before slowly sinking onto him. Thick cock spitting your insides nicely as you lower down, ass cheeks resting on his upper thighs.

He slinks his arms around you, tightly holding around your waist as you wind your hips over him, mumbling spluttery curses when his tip kisses at the hilt. 

"Yeah, yeah. That's it," Tangerine whispers, praising you for the way your walls work over his dick - like your cunt was stroking him, tightening and releasing with every soft, little bounce.

"Really, really missed you," you whimper into his mouth, holding the sides of his face, using him as stability as he nudges up into you - meeting you halfway with clumsy, sloppy thrusts. 

The soft, sticky clicking of your pussy wrapped around his cock, and muffled moans and whispers fill the air, sounds getting progressively louder when he shimmies down the chair - hands on your waist as he fucks up into you by himself.

"God— fuck," you cry out, limbs seizing up as you cum, your body turning limp above him. Pussy clamping and jolting with your release. 

He reaches his high a moment later, a groaning and grunting mess as he spraypaints your insides with his warm, thick load, your tightening walls milking his cock in the most delicious way.

His forehead rests against yours as you catch your breath, both completely blissed out.

"Shower?" he offers, speaking suggestively, toying with your tits, rolling them with his palms.

You hum, lingering a kiss on his lips as you slowly lift yourself from his dick, cum leaking around the base. You head for the shower, nodding for him to follow, a devious smile on your face.

After your lengthy shower -and some more fooling around- you and Tangerine find yourselves on the sofa, freshly washed, tucking into your dinner as you watch tv - enjoying the rest of your special night together. 

[turcott3]

love language

jamie drysdale x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, smut!😝 (loss of v card, fingering, unprotected sex) fluff!!!!

positions fics masterlist

~teach me how to love you, i’m not learning what ain’t right~

-

another morning waking up in jamie’s spacious anaheim apartment was a strange feeling to you. you’d grown incredibly fond of him over the past few weeks of staying with him. you were just trying to get on your feet and were looking for a place of your own. trevor, a childhood friend of yours, introduced you to jamie some months ago and jamie was willing to help you while you sorted everything out with your move, trevor’s house being full and your urge to stay with that many guys was at a minimum, but jamie has a place to call his own which was something he always wanted and was willing to share his space with you.

“good morning.” jamie greets you from the couch with a mug of hot coffee.

“morning.” you reply rubbing your eyes and walking into the kitchen to make your morning coffee.

“i bought you a new bottle of creamer because i saw you were almost out.” he says once you open the fridge door.

“oh thank you.” you smile appreciating the small gesture.

“yeah you’re welcome, oh by the way, z, mase and leo are coming over tonight. we have like two days off so i figured you’d want to see them.” he says getting up off the couch and leaning on the tall counter.

“yeah that sounds awesome,” you smile taking a sip of your coffee, locking eyes with jamie. it was always hard for you not to stare for too long at his big, beautiful, blue doe eyes.

“great, i’m gonna get to cleaning the place.” he says drinking the last of his coffee and setting his mug in the sink.

“i’ll help?”

“no it’s okay, didn’t you say you had homework or something?” he says towering over you, standing a little too close.

“oh yeah, i do. we’ll just let me know if you need any help.” you say smiling awkwardly, exiting the kitchen with your coffee, quickly shutting the door behind you. you open your macbook trying to shake the funny feeling he left in your stomach during your short lived conversation in the kitchen. his proximity, his eye contact, his demeanor. it made you overthink, or so you thought.

“what the fuck?” you swear, blinking a few times after seeing how much time had past. it was already reaching 3 pm and you had spent the last 5 hours working on homework and an essay for your english class.

“i think i just got stuck in an alternate dimension, no way i was at my desk for five hours.” you say swinging your door open to jamie sitting on the couch watching tv.

“i didn’t want to interrupt you, when i opened your door you were locked in. i got you lunch tho, i put it in the microwave so it wouldn’t get too cold.”

“oh thank you, you didn’t have to.”

“well i felt like i should because you were drowning yourself in work and you needed to eat something.”

“i appreciate the gesture.” you say pulling the chipotle out of the microwave.

“they’ll be here at 5.” he says.

“okay, let me eat and shower and ill be out here.” you smile walking over to the couch to hug him, “ you’re the best.”

“yeah of course.” he says hugging you back gently. you took your meal into your room and ate it while you picked an outfit and let the shower warm up. right before you step in, your phone buzzes on the counter.

“hey z.” you say picking up.

“hey y/n, can’t wait to see you tonight. it’s been a while since we caught up.”

“yeah me too, i’ve missed you.”

“still a virgin y/n/n? i feel like it’s been long enough since i last checked in.” he asks.

“yes trevor, i told you that you’d be the first to know once i lost my virginity.”

“yep i’m waiting for that text that says ‘harmonica’.”

“oh yes, the code word.” i laugh.

“alright well i’ll let you go, ill see you at 5.”

“bye trev.”

“bye y/n.” he says, ending the line, finally allowing you to step into the shower. you longed for it to finally happen, you’re 20 how has it not yet? once you wrap up your shower you step out, flipping on your hairdryer, humming while you dried it almost completely. you slip on your leggings, throw on your crewneck and spray yourself generously with perfume. you walked back out into the bedroom and heard trevor’s familiar laugh. you slipped on your slippers and walked out into the living room, seeing all the boys sat at the table.

“y/n!” trevor says standing up and walking over to you, hugging you tightly.

“it’s good to see you too trevor.”you laugh as he lets you go. he brings you to the table where you sat directly across from jamie.

“wine anyone? mom got me a wine fridge and i just stocked it.” jamie says and presents a bottle of red wine proudly.

“sure.” you reply smiling, happy to see how proud he is of his wine fridge. he grabs you all glasses and pours one for each of you.

“cheers to being reunited.” mason says raising his glass and everyone following suit, jamie and i locking eyes for a brief moment before looking away, feeling occasional glances in my direction.

“how about some truth or dare?” trevor offers, setting his glass down.

“sure.” mason says with a smug smirk on his face.

“i’m in.” leo replies looking in your direction.

“yeah, yeah let’s play.” you say taking your last sip and setting your glass down.

“i’ll go first.” mason offers, “jamie, truth or dare?”

“truth?” he replies hesitantly.

“how many bottles of wine did you buy for that fridge yesterday?”

“seven.” he quickly replies.

“oh damn ok.” mason laughs, taking another sip.

“trevor, truth or dare?” jamie says turning to look at the clueless boy.

“dare.”

“call terry and tell him you still wanna walk his dog.”

“god, fine.” he says pulling his phone out and calling him.

“hey troy, what’s up?” he says followed by silence.

“yeah i was just calling to ask if i could walk your dog tomorrow? no? oh, okay. great, well thanks for the trust terry.” he laughs hanging up.

“tell you no?” leo asks.

“hahaha yeah.” he replies.

“it’s your turn.” you say cutting him off.

“jeez okay, y/n.” he says smirking looking at you.

“truth.” you say hoping it’s the safe route. trevor looks at you then looks at jamie, then to mason and leo before coming back to you.

“is it true that you’re still a virgin?” he asks with a smug look on his face, causing you to choke on your second sip of your new glass of wine.

“really dude?”

“it requires an answer.”

“yes trevor. i am still a fucking virgin.” i say, face flushing red now that jamie knows.

“alright your turn.” he smiles.

“last round. leo?”

“truth.”

“did you wanna get drafted by the ducks?”

“honestly…… no but i’m glad i am here now.”

“wow didn’t expect that one.” you say expecting a much more underwhelming reply. you finish your wine and rinse your glass out in the sink, finding your way to the couch leaving the boys at the table. they continue their conversation and you sit scrolling through your phone, thinking it would be rude to go to your room with guests over.

j: you good?

y/n: yeah i’m fine

j: okay, talk later?

y/n: sure

you reply one final time, turning on the tv and putting on a movie, distracting yourself from the elephant in the room. not to long after the boys join you on the couch watching the movie as well. jamie sat close to you, arm draped around the back of the couch where you sat. no one said a word to each other for at last 30 minutes. you scoot closer to jamie, leaning your head on his shoulder, eyes drooping with sleepiness. he rested his arm around your shoulder snuggly, his thumb gently caressing your arm.

“boys i think it’s time we head out.” mason declares standing up. it had been a few hours and it was starting to get late.

“i’ll see you guys tomorrow.” jamie says fist bumping them all as they filed out of the apartment. he olaced his arm back around me, this time more snuggly and boldly.

“you okay?” he asks, brushing his thumb in your bicep.

“yeah i’m just embarrassed. he always finds a way.” you admit to the brunette.

“he has a way of rubbing people the wrong way, i’m so sorry y/n.” he replies honestly.

“yeah he does.” you sigh

“so is it true?”

“is what true?” you ask fearing his question.

“are you actually a virgin?”

“yes, i am.” you sigh, embarrassed all over again.

“i mean is there like a reason why?”

“jamie i’m 20, there’s obviously not a good reason. i mean no one’s ever wanted me like that or been attracted to me in that way.” you say picking at your cuticles.

“that’s crazy.”

“what?”

“how has no one been attracted to you in that way?” he repeats and i turn to look at him.

“i mean they just haven’t.”

“they’re crazy.”

“what do you mean?”

“have you looked at you?”

“well yeah but-“

“no buts, come here.” jamie says moving you onto his lap, your hands locking behind his neck.

“what are you doing?”

“giving you the attention you deserve.” he smiles, pulling your chin to his, pressing a short kiss to your lips, sending butterflies through your stomach, leaving an anxious look on your face.

“jamie-“ you start.

“if you don’t want to do anything with me, tell me now and i’ll stop.” he says interrupting you.

“no it’s not that i don’t want to do anything with you, i’m just scared.”

“why are you scared y/n? tell me.” he replies, pushing strands of hair behind your ears.

“i’ve never felt beautiful like other girls so maybe ive just been afraid to ever put myself out there. that’s why im scared. that im not good enough.” you admit to him, never even wanting to admit that to yourself.

“well you should put yourself out there. sure there’s “beauty standards” but who gives a fuck? look at you. you’re so beautiful.” he says with his hands placed delicately on your waist.

“it’s just hard.”

“i’ll make sure you know how beautiful you are love, i promise.” he says running his hand lightly up and down your thigh.

“okay.” you say caving into his words. you grab onto his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss again. this time trying to assert yourself, showing him the direction you want the kiss to go. he puts his arms beneath you, picking you up bridal style, carrying you to his bedroom. a place you’d only entered a handful of times. delicately, he places you on the bed, removing his shirt and climbing over you, reconnecting your lips once again. you began to feel more comfortable, even thought him being shirtless was intimidating to you, you never realized just how toned he actually was.

“you’re so fucking fit jamie.” you say as he backs away to look at you.

“don’t make this about me honey, this night is all about you.” he says running his hands up your legs to the waistband of you leggings in which he assists you in removing. he tosses them in his hamper, clearly having no intentions of giving them back tonight.

“if i need to slow down or stop please tell me.” he says staring down at you, our faces mere inches apart.

“okay.” you reply, face turning rose. he connects your lips once more before assisting you shimmy out of your crewneck which you wore no bra under.

“no bra around the boys? bold move.” he giggles taking your breasts into his hands and kissing you as your hand found their way around his neck. he pulls away standing up again, removing his sweatpants leaving him only in his boxers. delicately, he runs his middle finger over your soaked core on top of the fabric of your lace thong.

“wow so wet huh?” he smirks.

“can’t help it, just want you.” you say boldly, encouraging him more. carefully, he removes your underwear tossing it aside as he runs two fingers through your folds. you were unsure what you were feeling, but knowing it was good was enough. suddenly he finds a sweet spot, kicking your feelings into high gear, unleashing a moan you’d never heard from yourself.

“oh my god jamie.” you say and he giggles.

“you like that?”

“yes fuck yes.” you huff out, never wanting the feeling to end.

“what about,” he pauses, inserting one finger into you, “now?”

you jump at the sensation, it doesn’t hurt too bad but definitely doesn’t feel great.

“a little uncomfortable but not bad, you can keep going.”

“okay.” he says beginning to slide his second finger in, causing a sting.

“okay that hurts a little bit.”

“well good thing i decided to do this first.” he smiles leaning up to kiss you, moving his fingers in and out of you carefully. it still felt weird but you didn’t want to get off on his fingers so you decided to let him go until you felt good enough.

“jamie?” you say opening your eyes and he lifts his head off your shoulder.

“mhm?”

“i’m ready.” you say and he removes his fingers, sucking them clean.

“are you sure baby, like 100% sure?”

“i’m 100% sure.” you reply.

