#hers is kinda small cause shes still young

[kiwiwi-art-aaa]

biig smile !!! :]

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[theoldsports]

SPONTANEOUS.

Art Donaldson x Reader

oops. it’s gonna be a series. i’m developing Lore. let me know what you think and where to go next.

warnings: 18+ please, drug use mention, drinking (underage), kinda sexual content.

LINK TO SORRY SERIES

Fancy parties were loathsome. [Y/N] thought so, at least. She hated being told to stop calling them fancy parties and shindigs and to call them by their proper names: galas, benefits, balls, whatever. It was exhausting. Her feet weren’t meant to be elegantly jammed into spike heels. [Y/N] liked the height she was, thank you very much.

Did supporting charitable causes have to feel so degrading?

Capitalism at its finest.

[Y/N] had been attending these things since she was a little girl. Seven or eight years old. So young, in fact, that she now can’t remember what demographic or ailment-research, or political party this goddamn yearly spring shindig was for. Mr. and Mrs. Zweig were always nice to her when she was a child. She wasn’t just a family-friend, she (and her parents) felt like friends that were family.

What made the lavish Zweig parties tolerable was Patrick Zweig. She had known Patrick as long as there had been parties to get dressed up for. He had scraped her off a marbled staircase step as a little girl when her polished pleather mary janes didn’t have the traction to keep her upright. She had cried when she fell. He had said: “you’re really loud, you know that?” And she had laughed. So they were doomed to spend eternity hiding in coat rooms and getting tipsy together at these things.

Patrick was never one of those boys that felt the need to turn his back on [Y/N] during the cooties years, or the so-she’s-your-girlfriend? years. The pair of them always managed to be simply themselves and that was enough. He was merciless and unapologetic, but he made a hell of a best friend.

[Y/N] was two months older than Patrick, and had been taller for their first two years of friendship. When his shift in stature occurred, it happened fast.

Patrick went away to boarding school and came back a gangly beast. [Y/N], though they hadn’t spent every waking moment (weekends and school days) together since he had left her for a racket and a tennis ball, was always pleased to see Patrick was still himself every time he came home. Louder and stupider each time, but still Patrick.

Though, one spring break was different. Eleventh grade, if [Y/N] recalled correctly. Patrick came home, tall and stupid as ever, toting a boy named Art Donaldson.

Art Donaldson was considerably smaller, and debatably less stupid than Patrick Zweig. [Y/N] understood that day why all the girls in her grade giggled about boys. [Y/N] could never tell Patrick that. He would have been insufferable about it.

Actually, [Y/N] felt jealous. That was also a secret. Because Art, unlike she and Patrick, was nice. Everybody liked him. Nobody ever talked shit about him. Adults loved him and his small-town boy manners. He actually was a rambunctious little jerk, but nobody else saw that. Everyone else got yes sir, yes ma’am, I’m well, how are you? He could turn that charm on and off like a faucet. Infuriating, right?

[Y/N] was also jealous because it was clear she had been replaced.

Patrick lit up like a Christmas tree when he was with Art. He never looked at her like that. Art must have been a better friend to him then she was. Patrick called her once a week to talk for years, but Art slept, like, six feet away from him. It simply wasn’t fair.

Because of that, [Y/N] remembers spring break was really hard. [Y/N] was acutely aware she had lost something she didn’t know she could lose to the human version of a fucking beagle.

[Y/N] couldn’t remember the grade they were in exactly, but she did remember the dress she wore to the Zweigs’ party that year. It was light green and had spaghetti straps. It was longer and more form-fitting than what she was used. Most of the girls her age had settled for lots of tulle and cheetah-print so [Y/N] looked more mature by comparison. It was the first time [Y/N] remembered feeling grown up at all.

To think she thought that all her excitement and contentment was wasted. [Y/N] sat in a plastic pool chair in the backyard curled up with her cork wedge platforms resting dangerously close to the water. She nursed a bottle of vodka she had swiped two months ago from her parents liquor cabinet to surprise Patrick. Meticulously, she had waited for them to be out of town and found the key to the liquor cabinet. A whole bottle just for [Y/N] and her best friend. [Y/N] had barely managed to keep it a secret that she had taken it. She had been so proud of herself and thought Patrick would be too.

Now, she was the only one around to drink it.

Patrick had put his warm, familiar hands on her shoulders and told [Y/N] to wait right there and that he and Art would be back in a sec. The two boys had vanished upstairs presumably to Patrick’s room with laughter spilling from their mouths. [Y/N] sat at the base of the stairs alone for twenty minutes.

According to the garish clock on the wall, at twenty-one minutes, [Y/N] disappeared to the pool. She officially hated Patrick too. He had left her alone at parties plenty of times, and she him. They’d dance with others, or sneak off for a makeout session with a pretty stranger. It had never been a big deal either way. This felt like deliberate abandonment for no good reason. That was a first.

“Whoa, save some for the rest of us.” A reedy voice called out. Art Donaldson. [Y/N]’s head glanced over her shoulder so fast at the sound that she almost made herself dizzy. It took little time to realize there was no Patrick with him.

[Y/N] pulled the bottle closer. “That was a really long one sec,” She replied. She planned to say that eventually in the wasted minutes she waited, but it sounded less cool now than it did in her head. [Y/N] sounded plain mopey and that was a shame. “What’d you guys do anyway? Where’s Patrick?”

Art shrugged and walked further into view. He looked a bit sheepish. “Being Patrick,” He didn’t answer the first question she asked. There was a half-smile tugging at his lips. Art looked nice. Brown dress shoes, navy jacket, white shirt. No tie. She could have sworn that had been a tie at some point earlier. His shaggy blonde hair was mussed, but she had yet to observe it being neat. It was fustrating how effortlessly nice he looked. [Y/N] thought that everyday from day one. “It’s getting kinda cold. You wanna head back inside? I was looking for you—“

“I’m alright here, but thanks,” she slurred slightly. “You head in. I’m not here to ruin your fun.” It had sounded bitter. She hadn’t meant for it to.

Art sighed and glanced away from her. He paused a moment and sighed. “I’m not here to ruin yours either, y’know.”

“You don’t have to make this into a thing. It’s fine.”

“Well, too late. Patrick’s being an ass. I don’t want you out here feeling like I’m some homewrecker. I’ve been on the receiving end of shit like this from him, too. He’s not trying to be nasty to you, ‘promise. Come on, I’m not gonna let you freeze out here.” Art said, stepping in a bit. The glow from the pool left green and white wiggly lines across his cheeks.

“It’s spring, It’ll warm up. Get back up to that party, man. Patrick’s waiting for you.”

“You’re being impossible.”

[Y/N] set the half-empty bottle down beneath her chair. “Nuh-uh.”

“Jesus… if you’re gonna be a jerk about it, at least take this.” Art frowned, shrugging out of his suit jacket. He seemed disappointed.

“Oh, Art, please—“

“No, no! You made your choice. Don’t let me spoil your fun with you and the… the vodka,” Art said, making a show of taking the jacket off and throwing it over to [Y/N]. The balled up lump of fabric landed in her lap with a soft thud. Her stomach churned. “All hunky dory now,” He said, holding his hands out to show he was no threat. Art’s brows were lowered protectively close to his eyes in what [Y/N] thought was an effort to mask slight hurt or rejection. He turned to walk away as [Y/N] clutched the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. Art turned back to to look at her for a moment. [Y/N] didn’t know what that expression was meant to mean. “Be careful, okay? For what it’s worth, you—you look lovely tonight. It would be a shame for such a, uh, such a pretty girl in a pretty dress to end up face down, stuck in the pool drain. ‘Night [Y/N].”

[Y/N] was glad for the dark because she felt her face heat up and dopey smile start to form at the compliment. Maybe she was drunk, but that had to be flirting. In the most fucked up way possible, but still. Why? Art Donaldson didn’t even like her.

Art had only managed to take a few steps into the dewy grass when [Y/N] begrudgingly called out: “Art, wait!”

She hated that she liked the smirk on his face when he turned around. He could tell what she wanted by her tone. What kind of fucker takes no for answer happily and still sets himself up for a yes in the end. “Yes?” He asked, trying not to smile.

“Listen, you’re right—“ [Y/N] stood up confidently, sliding Art’s jacket around her shoulders. And she stood up too fast and knocked her sandals into the pool. “Shit!” She cursed. She was still an age where cursing felt cool and unfamiliar. [Y/N] stood on her unsteady feet and watched her sandals bob out to the middle of the pool, propelled by her kick. She was embarrassed now as well. The stakes of everything felt so much higher than sandals in the pool of her best friend’s backyard. Booze will do that to the sanest of folks. [Y/N] dropped her face heavily into her hands. Great.

Quickly, Art cut his eyes between her and the shoes and back again. “Where do they keep the pool net?” Art asked calmly, without missing a beat.

“The shed.” [Y/N] said miserably and pointed a few feet away. Art bounded across the pavement around the pool to the shed. He tugged once, then twice.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “It’s locked,” He reported to [Y/N] from practically halfway in the pruned hedges. Art started the walk back to her. Once he was beside her, Art placed a hand gently at her elbow. “Come back inside with me. Please. Patrick may be able to get us a key and we can…”

But [Y/N] looked so sad from behind her hands. Even though all of this was so childish. She was also wearing Art’s jacket now and that did things to his brain. Her dress wasn’t not low cut and he froze for a second. All he could do was stare.

“Just do what I would do,” Patrick said. “It’ll be fine, man. She’s already into you, I can tell.”

“Well, if she’s into me, why would I do what you would do? That’s an awful suggestion, Patrick.” Art protested.

Patrick spun around in his desk chair to face Art as he rolled a joint. “I’ve known her since before I knew you. Just, like, be spontaneous. That’s what I mean. Spontaneous. She’s into that because she’s like that too. And she’s… wicked mean, so don’t start shit. She’ll surprise you, but like, in a good way. What I said before makes me sound like a jackass,” Patrick paused to laugh. “Be in the moment. Don’t get in your head about it. Which you’re doing right now— I can tell, Arthur…” Patrick drew out Art’s full name (which he hated) to get under his skin.

Art stood up from the floor in frustration. He glanced at his watch. Too much time had passed. The window was metaphorically closing. Hastily, Art dashed to the door. “I’m going down there. Poor girl’s been waiting all this time because you, my friend, are a shitty advice-giver.”

“Spontaneous!” Patrick called after him with a grin.

Art stared at [Y/N]. Then he blinked. Then tilted his head to the side. Spontaneous. Before he knew it, he was tugging his shoes and socks off and diving into the pool. Art had been right, it was getting decisively cold and the pool water reflected that. Art swam out to where the wedges had floated too, which had actually been fairly far. He wasn’t sure if the net would have gotten them that easily. Art nicked the shoes by the ankle straps and shook his wet hair out of his face. As he paddled back, he glanced at [Y/N]’s expression. She smiled wide with joy and surprise at Art’s sacrifice.

“Art! Thank you so much!” She said when he flopped the waterlogged shoes onto the concrete. Art looked up at her from the water and he only looked up her skirt a little bit.

“It’s no trouble. Repayment’s in order, though.”

“Repayment…? What do you—“

Art wrapped his wet, callused hands around both of [Y/N] ankles and flipped her into the pool. She screamed as she splashed into the pool. Then laughed hard. Art wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of his life.

“Wait, fuck, you can swim, right?”

Fortunately, [Y/N] could, and that’s the move that won Art Donaldson his wife.

—

“Honey, you have to get up so you can get ready…” Art’s mouth moved against the shell of [Y/N]’s left ear. His arm was tossed over her middle. Normally, it was Art that dreaded getting out of bed, but clearly they enjoyed switching roles once in a while.

A nap had turned into two-and-a-half hours of [Y/N]’s soft snores while Art held her. He couldn’t sleep much, but luckily he had something beautiful to look at. She ripped into him about his staring problem all the time. Art couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. “No.” She mumbled.

“Please…” Art’s hand trailed under her shirt and climbed up, up, up.

“No,” she sighed. Art’s hands groped her left breast and [Y/N] didn’t particularly mind. She shivered at the contact. Art had known every inch of her body over years. Neither was bored yet, though.

“It’s one night. One party. We don’t have to stay all night… He’s not going to be there, Lenora told me when I RSVP’d.”

They had an unspoken rule. They did not name Patrick in conversation when sober. The wound was too fresh still.

“Don’t talk about him, or his fucking mom when you’re touching me like that,” [Y/N] all but moaned as Art’s left thumb circled her nipple. “‘Thought we had to get up…”

Art smirked. “We do. At least you’re awake now.” He teasingly withdrew his hand entirely from out of her shirt and scampered out of bed in one agile zip of a motion.

“Art!”

She groaned. Rolling on her back to look at the ceiling, she glanced over at Art walking through the master bathroom doorway in his briefs. What an incredible ass that man has. “Motivation to leave the party early.” Art said and popped off into the shower.

Maybe it was selfish. Patrick and [Y/N] and Art hadn’t spoken in almost a year. It was no surprise to the Donaldsons that Patrick was an addict. He had been addicted to almost everything and everyone that crossed his path. What they hadn’t expected was him becoming so out of control that he missed the wedding of his two best friends and was sent into rehab once he was declared medically stable. The one person that both Donaldsons had fought to have in their own personal half of the wedding party. And he wasn’t there. And the wedding was expensive enough to go through with it amid all the bad feelings over Patrick.

Still, they were invited to the Zweig family’s charity or whatever gala. They would go like they always had, too. But it would be their first time alone, so to speak.

[Y/N] regretfully got out of bed while Art showered. She moved to the closet and unzipped her paper thin dress bag. The gown itself was beautiful, but not all too expensive. The year had been tight in terms of money. The wedding and the honeymoon were pricey enough before you added in rackets and competition entry fees and coaching. Art was an expensive husband to have. He made up for it. He was playing at his best too, so [Y/N] hardly cared. Who could put a price on seeing Art smile like that?

[Y/N] cringed if she had to pay more than two-hundred dollars for shoes or a dress anyway.

The dress was green. She’d worn a lot of green since she met Art. [Y/N] dreaded wiggling into shapewear and spending too long on her hair. Art had it easy. A tie, a jacket and trading his nasty watch for his nicer one. It wasn’t fair. It never was with Art.

She got ready all the same. The straps rested on her shoulders, thicker than the early 2000s straps she had been dumped into the pool in. It was longer than that dress. Almost floor length instead of mid calf. It was elegant for its price tag.

Once the dress was on, [Y/N] tumbled into the bathroom to do her makeup. The shared counter was way too small for both of their shit to sit nicely on. She would complain about that when there was more money in the bank account to do something about it. Art was taking longer than normal in the shower. Boner, [Y/N] thought.

As she started to put her face on, she could see Art’s face in the foggy mirror behind her. The sound of the water stopping and the shower curtain being tossed back had gone unnoticed. He was smiling slightly. “You look nice.” He said softly. Art toweled off his shaggy hair harshly behind her. He kept looking at her.

This is how Art was. He made these remarkable heart eyes at her every time he saw her. [Y/N] could be wearing a potato sack and she would feel beautiful. That look, that staring problem, was worse a hundredfold when she was dressed up. He kept glancing at her. She could see him in the mirror. He wanted [Y/N] to see. The blue and brown of his eyes cast further and further down her body.

“Staring.” [Y/N] said simply. She didn’t even look away from her own face in the mirror.

“Yeah. And?” Art smiled cheekily. His face was bright red not from the warm shower water. He wrapped his towel around his slim waist. [Y/N] applied too much concealer and less blush. “I, of all people, am allowed.”

“Idiot.” [Y/N] said. Art dried his hands profusely on his towel, knowing she would squawk at him if he left wet handprints behind on her dress.

Art’s hands wrapped around her waist. Great pains were taken to prevent other wet spots from splopping up her dress. So, so gently, he kissed the left side of her neck from behind. “I was thinking—” Art was always gentle in his own way.

“Ooh, dangerous.”

“Shut up. Y’know, this is the first Zweig party where your placecard is going to say Donaldson on it…”

[Y/N] nodded softly. “Huh. Yeah. That’s true.” She said, smiling a bit.

“I’m really, really excited about that. On the seating chart, we’re the Donaldsons. Isn’t that so crazy…?” Art whispered into her plush skin. “Plural. Two of us.”

Teasingly, she nudged him back with her elbow. The smile was still wide on her lips. “You’re being such a girl about it.”

Art didn’t let go or relent. He pressed feather-light kisses between [Y/N]’s ear and collarbone. “Am I? Hadn’t noticed.”

“We’re going to be late to this thing you want to go to so bad, Mr. Donaldson, if you don’t stop.” [Y/N] whispered, incapable of doing more. She did set down her makeup sponge and pot of foundation with a clack.