“okay,” he says kissing you once again. he pulls down his boxers allowing his dick to spring free, your eyes directing right to its leaking tip. anxiety trying its best to hold off as he pulls you closer to him as he kneels on the bed, running his tip through you folds just the way his fingers had.

“tell me when it’s too much.” he says pushing in the tip warning a hiss from you.

“you okay?” he asks and you simply nod. he pushes in a little further, feeling your walls stretch out.

“okay wait stop for a sec please.” you say pressing your hands to his chest.

“whatever you need.” he says stopping abruptly. you nod signaling for him to continue and you even hold on and let him bottom out.

“god you’re so big, i feel so full.”

“you’re doing amazing baby.” he says kissing you sweetly on the lips trying to distract you from the sensation you felt between your legs. he retracts his hips slowly and carefully not wanting to hurt you before pushing back in at the same speed, gritting your teeth, trying to find pleasure in this sensation.

“you okay?” he asks.

“yeah i’m okay.” you reply and he continues, the discomfort finally beginning to subside.

“you feel so good around me y/n, so fucking good.” he smiles kissing you passionately. this thrust into you changed everything, pleasure washed over your body quickly, pushing a moan out of your throat.

“there it is, that’s my girl.” he smiles, thrusting a little faster and deeper.

“fuck jamie, that feels so good.” you say wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as his chain hung in your face, hair covering his. he continues his paces, brushing your sweet spot with every thrust, tightening around him.

“you gonna come for me baby?” he asks and you nod quickly, releasing the built up pressure that had built in your abdomen.

“fuck.” you say, the sensation making your legs shake.

“fuck i’m getting close.” he says, his thrusts getting sloppier and pulling out spurting his warm seed onto your stomach. quickly, he runs into the bathroom so wet a rag and wipe your stomach clean before throwing the rag in the hamper and going back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

“jamie?” you ask. no answer. the feeling of regret beginning to rise in your chest. you grab your crewneck and underwear off the floor and, prepare to leave the room and lock yourself away.

“jamie?” you say again, tears threatening to form in your eyes.

“sorry i had to pee and then i had to answer an email i forgot abo- why do you have those?” he stops mid explanation.

“oh i uh, i figured you weren’t gonna come back out so i was just gonna go back to my room. i’ll hopefully have a place soon so i can get out of your hair.” you reply, scratching your head wondering why you even did this, “i’ll just go ahead and leave now.” you say starting to stand up and he stops you.

“woah woah no stop, did you really think i was gonna just dip after that?” he asks stepping in front of you, grabbing onto your arms.

“well….. kind of.”

“no baby, you’ve got it all wrong, come here.” he says climbing back into bed pulling you to his chest instantly.

“what do i have wrong?” you ask, placing your chin on his chest.

“do you honestly think i just had sex with you so you’d lose your virginity and stop being embarrassed by it?” he asks rubbing your back softly.

“that’s kinda what i assumed once you shut the bathroom.”

“well that’s not what happened and i’m so sorry i did that, i couldn’t have picked a worse time to remember i had an email to answer, anyways, the truth is that i like you, and i have for a long time. you’re beautiful, funny and smart. you’re you and i literally cannot get enough of it.” he says smiling locking eyes with you.

“wow, you like me?”

“yes i do, a fucking lot. i had sex with you because i wanted to and it felt so special being your first. guess i couldn’t pass up the chance.” he chuckles.

“it was amazing jamie, i don’t think i could’ve asked for a better first.” you reply, smiling from ear to ear.

“of course my love, you were so amazing, it seemed so natural to you.” he pauses, “also i want you to stay.”

“stay? what do you mean?”

“like i don’t want you to find an apartment for yourself, please just stay, i love having you here.”

“jamie you don’t have to-“

“i’m offering, it will save you a lot of money and i love your company. please stay.”

“okay i will if you want me to. i just don’t want to inhibit your space.” you say picking at your nails

“you won’t be don’t worry. and besides, we may sleep together eventually if we really truly to give us a chance, but you still have your own room when you need space.” he says.

“i- did you mean like share a bed with you?”

“i mean eventually if you want to share we could, no pressure at all.”

“well i guess we could give this a go couldn’t we.” you nod, sitting up on his lap looking down at him.

“if you’d like to give it a go, i would also like that… quite a lot actually.” he laughs and you lean down to kiss him.

“is that you asking me out?”

“more so asking you to be my girlfriend.”

“wow popped the question so soon.” you teased.

“i know we’ve only had like this night but having you around has made me so crazy about you.” he says scooting back to sit up a bit, keeping you on his lap, placing his hands on your waist.

“hey i’m joking babe, i would love to be your spontaneous girlfriend jamie.” you laugh, smiling widely.

“thank god.” he says, his arms wrapping around you and kissing you passionately. the rest of your night was filled with the pleasures of exploring your romantic connection. you talked, you cuddled, you started a new tv show, you fucked, you made out. you used one night to make up for all the time you spent living together, unknowingly pining for each others affection. eventually, the two of you fell asleep entangled in each other, completely obsessed with one another. you woke up the next morning to jamie pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“good morning my love.” he says talking into your cheek before kissing your it a few more times.

“good morning jamie.” you laugh opening your eyes to face him, allowing yourself to get lost in his gorgeous eyes.

“i slept so good.” he giggles.

“oh yeah, best sleep ever.” you giggle wrapping your arms around him and kissing him on the lips.

-

[waffledforbreakfast]

First Date- [MUTI! BLLK X F!READER]

(SEPARATE) pt2

Staring: niko, kaiser, ness

pt1: Rin, Sae, Kaiser

pt3: Otoya, Karasu, Reo

[ BLLK Scenario Masterlist ]

TW: heavy ooc, bad grammar, bad spelling, bad formatting, cringe, scuff, etc.

>Niko

[Manga/Anime cafe/store ]

Niko waited for you outside the school doors, the two of you had agreed to go to the new anime cafe as a date. It had been a few minutes since class ended and you still weren’t there, Niko was getting worried “I swear if she-” he mumbled to himself

“NIKOO” you crashed into him, catching your breath “Sorry- *huff* the teacher- *huff* held us back…”

“Smh [Y/N]... what’d you do now?” he sighed, you getting in trouble was nothing new

“Nothing nothing” you reassured him, brushing yourself off “Anyway, you ready to go?”

Niko nodded as you both left the school ground, chatting about whatever you found interesting. You spotted the cafe with cats in the window, and he saw it too

“Niko Niko look! It’s this one right?” you smiled at him as you pointed to the store 

“Cute…” he replied “The cats I mean-”

You rolled your eyes as the bells above the doors ringed when he pushed it open, “Hello!” a woman greeted as you two entered “Can I get anything started for you? Are will you look around first?”

“We’ll just look around” Niko was already walking towards the large shelfs of Manga on display “There’s so many…” he stared in awe, talking to himself

You quickly skimmed the shelfs til one book caught your eyes, “Hey Niko,” you pulled it out and showed him “Banana Fish, your favourite right?”

He quickly came over and took the book “Yea! Looks like they have all the volumes here!” he smiled while running a finger through the pages “Oh yea, this one's your favourite, right?” he took out another book and handed it to you, it was one you started recently and desperately tried to get Niko to read

“Mhm! You should totally give it a shot one day” you both took the books as you went up to order food

Niko flipped through the menu and pointed out some cute foods to you “Look, this one’s themed after the main character. Oh I think you’ll like this one, it looks pretty sweet.” In the end, you both decided to share some Totoro styled waffles and each got your own themed side drinks.

While you waited for your food to arrive at your table, Niko told you about Banana Fish, and even listened to you rant about your favourite manga/anime

“Have you watched Blue Lock?” You asked him excitedly, forgetting about the fourth wall

“...Blue Lock?” 

“Nevermind-...”

Finally your food was ready, and you took photos (you did the finger hearts for the camera) before cutting it down the middle and taking a bite

“Geez slow down…” he joked, before eating his portion too. After a while, he excused himself quickly before leaving, you just shrugged and continued eating, almost done anyway

He quickly came back with two macarons in hand, blushing slightly, “For you…” he slid the first one to you, a face of your favourite character on it,

“Awww Geto :D wait what happened to his forehead-” you took a toothpick and poked lightly at it, whoever made the macaroon put red icing bubbles on his forehead

Niko held in a laugh “That’s just foul…”

[Doesn’t have to be Geto lol, just thought it was funny]

“Well, thank you for the macaron!” you gave him a quick smile “I hope it wasn’t too much…”

“Nah it’s fine” he sat down beside you and pulled out a postcard “There was a promotion, so I got a free Miku postcard out of it”

He gave it to you to look at, it was a beautiful card, with a high quality Miku on it with a holographic background.

“It’s so pretttyyyy” your eyes sparkled as you stared in awe at it 

“Y-You can have it…”  Niko whispered as he looked away, the slightest blush on his face

“Are you sure??” you asked hesitantly, it was his after all,

“Yea… you’re always 01 in my heart…”

“...”

“...”

“Was that a Miku pick-up line-?”

The two of you finished eating and headed out the cafe, giving a small thanks to the workers 

“Where to now?” He asked, turning towards you

“Hm… I think there’s actually a manga store around here somewhere, there was a new volume I wanted to pick up…”

“Oh I think I know the one you’re talking about… it’s this way.”

Once you guys got there, your jaw dropped at the sight. Shelves upon shelves of books, new and limited ones in display cases. You thought the cafe had a lot, but no- this one had 6x as many. And you could buy them too!

You dragged your finger across the spines of the books, walking down the isles, Niko close behind.

You suddenly stopped and pulled out a book, it was the limited edition of your favourite series. “Niko!” you spun around and showed him the book “It’s the anniversary special :D” you were going to buy it, until you saw the price… you knew that special volumes may be expensive, but you didn’t think they were that much!! 

You put the book back into their places, silently sobbing at the fact you couldn’t afford it 

“Hm, what’s wrong?” he asked you, while watching you shelve them

“It’s too expensive… Don’t worry, I’ll get it one day!” you replied, trying to convince yourself more than him

“Alright… I saw a book over there that seemed interesting, why don’t we split up for now, we can meet up in a few minutes.”

You gave him a nod, and went back to wandering

After a while, you met Niko at the check out. You had already bought 2 books and it seems that he bought one too.

“Hey Niko! Ready to go?” you got your things and got ready to leave

“Mhm” he hummed as he bagged the book, angling it so you couldn’t see the cover

You though, happened to notice, “What did you get?”

He pretended not to hear your question and walked out, waiting for you to follow. You frowned at his lack of a response, but went along anyway

It came the time that you both had to go home, so you two stood at the entrance to the subway station.

“Thank you for coming out with me” he gave you a short bow, blushing slightly. “I got you a gift…” he pulled out the bag from the manga store and presented it to you, “It’s the special volume you wanted…”

As you opened the bag, you found that it was indeed the anniversary special. You thanked him, still in awe at the book and gave him a hug “Thank you so much, Niko! You really shouldn’t have 🥹”

You pulled out your own bag with the books you bought and handed it to him “These are the only volumes you’re missing in your collection, right?” You remember looking though his shelves, you were 70% percent sure he didn’t have these

“Yes, these are the ones…” he took the books gently, his eyes practically glued to them (not that we can rlly tell) “Thank you” he said, barely louder than a whisper

Niko smiled and gave you a wave as you hopped on your train, hugging the books tightly. He really couldn’t stop blushing, happy with how the day went.

It was that day he decided he’d never be able to get sick of you

>Kaiser

[Ice Skating (also for this is set in Germany, during Christmas]

Running around the German night market was a vibe like no other

And Kaiser being there was the cherry on top. He held your hand while gently guiding you through the stalls.

“Schatz, let’s grab some chocolate”, he said while looking at a few bars of chocolate on display. “They have white, milk, dark, caramel, everything. What would you like?” he asked you, having already grabbed a bar of his own, a very bitter dark chocolate.

You silently judged his decision before choosing your own. “You like your chocolate that bitter?” you laughed

He frowned “What’s wrong with that? I aint no p#ssy.” he grinned at you “And milk chocolate sucks. I can’t stand any white-coloured drinks.”

“Chocolate isn’t a drink-”

“Still sucks. Have you made your choice?” He looked at you, taking the bar from your hands and getting ready to pay. You nodded as the worker scanned the bars

“They’re HOW MUCH??” your jaw dropped as you saw the price

Kaiser only smirked as he paid, “They’re traditional, high quality, german chocolate. A very well-known brand.” he opened your bar and held it up to you, “Try it”

( If you didn’t eat it when he offered, he would’ve shoved it down your throat (affectionately) )

The second you took a bite of the chocolate, it felt like you were transported to heaven. It was perfect, the best chocolate you’ve ever had. You quickly took more, taking the the delicious taste and texture

Kaiser did a prideful huff, knowing that he was the reason for the happy look on your face. Even if it was indirectly-  

He ate his own chocolate as the two of you wandered about more, occasionally stopping at other booths. You guys got matching scarfs, keychains, you were so close to getting him to buy cat ears, but he refused.

Eventually, you guys were at the heart of the market, right where the big Christmas tree was. You were spaced out, admiring the lights, before the flash of a camera snapped you out of it.

Kaiser smiled, looking at the photo, “You look beautiful, Meine Liebe.” He gave you a gentle kiss before taking your hand, “Join me skating?”

You didn’t even have to move as kaiser got on his knees to lace up your skates for you. What a gentleman. He even held your hand when getting on the ice. If you didn’t know how to skate, he’d guide you (or just drag you across the ice). If you do know how to skate, he’d definitely challenge you to a race. 

And do NOT underestimate this man, he is GRACEFUL. Unless ur a professional skater, it’ll prob be a pretty close tie, that or he laps you like twice to show off… if you are really good at skating (or if you wanna pretend to be, we don’t judge) and beat him, he’d just say he was going easy on you with a salty smile, trying to convince himself more than you.

After he’s gotten over it, he’d hold you hand (or pocket it) while skating in circles with you, just admiring your voice as you spoke. He’d spin you in circles, twirl you around, all that ;) If he caught anyone staring, he’d just show you off more and pull you in after a spin.

He couldn’t stop smiling, he was so happy, just being by your side and in your presence. This was one of the few times he was quiet, wanting to hear nothing but your voice.

You both skated around for a bit longer before getting off the ice. Kaiser undid your laces, and put everything away for you. After looking at the last few stalls, the two of you exited the market, and Kaiser sent you home.

He texted you once he got home to make sure you did too, and he couldn’t stop smiling. For the whole week, he was smiling, the whole week (until some imbecile talked to him.) the whole team was slightly scared until it was revealed it was because of you. That made more sense to them.

He already marked his calendar for next year, and it’s not a choice <3

>Ness

[Lego date/chill picnic]

You and Ness had been friends for a while, hanging out whenever he wasn’t busy w/Kaiser (which wasn’t really that often). Today was one of the few days you guys had time, so you were wandering the mall and ended up inside the LEGO store.

“[Y/N] look, it’s a blue rose!” he showed you the box, looking at the price tag “Do you think Kaiser would like it?”

You sighed while browsing, “Ness, you don’t have to always be thinking of him… you’re with me right now after all.”

He hesitated for a second before smiling and putting the box back, “Yes, you’re right. Which set do you want?” he followed your eyes, skimming the shelves 

“Oh, what do you think of that one?” you pointed at a LEGO box, a bunny in a magicians hat on the cover “Do you like it?”

“Oh- yes, it looks very nice…” he stared at it, thinking about how cute it was, but still trying to process that you asked for his opinion “Do you like magic and things like that?” he assumed that's why you were grabbing the box

“No” you started walking over to the cashier and gave Ness a smile “But i know you do”

His face turned red at the words, you weren’t wrong, but he didn’t expect you to know that, he’d barely mentioned it.

“Let me pay,” he said as the cashier rang it up. You would’ve stopped him, but before you knew it, he tapped his card and was already putting the box in the bag

He gave you a smile as he held the item. You felt bad because he was already carrying your other belongings, but he insisted and there was really no way you could convince him otherwise.

The two of you left the store, and slowly made your way around the mall. 

“Hey, let’s grab some desserts!” Ness pointed at the bakery and dragged you in “Look look! It’s bread :D” 

You picked out a few foods you liked, and he picked some too.

After buying the food, the two of you left the mall, and for a while it seemed that you both were just mindlessly wandering. But Ness had something planned, and soon you found yourself at a surprisingly clean picnic table at a near-by park. 

“Ness- Where are we??” you hesitated before sitting down after him

“Don’t worry! Do you like it here?” he gave you a smile, a bit of obsession in his eyes

You nodded as he set up all the food, and even brought out the LEGO set. You felt a bit awkward as you just watched him, but he refused to let you help, insisting on doing everything for you with a smile

After everything was laid out, you guys started eating the food, and building the LEGO at the same time. You listened to him talk about his day, and he listened to you talk about yours!

All in all, you two had a fun time! The food was all finished and the LEGO set was built. Ness took a ton of pictures of you the LEGO, and you even let him keep the final product!

A/N: Hope yall don't mind the ass formatting.. lotta word blocks ik, ill fix it when i actually make tumblr specific posts :')

[humanpurposes]

We're Born At Night

Chapter 2

Lady Rhaelle Targaryen of Runestone travels to King's Landing to plead for her sister's life, though the King she must bow to is a kinslayer three times over, and the very man who slaughtered her father

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Rhaelle Targaryen (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, politics, mentions of death and war, Aemond is a bit of a dick but that's his job

Words: 5.9k

A/n: I was aiming to post this on Sunday (but a pretty girl said I was cute and I went a bit insane 😌)

“Cheat!”

Rhaelle conceals her delight as she claims the ivory King piece from the cyvasse board. “It is not cheating, dear sister, it is strategy.”

Sunset is not long away. Rhaelle and Daena have spent most of the day in their chambers, waiting, flicking through the small collection of books from the shelf, playing cards and games of cyvasse which all end in the same way, a decisive victory for Rhaelle.

She cannot stomach the thought of food or sweets, cider or wine. She just feels her heart drumming in her chest, pulsing through the blood that runs under her skin. Aemond’s voice is still a whisper in her head and the other faces in the throne room are a blur, like trying to remember details from a dream. She should have been more attentive. The number of potential allies at court might be few but they will be invaluable if they are to advance here. 

So they wait. Wait for Lord Corlys to give them some indication that the King has acknowledged their cause, that he has even heard it.

She glances down at her fingers wrapped around the King piece, at the hand he kissed a matter of hours ago. Aemond had been rather welcoming in the throne room, she supposes, at least publicly. 

“But you tricked me!” Daena protests, looking in despair over the few pieces she has left on the board.

“I acted within the rules of the game,” Rhaelle says simply.

Daena makes a disheartened but determined huffing sound and starts to set the pieces out again, when there is a knock at the door. Morra answers and returns with Ser Willis, donned in his white cloak, with his helm under his arm and a broadsword proudly by his side.

Rhaelle taps her fingers on the table in front of Daena to get her attention and rises. “Lord Commander,” she says, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Lady Rhaelle,” he greets with a small bow of his head. “I have a request from the King.”

Her heart leaps. Finally the waiting is at an end, but she contains herself. “Which is?”

“His Grace often takes his niece and nephew for a walk about the gardens in the evening, before the Prince and Princess are put to bed. He is unable to fulfil this duty tonight and asked if yourself and Lady Daena would like to take his place?”

She catches Daena’s eye for a moment and sees the same brightness in her gaze, the same hopefulness. 

Aegon, her heart whispers to her. Aemond has invited them to meet with their brother.

Ser Willis leads the way, Morra following behind as they head towards the courtyard, to the lowered drawbridge of Maegor’s Holdfast. The halls here are closer than inside the rest of the castle and the windows are smaller so the light is lower. Ser Willis leads them through locked doors and flights of stairs, until they come to a series of apartments that are bright and grand, with wide open rooms and paler stone walls that reflect the light.

At last they come to a room where pale blue is the most prominent colour. The stonework is adorned with images of flowers and dragons alike, and a fire crackles pleasantly in the hearth.

There are two settees in the centre of the room. On the one facing the door, a little girl with silver hair in a light blue gown stares intently at the book on her governess’ lap. Her lavender eyes follow the words as the woman reads to her.

And perched on the windowsill is a boy, a little older, with a wooden knight in his hands. He turns his head when he hears the door open and stares right at them, with his lips downturned and his violet eyes wide and unblinking. He looks like Daena did when she was small, with neatly combed silver hair instead of her dark brown curls.

The governess closes the book and gathers the children to stand before their visitors. “Forgive us, my Ladies, we have been waiting patiently for you, haven’t we children?”

The girl clings to the woman’s hand, staring up at them like she is holding back tears, while the boy stands straight with his hands behind his back.

“Princess,” the governess says, ushering the girl forward, “these are your cousins, the Lady Rhaelle, and the Lady Daena.”

Jaehaera, the orphan Princess, the last of her family save for her uncle Aemond. She had a twin once, and a baby brother. Prince Jaehearys was beheaded only a short walk away from this room, before the eyes of his mother, his grandmother, and his siblings. It was in the early days of the war, a son for a son, at the order of Daemon Targaryen. 

The little Princess takes a tentative step forwards, clinging to the sides of her gown as she curtsies steadily and gracefully.

Rhaelle curties low and rises to offer the girl a sympathetic smile, because losing a mother is a terrible thing, a lonely thing, which she knows all too well.

“Prince Aegon,” the governess says next, ushering him forward, “these are your sisters.” There is no warmth to her voice like she has for Jaeheara, but no contempt either, just an unsure sort of bluntness. 

Aegon looks between them. “My father’s daughters,” he says softly.

Rhaelle extends a hand to him. Those eyes are so precious, she thinks, the eyes that had to see his own mother burned and devoured by his uncle’s dragon. Her heart shatters for him, for both of them, that they have had to witness so much horror.

“We have wanted to meet you for some time,” she says.

Aegon nods and holds her hand tightly. In the corner of her eye she sees the governess watching them.

Ser Willis and another Kingsguard, Ser Gyles Belgrave, accompany them to the gardens. When the governess goes to follow, Rhaelle holds up her hand. “No need,” she says, “my sister and I should like to acquaint ourselves with her family. We will be no longer than an hour.”

Neither the governess nor the guards protest.

The gardens are nothing like the countryside around Runestone, gravel paths and fountains, rows of carefully trimmed hedges, walkways covered in red ivy and trees that have begun to shed their golden leaves. They stay in sight of the castle, and Ser Willis and Ser Gyles are never far behind them.

Daena is delighted with young Aegon. She runs her hands over his hair, kisses his cheek, asks him about his favourite books and if he has held a sword yet.

Jaeheara was quiet at first but has warmed up, letting Rhaelle take one hand and Morra take the other. Her hand is small, soft and delicate, so much that Rhaelle worries she might break her if she holds her too tightly. She babbles on about the things children do. She says her favourite colour is blue, like her gown and like the sky. She says her governess is teaching her how to read, count and dance, but she wants to learn to sew.

“What would you sew?” Rhaelle asks.

Jaeheara knits her brow in thought. “Butterflies,” she says, “and spiders, and ladybirds.”

“You like insects?” Morra says.

“I can’t decide,” says Jaehaera, “but mother liked them very much.”

Rhaelle so desperately wants to bring her into her arms and hold her close to her chest. “Did your mother sew too?” she asks.

“Oh yes, she had a gift for us every day.” She keeps her eyes on the gravel shifting beneath her feet. “That means she was kind, doesn’t it?”

Rhaelle stops and turns to Jaehaera, bending her knees a little so their eyes meet. A flash of silver catches her attention instead, back towards the castle. She looks past Jaehaera’s shoulder, to a balcony overlooking the gardens. She knows it’s him, if the hair doesn’t give him away the black eyepatch against his pale skin does.

“Your mother was kind to me, when I knew her,” she says, gently.

Jaehaera’s eyes widen. Rhaelle worries she might start to cry but instead she smiles. “Uncle Aemond says she was kind.”

Her heart is humming again and her hands are starting to tremble. He must be watching them, watching her.

A little further down the path, Aegon and Daena are picking blackberries from a bramble bush, giggling as they place them in their mouths.

Rhaelle can hardly help herself but cup one of Jaehaera’s plump little cheeks. “We might find some insects in the bushes, what do you think, little Princess?”

“I often see ladybirds on the bramble bushes,” Jaehaera says. “I think they must like blackberries.”

Aegon calls his cousin’s name and waves at her with one hand, while cupping something in the other. He has found a caterpillar and shows it to Jaehaera. She stares down at its little green body with an endearing wonder, before deciding she wants to hold it too and show Morra. 

While the children are distaced, Rhaelle steps close enough to Daena that they can speak softly to each other, without having to lean in too obviously.

“He said he knows all about us from Alyssa,” Daena says, “she used to tell him about us, about Runestone. Then he asked me if she was dead too.”

Rhaelle almost flinches. 

“He is not yet seven years old and he has watched most of his family die,” Daena whispers bitterly, glancing towards the guards, out of earshot. 

Rhaelle watches them too, far too busy with their own conversation to be listening to them and only sparing occasional glances towards the children. Then she looks back to the castle, hoping Aemond is still there, and he is.