“Would that be such a bad thing? Only a couple minutes, right? We could-we could cut out some of the boring small talk and…” Art said, daring boldly to drag his tongue up her throat as the steamed up mirror cleared some. He never finished his sentence verbally.

[Y/N] gasped at the feeling. That was a brave move for Art. “You drag me out of bed early so we can be late anyway. You don’t make any s-sense, babe.”

He huffed impishly. Art spun [Y/N] around to face him. His face and shoulders were damp from the water collected in his hair, which desperately needed a trim. Carefully, Art brushed [Y/N]’s hair away from her face. “You’re right… I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you?”

“How?”

Then, Art’s mouth quirked into that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Please.” Art said in a hushed voice and boosted [Y/N] smoothly onto their rickety counter. “Give me ten minutes.”

“You can do better than ten.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Clock’s ticking.” When she said it, she heard Art’s knees hit the tile in front of her.

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some Guy on Fear Gas (can apparently turn invisible)

Masterpost

“Danny was supposed to be in class today.”

There was a round of sighs in the coms. See Danny didn’t react in the same manner as the rest of the population when exposed to fear toxin (or in general, but they were mostly used to that). See Danny didn’t scream, he didn’t cry, he didn’t get violent. He got unnervingly paranoid.

He got so unnervingly paranoid about being watched, specifically by the government if the muttered and whispered words were to be believed. His eyes tracked nothing while he slowly moved around invisible people. It wasn't like dealing with someone in an active hallucination experiencing a psychotic break. It was like dealing with someone in a paranoid delusion. He wouldn't let any of the bats near him and often took off, disappearing into the chaos.

Four months into seeing this kid everywhere and their suspicions were confirmed when he literally disappeared after the second time being poisoned.

Danny was a meta and he was afraid.

That’s not the reason for the exasperation felt by this family though. It was what always happened after. The first time he ignored every vigilantly when they tried to bring it up. After the second time he attempted to avoid everyone, extended family included.

(He had asked Kate if she was also Batman’s kid. “More like their aunt.” “Oh okay so it really is a family business. Like that show Unnatural. You don't happen to have also lost your parents at a relatively young age and now go on to fight a dark presence in their honor, do you?.” Kate had stared passively at him, the others had warned her. “….. okay… are you more of a Zuko honor type?”)

However, it was like the universe conspired against Danny. Even Bruce agreed that there had to be some god or being doing this (nothing is ever a coincidence). They kinda felt bad for him. He was very obviously trying to avoid them and he was either really bad at being evasive or a deity was laugh at him. Once he had thrown himself behind a lamp pole smaller than himself and closed his eyes to avoid Stephanie.

(It was very awkward. He could turn invisible and knew they knew so why…..? She had politely continued past so not to embarrass the poor guy further. Cause this was embarrassing and they both knew it.)

Finally it was Duke who pulled them all out of limbo. He had come across Danny on the roof of another bank. A lesser known capital union closer to crime ally this time.

Danny hadn’t been avoiding Duke in the same manner as everyone else. He still stopped to give Duke food but he never spoke and he ran after. Duke thought it would be weird to chase him but it was also weird to turn around, have an orange shoved into his hands then watch his friend run away.

However, this time Danny didn’t run as Duke approached so Duke sat next to him. Pulling out a granola bar, he handed it to Danny, “that’s why you feed me all the time right? Cause you know how many calories we need as metas.”

Danny had laughed, “no actually, that was a bit that morphed into a habit. I just thought it was funny.”

“….what.”

“Don’t get me wrong, now that we’re friends I am more than happy to feed you but yeah. The first candy bar was a thank you and then the second time I thought ‘I have fruit.’”

“….. wow… okay.” There went his plan of empathizing. They sat in silence as Duke tried to reorganize his thoughts.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you all.” Duke turned his head to face Danny, who kept his eyes forward, “you know no one cares that you’re a meta.” “Obviously. It wasn’t the invisibility that I was upset about," Danny said.

“The muttering. The paranoia.” Danny grimaced and didn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to tell us till you’re ready, man. Just let us know if you need help. Please, are you safe?”

Danny nodded and Duke nodded back and they had both continued to sit. When they parted ways Danny handed Duke a small bag of chips.

Danny had apologized everyone one at a time even though they had heard it from Duke. Danny never explained nor did he want to talk about his it. His power of invisibility was also a subject off limits. All of them were worried but they didn’t want to force him to talk about it. They had to trust that he would one day feel comfortable doing so with any or all of them. (Still, it was hard seeing their friend so paranoid that he flinched back from them. )

Post Six

[ceoofglytchell]

A Fall From Grace

Summary: When Gwayne Hightower traveled to King’s Landing to support his nephew the King in the war, he brought along his dear daughter, you. Soft-spoken, pious and well read; Dowager Queen Alicent took you under her wing immediately, but another pair of eyes never left your form either. From the moment of your arrival you had taken Aegon’s breath away and he was intent on getting closer to you even if it meant setting foot in the Sept again to join you for prayer.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Hightower!Cousin!Reader

Word count: 3982 words

Warnings: incest, infidelity (because Aegon is still married), obvious longing from both sides, he’s a little obsessed, fluff, making out, allusions to smut, Reader is described of having Hightower like features, religious guilt (kinda?), lots of praying, no mention of Y/N

Notes: I thank you all for reading my stuff 💛 As always, feedback and criticism is always appreciated.

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It had only been two days since you had been wandering through the endless, cold corridors of the Red Keep, and for exactly two days you had been all that King Aegon, second of his name, could think about. Every thought he had was about you, even though he was supposed to be in a meeting of the Small Council planning the attack on Rooks Rest that he had only recently learned about was happening.

Where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with? How were you feeling? Did you miss home? Were you betrothed?

Aegon turned the small white and green colored ball over and over in its holder on the council table, obviously not listening. Lord Tyland was talking about something, but his words didn't really reach his ears because he was once again thinking only of you. At this hour you would have to accompany his mother to the sept to pray to the gods or you went alone if you so wished. He himself was not a religious person, but he knew the customs and traditions of the Seven, as his mother had tried to teach him when he was a little boy, but she had failed miserably at that. As far as he knew, only his youngest brother Daeron actually believed in all that nonsense, but he had also grown up in Oldtown, where their mother and uncle came from so it was no surprise.

You too.

As far as he knew, your father- his uncle Gwayne Hightower- had fed you the religious customs and traditions of the Seven from a very early age, and you also had several Septas who raised you to be a perfect young lady, but you never took the vows that would make you one yourself. You were Gwayne's only daughter, so it was your duty to marry and give your future husband heirs to continue the bloodline, and, by the gods, Aegon swore that he would be the one.

You were not just beautiful, you were a real feast for the eyes. Your wavy auburn hair, your pale skin with your constantly rosy cheeks and your smile that always made his knees go weak were the most breathtaking things he had ever seen, which was why he could forgive you for your religious nonsense and still wanted to make you his in every imaginable way.

Your body was always covered in pretty gowns in the color of House Hightower, green, but all accents and jewelry you wore were gold, which made you a walking, living banner for his cause and no one would question where your loyalty laid. He was the king and he could have anything he wanted, and now he wanted you, his beloved cousin, whom he had only met two days ago.

It wasn't his fault that his heart had decided that way, it had just happened. If only he was still unmarried…

You were, but he wouldn't allow you to be sold to anyone like a broodmare or as a price to win another house over to his side. Even if your hand was given to Daeron, he would not approve, because the very thought of seeing you happy with someone else made him angry, but it also made him painfully aware of how much you had already done to him. Only two days... how would he feel once you had been here for a week, a month? He would probably go mad sooner or later if he couldn't have you.

He had to act, and quickly, because otherwise you would be gone and choose someone else instead of him.

Suddenly he slammed the table with the palm of his hand, which froze the other council members for a moment and the room was filled with silence for the first time in two hours.

"You bore me. You all bore me.”

Without waiting another second, Aegon stood up abruptly from the table, whereupon the other council members also stood up, since he was their king and this was yet another formal custom that he could not care less about, and he disappeared as quickly as he could from the small council. The meeting was over. For him, anyway, because as soon as the doors were closed, Larys Strong spoke again and the conversation continued without their most important member. A marriage alliance was also one of the topics that were discussed in his absence.

It was not long later that Aegon stood in front of the large entrance doors to the Sept, which he had all too fond memories of. Only two weeks ago, he had hidden under one of the altars, completely drunk, because he had not wanted the crown. He still did not want it, but it also gave him a new sense of purpose in life, and something worth fighting and living for. A lot had changed in the last two weeks, his view of his birthright, as well as a sudden deeper interest in you.

It was extremely embarrassing to admit that he hadn't even known you existed until Alicent had told him in passing. It was almost a shame how you always he had been hidden from him, albeit unintentionally.

Carefully, pulling the hood further over his face so that no one would see his silver hair and guess who he was, he entered the interior of the Sept and was immediately greeted with the smell of fire, incense and melting candle wax. As always, it was quite dark inside, the only light was the lit candles and the slight sunlight that fell through the windows above, so that it was not completely pitch black and one could still see the floor beneath one’s feet.

He let his gaze wander through the wide hall and over the individual statues of the Seven, to whom most people prayed, and there, in the distance, kneeling in front of the statue of the Mother, you were. The light from the many small candles and the light that fell through the window fell directly on your body which was wrapped in a dark green gown and in that moment Aegon decided that you must be an angel. There was no other explanation for this beautiful, divine being that he saw praying quietly a few meters in front of him.

The young king felt a lump forming in his throat and he slowly began to make his way towards you, even though he already knew that it would be difficult to keep his composure once you looked at him with your doe-like eyes.

He was not a religious man. He was not even a good man, which was why he felt guilty for corrupting someone as pure as you and dragging you into his own sinfulness, but it was necessary because part of him wanted to protect you, wanted to hold you in his arms, stroke your hair and share slow, deep kisses with you while shielding you from the horrors of war.

The gods would not forgive him, but perhaps you would.

While you were lost in prayer, you heard footsteps approaching from the side, but you did not let that distract you at first. After all, it could have been anyone; Septas, the Dowager Queen, or anyone from the common people, as was customary in Oldtown, where everyone prayed side by side, since every human - common or noble - was equal before the gods.

A small clearing of the throat from the side, however, made you open your eyes again and turn your head to the side, as you were curious as to who had come to you, but your eyes immediately widened in surprise when you looked into the face of your cousin Aegon, who had recently been crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Your Grace? To what do I own the honors?" you asked him in a gentle voice and you immediately started to stand up to curtsy to him, but he indicated to you with a quick gesture that this would not be necessary.

"Please, you may kneel. Forgive me, I did not know you were in the middle of a prayer."

A small smile played on your soft lips and you shook your head slightly, as if to tell him that he need not worry about this, which made his heart beat faster and he had to fight the urge to reach out and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear that had come loose.

"No, please, it is fine, cousin. I was almost finished," you answered him in return and you folded your delicate hands again as if you wanted to finish your prayer, whatever it was - at least in your thoughts and not out loud.

Aegon hesitated, but when he let his amethyst colored eyes wander over your form for a brief moment and he noticed the way your dress hugged your figure, he knew there was no turning back for him. "May I join you?"

Your eyes lit up and your soft, kind smile widened into a truly happy one, whereupon you moved slightly to the side so that he could kneel on the cushions next to you. You had never thought of your cousin as pious, but there were always signs and wonders.

"How... how does this work now?" Aegon asked you carefully and in an uncertain voice, while he folded his hands together just like you, but unlike you, his gaze was not on the imposing statue of the deity on the altar in front of them, but he was looking at you alone. He just couldn't take his eyes off you and your otherworldly beauty.

A small giggle escaped you and thanks to the flickering golden candlelight he could see your cheeks turning a light shade of red, which made a feeling of pride well up in him, now that he knew he had an effect on you.

"You close your eyes and pray. In other words, you can tell the Seven anything and they will listen to you. You can also ask them anything and they will have an answer for you and show you the way.”

He was a sinner and he knew it. He could do nothing but watch your pink lips move as you calmly explained to him how prayer worked. How would it feel to kiss you? Would you kiss him back if he did it now, here in the middle of this sacred place? Did you want him as much as he wanted you?

“What do you tell them?” he asked you with a hint of curiosity in his deep voice as he continued to examine you as if you were the altar he was supposed to worship.

“I ask them for peace and that my father takes a safe journey and returns unharmed,” you told him honestly, a slight glimmer of sadness spreading in your eyes that made him want to reach for your hand to comfort you. Of course, he had never seen a war himself, but he also knew that not everyone returned from battles - especially not when fire-breathing dragons were involved.

"Well, then do not let me stop you."

You both clasped your hands together and closed your eyes to address your words to the gods and perhaps even make a request. But while you continued exactly where you had left off when you were startled by his footsteps, Aegon didn't know where to start. The last time he had prayed was many years ago and his mother had put the words in his mouth back then.

Your light breathing and the crackling candles finally inspired him and the young king actually managed to address the Seven, even though he didn't even really believe they existed, but the words just bubbled out of him - even if it was all just in his head and his thoughts would probably not be heard by anyone. He wished he could tell you all of this directly...

Your eyes fluttered open once more about a minute later and you were surprised to see, as you looked to the man to your right, that he still seemed to be deep in prayer. Whether he was actually speaking to the gods or just thinking about his day, you took the time to look at him more closely. Because he was sitting so close to you, you could see all the little details on his admittedly very handsome face. From the way his long eyelashes gently touched his cheek, to the small moles on his pale skin, the slight curve of his nose, his full lips and the way his shoulder-length, slightly wavy hair framed his face.

He was beautiful...

You condemned yourself for thinking that, especially when kneeling in front of the statue of the Mother, but you couldn't help yourself. Aegon Targaryen was a beautiful man and no one should deny that fact. After all, the Targaryens were closer to gods than to men, although you were never sure if you should believe that old saying, but as you looked at him now, you thought there must be something to it, because why else would your heart suddenly beat faster whenever he was near and you could feel his intent gaze on you, or that a warmth spread through your body as if the Seven had finally heard your prayers. Maybe he was the one you were waiting for?

After what felt like an eternity, in which Aegon poured out his heart in his mind, although no one was listening, he blinked his amethyst eyes again and immediately froze when he looked at you and you were already looking right back at him with an expression on your face that he had never seen from you before.

You quickly turned your head away and looked down at your lap, while a deep flush took root on your soft cheeks. He had actually managed to make you blush - in the middle of the Sept! If he could do that, he wondered how much else you would let him do that would most likely tarnish your purity and innocence. He was very excited to find out.

"What did you pray for?" you asked him in a quiet tone and with the kind voice that he knew from you, but you still didn't look up at him again. You probably wanted to hide your blush from him, but it was very obvious.

Aegon could go two ways here. First, he could tell you that he too had prayed for a quick end to the war and that he would not lose any more loved ones, or second, he could tell you about his thoughts about you, which he couldn't bring himself to do. No, a lie had to serve as an answer again for today.

"For strength, guidance, and a safe return," he replied at last, which was partly true. Everyone saw him as weak, his own family, the realm, and most of all his traitorous half-sister, and he could not and would not allow that. His council did not listen to him, nor even ask for any suggestions he could make, but they made their own plans behind his back. Criston and Aemond had also betrayed his trust and plotted behind his back and without his consent decided to march to Rook's Rest instead of Harrenhal, which was the really important prize in this war that Daemon of all people now owned, even though the Lord of the old castle was his very own Master of Whisperers. Why put him as king and then ignore him still and treat him like a stupid child? He had not asked for any of this.

"A... a safe return? Do you mean Ser Criston? I heard he is an old friend of the family.”

The king hesitated. For a moment he didn't know how to answer you, knowing you knew what he meant but didn't want to believe it. He would fly into battle personally to support the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard who also served as his Hand. He would not be seen as weak, ever again.

“I will fly to Rooks Rest to support Criston and your father's army. Mayhaps I can guarantee that we do not lose too many men.”

Your expression in this very moment reminded him of a little doe - innocent, heartbreaking and full of worry. You quickly shook your head, causing a lock of your auburn hair, which reminded him of his mother's locks, to fall over the left side of your face. It seemed like you couldn't believe it, like you didn't want him to go and put himself in danger under any circumstances.

"But you are the king?" you questioned uncertainly, as if he was jesting, because you couldn't imagine that he was being serious. He was not a warrior. His younger brother, Aemond, should go, he was talented with the sword and his dragon was much bigger and far more experienced than Sunfyre.

"And that is exactly why I must go, my dear." Aegon leaned one shoulder against the cold stone of the altar so that he could look at you better while you would have this difficult conversation with each other.