When Ser Willis says it is time for the children to be taken back to the Holdfast, Rhaelle and Daena oblige. Jaehaera’s hands and mouth are covered in purple fruit juice and she is delighted with herself. 

They pass under the balcony where Aemond stands as they reenter the castle. Daena and Morra are walking arm in arm. Aegon and Jaeheara are excitedly talking about caterpillars and butterflies and all the places they would fly to if they could grow wings.

Rhaelle sees him though, and catches his lone eye. His face is unreadable, stern and soft, dark and light.

Instinct, a reckless urge that she justifies as a risk, drives her towards a doorway leading off from the entrance hall. Daena and Morra will wait for her in their chambers once the children have been seen back to the nursery. The doorway leads to a hall, then a small winding staircase. She hitches her skirts and climbs it quickly, ensuring not to lose her footing in haste. She feels like she is chasing something intangible and follows it along a gallery, then to the balcony beyond that.

Aemond is still standing there with his hands behind his back and his head tall, looking south, over the gardens and Blackwater Bay beyond that. The noise of the castle does not reach her ears here, only the sound of the wind and the waves rolling over the shore beneath the Keep. In the west the sky burns like fire and in the east it is already getting dark.

She approaches him slowly, her shoes making enough of a noise against the flagstone floor to alert him of her presence, but softly enough so as not to disturb him. She comes to stand beside him on his seeing side, keeping her head straight but watching him, always watching him. “Your Grace,” she says quietly.

The corner of his mouth is curled. Is he smirking? Or is he irritated by her presence? “My Lady,” he returns.

Her hands are shaking. She brings them before her, clasping them together so she cannot fidget. “I had assumed you had other business this evening.”

“You assumed,” he says without looking at her.

“Ser Willis said you invited us to see the children.”

“I thought you might like to.”

“I did,” she insists, turning her head to face him. “I did. I am grateful. Daena and I are both grateful.”

Aemond hums, low and cryptic. It makes her feel weightless for a moment. He finally turns his head towards her. “The boy has mentioned you before, his Royce sisters, each of you.”

Coming from any other’s lips she might have taken her mother’s name as a compliment, and it could almost be that given the softness of his voice as he says it. But something else is written in the way he holds himself, the intensity in his eye, the striking gleam of silver hair falling over black leather: he is a true Targaryen, and she is an outsider.

Perhaps if she looks into his eye for long enough she’ll be able to read his thoughts. She finds nothing, save for an unsettled feeling in her chest and stomach. So she looks away, back out over the gardens. “I am glad my brother is being treated so well,” she says.

“Why should that surprise you?”

She tilts her head and gives him a rather pointed look. She asks herself if she would dare answer that question seriously. He still has the knife on him, maybe he’ll draw it and cut her throat for treason if she presses him hard enough.

Instead he hums a small laugh. “Prince Aegon is my heir until I have sons of my own. You needn’t fear if your brother is being mistreated.”

For now.

Then he adds in a quieter voice, “he is good with Jaehaera.”

Aegon was an older brother after all, and meant to have a younger sister of his own until the outbreak of war.

“The Princess is a delight,” Rhaelle says, “she is easy to love.”

Aemond’s eye lights up and he almost smiles. “She’s a sweet little thing, just like her mother was. Jaehaerys was the same…” he seems to regret this train of thought when he takes a slow breath and frowns to himself.

Rhaelle watches his chest rise and fall, this formidable man, a King forged in a time of war, determined not to crumble in the face of his own grief. She can almost pity him, and perhaps she does when she feels a gnawing sort of feeling knotting and twisting inside of her. She aches for him, for his losses and for her own.

“I see my own mother in many ways,” she says, taking a step into him. Aemond looks to her again, darkly but patiently. “I see her in my sister when she is stubborn. I see her in myself sometimes, all the times I thought she was being overbearing. I see her when I ride through the hills at Runestone. I feel her hovering over my shoulder when I draw a bow.”

Aemond has turned his body to face her now, not completely, just a little. One of his hands rests on the balustrade brought into a gentle fist, and he’s standing close to her, enough that she can hear each breath he takes and smell the leather of his jerkin.

“Because we don’t truly lose them,” she says, “at least I hope not. I can scarcely remember my mother’s face but I still know her love.”

“And that gives you comfort?” Aemond says.

“It does.”

“And what of your father, what love do you have for him?”

His question steals the air from her lungs. What love does she have for him, the man she hardly knew? The man her mother hated. The man who gave her his name and the burden of his legacy. Daemon’s blood runs through her veins as much as Rhea Royce’s does, life beyond death, enduring and damning. 

Aemond is watching her intently, waiting for her answer, searching her face for a sign of weakness, but always with that gleam of amusement. Did he look for weakness in Daemon before they mounted their dragons at the God’s Eye? Did he find the fear he seems to feed off?

“The same all girls have for their fathers, I suppose,” is her answer.

“And do all girls love their fathers?”

“As best we can.”

“How diplomatic of you,” he says, smirking. He’s toying with her, testing her like a hunting trap.

“You distrust me,” she says. 

He tuts. “I would very much like to trust you.”

“Yet you do not.”

“Do you trust me, cousin?” 

It’s like asking if she would trust a snarling beast with a taste for her blood. “You are my King,” she says.

“And as King, it is my duty to identify threats, to my rule and to the realm.”

His gaze does not falter, and so she will not allow hers to either.

“Am I a threat, Your Grace?” 

He considers her for a few moments, like he did in the throne room, studying her as closely and thoroughly as a scholar studies an ancient tome. All the while he curls his lips like he has a secret. “My brother was King before me,” he says in a low voice, taking another small step into her. “You are aware of the end he met?”

“Poison,” she says.

“And I took Larys Strong’s head for it, a man who served my mother for many years, who saw Jaeheara to safety during the war, who helped Aegon return to King’s Landing when it was taken from him. I could have all manner of enemies in these very walls, those who might seek to replace me with a child, more easily controlled than I am. Wearing a crown did not spare my brother from death and it will not spare me.”

He can trust no one, he means. A crown has become comparable to a death sentence as of late, and Kings and Queens are perhaps not as invincible as they once seemed. 

“You are not your brother,” she says.

“No. What am I then?”

She parts her lips to respond, but she cannot give him an answer. In truth, the thought of being face to face with him, to ask for his mercy had terrified her when she first left Runestone. Aemond Targaryen, the man who started a war when he killed his nephew, who burned armies and put innocent men, women and children to the sword, who killed her father.

She has often wondered how he did it, if the battle was quick, or if it was long and bitter. She has wondered if the dragons tore each other to pieces, or if Aemond had been able to look his uncle in the eye as he claimed his life.

Before all of that he was a child with a gruesome gash in his face, who had tried so hard to hide his pain from her. 

He hums cryptically and she feels him lean in closer to her, coming close enough that she can see the imperfections and the details in his face, the lines around his mouth and the texture of his skin. The edges of his scar appear as thin lines now. It is a striking element to his appearance, but other than that, she supposes he is merely a man.

“I have asked you once but I shall ask again: have you come to ask something of me, Lady Rhaelle?”

Lord Corlys would warn her to be patient. There is a strategy that must be employed, a set order in place for making a request of the King. She must be delicate, for Alyssa’s sake.

She spots his hand on the balustrade and places her own over it, barely tracing her fingers over his. She feels his gaze on her all the while. “Our house has been divided for too long. Shouldn’t we seek to heal this rift between our families?”

He watches where their hands meet and lifts them until their palms are against one another. Rhaelle’s fingertips press into the grooves of his fingers, against his warmth and the rough calluses of his skin.

“Hmm,” he says, threading his fingers through hers, closing over her knuckles. “You have a way with choosing your words carefully.”

Naturally. Her survival depends on it. “As must we all, Your Grace,” she says.

He mutters under his breath, like she’s played a winning move in a game of cyvasse, “very good.”

She can still feel him when she returns to her chambers, the gentlest brush of his fingertips and the heat of his hand against hers. She can mistake a gentle draft or breeze for his breath ghosting over her face, the sound of the wind beyond the window as the sound of his voice.

Lord Corlys visits them after dinner. She offers him some of the leftover roast beef but she shakes his head and instead asks for a cup of wine as he makes himself comfortable in an armchair before the hearth.

Rhaelle joins him, bringing two cups with her while Morra carries the decanter of wine. Daena gathers a fur throw, a pillow and a book, and settles on a chaise by the window. She doesn’t usually like to read, especially not at night when she can scarcely see the words.

Rhaelle smiles at her, sceptically. Daena shrugs her shoulders and lowers her eyes to the page.

“I have news from Driftmark,” Lord Coryls says, “Baela and Rhaena have accepted their invitation to the King’s Tournament and will set sail for King’s Landing in three days time.”

This is supposed to make her happy. From what she remembers at their mother’s funeral and the wedding feast, her half-sisters were agreeable enough but still unfamiliar. Baela, the older twin, was a little more forward than her sister, a dragonrider from a young age and it showed. Rhaena was far quieter and more cautious. They must be changed now, being right in the heart of Rhaenyra’s war.

“The King’s Tournament?” Daena’s voice calls from the window.

“Tourneys, feasts, dancing; a celebration to mark the betrothal of the King to Lady Floris Baratheon,” Corlys says, raising his glass. 

A romance for the ages: he barged into Storm’s End looking for an army to support his brother’s claim, and she was the most agreeable of four sisters.

“The eyes of the realm will be on the two of you,” Lord Corlys says.

“I do not see why we would attract such interest,” Daena says.

“Aemond still needs to secure his rule. His heir is a child and the son of his brother’s rival. After that his closest competitors for the throne are his uncle’s daughters.”

“My sisters and I have no desire for a crown, Lord Corlys,” Rhaelle says.

“You are Targaryens and you have a claim to the throne whether you desire it or not. That invites challenge. Half the country has been devastated by war and the rest will struggle through winter. I’m afraid your matter will take time.”

“How much time?”

He gestures vaguely with his hands. “You will appear before the King tomorrow. You will renounce your father, your step-mother and your late betrothed. The King will accept, and you will ask only that Lady Alyssa be spared from the headsman.”

“He would have her killed?”

“It is a matter of contention amongst the members of the Small Council, but as I understand it, His Grace has little desire to spill any more blood than is necessary.”

Daena chuckles quietly to herself.

Lord Corlys’ brow raises, but he does not comment on it. “In return for your loyalty, I expect the King to welcome you wholeheartedly into his court. When Aemond and Floris are wed you may be given positions in the Queen’s Household. You’ll be able to stay here permanently, you’ll get to see your brother and sisters often, and eventually you’ll make good matches to rich and powerful husbands, as befitting your royal blood.”

She wouldn’t have her mother’s cousins pestering her about the absence of the Lady of Runestone, eyeing the seat that belongs to her sister. Hers and Daena’s futures would be secured. 

“And what of Alyssa?” she asks.

“I will ensure she is kept alive and well, and in time, we may convince the King to release her.”

May convince. The thought does not feel particularly assuring, but what else can she do?

She wakes at dawn the next morning, dresses and readies herself for court as she had done the previous day, taking her sister’s arm as they walk into the throne room. There is no grand entrance this time, they are led to an adjacent chamber and enter through a small doorway that leads them to the far end of the hall.

She and Daena stand to the right, below the steps that lead to the throne, behind the members of the Small Council, Lord Corlys, Lord Tyland, Maester Orwyle, Lord Unwin Peake, Martyn Hightower and his brother, Garmund. These men have no doubt argued over the matter of her sister’s imprisonment. “A matter of contention,” as Lord Corlys had said.

Aemond sits upon the throne again, comfortably poised, and she is amongst the first to lobby him. 

Lord Corlys steps forward to announce her as she approaches the Iron Throne. She comes to her knees before him and allows herself to look up. She half expects to find him smiling, but his lips are in a thin line, not amused or prideful, but curious, his eye fixed upon her face.

“Your Grace,” she says, mustering all the courage she can to give her voice a clear demand without pushing too far. “I come before you once again as your loyal subject, to speak for myself and for my sister, Lady Daena.”

Aemond crosses one of his legs over the other, with his arm resting upon the throne, amongst the sharp edges of the blades. He brings his fingers to his chin and tilts his head, a command to continue.

She feels her pulse quicken, the words threatening to catch in her throat as they had done before, but she forces herself through it. “I renounce my late father, the traitor, Daemon Targaryen. I renounce my late step-mother, Princess Rhaenyra and her attempt to supplant the true line of succession. I renounce my former betrothed, the late Prince Joffrey. I–” she catches Lord Corlys’ eye and he nods to her. 

She thinks of Alyssa, her brave, beautiful sister, who held her and soothed her when Ser Gerold explained that their mother would never return to them, whose wisdom she worshipped and whose arms she sought comfort in until the day Daemon took her to Dragonstone. Once the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, now condemned to death if Rhaelle does not save her.

“I come before you again, to pledge my loyalty to you, and to our house,” she says, keeping her head down, waiting for the sound of Aemond’s voice or his footsteps.

“Come to me,” he says.

It’s like her body is set alight, heat, fury and excitement rising in her belly, her blood running hot beneath her skin. There is anger too, because she cannot read him, because she cannot tell if this is a show of favour or if he means to insult her somehow. She resents his incessant staring. She resents his cold, impassive nature. She resents the light feeling in her limbs as she climbs the steps to stand before him.

He rises to meet her, his hand outstretched and his lips threatening to break into a smirk. 

Most of what she had heard of her father was that he was a jealous and ambitious man. He coveted this seat, held by his brother, promised to his niece, ultimately claimed by his nephew. Daemon killed for it, he died for it, and now she is close enough that she could reach out and touch it.

She places her hand in his and he holds her gently, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. She clenches her jaw as she tries not to shudder.

“I accept your pledge,” he says, then loudly, so the others in the room may hear him. “It is not my wish to punish you for the sins of your family.”

The room hums with curious murmurs, nods of approval and whispers.

“Forgive me,” Rhaelle says quietly, as if this were a private exchange, as if they were not on display before the court. “You asked me yesterday if I had something to ask of you, and the truth is I do.”

Aemond’s brow raises, but the rest of his face is solemn. “Go on,” he says.

“My sister, Alyssa, is currently your prisoner, declared to be a traitor by your brother’s order. Spare her life, cousin, I beg you.”

Suddenly the silence in the hall is tangible. What must they be thinking, the Lords and Ladies before them, the men of the Small Council, Lord Corlys?

She does not spare a glance for any of them. She tightens her grip on Aemond’s hand and when she looks into his eye she does not plead for pity or sympathy. She is a Targaryen just as much as he is, with fire in her blood and pride in her heart.

“Lady Rhaelle,” Aemond says, “you are the acting Lady of Runestone.”

“I am, Your Grace.”

“You do a fine job of it, so I understand?”

She hesitates. She ensures the castle, its lands and people are kept well. She advises Lady Arryn when it is required of her. “As best I can, Your Grace.”

He leans in closer to her, close enough that she feels his breath on the shell of her ear and her neck. “Do away with modesty, it is a waste of my time,” he mutters. When he pulls away the corner of his mouth is curled so that it could almost be a joke. “Lady Rhaelle,” he announces, addressing the room, “in return for your loyalty to the crown, I hereby grant you the title of Lady of Runestone and all its inheritance.”

The room applauds this decision but Rhaelle is struck by dread. She looks to Daena, equally surprised, equally powerless. She looks to Lord Corlys, who seems to accept this too. The faces of Lord Tyland, Lord Unwin, and the Hightowers are less pleased.

She turns back to Aemond and keeps her voice low, “Your Grace, I cannot accept–”

His grip on her hand becomes a painful one as he turns his face in towards her. “You will accept,” he says with a cold fury. “While I am moved by your devotion to your sister, she must remain a prisoner and forfeit any and all claims she was previously entitled to.”

His face is dark and severe and her stomach drops like she is standing at the edge of some great height, one step away from a fall. She might be wise to fear this side of him, she thinks, but she is tempted to refuse him, to take that final step from the edge if only to see what anger he can truly unleash. She’d take pride in it, and maybe it’s her Targaryen nature, but suddenly something in the back of her mind thirsts for chaos.

It is her choice to make, but her life and the lives of her family will be at risk if she makes the wrong one.

And so she must choose her words carefully, unsure if it will bring her closer to her goal or drag her further from it.

“It would be an honour, Your Grace.”

Rhaelle and Daena dine alone that night. She is starving, but then the meat is brought out, a cut of roasted lamb, rare meat still on the bone that bleeds when Morra starts to carve it for them. It repulses her. She cannot even look at it. She downs a cup of apple cider instead and manages a mouthful of bread.

Daena can see that something is wrong, but does not question her.

Morra, on the other hand, offers her more cider and something that might be softer on her stomach. “Blackberries?” she suggests with a kind smile.

“Please,” Rhaelle mutters. 

Morra brings her a small bowl of them, dusted with sugar. At first she is thankful for how refreshing the taste is on her tongue, until she looks down at her fingertips and sees them stained red. 

She forces her hand away from her lips in a sudden jolt of movement, and in her haste knocks her fork to the floor with a jarring clatter of metal against stone.

It doesn’t matter, she thinks, starting to wipe her fingers against her napkin, but the red will not fade. She tries harder, dragging the fabric against her skin until it almost burns, but it won’t come out, it will not–

“Lady Rhaelle?” 

She throws her napkin down on the table and covers her mouth, fighting the urge to gag. “I’m fine,” she tries to whisper, “I feel unwell is all.”

“I’ll draw you a bath,” Morra says.

Rhaelle shakes her head. “No, I just…” but she cannot find the words. She cannot decide what she needs.

“Come, sister,” Daena says, having risen from her seat and come to place her hand on her shoulder. “I think you need to rest.”

Rhaelle lets herself be led away into her bedchamber. Daena helps her to remove her jewellery and lays out a night shift on the bed for her. Once Rhaelle has undressed, she reaches for the pins in her hair.

“Let me,” Daena says softly, and Rhaelle’s hands fall away. Daena’s touch is unsure but gentle. She would never have had as much practice at doing another’s hair, not as the youngest sister, but it is a welcome comfort.

Rhaelle stares at her reflection in the mirror as Daena brings a brush through her hair. She watches candlelight and shadows flicker over her face, over both of their faces. Their eyes look dark in the lowlight, almost black, like their mother’s, not the striking violet that makes them their father’s daughters.

“Do you think the Gods will punish me for this?” she utters.

“Punish you? Whatever for?”

She swallows thickly, her vision starting to blur. “I offered a hundred men at arms to Lady Jeyne to fight in the war. I could have offered more. I could have mounted a horse myself and met our father at Harrenhal. I could have written to Rhaenyra and asked her to send Alyssa back to Runestone. I could have offered men to defend King’s Landing, or to hold Dragonstone. There is so much I could have done, and now I have forsaken our family, our own blood because I was too weak to do anything before–” she gasps to catch her breath. The tears have spilled from her eyes now, they sting against her cheeks and taste salty and bitter on her lips.

Daena’s hands vanish from her hair. Rhaelle instead finds herself cradled in her sister’s arms.

“Alyssa is our family,” Daena says. “It was not Daemon Targaryen who protected us when mother died, it was our sister, it was our cousins, it was House Royce. We remember, you taught me what that means.”

Daena presses a kiss to her head and strokes her hand over her hair, like Alyssa used to when they were girls, like the way she has always imagined her mother would. “Aemond will favour our cause,” she whispers. “He has to. He has to.”

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[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 9: Clarence House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, Adventures with Aegon (ft. Sunfyre the Ferret), Willis Warning, infidelity, kids, parenthood, and no more hints for you, start reading!!!

Word Count: 8.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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Only 1 chapter left!!! 🥰🧁

He returns in an afternoon of inescapable golden sunlight, hot and muggy, bumble bees and ladybugs wheeling lazily above tall grass, cumulus clouds like tufts of cotton in a sky the color of Aemond’s eye. You hear him talking to Cadi—she’s out in the front yard making mud pies, earth for sugar and sprinkles of stray pelican feathers—and then the weight of his footsteps on the sinking, sloping porch. He opens the door, never locked, and walks through the living room into the kitchen. From behind, his arms circle around your waist; and you’ve missed him so much—dreaming of waves and storms, chains and blood—that you have nothing for him but softness, gentle smiles and a voice hushed with relief.

“How was Norway?” you ask as you roll out dough on the counter. You’re making a buttermilk pie.

“Fine,” Aemond says, resting his chin on your shoulder. But he sounds tired, low.

You turn around to look at him, raising your fingertips to his unscarred right cheek; he won’t tolerate you touching the left. You leave a dusting of flour across his skin like snow, which you have never seen in person and likely never will. The air conditioner is humming. The little pink Panasonic boombox is playing Africa by Toto. “Did something happen?”

“I just missed you.” Then he brightens. “But I was greeted by some very welcome news when I got back to the house this morning.” He’s wearing his neon teal duffle bag. He drops it to the floor and unzips it; inside you glimpse several Nintendo game cartridges, presumably for Cadi. And you think: I’m always here making things, he’s always bringing them from far away. Aemond takes two small dark blue booklets out of a pocket in the inner lining of the duffle bag and gives them to you. On the front of each is embossed in gold lettering, along with an emblem of a bald eagle: Passport, United States of America.

“…Aemond?!”

“There’s one for you and one for Cadi. I submitted the forms a month ago, but even with expedited processing it took this long. Ridiculous. What does the government do all day besides hunt down social programs to defund?”

“But…but…” You open one of the booklets. A photograph of your own face gazes back at you, serious and serene, taken against the white wall of your bedroom before you knew about Aemond being a Targaryen, or Christabel, or Amir’s exodus to San Franscisco, or the profound futility of everything, it seems. “How…?”

“I took the pictures, obviously. The rest was easy enough to find. You store birth certificates and social security cards the same place where you keep the business records that Amir showed me. Typically people have to go to a passport agency in person, but Criston and I have ways around that. Your signature might have been forged on the applications…but I suspect you won’t be filing any police reports.” Aemond grins, pleased with himself. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It’s definitely surprising.” You stare down at the passports, amazed. “Aemond…this is a lot. But you already know that.”

“The whole time I was gone, I was wishing you could be there too. And now I can take you anywhere.”

Your heart is pounding, helpless childlike exhilaration. “Where are we going?”

“Clarence House in London.”

London: it’s another world, a distant planet, a constellation whose name you don’t know, the lost city of Atlantis.“Clarence House? Is that a hotel?”

“It’s a royal residence,” Aemond says, amused. “It’s officially the home of the Queen Mother, but the whole family goes to Balmoral in Scotland every summer, and while they’re gone they often rent out one wing to guests, not just anyone, trusted people like distant cousins or longtime, aristocratic friends. And the Targaryens…”

“You’re marrying Christabel, and she’s nobility. So you’re basically nobility now too.”

“Yes,” Aemond admits, a little guiltily, perhaps. “But you’re the person I’m inviting.”

“And Cadi.”

Now he’s genuinely puzzled. “Of course. We couldn’t leave her behind.”

Maybe I can handle this. Maybe I can make this work.

And you climb onto your tiptoes to circle your arms around the back of his neck, embracing him, thanking him, thinking: Christabel will have his ring, his last name, his family’s mansion, his acquiescent kiss at the altar of the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens…but I have what he’s made of, dreams, soul, bones in the abyss of an ocean of blood. Maybe that’s enough.