"No, no, you cannot. You must not do that," you contradicted him, the expression on your pretty face becoming not just worried, but almost panicked. He almost had the illusion that you might actually care about him. That thought was just too good to be true...

"I declared this war and I will fight in it too."

Without being able to hold back any longer, you put one of your delicate hands on his arm and grabbed the soft, rich fabric of his green doublet, which, like your dress, was decorated with fine gold ornaments, because you didn't want to let him go. He was barely older than you and the thought of him personally flying to battle, much like your father - who did not have a dragon but still-, was one you couldn't bear. He was one of the few people you truly trusted and if, gods forbid, you were to lose your father, you couldn't also lose your cousin who had stolen your heart since day one.

"Aegon, please... do not do this."

Your hand on his arm, your soft voice and the pleading look in your eyes were simply too much for him. He couldn't hold back any longer. Without a warning, he leaned in and pressed his lips firmly against yours, making you gasp in shock into his mouth.

For a moment you didn't know what to do, but your body made the decision for you. Your eyes fluttered shut and you began to kiss him back gently and hesitantly, even though the rational part of you screamed at you that it was a sin, that he was your cousin, that you weren't betrothed to each other, that he was already married and that you were in the middle of the Sept, but you didn't even hear those voices anymore because you were already lost in the kiss.

Surrounded by the soft crackling of the candles and pleasant silence, Aegon lost himself completely in you. He kissed you as if you were the air he needed to breathe, as if you were everything that still bound him to this world and he couldn't stop, already addicted to your sweet taste.

The tip of his tongue grazed over the seam of your lips, begging for entry, and you, always obedient and docile, opened your mouth and let him in, whereupon a soft moan escaped you. That sweet little sound alone set his whole body on fire and he abruptly pushed your back against the altar with him caging you against the stone.

Your arms wandered around his neck, your thin fingers burying themselves in his silver mane, while his hands began to wander over your body and he explored your soft, feminine curves bit by bit, but he didn't really take much time, as he was loosing himself more and more in the proximity of you and the intimate kisses you shared.

His fingers started to rip open the laces of your bodice at your back, feeling the urge to see all of you, to feel your beautiful, milky skin under his palms while he let his lips wander over every inch of your perfect body, but before that could happen you broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"We...we can’t. Not here."

"Please, I need you. I need you so much, let me have you,” Aegon begged as he began to place some hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck, causing your grip on his hair to tighten, which only served to increase the fire that burned inside him for you.

“I want you, Aegon. I want you more than anything, but not here, don’t do this to me. We could be seen.”

A long sigh escaped him and he buried his face in your cleavage, even though he knew you were right. It would be a scandal if he was seen taking your innocence on the altar of the Mother. His chambers, however, were more than available and wonderfully secluded for such depravity. But not now.

“You’re right, darling. You’re right,” he whispered, breathing heavily, as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible, because he didn’t know if he would ever have the chance to hold you in his arms again.

“We could go to my chambers? I am sure you would find my bed extremely... comfortable, Your Grace."

Aegon chuckled at your sweet attempt at being sensual, but it worked. He could feel his body instinctively snuggling closer to yours and he noticed how wonderfully you fit him, but he slowly began to lean back so he could look into your glistening eyes once again.

"I would love to, very much, but I must go."

The hope and desire slowly faded from your eyes and a look of confusion spread across your face for a split second before realization dawned on you and you realized why he had come to the Sept that day specifically.

"You are flying to Rook Rest today..."

Before you could object, the king pressed his lips against yours again and cradled your face in his hands to reassure you that it was fine and that he had to do this.

"I will not be seen as weak. I will come back to you, love. I will come back and then I will love you as you deserve, yes?" he murmured and leaned his forehead carefully against yours, his silver hair a contrast to the auburn of your family, which was also his.

"Promise me. Here, in front of the eyes of the gods."

"I promise."

As gently as he could, as if you were made of porcelain, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and let his eyes wander over you to memorize every little detail before Aegon then tore himself away from you with a heavy heart to get the conqueror's armor put on as quickly as possible back in the castle, to then mount Sunfyre and go to war.

He wanted to stay with you, by the gods, he wanted that more than anything else, but he had to do this. He had to prove to everyone that he could be the king they had wanted to mold him into.

You, on the other hand, felt tears welling up in your eyes as you watched him leave, because something inside you screamed that this kiss would be the last truly wonderful memory you shared with him.

And, unfortunately, you were soon proven to have been right.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

[ashwhowrites]

Dustin's babysitter

Eddie x Dustin's babysitter

A small idea that ran through my head. I hope you guys enjoy this🫶🏻 and thank you for reading!

Dustin wasn't a fan of admitting he still had a babysitter. His friends always teased him but his mom was just scared of the world and wanted extra eyes on him. Dustin loved his babysitter, Y/N. He always had a blast with her, she interacted with him and he liked to believe they were good friends.

Dustin groaned when he saw Y/N's car pulling up to grab him from hellfire. He hated his friends knowing, and he didn't want to admit to Eddie he needed a babysitter.

"Awwww Dusty's little babysitter is here!" Mike mocked, his voice like a baby.

Dustin blushed and rolled his eyes. So much for not wanting Eddie to know, Dustin thought.

"Woah! Henderson, do you still have a babysitter? Aren't you like in high school?" Eddie asked, confusion on his face and a slight smile peeking out.

"My mom is paranoid, okay!" Dustin argued he tried to quickly walk to her car as she still drove up, but he yanked open her door before she even parked.

"You okay?" She asked, Dustin sighed and nodded. It wasn't her fault he was embarrassed. She was simply doing her job.

"...well let me meet this said babysitter." She heard a deep voice say, definitely older than the young teens she was around.

Then a face appeared in Dustin's open window. She saw dark curly long hair and dazzling brown eyes. This boy was much older, and she was thankful for that because he was damn hot.

Eddie wasn't sure what smart-ass remark he planned to make. He met her eyes and found himself wishing he needed a babysitter. She was gorgeous, hot, and sexy all at once. In simple jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, but he swore she glowed. He snapped out of his daydream and turned on his charm.

A smirk on his face as he held out his ring-filled hand, "Name is Eddie Munson, and you are?"

"Y/N, it's nice to meet you." She said with a polite smile as she shook his cold metal hand. The weight of his rings made his hand feel heavy, yet she didn't mind.

Dustin watched between the two, eyeing the way they stared, and didn't let go of each other. He awkwardly coughed, causing them to jump apart with embarrassed smiles. Eddie pulled back his hand and held it behind his back.

"I'll see you around, Eddie." She said and pulled out of the parking lot. Eddie straightened his spine as he watched the car take off.

"Wow, she's -" he started but Mike and Lucas cut him off.

"Hot," they said in unison with a knowing smirk.

"Yeah, hot." Eddie agreed, his mind filled with her and her only.

~~~

"Pizza is coming at 7, so just don't be later than that," Dustin said to the gang as they circled in the hallway.

"Do I have to be there?" Max asked with a sigh, she did not want to spend her Friday night at Dustin's house.

"Not like you have anything better to do," Dustin argued with a glare. Max sighed but agreed that he was right.

"So my house before 7!" Dustin said one last time, the gang nodded and everyone understood.

"Having a party little man?" Eddie asked as he walked up, overhearing the conversation. It was a Friday night and he kinda hoped Dustin's mom had big plans for the night.

"Sorta! Why? Are you interested?" Dustin asked excitedly, Eddie was slowly becoming like a big brother and he wanted to hang out with him more.

"Will your mom be there?" Eddie asked slight hope in his voice.

"Nope!"

"Then I'm there," Eddie said with a wink. He couldn't wait for tonight.

"Okay! Bring your apron!" Dustin said as the final bell rang. He was quick to walk down the hall for class.

"WAIT! APRON!?" Eddie called after him but the halls got loud with all the commotion.

~~~

Once school ended, Eddie raced him with excitement. He dug through his closet to find his best clothes, and he picked out his best jewelry. He sprayed cologne all over himself and covered his lips in chapstick....just in case.

He didn't want to seem too eager so he waited to show up around 7 o'clock. He knocked on the door and rocked on his heels. He planned to talk Y/N's ear off all night and then ask her out. And hopefully, end the night with his lips on hers.

"You made it!" Dustin cheered as he opened the door. Eddie walked through and saw the gang all covered in flour.

"What's going on?" Eddie asked

"Bake sale!" Dustin said as they walked into the kitchen. Eddie did not know what he got himself into. A bake sale? Eddie does not bake, he gets baked.

"Oh hell no, I'm not baking." Eddie laughed, he took in the room and noticed Y/N wasn't even there.

"Where's your babysitter?"

"Right here," Steve said as he walked into the kitchen. A towel over his shoulder and a dirty apron on his body. "You must be Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Son of a bitch!" Eddie groaned.

~~~

After Eddie's big fail of a Friday night, he didn't have much energy for Saturday. Of course, Henderson has two babysitters and Y/N wasn't there the night he was around. And he got stuck baking over a hundred cookies. Safe to stay, he learned his lesson of jumping into plans.

Eddie was trying to work on his campaign when his line rang. He groaned and walked over to pick it up, figuring it would be Wayne. But instead, he heard Dustin's familiar voice on the other line.

"Hey! I got this new video game, wanna come over and try it? Mom's gone so you can bring your beers."

Eddie had to admit, drinking and video games were tempting.

"Babysitter gonna allow that?" Eddie asked.

"Y/N wo-" "I'm on my way" Eddie cut him off and raced to his room. Once again, he found his best clothes, sprayed himself in cologne, and grabbed a beer case from his closet.

Eddie prepped himself during the car ride. He had limited time to make his impression on her and a little time to get her number. He didn't want to ditch Dustin too much so he needed to give equal time to the young kid. And to make it not noticeable Eddie was going for the hot babysitter.

~

Dustin raced to the door to answer it when Eddie knocked, excitedly dragging him to the couch as he had the game all set to go. But before they could start, Eddie's prayers were answered.

"What's Eddie doing here?" She asked confused, Dustin didn't need permission but she wasn't aware he invited anyone over.

"New video game!" Dustin said, remote in hand.

"Nah uh, you still need to clean your room. Mom said that before the new game." Y/N reminded him with a stern tone. Dustin sighed but listened. His shoulders slumped as he walked into his room. "ONE SECOND EDDIE!"

"I'm sorry to make you wait. He didn't tell me." Y/N said, "But you can play if you want while you wait for him."

"Wanna join me?" He asked, holding out Dustin's remote with a smile. This was his chance.

"I don't know how to play," Y/N said, a little nervous. She didn't want to look like an idiot in front of Dustin's incredibly hot friend.

"I'll teach ya, baby. Come sit." He patted the cushion next to him, excitement in his stomach as she shuffled towards him. She tried to fight off the blush on her cheeks from the nickname.

She sat next to him and tried to listen to his instructions, but her nose caught his scent and traveled to her brain. All she could focus on was how amazing he smelled, how his T-shirt fit him in all the right places, and how his jeans touched her legs.

"Ready?" He asked, his head turned to look at her. She felt her breath get stuck in her throat, she had no idea what to do. She coughed and snapped herself back into reality. "let's do it!" She smiled.

Within the first five minutes, Eddie could sense she was struggling, he reached over and held his hand over hers. His fingers and thumbs pressed her fingers into the correct buttons. Again his scent filled her nose and his hair tickled her neck.

His hands felt warm and rough, but she liked it.

"See, you got it!" Eddie encouraged, slowly taking his hands off hers as she focused on the game. She was playing it by herself and successfully!

"Like this?" She asked but her eyes were still on the screen. His head turned as he looked at her. "like that" he whispered.

She turned her head to look back at him and held her breath when she noticed how close their faces were. She bit her lip as his eyes looked at her lips, her eyes, and back to her lips. She couldn't help but look at his lips as well. They were so pink and looked so soft.

"Did good?" She breathed out, her eyes still on his lips.

"Very good." He whispered, his right hand cupped her cheek and he slowly leaned in. He smiled as her eyes fluttered shut and her head moved forward. He closed his eyes and killed the space between them. His lips were on hers as he softly tasted her. He felt a fire burning in his stomach and fuzziness all over his body. Her hand slipped from the controller and moved to his chest. Her palms rested against him as she kissed back.

"ALL DONE!" Dustin screamed, causing Y/N to jump back and shuffle over. Eddie groaned in disappointment as Dustin interrupted.

"I'll leave you boys to it." She said softly with a smile, her fingertips touching her lips as she stood up, a little dazed.

"Can I get your number? Maybe take you on a date?" Eddie asked before his chance was up.

"Oh absolutely. I'll go write it down." She said as she rushed to the kitchen. Eddie couldn't help but keep his eyes on her as she walked away.

"That excited to play?" Dustin asked, seeing the huge smile on Eddie's face.

"Very damn excited," Eddie said, his smile never leaving as Dustin pressed play.

Eddie scored a date with the babysitter.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

[bigfan-fanfic]

My Blooming Rose (Enchantress' Child!Reader x Ben Florian)

@iliumheightnights Hi friend! May I please request a little story? I'd love to read a story about Ben Florian dating a son of the enchantress reader. Reader still is learning magic and Ben helps him when he can and encourages him? All the fluff please?

In some respects, no one would necessarily blame your boyfriend's father for wanting to imprison your mother on the Isle of the Lost.

She did, after all, enchant a young, albeit spoiled, prince and condemn him (an eleven-year-old, mind you) to ten years of suffering and self-loathing in a body not his own.

But no. King Adam and his Queen would never have met if not for the Enchantress.

Besides, they learned well from the example of Queen Leah and King Stefan - don't piss off the magical entity in close proximity.

And so the Enchantress lived within Auradon, and you, her child, were born.

You're not sure you quite approve of the whole Isle of the Lost thing - your mother's punishments tended to get to people before they became irredeemable, so the idea of endless incarceration seems harsh, even by her standards.

But all the same, you are invited to Auradon Prep, mainly to study with the Fairy Godmother to hone your talents in magic. And since you aren't expected to enter a royal line, you don't even have to do some of the more inane Auradon courses.

But who would have thought that without any magic at all, you'd have ensorcelled the heart of Prince Ben.

Ben is just a spot of sunshine in your world, he's so affectionate and lovely.

And supportive!

He's figured out the loophole in the rule that he can't spend all his free time with you by organizing "study dates" in addition to normal dates.

But since magical homework and study is pretty involved, that just means he hangs around in your dorm with you more often than not.

Not that either of you mind.

Except this can sometimes lead to minor mishaps.

You're practicing a spell in the mirror, meant to help disguise someone by changing their appearance.

Focusing on your hair, trying to lengthen it just a little. Just a small test.

But then Ben leaps up to kiss you on the cheek and you wave the training wand just a little haphazardly-

And Ben gets a face-full of your magic.

"Oh my gosh, Ben! Are you okay?"

"Yup!" Ben groans from the floor. "Nothing broken. I think."

He hops back up to his feet, and you gasp.

Your boyfriend's smooth jaw has sprouted patchy growths of hair that are still thickening until they make a rather nice beard and mustache. "Ben... I..."

Ben sees himself in the mirror and grins. "Oh, this is nice!"

"It was an accident."

"If even your accidents are this great, you're gonna be a better wizard than Merlin!" Ben pats your shoulder before stroking his new beard. "It's not even scratchy!"

You blush. "You look really good with a beard."

"Do I look kingly?" Ben asks eagerly, striking a pose.

"You do, but let's try and find a counterspell quickly. Accidental magic tends to corrupt pretty fast. You might end up with the hair changing colors like a chameleon or something."

"That actually sounds kinda-"

"And then I wouldn't be able to see where to kiss you."

Ben instantly gets serious. "Let's hit the books."

"But uh... when you do reverse the spell... Maybe try it on purpose? I wanna see what kissing with a beard is like."

You grin. "Oh really? Why?"

"Cause when you're my Royal Consort, I'll probably grow out a beard and kiss you all the time, so... I wanna see what I'm working toward."

You laugh and then squeeze his hand. "In that case, let's get this thing reversed as soon as we can."

"Love you. My blooming rose."

"Love you. My noble king."

[octoberautumnbox]

Best Job Ever

Kep1er Kang Yeseo & Male named character, Female named character

Categories/warnings: smut, office, public, oral, blowjob, hair pulling, facefucking, needy

Word count: 1.6k

a/n: rushed and bfh and quickie sorry its kinda bad lmao ill do better next time also thanks to @hoaqinrw for beta read :DDDD and yes kep1er once again on cooldown

Yeseo almost fights for her spot in the 6:54 a.m. elevator, nearly pushing away some other office chimp just to get to her floor as quickly as possible. Her smile never leaves her face as she rides up the stories, and it couldn't be a moment too soon before her first task of the day arrives. 

“Ding!” goes her phone's tracker app, and she opens it to reveal a name and desk number. Her smile grows wider as she reads the contents of her screen as she thinks to herself, “This is gonna be a great day.”

The elevator doors slide open and a cool blast of air conditioning meets her face. Yeseo looks around and sees all her colleagues hard at work, and brimming with pride she thinks about how much help she offers to everyone with the work she does. Excitedly, she hurries over to plop her things down onto her desk before going off to her first assignment.

“Good morning, Mr. Lee,” she greets as she bows respectfully to her senior. He waves back, evidently in a phone call that Yeseo couldn't have seen, and he motions for her to get straight to work. 

With a cheery smile, she kneels in front of Mr. Lee and unzips his pants for him. She eyes his cock with hunger, licking her lips at the imminent deliciousness to enter her mouth, and plants a wet kiss on his tip. 

Her senior watches her start her first job of the day while still on the phone. He places his hand on her head and pats, urging her to hurry up. She gets the message and collects a small amount of saliva on her tongue before dragging it up his length. The young girl notices him grip his phone ever so slightly tighter, and she knows she's doing a good job.

“Poor Mr. Lee,” she thinks, “so early in the morning and already so stressed. I have to help him out.” After she sufficiently coats his yummy cock with her spit, she takes him up to half of his length and sucks hard. Luckily his phone call ends at that moment, and he groans just as he puts it down. He pats her hair, telling her he likes it, and she smiles cutely at the feedback, her eyes twinkling with contentment.

Yeseo's courage to take more of his cock grows to almost match the actual size of what she has to take in her mouth. Mr. Lee is one of Yeseo's most favorite seniors to serve, and she promised herself to be able to take all of him one day. With her newfound surge of confidence, she plunges herself into his crotch, feeling his tip slip past the center of her tongue, and it hits the back of her throat. She gags deliciously, and Mr. Lee feels it on his cock, causing it to twitch. With another groan, he places both hands on her head to keep her in place, and the feeling of his dick stuck in her throat and messing with her breathing does something to her: Yeseo starts feeling moisture in her own crotch too. 

The young girl gags again, desperately this time, and her patron relents. He lets go of Yeseo's head and she pulls back immediately, but not so carelessly as to let him feel any of her teeth. Lines of spit connect her lips to his cock, and yet a happily teary-eyed Yeseo allows herself no downtime. She wraps her smooth and delicate fingers around his throbbing cock, giving long and slow strokes, not to make him cum just yet, but to keep him occupied while she collects herself. If his load is going anywhere, it'll be on her tongue and down her throat, and Mr. Lee expects no less of her. 

Yeseo regains control of her breath once more, and she dives back in. She takes him all the way again, and this time she only gags the right way. Mr. Lee once again holds her head in place, and Yeseo, ever the hard worker, takes the opportunity to lick wherever her short tongue could reach on his shaft. 

The way Mr. Lee grips handfuls of her hair tells her that he loves it, and Yeseo prepares herself for what's to come. She knows her patron well, and she's happy to be doing such good work. She readies her throat, and despite the tears welling in her eyes, she shoots a seductive wink at him, telling him she's all set.

And he complies: his grip tightens and Yeseo savors the feeling of him yanking her hair as rough as he can. With no additional warning than him pulling back slightly, he pushes back into the young girl's throat once more. Yeseo holds absolutely no control anymore whatsoever, and she's reminded that it's exactly how Mr. Lee likes it. To him, she is nothing more than a warm and wet hole for him to use, and she wouldn't have it any other way. 

He gets into a rhythm, and soon his thrusts into her throat have Yeseo gagging again. Lewd sounds continuously escape her, a steady and deep gluck-gluck-gluck emanates from the young girl's mouth in between moans of pleasure. This is her second-most favorite part about servicing Mr. Lee: the way he fucks her cute little face gets her going like no one else, and when he's free and Yeseo has no immediate tasks, he's so very kind to return the favor. Deep down inside, Yeseo feels selfish for wanting it, wanting him; he must be busy.

She settles and contents herself with getting her face fucked by her favorite patron, never mind the growing wet spot between her legs, “why the fuck is Mr. Lee so hot?” “Snap out of it, Yeseo! You have a job to do!

And yet, she can’t control herself: her fingers reach into her wet panties and she plays with the lips of her pussy. Between the rough facefucking she’s getting and the pleasure she gets from her own fingers, Yeseo steels her will to hold off from cumming just yet. 

Despite this, though, she can’t deny that with everything she’s going through right now, her fingering her swollen clit, her senior fucking her throat-pussy the way she likes, her vision blurring with tears, her mind getting fuzzy from lack of air…

Yeseo almost doesn’t hear Mr. Lee groan loudly, one last time. Thankfully she does, and she relaxes her throat even more for him. He pulls her head in and shoves his cock as deep as it can go, and he lets everything out: all at once, his hot and delicious cum floods Yeseo’s throat, the warmth slithering down her throat. Her eyes cross as she starts to sputter, and the sheer amount of cum she’s receiving renders her useless, mindless. It starts spilling out of her mouth, “Such a shame, what a waste of his yummy sperm,” until it starts spilling out of her nose too. The young girl is almost completely limp with bliss, never mind her own orgasm, she’d be lucky to survive the next two minutes without air while she takes the load of her life, “When will it end?” “I hope not soon…”

And she snaps awake again at his command; Mr. Lee yanks her off his cock by the hair, and he takes a moment to admire his handiwork: Yeseo’s face is properly fucked, her makeup ruined, and his baby batter decorating her features like it’s the best thing she’s ever had. In some ways, it is, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Yeseo’s heartbeat picks up again when Mr. Lee’s hand touches her cheek. She knows exactly what this is: it’s her turn. He leads her to meet his gaze, and without breaking eye contact at all, he lifts her onto his desk, legs wide apart, pussy covered by the thinnest, wettest, most ruined-looking pair of cute floral panties anyone has ever seen. She relishes in his gaze, and she loves the way his mouth waters while ogling her needy crotch. Yeseo wishes he would “just take me already. Just fuck me. Please–”

“Ding!” goes her phone’s tracker app, and she reaches to pick it up. A swipe and a couple seconds of reading later, and she meets her patron’s eyes once again. The look on his face tells Yeseo only one thing: he’s disappointed that she has to leave him. 

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Lee,” she mutters with regret, getting off his desk, “Miss Kwon is calling. Please feel free to call me again when your timer resets.” 

He helps her down, the gentleman he is, and holds her steady while she wobbles. Yeseo faces him properly, and she bows a deep bow of respect to her senior. “Thank you very much.”