Maybe.

~~~~~~~~~~

First class, cheerful stewardesses, an array of magazines purchased from a gift shop in New Orleans International Airport: the National Enquirer and Food & Wine for you, The Face and Smithsonian for Aemond, and National Geographic Kids and Zoobooks for Cadi. The Zoobooks animal this month is the eagle, how quintessentially American. You are served antipasto Italiano, shrimp cocktail, Perrier, and champagne (Cadi gets a Shirley Temple) over the Atlantic Ocean. Aemond shows you and Cadi how to chew gum to pop your ears as the pressure builds to pain. When there is turbulence and he leans in close to tell you everything is fine, Aemond smells like Wrigley’s Doublemint, cologne, Marlboro cigarettes like the logo on his red and white jacket. You press your palm to the cool window, and clouds float by through the gaps between your fingers. The world is older than anything you could fathom; the world is brand new.

There is a black limousine waiting outside Terminal 3 of Heathrow Airport. The driver gets out to load the sparse luggage: Aemond’s teal duffle bag, a frayed and battered rolling suitcase that you borrowed from your mother, a Super Mario Bros. backpack that you found for Cadi at Kmart. Aemond doesn’t have much time to spare, only 4 days, practically a long weekend; but it feels like an eternity stretches out in front of you as the limousine zooms through the narrow, winding streets of downtown London, Starship’s We Built This City piping from the radio. You have never had more than a few uninterrupted hours with Aemond before. Now you will have a hundred.

The London air is cool, grey, misty; fresh rainwater bleeds into puddles, dark pools of mirrorlike reflections. With the windows rolled down and clean slate-colored air unfurling in your lungs, Aemond points to the landmarks you pass: Gunnersbury Park, Chiswick House and its gardens, cathedrals, museums, shopping districts, centuries-old cemeteries, stations of the London Underground, the River Thames, Hyde Park, the Ritz Hotel, Buckingham Palace, Saint James’ Palace, and at last Clarence House. It is a boxy white four-story townhouse with columns at the entranceway that remind you of the Targaryens’ estate on the shore of Lake Verret, the beautiful yet temporary home they call The Last Desire.

Aemond says that the entire first floor will be yours for the duration of your stay. There is the Lancaster Room, red and gold, and the Morning Room of creams and weak watery blue. There is the Library, the Dining Room, and the vibrantly pink Horse Corridor named for its ample equine paintings and sculptures; Cadi immediately proclaims this to be the best part of the house. She lingers in the hallway examining the art pieces as you and Aemond proceed to the Garden Room, which looks out upon a sea of lavender and shrubs meticulously shaped into a maze no higher than your waist. It has a golden harp and a grand piano, and a vast bed large enough for at least five people, in your estimation. I wonder if Aemond has ever tried that, you think distractedly. I wonder if there are temptations I can’t satisfy for him.

“You and Cadi can have this room,” Aemond says. He keeps wincing and bringing his hand up to the left side of his face; you doubt he’s even aware of it. “I’ll sleep on one of the couches.” Of course he will; Cadi thinks you’re just friends, and she’s aware he’s getting married to someone else. He knew exactly what it would mean when he bought a passport for her. “Queen Elizabeth and her husband Philip lived here before she ascended to the throne. They loved it so much that at first they refused to move to Buckingham Palace, which is the traditional residence of the reigning monarch. But their insolence was worn down. No one gets to break the rules.”

I shouldn’t be in this place, you keep thinking as you gaze around at the portraits on the wall, the stiff unnatural photographs of royals, the vases, the chandeliers, the fireplaces, the plush intricate rugs, the garden on the other side of the windows. People like me don’t belong here. “Aemond, are you alright?”

“It’s my eye,” he confesses with an uneasy, apologetic smirk. “Sometimes flights…the altitude changes…it aggravates the nerve damage. It’s like needles in my skull. But I’ll be okay.”

“You fly a lot for work, don’t you?” You hurt yourself for Viserys, in body and soul.

“I do,” he agrees. He unzips his duffle bag and produces a bottle of Percocet. “Why do you think I carry these around?”

“Take one,” you say. “Lie down, rest. Cadi and I can entertain ourselves for a few hours.”

He’s relieved, he’s grateful. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You can even borrow the bed.”

“Back between your sheets, huh?” Aemond says, in pain but smiling through it. He draws a semicircle from the part in your hair down to your chin, a weightless sweep of his fingertips like a kind breeze. “You are incurable. You can’t resist me.”

“I have my own scheme in mind.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” You grab the front of his Marlboro jacket, appropriate for the overcast London weather. He belongs here, this house, this city, this way of life. He wasn’t made for the primordial heat of the swamplands. You fold into him, close enough to tease, to quicken his heartbeat and momentarily clear the wounded furrows from his brow. “I want my pillows to smell like you. I want to breathe you in all night. It’s how I sleep best.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” Aemond says, a little stunned; but he’s elated too. For a moment, you’ve distracted him from his suffering entirely. “I’ll roll around all over them. I will mar the bedding irrevocably, the Queen Mother will never invite me back.” And he watches as you leave, his gaze transfixed and meditative and—more than anything else—hopeful.

“Hey, honey,” you say when you find Cadi in the Horse Corridor, poking a 100-year-old oil painting that she is definitely not supposed to be touching. “Let’s go explore and grab some dinner. Aemond isn’t feeling great, but we’ll hang out with him later.”

“Is it his face?”

You are startled. She knows so much. “Yeah, actually, it is.”

“He showed me,” Cadi says casually, still peering up at the horse; and you remember the day when he took her out to the front yard after she said she wished you were more like her friends’ mothers. “He even let me touch it. Radical, right? It’s so gross, but super cool too.”

Aemond couldn’t stand for me to see how he was maimed, but he forced himself to endure it for Cadi. “What did he tell you?”

“That I should appreciate having a good mom, because not all parents treat their kids right. He said his dad let his eye get crushed. And he told me he’d bet $1 million that you’d snap someone’s neck if they hurt me like that.”

You reach out to skim your fingers through her dark disheveled hair, smiling faintly, fondly. Cadi doesn’t seem to mind. “He wasn’t wrong.”

“Can we get fish and chips?”

“Totally. I have 50 British pounds in my wallet, I assume that’s enough for dinner.”

“Wow! How much is 50 pounds in dollars?”

“I have no idea,” you say. “Let’s go spend them.”

~~~~~~~~~~

In the evenings, you, Cadi, and Aemond gather around the television in the Lancaster Room and help yourself to the extensive VHS collection stocked for guests. You let Cadi pick: Raiders Of The Lost Ark, The Terminator, Firestarter, the Karate Kid, Aliens. You make popcorn in the extravagant kitchen in the basement of Clarence House and the three of you devour bowlfuls of it as you giggle on the couch, engulfed with throw pillows and playfully kicking at each other beneath the blankets. One night at Cadi’s request you bake Betty Crocker’s Party Rainbow Chip cupcakes with mix purchased at a Tesco down the street; on another you make hot chocolate to sip from antique tea cups. Each day, Aemond has new destinations picked out to tour. You ride the Underground like true Londoners to the Hampton Court Palace, the British Museum, Westminster Abbey, the Natural History Museum, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, Tower Bridge, the National Gallery, the Kew Gardens, Imperial College where Aemond received the petroleum engineering degree he never wanted.

As he shows you the classrooms where he attended lectures and seminars—you aren’t sure what the difference is, though you can sense that there is one—Aemond doesn’t talk about math or oil drilling. Instead, he tells you and Cadi about the people he learned about in the history classes he managed to slip into his exacting schedule like splinters into flesh: Sir Harold Gillies who pioneered plastic surgery in his treatment of World War I veterans, Phillis Wheatley who was enslaved as a child and became a renowned poet and abolitionist, Boudicca who led a rebellion against the Roman invaders and upon her defeat succumbed to some tragic, enigmatic doom. Aemond loves stories like this, you can see the light that sparks into the crystalline blue of his right eye. There is nothing he deems more heroic than people who took circumstances beyond their control and made something worthwhile out of them.

The night before the flight back to New Orleans, you’re staring at the crown molding of the Garden Room as Cadi snores softly from the other end of the massive bed and silvery moonlight covers the world. You can’t stop your thoughts from roiling like the North Sea; you can’t stop thinking about desks and chairs and books and clever blue-blooded girls jotting down in their notebooks not cake orders but mathematical equations or dates of conquest. When you breathe in the smoke and cologne Aemond left on your pillows, it tastes dark and forbidden. You climb out of the bed, roomy Bob Dylan t-shirt, pink cotton shorts, hair loose and wild, bare feet.

He is outside pacing around the sundial in the center of the garden, puffing on a Marlboro cigarette and pondering the full moon. “Can’t sleep?” Aemond asks, exhaling smoke as he glances over at you.

“You must think I’m stupid.”

“What?” He stops pacing. “Why?”

“Imperial College,” you say. “And the sorts of people who go to places like that. You must have known a lot of women who could recite Shakespear and name all the kings of England, all of Jupiter’s moons. Things I never learned. Things that I have no use for. I don’t write books or design machines or study the secrets of the universe. I bake cupcakes.”

“And they’re brilliant,” Aemond says, smiling. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“No?”

“No,” Aemond insists. “I think that if you’d been born where I was, you would have done far more with it.”

“Aemond…” You walk across the wet cobblestones to meet him by the sundial. It’s been raining again. The night air is chilly, foggy, painting you with goosebumps. “You still have time to become who you want to be.”

“No. I don’t.”

It’s coming from somewhere, distant but still audible, a parked car or a nearby building: Kyrie by Mr. Mister. Aemond chuckles, flicks the end of his cigarette into the lavender bushes—surely against the rules—and takes your hands in his.

“I remember this,” he says as he dances with you slowly, clumsily; you don’t know the steps. Still, you don’t want him to stop. “In your kitchen.”

He remembers everything. “Right before we went to Olive Garden for the first time.”

He sighs, pretending to be exasperated. “Of course that’s the part you committed to memory.”

“I’ve held onto a few other details too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like how small the back seat of your Audi Quattro is.”

“A limousine would be far more comfortable. I should invest in one.”

You laugh as he twirls you and you trip over your own feet; he pulls you upright before you can fall to the slick cobblestones. And you think: This is real. No matter what happens between him and anyone else, what we have is safe and extraordinary and real.

“I’m glad you’re here, Cupcake,” Aemond murmurs through your hair, holding you without seeking more. “You and Cadi.”

You want him again, or you’re so close to wanting him that the line is less of a boundary than a quagmire, indistinct edges and quicksand that can drag you down to drown in it. “I never knew that this was possible. Thank you, Aemond.”

“It can be like this all the time.”

Not all the time, you think, knowing that there will always be Jade Dragon, the Targaryens, the stock market, the world, the past and the future, Christabel. But some of it.