~~~

Yeseo emerges from the restroom after cleaning herself up and making sure her mouth is perfect once more. She thinks back to the remarks section of her second task of the day: “Miss Kwon is ovulating today. Please exercise proper oral hygiene to avoid any accidents.” 

She makes her way to her office, “We can be as loud as we want in here,” and knocks respectfully. She fixes herself once more, and the door opens to reveal a woman not much taller than she is, but older, wiser, and needier than she can imagine. 

“Come in, Miss Kang. I’m afraid you’ve got your work cut out for you this time.” She leads the young girl under her desk, and Yeseo looks up with the most adorable eyes.

“Please don’t hold back, Ma’am. Have me any way you like.” 

~~~

a/n: like i said bfh and also quickie and rushed lmao sorry

[i-cant-sing]

Just thinking about Yandere Todoroki clan and reader's random moments.

Reader coming home after a particularly bad day, but poor girl cant even cry or complain without everyone immediately overreacting and pulling you out of school/college or even keeping you from going out at all. So now, reader has to either cry in self pity before she enters her home, wipe her tears and fix herself just enough to show that she hadnt just bawled her eyes out moments ago. That, or do the more risky thing and go home, go to your room and cry under the covers, but then theres always the chance of Rei or the others walking in on you any moment.

Also thinking about baby/toddler reader being sick, just a common cold or flu, nothing major. But with reader whining and being so young, the family's infantalisation goes through the roof and theyd treat you as if you were immunocompromised. I wont lie, but I think Rei is almost kinda... glad when you get sick? She enjoys you being dependant on her for the most things, even when you grow up and are able to handle a cold, she still deludes herself into thinking that you need mommy to come and help you.

I think the one person who is most affected by reader getting sick, no matter what age, is Enji. The man just cant help but view you as a fragile, starving Victorian child the moment you fall ill. In his eyes, even a harsh blow of air is too much for a fragile thing like you, let alone something as bad as the flu. He just- he's holding toddler reader in his arms, who snuggles into his warm body, your tiny nose pink and he cant get the image of you crying and vomiting and being oh so feverish- thats just way too much for your small body. Oh how he almost cried when he took you to the doctor for a shot and you clung to him, trying to bury yourself into him as you begged him to make you feel better, cried to him that you didnt want to get the "big scary needle!" He just had to hold you there in his firm grip as you writhed, had to look away when you looked at him and he saw the feeling of betrayal in your eyes, had to keep himself from not strangling the fucking doctor for not being careful, had to walk out of the clinic and hand you to Rei because he couldnt hear you cry anymore, had to have Rei console both you and Enji (assuring him that "no, Enji. Y/n doesnt resent you for making her get a shot.") and he couldnt even sleep a wink that night because he was standing by your bed, holding your tiny hand with his pinky as a tear finally slipped out of his eye.

ALSO thinking about adult reader going out of the house to meet up with friends, except shes meeting up with them at a club instead of at their house like she told Enji and Rei, and now shes standing outside, abandoned by said friends, and shes now running because a group of pervy men are chasing her and she doesnt know who to call, so she just speed dials Shotou, except someone just changed all your speed dials to one number, and you think youre doomed when Shotou doesnt say a word to you and just hangs up when within minutes, someone comes in front of you-

"Dabi?" He tells you to cover your ears and look away, and you know well by know what that means, so you obey, feeling a bit regretful as those men begin to scream in agony. You dont know how long its been until Dabi pulls your hands away and examines your wounds. He lets you crash into his chest as you sob, and this time, Dabi simply decides to take you home quietly without a lecture.

Hmmm, also thinking about Natsuo who is usually cool as a cucumber, the most normal being in the family, except for his very rare episodes of unbridled rage where he suddenly becomes the Hulk. Good thing for you is that this anger is never directed towards you, rather towards people who actively threaten your life (except Rei cause she gets to play "Im your mom who became mentally unstable because of your abusive dad") The only time NAtsuo is stern with you is when it comes to your health. He's just looking at you with those strict eyes when you refuse to take your multivitamins, or dont want to get a flu shot, or try to make up an excuse so that he cant check your vitals. And when he just grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit down so that he can do his checkup, its in those moments that you realise just how strong your brother is... and how easy it may be for him to overpower you and sedate you if he ever followed through Rei's threats.

[pomegranatesandtangerines]

based off this post

how I think (some of) the Dungeon Meshi characters would interact with an isekai-ed reader who's hyperfixation is dungeon meshi

includes: Laios, Falin, Kabru, and Toshiro (Shuro)

Laios

im imaging reader meeting him when he was a child

a little after Falin was born and after he was given the dungeon gourmet guide

reader actively seeking him out but kinda starts freaking out when they actually see him

reader decides to go with the approach being interested in his book

Laios was suspicious at first ( the book is one of the main reasons he got bullied )

but after some time and patience he got comfortable with you

I feel that Laios would be very attached to reader

like someone besides his sister who gets him, listens to him, communicates with him, etc.

listen as someone who is very hyperfixated on dungeon meshi at the moment I would be so invested in learning about monsters

and Laios is more then happy to talk about it for hours

reader making a point to support his dream of exploring the dungeons bc his parents are dicks

he wouldn't really be weirded out by reader seems to know so much about him, maybe early on but over time I feel he would just be glad to have someone like that by his side

low-key though,,, I think there would be a small small part of him that is kinda jealous over how reader seems to just,, get some people

Falin

I see reader being her number one hype-person as a child

reader would also beg her to teach them some magic

I think that Falin and reader would meet through Laios

Falin while she is outcasted from her home town, is still a litter more sociable then her brother

but what had her truly open up was not only the readers support of her magical talent but also the readers interest in learning about how biology works in this world

she also info dumps a ton

you know how she kept bringing Marcille things cause she wanted to eat them with her

she would 100% do that with reader,,, and the amount would increase when Laios leaves

Kabru

he would be veryyy fascinated by the reader

his hyperfixation is people. studying them, their anatomy, psychology, how they tick

he would absolutely notice how reader picks up on things, knows things about some people without even having met them, predict events

to put it simply he wants to study reader under a microscope but is also extremely suspicious of them

he's also gonna pull out all the stops to try charm his way into understanding reader

his distrust sky rockets the first time they lock eyes, he can see it in his eyes, this look of understanding the deepest parts of him

he does not like it

it takes a long ass time for him trust them and genuinely open up again

reader making a point to ask things that will make him want to info dump

"hey did you notice how x was acting today" or "did you hear that x and y got together? do you think they'll make it?"

gossip buddies

Toshiro

ALRIGHT LET ME START BY SAYING THIS, HE IS WAYYYY TOO MISCHARACTERIZED IN THIS FANDOM

and reader would be all too aware of this as well

he is heavily implied to have a hyperfixation on bugs, and had to at a young age become a master at masking and picking up on social norms

but anyways-

he would think reader is weird, mostly bc they would remind him of laios

slowly but surely I feel he would feel more comfortable

another case of the way to his heart is through the info dump

maybe walking back from a little adventure and noticing a beetle and showing him

now hes not gonna be as outwardly as excited as Laios

but it is slightly noticeable that he is interested and excited

reader offers to give it to him and asks him some questions

less info dumping and more info sprinkling but still he does like to talk about it

I think he would appreciate how they seem to pick up on his smaller details, maybe not a perfectly but still

[peterspinkrobe]

Communion | AU Priest Miguel O’Hara x female Reader

A/N: I commissioned the above Priest Miguel. Ever since the artist sent the sketch, (@ ejpuki on twitter plz go show love!) this story has been a brewin’ in my cranium. I am not a newbie when it comes to fanfic, but a virgin to writing Miguel. Please accept this offering to the mania that is fandom. Feedback is appreciated. I know the tenses are probably all over the place. Part 2 is live!!. Let me know if you’re interested ~~

Warnings: Religious content, parents, dirty-minded reader, no mention of Y/N

As you sat in the middle pew, aisle seats, you fiddled with the dress your mother guilted you into wearing. The hem of the skirt had a little fraying and you couldn’t help but pick at it.

The meddling was met with a small smack on your wrist from your mother.

“Stop! You’re going to make it worse! I know it’s an old dress but it will only look that way if you pick at it.” The sharpness in tone and the lacy lilac dress from high school brought you back to all of the Sunday mornings you’d been ripped from the comfort of your bed to attend church.

Church. Your head was already starting to hurt from the early morning light pouring through the stained glasses windows, but your tried to remain neutral to spare mom.

Your relationship with the Almighty soured not long after your father passed. Faith was hard to come by and the struggles you’d faced recently only strained that even further.

“Sorry, mama.” You say quietly, acting like you’re still twelve and not in your mid twenties.

Ever since you moved back in you’ve had to live under “her rules”. Sunday service is one of those rules. Considering the headache you’ve caused her recently, you ignore your own and do as she asks. It’s only fair.

But church? Last week was your first time back inside a church since leaving for college five years ago. It was the same one you’d been dragged to in your younger years. The same stained pews, same old books of Psalms, same feeling of estrangement despite being surrounded by the same old folks.

Your mom had turned her attention to the lady that lived on our street and you turned your own attention to your fingernails, scraping underneath them for dirt that wasn’t there. You think about how you had dropped the habit until moving back in, but was interrupted by microphone static.

You pulled your gaze to the front of the church and saw Father Steen tapping the microphone. Despite only being five years since you last saw him, the man seemed to have aged decades. His frail frame balanced on the podium as he spoke. You realized why the microphone was needed when he started speaking - amplifying the hushed tone of the elder addressing his congregation.

“Good morning and many blessings to you all this Sunday morning,” he began and you couldn’t help but lower your gaze back to the frayed bit of your dress. His monotone voice was… kinda boring. You hated thinking that way because Father Steen was such a good man and he cared for your mother greatly when dad passed. He was mentioning an upcoming surgery and you were back to picking at your fingernails. His voice eked on through the speakers, “so we will be having a transitional deacon come in to take over my position until I recover. This fine young man has graciously accepted this position as he is working to become a priest himself. Please welcome Mr. O’Hara as he leads us in prayer to begin communion for this month.”

There is respectful applause and your eyes are still on your hands until your mom elbows you gently. You start to apologize again for not paying attention but notice she and her pew neighbor are giggling as they clap. You start to clap your own hands as you look up at what they were giggling like schoolgirls about when your hands freeze in their clapped position - almost like you’re praying.

The deacon that Father Steen introduced was… gorgeous, and he was looking at you. You blushed, embarrassingly, under the gaze of the dark eyes. Could he tell you hadn’t been paying attention?

Well, you most certainly were now.

You pulled your eyes away from him to look at your mother who was wiggling her eyebrows at you, causing you to blush even deeper and turn back to the front.

The first thing you notice about the man standing at the front of the church was his height. He towered over the podium he placed a hand on. Father Steen came up to only just above his elbows with his hunched body.

The eyes that were watching you now surveyed the room and the light from the windows shown dark, warm pools of irises. His face…

Sharp symmetry made up his countenance. Distinct cheekbones bobbing as the smooth bronze skin stretched upwards into a smile. The strong jawline accentuated with the muscles of his lips pulling back, revealing a dazzling toothy smile.

When he spoke for the first time, you understood why your mom cried during Psalms at times. His voice was gospel.

“Thank you, all, for welcoming me into your parish. I know that you have received excellent spiritual guidance from Father Steen. I can only hope to at least partially fill his shoes in his absence.” His voice boomed throughout the church with no need for a microphone. “Before we begin the sacred ritual that is communion, let us bow our heads in prayer.”

The church around you dutifully lowered their heads, and you did the same. Hating closing your eyes to the alluring man in front of the church. At least his voice still filled your ears with song.

“Heavenly Father, we are gathered here today, in your house, in the name of your Son to receive the Body and Blood of Christ…” you decide it won’t be such a terrible sin to sneak a peek during prayer. You lift your head up to catch another glimpse at the ethereal creature leading prayer while he wasn’t looking.

But he was looking. Right at you as he continued to recite, “We are all sinners, and we are all in need of your grace and forgiveness.” You start to think about how much you needed his grace, when you pinch yourself for the blasphemy.

You’re still staring at each other as he finishes, “We pray that You will bless this communion and that it will deepen our relationships with You.” You instantly feel heat in your gut when you wonder just how deep it can go..

You think you see him grin slightly, but he pulls his eyes away from yours and you quickly put your head back down.

“In Your Blessed Name, Amen.” He ends. “Amen”, the church responds in unison and you squeak it out as well.

The first pew stands and approaches the front of the church, choir boys retrieving the communion goods. You notice that there is a split in the line as one is given the small wafer and grape juice shot by Father Steen and the other line the new deacon.

You can’t keep your eyes off him as he offers the sacrament to each person in line. He is taking longer than Father Steen, seeming to ask questions before presenting the body and blood of a savior.

As it came to be your pew’s turn, you stood. With only a few people in front of you, you studied Miguel’s figure in short glances.

Along with being a towering figure, he was a wide one as well. Muscles filled in the long-sleeved black button down shirt. His large upper body tapered off into a slim waist, tucked neatly into dark pants. A belt accentuated the fit waist even further. Your eyes trailed quickly across the thick neck that was accessorized by the all too familiar white collar of priesthood. When you were just behind one more person, your eyes fell to the floor.

Part of you wished you would be on Father Steen’s side as you feel as though you’re about to burst from this proximity of the giant man. He was bent over speaking to an elder of the church, giving her a soft smile as she blessed him for coming to ‘our little church.’

The man in line in front of you stood to Father Steen and the woman was letting Mr. O’Hara go from a sweet embrace.

Thank God, you guessed, for the years of attending communion as your muscle memory tore your legs from their form rooted position at the altar.

You approached the tall figure and your eyes are locked on the lips of the man in front of you. You see them move, hearing nothing but the beating of your heart in your eardrums.

“I-I’m sorry. What?” You sputter the words and heat creeps into your chest and face.

A soft chuckle escapes his full lips and he smiles as he repeats, “What is your name?”

You give it to him. And he says it. The way your name sounds in his music makes you smile up at him. He holds your gaze for a moment before speaking again.

“The Body of Christ.” He extends his hand in an upward position, the white wafer between his index finger and thumb.

You bow your head slightly in reverence of the offering. As you start to pull your head up again, his pinky and ring finger catch under your chin, lifting your face the rest of the way.