Is that enough?

~~~~~~~~~~

Willis agreed to you and Aemond taking Cadi out of the country on one condition: that you return her to him the second you arrive back in Napoleonville. It’s late Tuesday afternoon when the plane’s wheels hit the runway and squeal to a halt. Aemond has left his red Audi in the Park-and-Ride lot. You collect the car and soar west on Route 10 into the red-gold horizon, chasing the setting sun.

“Daddy!” Cadi bellows when she throws open the front door of the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office, waving his gift bag excitedly. Inside is a refrigerator magnet, several packages of McVitie’s Digestives in different flavors, and a miniature red-coated Queen’s Guard to keep on his desk, perpetually covered with disorganized papers and crumbs from innumerable desserts. From her poster on the wall, Heather Locklear simpers at you. At the center of the dartboard, poor Tommy Lee is impaled in four different places.

“Comment ca va, cherie?!” Willis opens his arms to hug Cadi when she barrels into him. He guffaws, his eyes are shiny; he has missed her. “Ya had a real good time, I reckon?”

“It was totally tubular. But I’m glad I’m home now. Can I get a horse? His name is Patches and I love him.”

“Huh? What the hell ya need a horse for?” He peeks around Cadi to look at you, a curious blue gaze beneath the thick dark bangs of his mullet. “What’s she talkin’ ‘bout, sugar?”

Beside you, Aemond groans irritably. Then you hear a voice from one of the holding cells, almost always empty: “Hey, cake lady.”

“Aegon?!” you and Aemond say at once, and sure enough, when you check the last holding cell there he is: unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, blue shorts, rainbow flip flops, hair like he’s been in a hurricane, a new eyebrow piercing.

Aemond asks Willis: “What did he do?”

Willis picks up a clipboard from his cluttered desk and begins reading. “Possession with intent to distribute cocaine—”

“I told you, I wasn’t distributing anything! It was for me!”

“Aegon, shut up,” Aemond pleads.

“Possession with intent to distribute marijuana, possession of drug paraphernalia, possession of methamphetamine less than 28 grams, operatin’ a vehicle while intoxicated, possession of MDMA, possession of alcoholic beverages in a motor vehicle, operatin’ a vehicle with a suspended license, resistin’ an officer…” Willis flips the page. “Speedin’, reckless drivin’, disturbin’ the peace while in an intoxicated condition, possession with intent to distribute Xanax, theft—”

“What the hell did you steal?!” Aemond demands.

“Burritos. I forgot my wallet at home.” Now Aegon is indignant. “But I saidI’d get them back! They didn’t need to call anybody about it!”

“Aegon, Taco Bell does not offer payment plans!”

“I can release him to ya, I guess,” Willis tells Aemond in a slow drawl.

“I really appreciate that. I’m so sorry about him, I’m absolutely mortified, I’ll pay whatever fines you want—”

“Wait, no,” Aegon says, panicked. His hands are gripped around the iron bars. “I don’t want to leave.”

Aemond stares at him. “You’re asking to stay in jail…?”

“I can’t go home. Stephanie’s there.”

“Of course she’s there. You knew she was flying in for the wedding.”

“Please let me stay here until she goes back to Monaco.”

“Definitely not. How’s everything else?”

“There’s something wrong with one of the Lake Verret rigs. Viserys mentioned a…a…I don’t remember, a dirt dump or something.”

“A mud pump?!”

“Yeah! That’s it. That’s what he said. It exploded.”

“Fuck,” Aemond hisses, then remembers that Cadi’s still there. She gives him a sly grin. You messed up, she means. Aemond looks to you, apologetic, disappointed. “I’m going to have to drop you off and then head straight home. There are messes to be mopped up.”

“No,” Aegon moans as Willis unlocks the holding cell and then wrestles him out of it when Aegon resists. “No, I’m a felon! I’m a danger to the public!”

“Don’t,” Aemond snaps, and this time his brother listens.

You say goodbye to Cadi—she barely notices—but as you go to follow Aemond and Aegon out of the Sheriff’s Office, she has a question. “Aemond?”

He stops. “Yeah, Cadi?”

“Can I go to the wedding?”

“Weddin’?!” Willis exclaims. “Already?!”

“Not mine,” you say.

“You really want to go?” Aemond asks Cadi with some reticence. But he seems to be considering it.

“Well, yeah. Mom said she and Amir are going. You’ll be there. Lots of cake will be there. And I’ve never been to a wedding before. I want to see what it’s like.”

Aemond turns to you, then to Willis, searching for permission. “It’s alright with me,” Willis says. “As long as someone there is keepin’ an eye on her.”

“It’s your choice,” you tell Cadi. “If you’re interested, I have no objections. But you have to be nice to Christabel.”

“Christabel?!” Willis says.

“That’s Aemond’s fiancée.” And there is a collective uncomfortable silence: Willis nodding slowly as he squints at you, Cadi chewing on her thumbnail, Aemond looking down at his Adidas sneakers, Aegon staring vacuously at the Heather Locklear poster on the wall.

With Aegon squeezed into the back seat, Aemond drops you off at the home Cadi calls the Fall-Down House. The new house hasn’t closed yet, but probably will in the next week. The adolescent gator is sunbathing in the last of the daylight in one corner of the yard; you can hear the pink Panasonic boombox inside playing Another One Bites The Dust.

“Ho, you’re back!” Amir cries, jubilant. He hugs you energetically, staining you with the flour on his hands; he’s been watching the bakery while you’ve been gone and keeping every cent of the profits in recognition of his labor, as agreed upon. “How was London?”

You give him his souvenir: a purple t-shirt with Princess Diana’s face on it. “Rainy. Wonderful.”

“Did you have any kinky sex in the royal grandma’s bed?”

“No,” you say, laughing. “But it was…I don’t know how to describe it. Calm. Normal. Easy. Like we could live that way forever.”

“So you’ve decided to be his Camilla.”

“Some moments I have. Other times I haven’t. But more and more, I just…” You try to decide what you mean. “The thought of giving him up feels impossible. And Christabel…they’re so distant with each other, so disconnected, so platonic. Their relationship doesn’t feel real. Maybe I can ignore it. Maybe this is the best I can hope for.”

Amir pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose and raises an eyebrow. “It might feel more real in three days.”

The rehearsal dinner is on Friday; the wedding is only 24 hours later.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You really should consider writing a cookbook, dear,” Alicent says from where she sits across from you. The dining room table is covered with flickering pink candles, bouquets of wildflowers, drinks garnished with cotton candy and Pop Rocks. Balloons bump against the ceilings, their long ribbons streaming down like the tentacles of a jellyfish. The stereo is thumping out Caught Up In You by 38 Special. Everything is pink and red: the colors of love. Yet just like at the engagement party, no one is talking about the couple getting married tomorrow. You could almost forget that there’s going to be a wedding. That makes it easier; and if denial is the terrain you live on now, so be it. That is far less agonizing than the alternative.

“Oh, no,” you demur, taking a sip of a cotton candy cocktail. You exchange a glance with Aemond, sitting several seats down from his mother. He is in a suit—black and white, fitted, faultless—and smiling, proud of you. “A book?! I couldn’t. Not in a million years.” I never even finished high school English.

“But all of my friends from home are captivated by your recipes, darling, and it would be so much easier if I could simply send them a copy of a cookbook rather than trying to describe every dish to them! Please consider it. Do you promise?”

“That I’ll think about it? Not too taxing a commitment. I suppose so.”

“Good,” Alicent chirps, then turns to whisper something to Criston, who drapes an arm briefly across her shoulders and gives her a reassuring little embrace. Amir is chatting with Aemond about San Franscisco. Christabel is talking to Helaena, who has been forced into a voluminous, magenta taffeta dress that she clearly despises; her chameleon Dreamfyre lurches around the table, occasionally stealing tastes of people’s food. Daeron, with Tessarion perched on the back of his chair, is trying to discuss something called seismic testing results with Viserys but getting ignored. Viserys is deep in conversation with Christabel’s father, the marquess, a large loud man whose booming voice drowns out everyone else. The two of them seem delighted, celebratory, very much in their own world. Their schemes have come at last to fruition. Christabel has several younger sisters in attendance—her bridesmaids—but no mother. You gather from pieces of dialogue you’ve overheard that her mother died when she was a child, a terrible and irreparable loss. Otto is so bored he’s flipping through a picture book about Kiribati. Aegon’s wife, Princess Stephanie of Monaco, is a headstrong, charismatic, and rather critical woman with short dark hair. She notifies Aegon each and every time he fails her, which happens frequently: You’re using the wrong fork. You missed a button on your shirt. You haven’t fucked me properly in over two years. You didn’t send flowers to my grandma’s funeral. This is evidently Aegon’s worst nightmare; he has disappeared upstairs in an effort to escape her.

Dinner is finished, and dessert has been brought by the servants. It turned out more like a crepe cake than a Napoleon cake—the layers of puff pastry didn’t want to fluff up as much as they should have—but no one seems to notice. This time, you and Amir knew the dress code expectations. You are both wearing black to fade into the backdrop like shadows, like distant memories. You are invited guests, but you are also locals, inferiors, recipients of charity.

“Where’s Aegon?” Helaena says. “He has to try this cake, it’s delicious! The cherry jam cuts the heaviness of the cream and pastry dough and makes it a perfect dessert for summer! And the color is delightful! It looks just like blood!”

“Where the hell is he?” Viserys demands, looking around, twisting in his chair. “It’s his brother’s rehearsal dinner, for Christ’s sake. One night of this importance and he can’t handle it? I swear to God, if he’s snorting or smoking anything up there I’ll have him committed to an institution—”

“I’ll find him,” you offer as you stand from the table. You have to visit the bathroom anyway, too many glitzy pink cocktails; two birds, one stone. You depart from the table and Aemond’s gaze follows you, a low heat that is building towards incineration, a baiting promise of dark euphoria that you can no longer pretend you don’t want desperately, defenselessly. Christabel gives you a sweet little wave. She is dripping in gold—dress, heels, jewelry—and seems happier tonight, more self-assured. Perhaps with the wedding so close, her trepidation concerning Aemond’s commitment has evaporated. Surely it is too late to call off the ceremony now. Tonight they feast, tomorrow they recite their vows, and then…

But no, you don’t think about the honeymoon. You will not allow yourself to. It can’t exist to you, and that is how you’ll survive this. Christabel will be in one universe, you in another, two timelines that never cross like something out of Star Trek. And the way she and Aemond interact is so impersonal, so untactile, that it is not so difficult to treat anything beyond chaste pecks on cheeks as an impossibility.

At the top of the staircase, Vhagar is lurking. She wags her long twiglike tail when she sees you and licks the knuckles of your left hand. You give her a pat on the head—and then several more when she whines as you try to leave—then at last she lopes off down the hallway.

Aegon is exactly where you’d assumed he’d be. He’s in his bedroom hunched over his computer and hammering furiously at the keyboard. There’s white powder on his fingers and in his thin mustache. On the screen, bizarrely, is what appears to be neon green grass and an ox-drawn wagon like the ones from the pioneer days. Sunfyre the ferret is stretched out across the bed napping, his angular face resting on his paws.

Aegon whirls around to face you. He is wearing a lime green satin suit but has forgotten to put on a shirt under it. “What? What? What do you want? I’m playing Oregon Trail. I have dysentery.”

“You have what…? Never mind, it’s not important. You need to come downstairs and eat some dessert. People are wondering where you are.”

“I’m busy.”

“If you don’t make an appearance on your own, Viserys will come looking for you. Also there are some Cap’n Crunch treats I left on the kitchen counter that you might be interested in.”

“Consider me tempted. I’ll be down momentarily.”

“You better be,” you tell Aegon, then retrace your steps back to the kitchen. Amir and Christabel are both there getting cans of Pepsi from the fridge and making very cumbersome small talk…or perhaps only Amir thinks it is that much of a burden. Christabel is chattering blithely away about different types of wildflowers. He gives you a look like Oh thank God, an excuse to escape and wastes no time heading back to the dining room.

“Did you notice what’s playing now?” he asks you just before he vanishes, then points towards the stereo in the grand foyer. You listen; it’s Money For Nothing by Dire Straits. “You think they know this song is about class warfare?”

“You should tell them,” you joke.

“Yeah, if I want to end up on Unsolved Mysteries.” Then Amir is gone.

“How are you doing?” you ask Christabel to be polite. You open the refrigerator and start hunting for your own can of Pepsi. “Excited? Nervous? You seem a little more relaxed than the last time I saw you. Are the wedding jitters finally dissipating?”

“They are,” she says, and when you glance back at her she is wearing a bashful sort of smile. It’s not an expression you can read. You resume digging through the refrigerator for a can of Pepsi; Amir and Christabel might have taken the last ones.

“That’s good,” you say noncommittally, hoping she’ll leave. But Christabel doesn’t leave. She seems to have something she needs to say. Just as you spy a lone can of Pepsi at the very back of the refrigerator and lean in to grab it, she proceeds to unburden herself.

“Well, you know, I was so concerned about me and Aemond before. I had no conviction that he especially liked me, and we never had anything to talk about, and he was so dreadfully undemonstrative…I was just beside myself, truly. I didn’t know what to do. But I feel much better about everything now. Norway was so good for us.”

Norway?

You close the refrigerator, your ice-cold Pepsi can clutched in your hand. You’re going cold all over. Slowly, you turn towards Christabel, glittering in her gold dress.

Norway???

“He took you on the North Sea trip.” You hear the words, but it doesn’t feel like you’ve said them. They sound flat and dazed.

“It’s a bit of a secret,” Christabel says; and again, her smile has no cruelty or sharp awareness in it, but her cheeks are pink. She’s blushing. What does she have to be embarrassed about? “My father doesn’t know. He wouldn’t approve. But I just felt…I felt ready, you know? I’m sure you understand what I mean. You aren’t so clinical and aloof about everything. I had to know if Aemond and I really had something between us before we got married.”

“You felt…ready?” Ready for what? Ready for WHAT, Christabel?

“I asked Aemond to take me with him. I begged, actually.” She giggles. “I won’t try to be proud about it! And finally he said yes. We stayed at a lovely hotel in Bergen, and during the day he would have to fly by helicopter out to the rigs, but at night…”

You’re staring blankly at her. You can’t believe what you think she’s going to say. Surely it must be something else, anything else—

“It wasn’t my plan to ever be intimate with a man before marriage, but sometimes…things change. Minds change, circumstances change. And I knew I wanted it. And it went so well! Now what do I have to be nervous about? All the uncertainties are resolved. Now we just sign the paperwork and start our lives together.”

He took her to Norway.

He slept with her in Norway.

“I hope it was just as good for him,” Christabel muses, a compulsive sort of oversharing. But she has had a few cocktails and she thinks you’re nonjudgemental and there’s probably not a single other soul she feels she can be truthful with…so why not the girl who got knocked up at prom and had a baby at seventeen? Surely she’s in no position to judge. “It’ll be even better once we can…you know. When we’re officially trying for a baby and there’s no need to worry about any precautions. I want Aemond to enjoy himself as much as possible. I want to be a good wife to him.”