You breathe out a small gasp and open your mouth. He seems to mirror the action slightly as his own mouth drops slightly open. You extend your tongue a little as he places the thin wafer onto it.

His gaze is heavy as he watches you take the offering into your mouth. Your breath hitches when he runs his thumb across your pouted bottom lip, catching some saliva with it.

“Amen.” You respond and it’s not until he pulls his hand from your face when you turn to grab a small glass of grape juice. “The Precious Blood.” You hear him say behind you as you bring the glass to your lips, relishing the sweet refreshment.

Your face is red hot as you turn to walk back to your pew, ignoring your mother’s glances as she had already been back to her seat.

The burning in your cheeks is even more fiery as it dawns on you that the whole church saw the exchange. You hope, you pray, that it was perceived as a normal moment between a new Shepard and a member of his flock.

Communion wraps up and Father Steen takes a seat behind the the new head of church as he begins his sermon. The slight pressure of his thumb on your bottom lip created a pool of heat in your belly that wouldn’t go away.

You try to pay attention to the Good Word, you really do, but your mind is other places. Definitely not holy places.

Maybe coming to church won’t be too bad after all…

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓛𝓪𝓬𝓻𝔂𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓪 𝓞𝓵𝓸𝓻 [Final]

It's time.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Size difference, sci-fi, Romance, strangers to lovers, fluff, suggestive, smut, unprotected because this is alien fantasy, kinda creampie idk

Length: 5.5k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: I hate how it turned out but you all always beg me to finish my shit so here you go.

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Jungkook watches fondly from the large windows of his main office at the castle how you feed the still unsteady animal out in the large gardens where it's home is placed, while Hoseok, one of his closest guards and advisors, watches you from close by. 

The man has been tasked to basically watch over you when the king himself can't, and he takes his job very seriously, visibly- much to Jungkook’s approval. 

"I heard that she was crying last night." Namjoon says, walking up behind the king who nods. 

"Bitterly so." He admits, remembering the incident from hours prior when you'd sat close to the being as it passed, Jungkook offering you silent comfort. He wasn't sure why you were so upset- and why you even demanded to stay even though the situation had caused you so much distress. "She cared a lot for a being she used to be afraid of." He says. 

Last night, Ikkan rebirthed. You had given the Is'oi a name after asking Namjoon for help to choose an appropriate one- settling for one that means 'deep blue' in native language. You had just gone out to 'say goodnight' to the being you'd played around with the entire day, just to call out Jungkook's name in clear distress, causing the King to instantly rush to you, fearing something might've happened. But instead, he found you, on your knees in front of the being you used to be so wary of- it's body clearly stiffening now in it's laying position, head barely moving anymore as it's eyes watched you with fondness. The glow had dimmed significantly, as the first scales fell from it's body, rotting like a flower that wilts away as it reached it's end. 

He'd told you, reminded you that the being will be reborn tonight as well- but you still did not stop crying as you ran your hand over their head, offering comfort for what usually is left to the quiet of night. But Jungkook could not bring himself to tell you to leave, couldn't take that moment from you- going against his own culture to instead stay that night, watching the whole process for the first time as well. 

And he could've sworn, he heard the large being purr, leaning against you as they rested their head in your lap, falling asleep one last time before Ikkan's chest no longer moved. And then, with no life left, they began to wilt away, body falling apart as they dissipated into nothing but ashes it looked like. 

Until something moved. 

Your eyes were wide as you watched the small, still somewhat blind being cry out into the night- but this time, their cries were being answered by a kind hand reaching out, softly brushing away the remnants of their last life. And Jungkook had felt a certain sense of pain in his heart he could not describe as you showed just how nurturing you are to things not even remotely resembling your own kind. 

How would you be as a mother? 

"She's a kind one." Namjoon agrees, pulling him out of his thoughts and memories. "Maybe a bit too kind." The advisor and doctor worries a bit. 

"That won't be an issue." Jungkook shakes his head. "She's got me at her side." He exclaims, gaze softening quite a bit as you hold the bottle of nutrient feed up for the young rebirthed being to drink from. He's almost a bit jealous- you're spending a lot of time outside now, far away from him. He'll walk down to you soon though, wondering how you can not be cold with just your regular gowns on your body. 

You're fragile. You get sick so easily. 

"And yet there is no true claim on her yet." His friend teases, making Jungkook turn his head to glare at him. "You cannot be mad at me for pointing it out. It's painfully obvious to everyone- in fact, there's rumours already spreading." He says, and that catches Jungkook's full attention now. He doesn't like people talking negatively about you. You don't deserve to be spoken down to, especially not as a future queen, once he brings you officially into that job. 

"And what, pray tell, are those rumours about?" He asks, eyes sharpening. 

"That she is incapable of.. providing you." Namjoon teases, and Jungkook sighs, shaking his head as he crosses his arms, watching you in the gardens again instead. "How come? You had been very quick to connect with Hana." He asks, and Jungkook's gaze hardens. 

"Because she practically demanded it." He growls. "It was necessary for her.. happiness, or at least that's what I believed, back then." He lowly says. 

"And she does not want it?" Namjoon wonders. "Curious. Even though humans are such intimate creatures." he hums, standing next to Jungkook again. 

"Oh she does. It's very clear in her behaviour." Jungkook almost smirks. "Her body is calling out to me almost every night." He admits. 

"So?" His friend asks. "Why not take her then?" He questions, before he notices the deep thought in Jungkook's face. "You're worried." 

"I am." The king admits. 

"About what?" Namjoon wonders. 

"I believe it is clear what I could possibly worry about, Namjoon." He says, looking at his friend. "You as a man with medical knowledge should know that more than anyone. Or are you not familiar with human anatomy compared to ours?" He almost teases, making Namjoon laugh. 

"Oh I am aware!" He laughs. "Which is why I can tell you, that she will be just fine." He reassures. 

"I was too much for even Hana." He reminds his friend. "Which is most likely why she searched for.. satisfaction somewhere else." He mumbles lowly to himself, averting his gaze. 

"So you'll give up before even trying?" Namjoon clicks his tongue. "Ah well. I may be able to ask Jimin if he's up for the job then. Considering how humans connect love with intercourse-" He starts, making Jungkook instantly move to grab his arm, twisting it around as he backs Namjoon into a wall. 

"You will not even think about such a thing." He growls. 

"Then what?" Namjoon challenges. "You'll just leaver her lonely? Put your new love on the line just because you're a coward?" He asks, making Jungkook clench his jaw, eyes glowing for a second while his veins darken underneath his skin. 

But he behaves himself, forces control, and lets go of Namjoon. 

"You're right." He settles himself. "I should not.. think of her so lowly." He sighs, swallowing down his bubbling rage. 

"Talk to her." Namjoon says gently. "I'm sure she'll understand where you're coming from if you just explain it to her." 

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"Breathtaking." Jungkook comments, as you turn your heads while the maids bow at him, who leans against the doorframe, watching them help you dress and connect the chains over your body with decorative pliers. The chains hold jewels that sound like a windchime almost, a sound you've come to enjoy a lot. 

As soon as the maids are done, they walk out, looking very much caught off guard and even quite shy at the soft 'thank you' Jungkook offers them as they pass him, something that's not common in his culture. As soon as the door closes, he walks towards you with a gentle smile, his own clothes looking expensive, and official. "You look just like the queen you are." He muses, and you laugh. 

"About to be." You correct him, leaning into the hand on your cheek. "I'm a bit nervous." You admit, and he smirks. 

"You are very nervous, my dear. Not just 'a bit'." He corrects as well, and your shoulders slump down as you admit defeat. "Do not worry. I'm there, and the people are already very fond of you and the changes you brought." He admits. 

"Changes?" You wonder. "But I've done nothing." You ask him, confused. 

"You did." He nods. "You changed me. And with that, you changed the way I rule this kingdom." He explains, as he adjusts your dress for you, fingers tracing the delicate jewelry decorating your body. 

"What if they think you're weak now?" You worry instantly, and he shakes his head, smile never leaving his lips. 

"They do not." He shakes his head. "A King is strongest with his people's trust placed in him. You'll see what I mean later." He offers, before he makes sure to adjust the soft pelt around your shoulders now to keep you warm. 

As you both make your way through the halls, you wonder. You've never actually been in the town surrounding the castle grounds, only ever saw some of the outskirts and farmlands from afar. But today, you'll make your way into town- to show yourself to the people, your first official 'showing', as Jungkook had explained. It's a first- even with Hana, he's never shown her publicly like this. But with you, he wants to make that step. 

He's serious about you, and your future. He's proving that today. 

And the first glimpses of the town makes you realize what Jungkook had been talking about- because as soon as he's visibly to the people, they smile, wave, children run to him with opened palms as if to wait to receive something. And Jungkook does give something- his own hand brushing over their palms, a gesture that makes them smile and laugh in excitement. "It's a blessing." Hoseok mumbles from your other side, the man keeping his hand on his sword at his belt. "So that their work will always be fruitful." He explains, and you listen to it at full attention, when Jungkook laughs next to you, making you look at him- his eyes looking down at something. 

Two children, young boys looking at you with dark red eyes and cat-like pupils similar to Jungkook's, hands opened towards you. You're a bit lost now, unsure what to do- so the king next to you takes your hand in his, and offers you guidance in how to do it- your fingers running over the warm palms of the two kids, who grin and laugh happily, before running back to their parents in the crowd gathered on the sides. 

You repeat this action time after time, growing more comfortable and mostly confident in yourself the more you walk around in town, letting Jungkook explain to you where he grew up, showing you taverns and other places he remembers visiting often. It makes you remember that at some point, Jungkook was not considered royalty at all- just a regular young man, a boy, a child at some point, nothing out of the ordinary. And now, he's done what he said he would- he challenged the king, took the throne, and changed the ways that used to be the norm. Not just by taking you as his partner- but also in other ways. 

As you sit in one of the bigger taverns, you can't help but watch with a constant smile how the people celebrate Jungkook almost, dancing around and drinking, though the King seems to stay away from the alcohol, for a reason you're not sure of. "Can she drink?" A young man asks, setting down another pitcher with water onto your table you sit at. "I apologize, I don't know much about humans." He apologizes. 

"She can, but she shall not tonight." Jungkook answers for you. "I'd hate for her to too intoxicated to survive the way home." He chuckles, making everyone laugh, including you. You already know that you can't handle any of the liquor on this planet- something you realized way before you even met Jungkook in the first place. 

"Oh, then I won't offer any!" The man says, bowing politely before he leaves you be. Jungkook keeps his arm around you, always makes sure that you're comfortable, noticing how the trip is taking a toll on you. For him, this isn't stressful at all- but you have a lot less energy than him to spend. So he's not surprised when he notices you trying to hide your yawns multiple times as soon as it gets dark outside, eyes growing heavy as you listen to the music played. 

"You are so bewitching, you know that?" Jungkook teases, causing you to force yourself more awake again, looking at him in question. "I can sense the... nature of the gazes on you." He offers, a hand moving some of your hair out of your face. 

"How fortunate for you that I'm not going home with any of them, then." You say, making him laugh openly. 

"You're very right on that." He agrees. "And I believe we should head back now." Jungkook says, making you shake your head though. 

"No, just a little longer." You complain, causing the king to chuckle. 

"You are literally on the very edge of sleep, darling." He teases. "And I do not feel comfortable with having you in such a vulnerable state outside the castle walls, in front of people who should not see you that way." He gently says, nodding towards Hoseok to gather all the guards and knights to prepare for the journey back home. And god, does the way home drag. 

You're barely able to somewhat make it back into the entrance hall of the large castle structure when Jungkook finally offers his help, carrying you up the stairs to the bedroom he shares with you. "You are so very fragile, my love." He teases you with a smile, helping you out of your jewelry and dress while you're almost falling asleep. "Did you enjoy it?" 

"I did." You smile. "It was.. really fun. Even though I didn't really know what to do most of the time.." You mumble while Jungkook unravels your dress to help you out of it. 

"You did great nonetheless." He reassures you, placing a kiss to your cheek. "You deserve to rest now." 

And rest you do- falling asleep before he can even come to bed himself. 

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The next day when you wake up and stretch your limbs, it's already way past the morning hours. A window is opened, letting in fresh air, familiar sharp crow sounds of the large predatory birds outside by now no longer a cause of fear for you. It's as if they've become familiar with you now- no longer trying to feast on you, instead only sometimes curiously poking their heads inside the room to observe you. 

"You slept for ages." Jungkook chuckles next to you, making you turn in surprise. Usually, the king is gone before you wake up- it's unusual to have him beside you like this, eyes still wary from his own rest. 

"It was a pretty eventful day yesterday." You defend yourself, and he nods, moving forward to kiss your lips. It's a gentle gesture, oddly slow, as if he's putting a lot of thought into it. "How come you're still in bed?" You ask, and he watches you for a moment, before he answers. 

"I've been thinking." He admits, head leaning on his palm, elbow pushed into the bed below. His upper body is bare as usual in bed- but it's still a rather rare sight for you considering you typically don't spend moments like these together often. "About us. And our.. differences." He hums, while your eyes notice the scars he has- one of them right on top of his shoulder. 

"Oh." You nod, unsure what he means. 

"These past few days.. even longer than that.. there's been tension, hasn't it?" He asks, reaching out to move some hair from your face. "Sexual in nature, that is." He explains further, and you nod, eyes no longer able to stand his gaze now as you become a bit shy. Of course he’s able to speak about it a lot more open and boldly than you ever would be able to. 

"I uhm.. yeah." You nod, remembering that moment you almost went that far- but he's never done anything further than playing around with you. "Is there.. a problem?" You ask, and he waits for a moment to answer. 

"I'm not sure." He admits. "I have spoken to Namjoon about our obvious differences. And if we could make it work." He tells you. "But I'm worried nonetheless. I don't want to hurt you- but I am also aware of your growing frustration with me." He offers. 

"I- its not like that!" You defend yourself immediately. "If you don't want to, you know, have sex with me, that's fine. I don't need it to be happy with you." You reassure him, and he smiles kindly. 

"I know." He nods. "But do trust me that my lust for you is very real, and unbearable these days." He admits. "Even right now." 

At that, you move, boldly so, seemingly catching even him off guard as he holds your waist, while you sit on his thighs. His gaze is heated, red in his eyes clearly telling you how much his control is challenged in this moment, as you place your hands on his abdomen. "Then what if you just trust me instead?" You wonder, while he watches you. "Give up control for once?" You ask. 

"And you believe you can control a king?" He asks, challenges almost, as he very obviously stirs to live inside his underwear. "Very bold words." He smiles, though his worry does not leave his eyes at all as it returns full force, face becoming serious again. 

"What's the problem?" You ask, feeling his hands run over your skin to your legs. "What are you so scared of?" You press, and he sighs. 

"Hurting you." He reveals. "Losing you." 

"Why would you lose me?" You ask, unsure. 

"Because humans connect love with physical intimacy." He says. "And so does my kind. It's an important part of a partnership, and if I fail at providing you with the appropriate attention you deserve, I fear that I'm not valuable enough as a lover to you." He admits. 

"Even if we can't have sex, I'll still stay with you." You shake your head, moving to sit next to him now, hand reaching out to hold his. "Love is more than just that to me. And I love you." You argue. "No matter your strength, or your status, or your worth. You've got worth to me no matter what." You confess. 

And at that confession, he breaks. 

The moment he sits up to lean closer to you to be able to kiss you with a hand on your cheek, you know that he won't stop this time. "You're so dangerous." He growls, hands uncaring of the fabric covering you as he pulls the gown over your head, revealing your almost entirely bare body to him.  

It's time, and he knows it. 

You've become much more to him than just a partner- you've become a lifeline, a reason to think over his challenges and dangers he faces in the choices he makes, just so he can stay alive and at your side. He would burn down the world for you, if it meant that it would keep you safe from all harm. 

His kisses are heated, desperate, quite literally stealing your breath as he moves to mouth and bite at the skin of your neck and shoulder. He's noticeably not a gentle lover- he wants to make sure that his love is visible on your skin, needs to see the remnants of his lust for days to come. And with his control finally snapping, he will not hold back- he will test your strength for a final time, and devour you whole. 

He wants to watch you bloom- wants to see your petals open to reveal the most beautiful flower created by simple chance on a planet so far away from his own. And yet, this flower was meant for him- to be kept forever, to have it plant it's roots into his heart so it can feed off his love until he dies and cannot provide any longer. 

Only then he will set you free again. Only then will he accept defeat. 

Your back arches into him as his hands adjust your position, laying you down once more beneath him, pulling off your underwear to reveal everything, soiled fabric thrown carelessly away. He's played around with you before, that's how far you've come at this point- but never quite past that. Something always kept him from giving you what you were yearning for- but this time, he's granting you your wish. 

When he met you, truly face to face, it had been nothing but pure curiosity. He wanted to see what's so special about the human kind that others have such drastically varying opinions on them. Why one seems to fear them, while the other hates them. 

He does neither. 

You're not a being he has to fear, neither physically nor emotionally.  

When you say you love him you mean it. When you're close to him you simply crave his company. When you ask him how he feels you're genuinely interested in his emotions. You've always been nothing but open and honest with him, had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. And yet even when given full freedom to do as you please and leave him if you wanted to, you stayed. Because you wanted to. 

No words are exchanged as he sheds his clothes as well, leaving both of you bare beneath the silk covers of the bed you two share. "Are you cold, darling?" He asks, whispers almost with how close he is, in a way that gives away his amusement over your squirming body underneath his hands. You shake your head. He grins. "No?" He asks for you to confirm, and you do. "And yet your body is trembling. I wonder why.." He hums over your skin. 

"Because you're torturing me!" You whine in complaint, turning to the side- something he does not approve of, as he grabs your hips to instead turn you over entirely, a strange tenderness in his rather rough manner of handling you into a new position. Like a predator warning, growling down your neck, but never slipping in his control, never actually making the kill. "You know, usually, this is how I'd take you.." He explains, and you push back into him at that, impatient, or maybe even quietly begging. You really don't care how he does it. Just that he does it. "..but I cannot. Not with you." He tells you, kissing the line of your spine from your neck down, before he lets you turn over once move to face him. 

"Why not?" You ask, and he simply smiles, hands running down your sides until they meet your hips. 

"Because I cannot see your face." He simply answers, before he leans over you to kiss you again. By now, it's evident that without even touching you, you're more than ready to take him on, body inviting him in every way it can- and this time, he can't hold back even if he wanted to. 

You've waited long enough. 

"And I want to savour this experience, and all that you'll offer me." He hums against your skin. "...as I claim you as mine for now and forever."

You're not used to.. sex being this big of a deal. But it's obvious to you that Jungkook sees this as more than just an act of simple lust and satisfaction, if the way he kisses down your chest to your belly button is anything to go by. He didn't lie when he said he'd savour it- he's going terribly slow.  

"Jungkook please... I want you.. " you beg, and he smirks like the predator he is, faking innocence.  

"Oh but you have me right here, my love?" He says, leaning his head on the bare skin of your hip for a second. "I'm not going anywhere." He teases.  

Well- that's the problem. 

"I want you to focus just on yourself." He suddenly says rather seriously. "No matter what." He adds, and you nod, unsure what he means by this. Satisfied by your answer however he moves back up, hovering over you while his hand feels you up between your legs. You're more than ready by now, inner thighs slick with your arousal, and it makes his already leaking length move a little at the feel of it all. Could you handle him if he really was to let go and chase his own pleasure?  

Will you handle him in any way at all?  

You're not her, and he reminds himself of that as he pushes himself inside your body, core warm and welcoming towards him despite the obvious stretch you have to go through to accommodate him. He's worried you might not be able to transform enough- but you surprise him, as you always do.  

Inch by inch he slowly claims your body, waiting for the sign to stop- but you seem rather eager to take him in, never showing signs of discomfort at all. In fact, you look rather pleased- eyes closed, head laid back into the soft pillows below, hands holding his. He can see the slight bulge forming on your lower stomach, showing faintly where he is, and it makes him lust for you in ways that make him worry he might be going feral.  

He's pressing himself against you now, wet sound escaping your cunt as he realizes there's nothing left of him to give you, your eyes hooded just like his as he slowly retracts himself, just to enter you again much faster than before.  

The gasp that leaves him can't be controlled. Neither do you hide your own reaction, mouth opening silently in pleasure as you arch your back.  

He wants to see it again, so he moves his hips once more, once more, steady pace, causing your body to rock along, chest swaying as if to hypnotize the king. There's no need for foul play like that however- he's already under your spell, no need for any kind of assistance.  

"Your body was truly made for me.." he whispers into your neck as he continues his pace, holding himself back from snapping, keeping your well-being in mind.  

"Please-" you whine breathlessly, and he eagerly leans in to kiss your neck, bite at it, mark you up for days to come.  

"What is it you want?" He asks just as faintly, never losing track of his pace.  

"Don't hold back." You say, eyes meeting his own. "Take me, my King."

"I'm yours."  

He can't help the way his patience snaps, thrusts now deeper than ever as he pushes himself as far as he can with every move of his hips, kisses heated, burning, forever imprinting his love on you as he presses his hands into the bed below you, pace quickening. "I'll make the entire kingdom know." He growls against your lips as his hips snap against yours I'm a ruthless manner. "I'll have them all hear you come undone under my hand, just so they know-" He presses out between clenched teeth. "That you're mine, and that I'm yours."  

Your legs move to wrap around his body as best as you can manage, your hands on his back as they accidentally scratch his skin faintly, his own hands grabbing roughly at your flesh to keep you still as he ruts into you, for the first time actually chasing his own release.  

He need to fill you up, have his seed forever mark you up with his scent until it spills out of you. He's desperate at the prospect of finally gaining fulfillment in a way he's not managed to achieve before- a kind of high currently blurring up his thoughts as he feels himself getting lost in the scent and taste and feeling of your body.  

You're a drug, and he's happily willingly getting addicted.  

Your legs suddenly quiver as you find your own peak way sooner than he does, and he doesn't mind one bit seeing you come undone beneath him like this. A goddess in his eyes, gracing him with a heavenly touch, as he slows down, and slips out to see your core gaping from the stretch, clenching around nothing.  

But you're not done with him, as he gets a taste of what you're capable of in the eyes of lust.  

Your hands pull his face back towards you, your kiss a siren song clouding his mind once more as he falls into your spell, chasing his own high like a man starving.  

And he is. He has been for way too long.  

The moment he actually reaches his end you move your hand between the both of you to help yourself to another high as well, clenching core making him groan out in pure pleasure as he spills his seed into you, much of it already leaking out your core as you lazily move to milk him for all he's got.  

His eyes have never looked so vibrant in color as he looks at you, visibly stunned.  

And as you smile, no trace of any sort of doubt or anything other than pure and passionate love, he realizes you've finally bloomed.  

Your bond falling into place, silently, as he kisses you once more.  

◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇ 

"Come here, love." Jungkook says one day, as you walk into the throne room, nodding politely to Min Yoongi- who you know by now from the scar over his eye and rather withdrawn attitude. You're not sure why he's here- but if the King feels comfortable with his presence, you trust that he is no threat to you or him at all in this situation. Jungkook has got his back turned towards you for a good while, before he turns, something held in his arms covered by cloth and golden jewels. "It is a gift from him to you." He says, as you move the delicate cloth of whatever he's holding in his arms, satin with finely woven golden patterns.  

The small being opens its eyes slowly, before it raises its head- dog like creature visibly studying your face as Min Yoongi speaks.  

"It is a gift sent with the most well wishes from my betrothed." He clarifies, as the white dog like being moves his head to inspect your hand held out to him, it’s fur so short that it feels more like velvet than anything else.  You’re mesmerized by the puppy, before Yoongi looks almost annoyed. "...and it has also been.. Sent from me as well." he mumbles, as if he's forced to admit that part. "His name shall be for you to choose." 

Jungkook laughs to himself as he sets the small being down, the white and lanky body shaking before it sniffs at your legs, tail wagging wildly. The young puppy is obviously still rather unsteady on his long legs, but he appears to figure out quickly that you're his main person from now on.  

"Thank you." You tell the rather grumpy looking King with a smile, and you could swear he even returns it-  

somewhat.  

"He'll grow into a proper guard if well trained." Yoongi explains with his gaze set on Jungkook, who nods. "...That is not just a statement." He mumbles, and Jungkook rolls his eyes.  

"I am aware." He bites back, and you can't help but smile at their brotherly bantering, long having gotten used to their more rough way of speaking to one another. Just like you've grown used to a lot of things on this planet-  

after all, you consider this home by now.  

◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇ 

"Etka!" You call, as the dog like being runs on fast legs towards you, broad collar decorated with gems as he finds his place next to you, eagerly accepting your praise and affection.  

He's grown a lot these past few months- almost to full height, according to Jungkook. The haatra has his place in front of your shared quarters where he sleeps every night, guarding you both at your most vulnerable states.  

"Min Yoongi has invited us to the showing ceremony of his to-be queen." Jungkook says as you enter the bedroom after saying goodnight to your newest guardian outside the bedroom door.  

"I'm happy for him." You say, joining him to sit on his lap at the table near the window. "He sounded very happy last time we spoke."  

"He did not sound any different than usual to me, love." He shakes his head a little, before he leans in to kiss you. "But enough about him.. I have a different thing I'd like to indulge in than chatter about my brother." He offers you, who teasingly leans away from him, eyes falling to his lips.  

"Oh? I wonder what that might be.." you mumble, as he adjusts your position a bit, hands shamelessly traveling beneath your gown to feel the warmth of your skin. 

"Something that has no need for talking at all.." he hums against your lips, eyes hungry as he lusts for you with clear intentions.  

"And yet you surely won't be quiet." 

[unhinged-waterlilly]

Percy Jackson RP Blog

Ooc Intro

Lilly Darhk here! Child of Poseidon. Legacy of Styx(dont ask). My pronouns are she/her, i dont get sexuality. Oh, and currently possessed by Nyx, Syclla, Styx, and Hera. No, I also don't know how I'm alive. Now a Champion of Athena(are you proud, dad?). And Champion of Achilles now-

I live in Itacha now but come to Camp in the morning

Currently on a self appointed quest of getting as many bows from as many gods as I can so if you're a god or if you know a god who can give me a bow tell me please- I need them

Likes: my friends, reading, writing, chocolate, family, My boyfriend :3, ma lake

Dislikes: hellhounds, Zeus, people who hurt my family, jellyfish(I didn't even do anything to them!), hellhounds, Apollo(he's too fucking bright)

Fatal Flaw: Pride

Weapons: A bow and arrows usually but has a bracelet where the charms turn into daggers

Kill count: 127 (counting all the times I've killed those stupid goddam HELLHOUNDS)

Death count: 0

Almost death count: 999++

Key:

Nyx(purple, bold) Scylla(blue,bold) Styx(red,italic) Hera(orange,italic)

Lilly(normal)

The peeps I knoww:

Ma boyfriend, who's very awesome, and if anyone hurts him, I will make sure you die a very slow death. :D @madson-of-hermes-notluke

They, like, possess me: @primordialgoddessofnight , @werelonelydemonsfromhell , @heraaaaaaaa

Champions of: @achilles-the-greatest

My bio dad: @that-little-fucking-shit

Dad, who adopted me: @odysseus-of-ithaca-is-lost

Another version of the dad that adopted me that I don't like as much: @odysseus-reigning-king-of-ithaca

Other dad who looked at me and was like 'That one' (he regrets it every day): @paris-you-idiot

My mom, who was completely okay with ody adopting me and didn't question it at all(which i still find kinda weird): @penelope-is-waiting

My sister from Poseidon: @daonedaonlyskh

My other sister: @reigningprincesstofithaca

My psychotic adoptive brother: @reigningprinceofithaca

Other version of my brother, less insane more sad: @telemachus-of-ithaca

Other other version of my brother, but he's 12 and adorable! (And if anyone hurts him... you better hope you die before I get to you) @telemachus-is-lost

Other other other versions of my brother are 10 noww @young-telemachus

Other other other other version of my brother and he has horrid taste in men @the-prince-telemachus

Other other other other other version of my brother who thinks he's Shakespeare or that arrow Apollo dealt with @ithacas-prince

Other other other other other other version of my brother who..wait that isn't right... Not traumatised???? I don't know how this is possible @youre-fatherless-im-not-hehe

Other other other other other other other version of my brother who's 15 and just...i don't know how to feel about him if I had to kill a Tele I'd probably kill him @another-telemachus-wont-hurt

My brother from Poseidon he's an idiot @forbiddensonoftheseagod

Lil Percy he threatened me it took everything in me not to laugh @the-s0n-of-poseidon

My cyclops brother, very tall, very blind and does not know what small talk is: @my-baseballs-are-humans

My boyfriend's half sister(who's also my friend ig): @hispanic-child-of-hermes

Scares me: @that-girl-cupid

Richbitches4lifeee: @if-chaos-was-a-boy

If i were to date a gal-(also kinda scares me): @silena-daughterofaphrodite

Nyx possesses this dude, too. Oh, and there's also his boyfriend: @idontloveanybodythatsmypower

Almost more unhinged than me(almost): @nicoswill2live

Child of Eros who has decided that she would kill for me after 5 minutesof meeting me(I would do the same): @i-would-want-myself

Some dude who sent me a meme to be my friend and then wrote me a song: @clown-energy-skyrocketing

Fellow Luke defender😌 @childofthewargod

There's more people I know- sorry for the tagss

Face claim: Cool art of meh :3

Made this cause everyone's confused about meh.

This user is... (1) (2) (3)

Stuff about Lilly... (1)

Moodboard...

Something about @/demigod-jack-hearth...