You feel dizzy; you feel violently ill. And now you see everything: Aemond kissing her with his mouth open and ravenous, his hands between her legs, his hips pressed to hers, peeling off her clothes and learning how to make her moan, make her wet, make her come, and you think of how careful he must have been with her, a girl with no past, no ex-husband, no childbirth that nearly killed her, no stretchmarks and no baggage, just a smooth pristine rivulet of flesh that was so pure and uncontaminated it was weightless, and you can hear—though you don’t want to, though it feels like it will kill you—how tender he was, how encouraging, not a dominant who drinks down fantasies like a vampire sustained by blood but just a man, and a man who has at last found a woman he doesn’t need to grab, bite, bruise, handcuff to a bedpost to feel satisfied with.

He took her to Norway and he never told me.

You are saying something, and Christabel is nodding appreciatively, accepting the sage wisdom of a tarnished life. Your words don’t matter. They are folktales and charms, the croaks of bullfrogs, the whispers of the wind through Spanish moss, the Morse code of ripples in the water of the bayou. You are a novelty and your counsel is a souvenir; one day when she is living in California or Argentina or Australia or Alaska or her ancestral castle back in the U.K., Christabel will tell Aemond’s children: Once I met a nice single mom from Napoleonville Louisiana, and she told me to follow my heart and not let anyone shame me for wanting to be close with my soon-to-be husband.

Vhagar trots into the kitchen and begins nudging her massive head against Christabel’s bare knees. “Hi, big girl!” Christabel coos as she pets the blue merle Great Dane, clearly accustomed to this. “Who’s a giant gorgeous girl? You are!”

What did I expect? I knew they were getting married. I knew they were going to sleep together.

Yes, you knew it, but you hadn’t felt it, and now you have.

I can’t do this, you realize. I thought I could but I can’t.

“Christabel?” Alicent is calling like a windchime. “Darling, there are just a few more things we have to discuss before tomorrow, will you come back to the table please?”

“On my way!” Christabel replies obediently, and she gives you a quick, impulsive hug before vanishing.

I’m going to be sick. I’m going to have a heart attack. I’m going to drop dead right in the middle of this fucking kitchen.

Leaving your can of Pepsi forgotten on the countertop, you escape to the living room and then out the French doors into the garden. You run past the pool all the way to the pond full of multicolored fish you once hadn’t known were koi. You drop to your knees, then lie down on the cold cobblestones, and when it hits you again—Aemond touching her, Aemond loving her—you rupture into sobs that are breathless and shuddering. You try to stifle the noise with your palms; you clasp them over your mouth and smother your wails. It feels like you’re being ripped apart; it feels like you’re in labor, but there is no end, no consolation of a new life, no point at which your body chooses whether you live or die. It is only a razored wheel that turns in you again and again and again, shredding muscle and splitting bones.

There is a hand on your shoulder; someone is patting it awkwardly. You look up to see Aegon standing there. “Sorry,” he says. “You look…not good.”

“I’m really not good. I’m fucking terrible.” Your face is soaked and stinging with tears, your voice is strangled.

“Do you want some coke?”

“No, Aegon.”

“Do you want a ride home?”

“From you? Yeah, for sure, getting impaled by a stop sign would be a great next move for me.”

“I’m totally fine to drive.”

“Can you just pull Amir aside without anyone else noticing and tell him to say his goodbyes and then meet me in the driveway, please? He drove me here. I need him to take me home.”

“Okay,” Aegon says, and then: “Thanks for the Cap’n Crunch Treats. Thanks for remembering something I like and caring enough to bring more. No one really does that around here.” And he’s gone before you can think of a reply.

To get to the driveway without going though the house, you climb over a 5-foot wrought iron fence swarmed with rosebushes and ivy, no easy feat in a black Kmart dress and matching ballet flats. You acquire a dozen shallow gashes on your hands and forearms, but make it to the Ford Escort just in time for Amir to meet you under the full, cloudless moon, tossing his car keys from one hand to the other.

“What did—?” Then he sees your face. He gasps, knowing how bad it is. He’s never seen you like this. He didn’t know it was possible for you to look like this. He unlocks the Ford Escort and joins you inside, turning the key in the ignition. “What the fuck did Aemond do to you?!”

“I have to go home. It’s over, it’s over, I can’t do this.”

Amir is spinning out of the driveway. “Did he hurt you, did he—?!”

“He fucked Christabel in Norway,” you say, sobbing uncontrollably. “And I know I have no right to be jealous, I know we don’t have a conventional relationship, I thought I could handle this but I can’t. I can’t stop picturing him with her, and hearing it, and I…I…I don’t understand why this hurts so goddamn bad.”

“Babe,” Amir says gently, a palm on your trembling thigh. “You’re in love with him. That’s why.”

“This is killing me,” you whisper. You’re shaking all over. You feel like you’re battling for every breath.

Your best friend—your only friend—is quiet for a long time. “Don’t go tomorrow,” Amir finally says. “You don’t need to see the wedding. You shouldn’t put yourself through that. I’ll go, I can handle the cake alone, especially if Cadi’s with me to help with carrying plates and stuff.”

You don’t say anything. You stare out the nightscape window and mop tears from your face with McDonald’s napkins you find in Amir’s glovebox.

“Did you hear me? I don’t think you should go to the wedding tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you agree hoarsely. “I can’t watch them have my wedding.”

“Willis is dropping Cadi off in the morning, right? I’ll pick her and the cake up from your house and bring her back when it’s over. You can tell her whatever you want…you have another cake order to work on, you’re sick, you’re injured, your mom needs a ride to the doctor, whatever.”

“Okay,” you whimper.

“Hey, look at me.”

You do, sniffling, shivering, in agony.

“You don’t deserve this. You deserve better than this.”

I don’t think I do. I think if I did, it would have happened by now. But you know Amir will not accept this answer. “Okay,” you say again, trying to make yourself believe it.

In the gravel driveway of your sinking house, Amir asks if you want him to say. You tell him no, you want to be alone, you have to think, you have to plan. Really, you just don’t want anyone to see you this shattered. It’s humiliating, it’s like you’re an animal, like something less than human needing to licks its wounds in a dark place. You walk into the Fall-Down House and flip on the kitchen light, artificial yellow luminance. You don’t start the air conditioner. You don’t touch the Panasonic boombox. You stand there mindlessly in the sounds of the bayou: cicada screams, owl hoots, the far-away hissing of gators. The wedding cake is in the refrigerator, banana bread, cream cheese frosting, a kaleidoscope of wildflowers painted by Amir’s expert hand. He’s leaving. Aemond’s leaving. Everyone is leaving.

There are tires crunching on gravel in the driveway, there are footsteps on the sloping porch. He is able to yank the door open because you never lock it. He blows in like a storm that kills.

“What the hell happened?!” Aemond shouts. “Why did you leave?! You didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye to me—”

“You took her to Norway.”

Aemond’s face goes from furious to lost. “Why would she tell you that?”

Not That’s not true, not Let me explain, not It didn’t mean anything. Your stomach sinks, a basket full of stones. “Because she thinks I’m her friend.”

“It wasn’t…” Aemond sighs. “It was a last-minute thing, and it was her idea. She really, really wanted to go to Norway, and I figured…you know…what’s the difference between the wedding night and a few weeks before it? So yeah, it happened—”

“Oh God,” you whisper, starting to sob again.

“And then I came home to your house, to your doorstep, because I missed you the entire time. The entire time, every hour, every minute, and there are no exceptions, okay, are you listening to me? I took her to Norway because I had to. I took you and Cadi to Clarence House because I wanted to. What I do with her is a reflex, an obligation, I’m on autopilot, I’m thinking of you to get myself hard, I don’t know how else to express to you how completely different these situation are in every single goddamn way.”

“She said it was good,” you say huskily, tears snaking down your cheeks that are raw from trying to dab them dry.

“Of course it was good for her!” Aemond flings back. “I’ve had a lot of casual sex, I know how to make women come, it’s a math equation, it doesn’t mean we’re soulmates!”

“I know I have no claim to you, but I…” You gaze out the kitchen window, dark and still, nothing to see but stars and lighting bugs. “I can’t do this.”

Aemond asks, kindly now: “What do you want?”

I want to not have to beg you to choose me. “I want this to be over.”

“No,” he says, panicking. “No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You’re going to give this up as soon as it gets painful? I’m not worth fighting for, what I can do for you and Cadi isn’t worth a little pain? Because I’m no stranger to it either. You think I’m not hurting, you think nothing ever keeps me awake at night?”

“You could leave your prison any time you want to. But instead you built a brand new one around me.”

“You don’t understand what the kind of responsibility I’m beholden to feels like.”

“Yeah, a town named after Napoleon is the right place for you,” you seethe, enraged. “You’ve felt so fucking small your whole life that now you’re starving for what it tastes like to be in control. But I can’t let you destroy me. I can’t let my daughter grow up watching me settle for less than I need from a man. She’ll learn to live the same way.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Aemond,” you say, and you wait until he looks at you. “Do you really want children?”

When he answers, his voice frayed and his right eye misty. “I love Cadi.”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want children of your own with Christabel?”

“I have to,” he says, miserable.

“No,” you plead. “You cannot have a baby with that girl. You can’t, Aemond. You are going to ruin so many lives, not just your own.”

“I have to,” he says again.

“Then get out. Viserys owns you, and Viserys wouldn’t want you here. He would want you back at the mansion impregnating your child bride.”

“She’s a legal adult, she’s 19, and she wants me, she begs for me, I’m not twisting her arm—”

“Then go!” you roar, striking him hard, both palms to his chest. Aemond doesn’t budge. “Get out, go home, go have kids you won’t give a fuck about just like Viserys never cared about you. Go repeat the cycle all over again. I’m done. I can’t be a part of it.”

“I won’t be like him,” Aemond swears.

“You will be. You already are.” You shove him again, but still, Aemond doesn’t move. You know what he’s waiting for, you know the right word to say. But you can’t get it to launch from your lips; it catches in your throat like a blade through the windpipe. “Get out!”

Your fingers hook into the lapels of his black suit jacket and stay there; you can’t let go. You’re both breathing heavily; you can hear it, you can feel the heat in the air. You keep his jacket gripped in your hands, he can move no closer, no farther away. When he leans into you, you breathe in his smoke and cologne; when his hands cradle your face, you feel the benevolent power that once gave you peace.

I want him. I need him. Not forever, no, I understand that’s not possible. But just for right now.

You look up at him and Aemond kisses you, his lips and tongue claiming you like untouched land; he puts down roots, he slits the jugulars of trespassers.

Here. Now.

You drag him down with you. When you drop to the floor, you strike the back of your skull against the scuffed, sloping wood and bite back a yelp.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Aemond says, though it isn’t his fault; he reaches for your head and cushions it with his right hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You’re tearing open his white shirt; tiny translucent buttons go flying in every direction. Your palms glide over his chest, up to his throat, to his jaw, to knot in his hair. He reaches beneath your dress to slide off your panties, then buries his fingers between your legs. You moan helplessly, needfully, spreading your thighs wider for him. No man has ever been able to do this to you before: to make you forget everything, to make you feel—if only for a moment—beloved, worthy, chosen. He’s kissing you like he knows this is the last time. You’re touching the left side of his face and he doesn’t even notice, he won’t realize until later that there was a time when he was cured.

Aemond pulls his wallet out of the pocket of his suit pants, flips it open, and roots through it until he finds a condom. He starts to rip it open, moving with desperate speed, dire impatience.

“No, don’t,” you say. “Please don’t. I want all of you.” And I won’t get another chance.

He exhales in deep, ecstatic relief; he wants it too. You’re soaked, you’re ready, you’re aching for him like mending bones. He eases himself into you, gasping, and you are stunned by how good it feels already, how close you are, every rope of nerves and muscle glimmering with an opening heat that builds higher and higher, the reverse of a tornado finally touching down on earth. His hands are linked with yours and pinned to the floor above your head; he’s kissing you, he’s moaning into you, he thrusts deeper and harder when you beg him to do it.

Aemond untangles one hand from yours and reaches low to stroke you. Your fingers find his again and catch him, capture him, bring his hand back to the floor where it can be entwined with yours and his weight can hold it to the scraped wood. “I don’t need it, I’m close. Stay here. Stay with me.”

“I’m here,” he whispers, panting; and the friction of his body against yours overtakes you, and when you come it is blinding, bone-breaking, a whirlpool that traps you for what feels like over a minute, soaring highs punctuated by the illusion of fading over and over again until you think you can’t stand it, and only then does it end, Aemond collapsing on the floor beside you covered in your sweat and your wetness, you feeling the remnants of him bleeding down your bare thighs.

You drag yourself upright—muscles sore in your belly and back and thighs—and roll onto your knees so you can stagger to your feet. You tug on your panties so he doesn’t drip out of you onto the floor. Then you straighten the skirt of your black dress, turn on the little pink Panasonic boombox—it’s a U2 song, Where The Streets Have No Name—and begin washing a muffin tin that was left in the sink.

Aemond stands up and runs a hand through his hair, getting his bearings. He looks down at his pants and fixes his zipper and belt. He tries to close his shirt and then remembers you tore off the buttons. They lie scattered across the floor, useless.

As you scrub the muffin tin, you hear Aemond’s footsteps behind you. His palms begin at the small of your back and then skate around your waist to encircle you.

“Stop,” you tell him; and immediately his hands fall away. Aemond waits for you to say more, but you don’t. You don’t even look at him.

He walks to where the kitchen becomes the living room—you can tell by the creaks in the floor—and again, he waits. After a while he says: “I’ll call you when the new house is ready.”

“No. Have Criston handle it. I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

“You get that I’m in love with you, right?” Aemond forces out, and when at last you turn to him there is the metallic glistening of tears on his right cheek. “I never feel this way about anyone. I don’t know how to handle it, I didn’t even know it was possible. But it’s true.”

“It’s not enough,” you say simply, and resume scrubbing the muffin tin.

He waits in silence, thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes. Then the door opens and shuts—like the jaws of a beast—and he’s gone.