~~~

No NSFW. DNI if you're zionist, transphobic, homophobic, racist, sexist, a nazi, xenophobic, or otherwise

[himbosandhardwear]

Slowly, like the way most things occur to Steve, he realizes that the way he and a lot of guys, probably most guys, talk about women is kinda gross. Kinda impersonal and objectable...no wait....objectifying. He loves that he can talk to Robin about chicks but as soon as he starts to say what he loves about them he realizes, though Robin likes girls, she is also a girl, and probably doesn't want to hear locker room talk. Which is when he starts to wonder if what he considers normal guy banter is actually gross douchebag banter.

"They're so warm," he says, which seems like a nice thing to say, neutral.

"I guess?" She frowns. "Guys are warm too though."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, I mean, women don't have a monopoly on body heat."

"Right," he agrees. Except what he was really thinking was the heat on the inside. Again, gross. That thought then leads to another thought. A weird, why-am-I-thinking-about-this thought. That guys are probably warm on the inside too. Definitely. Definitely warm on the inside. Shit. That's weird.

He doesn't have anyone to talk this over with anymore. Dustin is too young. Jonathan is currently getting warm with Nancy, so that doesn't seem appropriate. Wait! He can talk to Eddie!

"Is it fucked up to talk about sex stuff with Robin?" He asks Eddie the next time they're alone.

"What?" He responds.

"Like, she feels like a bro, but she's not actually a bro, cause she's a girl. Normally I'd talk about hookups with a bro but she probably doesn't want to hear about that kinda stuff."

"I guess," Eddie agrees.

"I almost said some pretty gross shit to her the other day but I stopped myself, thank god."

"How gross?"

"Just that I like how warm girls are, but, you know, on the inside. Which would be totally fine to say to another dude but she probably doesnt want to hear that from me. And then I started freaking out because it's probably just gross in general to talk about girls like that? Do you and the band talk about shit like that or was it just my asshole friends from school and I'm only just now realizing how fucked up it is?"

"Me? No, I've never talked about girls like that."

"Ah fuck, I knew it."

"But I'm pretty sure they're all virgins, so..."

"Oh. Do you ever talk about girls with anyone?"

"......no."

"I guess that means I'm an asshole."

"You're not an asshole, Steve. Talking about girls seems like a normal thing to talk about with your friends. Maybe not Robin, she might beat your ass."

"We could talk about that kinda stuff though, right?"

"Uh...."

"Never mind. It's stupid."

"No, it's just- I mean. You could tell me whatever. I'm cool."

"Oh, okay."

They stare at their feet.

"Is this weird? It feels weird."

"I'm gay, Steve."

Steve blinks. "Oh! Okay, that's cool." His eyes light up. "Wait! You'd know, are guys as warm inside as I thought?"

Eddie has a small stroke. He has to let his face say the words his mouth can't.

"Shit, it's still weird huh? Damn."

"No. Uh. It's just...why were you thinking about that?"

"Robin said girls don't have a monopoly on being warm and I just thought yeah she's right, so it makes sense that guys are just as warm as girls. It probably feels the same I mean. You don't have to tell me, you know, if it's weird to ask."

"Not weird to ask. It's just...I have no idea."

"Oohhh," Steve says. "You're a virgin too?"

"No."

Steve frowns in confusion.

Eddie wants to bury himself under a slab of concrete but makes himself explain. "You see, when guys fuck, one of thems gotta be the...warm one...as it were."

The line between his eyes doesn't lessen.

"I'm a bottom."

Still, somehow, he doesn't get it.

"Oh my god Steve, I'm the girl!"

His mouth makes a little 'O'.

"Yeah. That's not exactly how I like to describe it but you looked like you weren't visualizing. So."

Steve is having some truly deep thoughts. He's never thought about being the girl before. Like, obviously girls like being the girl. He hopes so anyway. But he's wondering what's the draw of being the girl if you're a guy.

"And you like it?" He blurts out.

Eddie, who's been a deep shade of pink already, turns violently red.

"Yup."

"Huh. Guess it makes sense. Never thought about it before though."

"Well, yeah, why would you?"

"Hey, I'm pretty open minded!"

"Sure. But straight guys don't tend to think about taking it up the ass. You know, as a rule." (A/N Eddie doesn't know wtf he's talking about)

Steve takes this in and realizes a few things, faster than he's ever realized anything before. He's thinking about it. And he's curious. And he wants to ask Eddie what it feels like and why he likes it. And he wants to ask if it hurts and if the pain is part of why he likes it. Because he thinks he might like that.

Fuck.

Okay. He can be normal about this. Eddie said Steve could talk to him about sex. It's normal and fine.

"We should fuck."

[evagreen-stories]

Mother’s madness | (Aemond x f!lowborn!reader) (1/?)

Summary: Aemond, troubled by his unfruitful marriage and the stress of the war, takes himself a bedslave when he seizes Harrenhal and gets more attached to her than he ever thought possible. Bringing her to the Red Keep after he needs to leave Harrenhal would not go as he hoped it would, especially after the birth of the babes he sired onto her.

Warnings: mentions of violence, light angst (kinda?), canon typical misogyny, canon typical behaviour, dark!aemond, abusive!aemond, forced relationship, forced impregnantion, canon typical classicism, mentions of assault, stockholm syndrom (kind of), non-canon storyline

Divider @targaryen-dynasty

masterlist part 2 >

You sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your fingers as you stared into the lit fire. The room was silent apart from the crackling of the fire and you felt his stare burn into you. It felt as though a heavy burden lay atop your head, suffocating you with every moment made to spend in his presence.

You had no idea how, for you were nothing but a lowborn bastard fathered by some bright haired high-born, working as a servant in the castle of Harrenhal. Young, mere 16 years of age, plain features, you had never thought yourself to be anything special, though it seems there was at least one person that would disagree with that. 

Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen.

Somehow, in all the panic and madness that was his seize of the city, you had caught his eye.

It had all happened so fast. Dragged into his chambers by his guards you had little time to process what was happening. He was already on top of you when you finally understood what now was your fate. Claimed as his spoil of war and made his bedslave, he had taken your maidenhead with force that night, in the same ruthless manner he would many nights after that. 

Locked in his chambers there was little room for escape and after only three turns of the moon, a master had proclaimed you to be with child, shortly after that he had confirmed you to be carrying twins.

You had asked him for moontea more than once, yet were always denied. You were his to do with as he pleased and he was set on you having a child of his.

You often wondered why. You were busy tending to him all day and night, from fulfilling his every desire to bathing him and oiling his hair. Yet, in his many times of absence whenever he was out fighting on the battlefield, you had nothing else to do but think.

Eventually, you had settled on your own theory; He was married to Floris Baratheon, they had been wed two years before the war first started. Now, their fourth year of marriage approached, and after much struggle she brought forth only two daughters. You had heard all the stories about her and Aemond, of countless miscarriages, about the daughter that died not even a week after her birth, leaving him with only one daughter said to be equally as small and weak as her sisters, though still alive by some miracle of the gods. 

The rumours about their misfortune had travelled fast and far, many of those that opposed him and his brother's reign had claimed he been accursed, even before he slayed his own kin. She was said to be with child now as well, though it was to be seen whether this one would survive his curse or not.

As for your own detriment, you were sure you were a mere experiment of his, an attempt to figure out if he was the cause of the unfruitfulness of his marriage or his wife was. A desperate wish of his to try and prove the rumours wrong.

You didn't know if it was luck or a curse of your own that his seed had taken immediately. 

Your womb had filled with not one but two of his children and you had encountered no issues in carrying them so far. Because of this it was little surprise he had taken you back to the Red Keep with him when he was summoned back to King's Landing.

There, neither his wife nor his mother were impressed with his choices. your mere presence was despised by everyone but him. Quickly you had learned to appreciate being confined to his chambers and to his company alone, as well as the company of the two babes growing in you.

He was a violent man, quick to anger and impatient, yet as your belly had started to swell with his children he seemed more at ease, being calm and almost affectionate so long you did not disobey or disappoint him. 

Quickly adapting, you had learned to submit to all his whims and wills, even if it hurt at times, for you knew there was greater hurt waiting if you didn't. 

There was nothing that upset him more than any form of rejection or disrespect from you.

The weeks went by quickly, you had been with child for almost seven moons now, the presence of two made your stomach larger and rounder than you'd ever expected to be, even though two moons were still to come.

As you’re lost deep in thought his deep voice brings you back to reality.

“Stop sulking like that, you will ruin your pretty face.”

Ungrateful wench. Look at me when I’m talking to you. 

Hearing his voice you turn to face him quickly, seeing him sitting at his desk and eyeing you with a slight glare. Lowering your head for a moment in an apologetic gesture you reply, “I apologise, my price.”

He clicks his tongue in irritation. “You’re making that face again. Do you wish for another reminder of your place?” He huffs, taking a long sip from his cup as his eye never leaves your expression.

“Please don’t, my prince. I’m deeply sorry.” You answer quickly, trying to hide the small tremble in your voice.

He gets up from his chair and walks over to you, standing in front of you and bringing his hand to your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. “Then put on a pretty smile for me. You know the rules.” 

You pull your lips into a small smile that does little to hide the gloominess in your eyes. He doesn't care much for that though, so long you do as he commands. 

“Good. That’s my good girl, that’s what I want to see from you.” He praises and pats your head before walking back to his desk, gesturing you to follow he says, “Come here to me, sweet doll.”

You follow suit, grunting slightly as you pull all three of you up from the bed and waddle over to him, standing next to him on his chair and waiting for further instructions.

“Bend over.” He commands, tapping the desk right in front of you with a cruel smirk. “I want to see where I hit you the hardest last time.”

Swallowing nervously you do as told, hiking up your dress to reveal your bare skin underneath and bending over the table as far as your swollen belly allows you to. The large bruises on your right buttock glow brightly against your pale skin, the dim candlelight making the purple look more vibrant than usual.

“Mh. Good.” You can hear his voice and flinch slight when you feel his cold hand make contact with your flesh, roaming over your marked body in a firm yet gentle manner. “And can you remember why I did this?” His voice was as cold as his hand, no emotion present as he inspects the aftermath of your last punishment closer. 

“Because I didn’t serve you well enough, my prince.” 

“Correct.” A sudden slap lands right on the bruise, the pain flaring up again making you gasp. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson because if I have to do it again you really won’t like it.” 

Flinching and groaning at another slap you answer quickly. “I have, my prince.”

“Good.” He was pleased with your submission. His hand leaves your flesh as he tells you, “Fix your dress. I will send you out to the city to collect something for me.” 

He rummages through a drawer of his desk as you take a step back, letting go of your dress and letting it fall down to your feet again. He pulls out a piece of parchment that already has mysterious words written on it that you can't understand and scribbles an address at the foot of it. He hands you a pouch full of coin. “Go and be quick about it. Take the guards with you, and give me those back as soon as you return.” He said, his long digit tapping the bag of coins in your hand.

“It is late, my prince. Are any shops still open at this time of night?” You wonder out loud, genuinely confused. 

It was nothing new for him to send you out to run errands. It was a welcome change from your duties as bedslave and personal maid, as you were still responsible for all his comforts. From bathing him and brushing his hair, to carrying his children to satisfy all his desires. He kept you in his chambers for this very purpose, he preferred your soft tender hands over those of anyone else, even if it meant summoning the wrath of his wife and others. Running errands for him was also the only other time you got to leave the suffocating castle walls. 

In theory you were free to roam the gardens and courtyard, yet the disgusted looks and insults from the ladies there had you staying in his chambers at all times.

“Don’t question me. I want it now. Do as I say and leave at once.” His voice is laced with irritation. 

Is she insolent or plain stupid?

You mumble an apology and bow, grabbing a cloak and hurrying out the room before you manage to mess up again. 

As much as you already loved your children still growing in your belly, in the most recent days you've felt as though they depleted your mind and made you more prone to upsetting your master. 

I can’t upset him. I need to do good.

You gathered two guards to keep you safe as you made your way down into the city, down the streets and alleyways, the address he gave you was far from the castle, close to Flea Bottom. 

Many people stared at you as you made your way through the streets. The night folk were out, it was rare to see a pregnant woman amongst them, even less common for one to be accompanied by royal guards.

You arrived in a small alleyway at last, an unseemingly shop with a sign above the door, you couldn't make out the words in the darkness, only make out a few herbs painted onto the wooden slap that made the sign. 

As you enter a bell announces your entry. “Good evening.” You say into the small and empty shop littered with different containers and brown bottles, a few tools hanging on the walls, the smell of all kinds of herbs mixing in the air and making your head spin soon enough. 

“Good evening,” the hoarse voice of an elderly woman replies as she enters the room through a curtain blocking off the other parts of the building. “Can i help you?”

“Yes. I am here to pick something up for Prince Aemond.” 

She looks you up and down, taking a deep breath as an expression of suspicion drapes over her previously welcoming one. “Really now? And what exactly has our prince sent you to collect?”

“He did not say.” You answer, reaching into the pocket of your cloak to retrieve both the parchment and coin. “But he gave me this note and the coin to pay for it.” 

You had notices strange words written over the address, words you could not understand, yet as this woman takes the note from you it appears she knows their meaning as she surries off behind the curtain she came from and brings back a small vial of strange liquid as well as a packet wrapped in paper, tied close with a string. 

“Here, my dear.” she hands them over to you. “Make sure you take caution on your way back to the palace. You dont want anything… unfortunate to happen to you in the city this late at night.”

“I will, thank you. How much do you get?” You reply as you open the pouch, ready to pay.

“No need for coin, my lady. Its on the house - for our pince’s sake.'' She smiles kindly, bowing slightly as she does.

You mirror her smile, bowing instinctively in return as you had learned to do in the Red Keep - bowing a hundred times too often was better than bowing once too little, you had understood that quickly.

“That is very kind of you, ma’m. I shall inform the prince about your generosity.” Packing away everything into various pockets in your cloak you bid goodbye, only to be stopped by the sound of her voice as you're about to reach the door. 

“I can’t help but notice you are with child. If you are to give birth in the Red Keep, I advise you to be careful.”

Her words make you stop dead in your tracks, turning around slowly to look at her with a frown on your face. “I… I’m sorry?”

“The Red Keep is a dangerous place for women, especially mothers and their small children. You’re having twins, you need be extra cautious.” She said as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if she didn't just say one of the most shocking things you’ve ever heard. 

How does she know this?

“I-” You freeze in shock as you replay her words in you mind, “H-How do you know i’m expecting twins? And… what do I need to be cautious about?”

She smiles back, a smile filled not with innocence but with wisdom and knowledge, one that must’ve witnessed the wicked ways of this world on maany occasions. “I have seen many  women passing through my shop, my dear.” She gestures around to all the varying herbs and potions before continuing “I know when a woman is pregnant and can see when she is carrying twins. As for you needing to be cautious… there are many strange things happening in the Red Keep. Beware, no one there is your friend. The walls have eyes and ears. Do not trust anyone, not the maesters, either.”

“The maesters? Why not them? Are they not there to help me?” Fear creeps up within you, your hand rising to rest on your belly in a protective manner.

“The maesters are servants of the crown and no one in the crown's service can be trusted. They have their own agenda as well.” She says with confidence, stating it as fact rather than an opinion. She steps out from behind the counter, approaching you slowly. “There is much you don't know, my dear, I only wish to warn you. I’m worried for the lives of your children.”

“Can you-” You begin but are interrupted by the door swinging open. The guards have waited long enough and demand your return to the palace. 

You sigh in defeat, knowing that defying the guards is something Aemond will be informed of. Turning to face the elderly lady you bid goodbye. “I apologise. Have a good night, ma’m.” 

She simply smiles warmly. “May the gods protect you.” and watches as you leave.

You make your way back to the palace, her words running through your head like a mantra as you try to figure out the meaning of them.

You need to stop often, taking breaks to you catch your breath.

Stupid hills. Stupid steps.

It must be well in the night now, perhaps even early in the first morning hours, when you finally arrive back in the palace. You open the door to your shared chambers carefully, making sure not to wake the prince. Slipping inside carefully you make no noise in the barely lit room, only letting out a small squeal when you turn around and see him sit at his desk still, a book spread out in front of him as a single candle by his right side illuminates the pages.

“You’re still awake, my prince.” Your voice is but a mere whisper as you start fidgeting with your fingers.

He is dressed in his nightwear and doesn't even bother to look up from his book as he answers, “You took your time.” His voice is laced with annoyance and anger. It's now he looks up at you, studying your frame up and down before demanding, “Stand in front of me.”

You walk over to him, feeling the need to explain yourself as you do so. “I apologise, my prince. The walk back uphill and all the stairs have gotten more difficult with the two babes growing inside of me. I was in need of a few breaks.”

He nods, waiting for you to stand right in front of you. He takes a deep breath as if to calm himself and places a hand on your belly, his palm right over the spot one of the babes always liked to kick into. “You are indeed getting rather large. What have you brought me?”

You look at his hand on your belly. It's a gesture that would be sweet between husband and wife, yet you were not that. Not anywhere close. His growing fascination with your bump always made your blood run cold for some reason. You empty your pockets, placing all of the contents on the desk in front of him. 

“The coin back… and these two things.”

He didn't take his hand off your bump as he watched your movements and inspected the items with his eye. 

His free hand then travels to your hip, pulling you closer to stand between his legs as he keeps his other hand roaming your belly, looking up at you and studying your tired expression. 

After a while he instructs you, his voice now much calmer and seeming almost content as he speaks, “Go sit on the bed. Don’t speak another word unless I say otherwise.”

You nod silently and walk over to the bed, sitting down and relishing the feeling of relief that overwhelms you when the weight of three is finally lifted off your aching feet. 

Watching him as he inspects the package and vile you see him smell all of it, grimacing at the smell of what must be a potion of sorts. You wondered what it smelled like but you knew better than to ask questions. He counts the coins, yet does not comment on them all still there. You want to tell him about the nice lady, but you know better than to disobey his command to stay silent.

He packed it all away, into the same drawer he had taken out the coins in the first place, then looks back up at you. He leans back into his chair, one hand resting on his leg as the other reaches for the cup next to him. “Take off your dress.” He orders and keeps taking the last few sips from the wine.

You do as told quickly, getting up from the bed to undo the straps that hold the dress in place and let it fall open, taking it off and placing it over a chair close to the bed before taking a seat again.

This was far from unusual, you knew his antics by now.

He preferred to play with his prey before devouring it.

Watching you intently he smiles as soon as the first patches of bare skin are revealed. He would never grow tired of ordering you around, too exhilarating was the power he held over you.

As a man, as a prince nonetheless. 

No one could stop him. 

Not his mother, not his wife, not the gods - and especially, not you.

He gets up and walks over to you, his eye roaming over every curve of your gravid body. Your belly grew larger with his children every day, your breasts too were round and swollen. 

They must hurt, he thought to himself from time to time, but until the milk would finally start to flow there was nothing he could do to provide relief. He had tried more than once already, ever the impatient man he was, though it seemed not to be the time for it yet.

His hand placed on your arm he firmly nudges you back and to your side. Lying there like this, on your side with your legs pulled onto the mattress, gave him easy access to indulge in you while also giving him a good view of the body he so worshipped. It was one of the very few positions in which he could take his sweet time without you struggling to breathe under the weight of his children pushing into you. 

He starts taking off his clothes when he strikes up conversation. It was odd, the calmer he took you, the more need for talk he seemed to have. Though the frequency in which he did this nowadays did make it normal to some degree.

“Tell me your fears. What worries you most about the coming birth?”

“Huh?”

Taken aback by his question, you struggle to find an answer. After many moments of tense silence, purely filled with the sounds of his clothes tossed away, you eventually reply. 

“I… I suppose dying…” 

It sounded more like a guess than an answer, Truthfully, you had never though of this yourself. 

Too hopeful that this birth could finally set you free from him, you had never nurtured any negative thoughts or critical questions about pregnancy or birth.

“Dying?” He seemed surprised. His hands worked on you with practised routine, pulling your body closer to the edge of the bed and pushing your legs forward to make space for him. 

He presses his bare manhood against the flesh of your core as he leans forward, hands roaming all over your stomach and breasts, firmly grabbing and playing with the nubs on them as if to check again for any precious liquid. 

“I take it you don’t worry about the lives of my children then. Only for yourself?”

“Of course I do!” You reply, voice a bit firmer now than before, feeling an immediate swell of anger and fear bubble deep inside you. Weird, that never happens. “I just… I think if I'm cold in my grave I can no longer worry about them at all. So, first should be the worry about my own life. Then, if I am to live through the birth, I can worry about them.”

“Interesting…” He says as he now turns his attention to his cock, taking it in his hand and running it through your folds several times. He was never a man that took much time to prepare you, he felt little need to do so. 

Your body responded within seconds of knowing what was about to happen, providing the necessary slick for him either way. On times he took you by surprise and pushed in without notice, it too had taken mere moments for your cunt to embrace and welcome him.

All mine. Responding just how she should.

“Then just trust me.” He says, grunting and huffing softly as he buries himself in the comfort of your walls, gripping onto him in familiar tightness. “You’ll see there will be little to worry about, sweet thing. Just relax. I’d hate to have you dead, too. You’d be of little use in a cold grave for both my children and me.”

Rutting into you at an increasing pace he is soon moaning and groaning with each thrust until he has rid himself of all his spend, grinding it into the deepest parts of you with deep growls and laboured breaths as his own body collapses forward onto yours, his forehead resting on your temple as his hot breath on your skin sends gooseflesh down your body. 

He could not describe it, there was no reasonable explanation for it, but it was you who he had always taken the most pleasure from. No whore or his wife could compare. You had brought him a sense of comfort  he would find nowhere else.

While pleasure wasn’t guaranteed for you in all his takings, it was times like these you did feel it. Times like these where you felt less like a slave and more like a lover. When his bare, sweaty skin would cling to yours, the sensation of his hot breath on your neck making your own hitch in your throat, the inaudible words in what you think to be valyrian growled in his deep voice would make your stomach tighten in a familiar fashion.

In moments like these, you didn’t mind your fate too much.

The days pass and soon turn into weeks.

You never found out what the potion or herbs were about. Soon after that day however, Aemond had given you your own chambers for the first time ever since you came into his service. They were small and humble in comparison to his but still a far cry from what any servant or peasant could wish for.

A large bed with enough blankets and pillows to make it through the coldest winter nights, a table with two chairs, a sofa, two cradles, a wardrobe and other furniture, all made of richly coloured wood with intricate patterns and carvings. 

The chambers were far from his. He did not want screaming babes keeping him up at night, thus the adjustment needed to be made, even if the thought of your impending absence from his bed soured his mood already.

You may have been the prince regent’s favourite and were to have his bastard children, yet you were still a lowly bed slave, thus expected to give birth with only the standard precautions taken and to take care of both babes yourself. No wet nurse or handmaiden to help you. That much you were made aware of as soon as you had arrived in the Red Keep all those moons ago.

What is a frightening thought, to be so young and left to care for two babes alone, did give you a feel of hope regardless. 

Hope for some peace and quiet away from Aemond, hope for being able to sleep and wake up without his hands all over you, and the hope of him finally growing bored of you and relieving him of your service to him. 

There was only a small chance of that happening, you knew, yet you held onto that hope until the day he left for battle again.

He had indulged himself in you daily until then, knowing he would soon have no more chance to do so - at least for a while, until you were fully healed. 

When he had to leave for a long military operation he bid you goodbye before making his way to Vhagar. You watched him leave before retiring to your own chambers, happily confining yourself to your new chambers with books and yarn.

Less than a fortnight after Aemonds departure, the day had arrived. Going into labour in the late hours of the afternoon you had been bed bound for a whole day before your babes would finally make their arrival.

Two sons, healthy and strong despite their small size - the maester had assured you this was a common occurrence for twins. They would fill out soon, he claimed, aiding in calming your fears. 

To your surprise, you were not left as abandoned as you had expected to be. The maester cared for your body as you learned how to nurse your sons, how to change and bathe them. 

You were provided nourishing, large meals, lotions, oils and herbs, your belly bound by ever changing maids. You could tell these were benefits granted to you at the order of the prince. He must have instructed them to do so before he left.

Whether he did this out of the kindness of his heart or purely because he wished you back in his service as quickly as possible in the best possible condition you were not sure, yet you would not complain either.

All you did was focus on your sons who you named Aurelius Waters, the elder one, and Patroclus Waters, the younger one. Briefly had you considered naming them in the traditions of house Targaryen to appease Aemond, but he was not here. 

He could not interfere. They were bastards after all, so you took the liberty of naming them to your heart's content - the first time you've felt in control ever since being forced into his service.

Meanwhile, Aemond was busy on the battlefields, travelling back and forth between the crownlands and riverlands, aiding in one battle after the other as he brought victory after victory to his brother’s cause.

He found his days eerily quiet without the presence of his beloved bed slave by his side. His days seemed dark and gloomy, empty and devoid of life. He looked forward to when he would be reunited with you but to his dismay, his presence was needed for far longer than he had anticipated.

As the days went on, you had soon taken notice of both the maids and maesters who were seemingly fascinated by the fact that both babes were actually growing very fast and became more active than ever. Both were feeding at your breast all day long, soon turning plumb and full of life.

Why were they so suprised? Had they lied to you when they said all would be well?

You could not help but grow increasingly worried and suspicious at the maesters seemingly heightened interest in your sons, the words and warning of the mysterious old lady plaguing your mind even in your sleep. You started locking your chamber at night mere days after giving birth, finding yourself unable to sleep whenever you knew anyone could walk in and do something to your children while you slept.

You tried to stay calm, tried all you could to ease your mind. You tried to take a walk once. To go into the gardens you usually avoided for you knew there were often ladies whispering hurtful insults behind their hands. 

Walking there with both sons tied to your chest with a long, silken piece of fabric, you stopped dead in your tracks when you overheard the hushed whispers of who you assumed to be servans. You stayed and listened, like a deer hearing a branch snap. 

Really? One said. They wouldn’t do that. The other said. I’m certain! I’ve heard it with my own ears! Another proclaimed.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart skipped several beats as you continued to listen in on their conversation. You clutched your sons tighter and turned around on your heels, hurrying back into you chamber and shutting the door behind you with a loud thud, immediately turning the lock closed.

From that day on, the door would stay locked at all times.

You unlocked the door only on few occasions. Whenever a servant brought you food or came to clean, or whenever you put dirty nappies out for someone to take and get rid of. 

Maesters were no longer allowed in your room at all and no one was allowed to touch your sons. You did it all yourself. You could not bear the sight of anyone else touching them, too bad had your paranoia and fears gotten.

You kept the cradles right next to your bed and the babes tied to your chest more often than not. You slept only when they slept and fed, bathed and cleaned them yourself.

By the time Aemond finally returned two months after you welcomed your sons, you were a sleep deprived mess. Paranoid as ever with the door firmly locked at all times.

Something Aemond would be informed of by the maesters soon after his return.

masterlist part 2 >

[queenimmadolla]

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

(dad!eddie munson and mom!reader as young parents)

more of the penny verse here • eddie edit © @fefemunson!

Summary. . . You admire your new baby girl. warnings: none, just fluff a/n: eddie and reader are about 20 and 21 (i also feel the need to express eddie exhibits Sagittarius traits so i'm thinking he had to have been born in december, kinda close to capricorn cause he looks evil but he's not) and some cuteness before I give you angst with 'Wayne's World'. enjoy! let me know what you think? ◡̈

“So…how you liking it out here?” You asked, propped on your stomach and resting on your forearms.

  Your daughter, only six days old, stared back up at you, small plump lips parted. She still looked so new and a little wrinkly.

  “There’s not a single thought in your adorable little head, is there?” You stroked over her soft hair—she’d come out with a full head of it—mindful of her delicate head and softspot. Penny blinked once, hard, at the gentle caress, but continued to marvel at you, the big brown eyes she’d inherited from her father were so wide that her forehead was squishing up towards her adorable hairline.

  The television was on, more so for background noise as the volume was very low. Eddie was asleep in the bedroom, he’d taken it upon himself to let you get as much rest as possible—always insisting on getting up in the middle of the night to gather Penny when she became fussy. She didn’t do too much, wasn’t all that active yet. If she wasn’t fussing, she was attached to one of your nipples or sleeping. In the four days since you’d brought her home, she hadn’t done a whole lot of sleeping during the convenient times for her new parents. No, she slept during the day and was up all night.  

  Eddie was so good with her, though. Took the screaming like a champ, it was so fascinating to you that she couldn’t produce actual tears yet but it still hurt your heart to hear her cry. He’d just take off his shirt and hold her to his chest, skin to skin seemed to calm Penny down, and you’d pumped enough to have overnight supplies of milk for her when your nipples were too sore to handle Penny’s nursing, though you didn’t mind when he stirred you from sleep to settle Penny against your breast so she could eat.

  That was about the only time Eddie did wake you. Giving birth had drained you, you knew it was gonna be uncomfortable and take a lot out of you but you hadn’t anticipated the lack of energy you’d have in the days following as well, and you hadn’t voiced it but Eddie knew you. Sometimes, you thought he knew you better than you knew yourself.

  It was surprising when you woke before him, feeling well rested instead of drained. You’d quietly gotten out of bed, careful not to wake him, to check on Penny, and for once, she was up at a normal time, too. 

  Eddie looked exhausted, breathing deep as he slept so you decided it was time to start bonding with your baby more. A little mommy-daughter time.

  After changing her diaper and feeding her, you got yourself dressed and ready, put her in a cute little onesie and folded a blanket on the carpet in the living room to lay her down. 

  You hadn’t realized there wasn’t a whole lot to do with a newborn until half an hour had passed with you two staring at each other, really taking each other in. You studied her and while you didn’t think she had a whole lot of brain processing power, you had a feeling she was trying to figure you out, too. As more than just her food source, anyways. Sometimes her stare would go soft, eyelids looking heavy before they were wide open again as if you’d done something to startle her out, it was kind of funny. 

  “You know, you’re pretty cute but you’re kind of boring,” You teased, fingers trailing down her little side until you reached her onesie covered foot and your ovaries cried at how small it was. You pressed your thumb gently just below her teeny tiny toes and like the little alien she was, they curled in on it in a way she probably wouldn’t be able to do in a few months, newborn flexible-ness.

  “All you heard was cute, huh?”

  Seemingly in response, because of course your daughter knew her cues, she was Eddie Munson’s baby after all, she began to suckle on nothing, lips miming the motion. You grabbed her pacifier and held it to her lips, giggling when she mouthed at it until it was settled and she looked content. 

  You beamed down at her, thumb stroking over the pad of her foot before pressing a kiss to it. And since you were kissing her foot you just had to show those chunky (god you wanted to bite them) cheeks some love, pressing your lips noisily and repeatedly against her face.

  Penny let you have your fun, the eye of her cheek you were focused on forced to squint as the chubb of it spread with the pressure of your kisses.

  You’d been expecting her to smell good, a baby survival mechanism to entice people to want to take care of her, but you had no idea how obsessed with it you’d become. You just wanted to bottle the newborn smell up so you could have it forever. Once you were done kissing her face, your nose trailed up her head to sniff at her hair where the scent was the strongest. You inhaled deeply, very much so exaggerated and let out an even more dramatic sigh before you pulled away to look down at her.

  “I’ve never done it, but you’re better than crack,” You swore.

  “Neither have I and I agree.” A raspy voice responded from behind you.

  You rolled onto your side, glancing over your shoulder to see Eddie leaning against the doorway of the bedroom, lips curled into a smile and sleep still lingering in his eyes.

  “You know, it’s really hot when you linger in doorways like that, but it’s also kind of creepy, Eddie.”

  The sleepy look quickly morphed into a mischievous one, “You think I’m hot?”

  “So, that’s what you’re gonna take from that? You already know I think you’re hot. Exhibit A,” You gestured down to his baby you’d popped out less than a week ago. 

  Eddie laughed and joined you on the floor, lips pursed in exaggeration once he was settled. You were all too happy to lean in, pressing your lips firmly against his. It was clear he’d just been expecting a quick peck when he let out a sound of surprise before you felt the curve of his smile which in turn made you smile.

  You felt so doped up on love; you had Eddie, who you thought would be the greatest love of your life, and now you had the baby you two made, proof of your love (an accidental one but still) and also proof that you could be wrong, since she turned out to be the other great love of your life. Despite the late nights, sore nipples and how peeing was somewhat of a chore while your stitches healed, life was bliss.

  “Mmm,” Eddie hummed when you pulled away, eyes still closed and that smile still plastered on his face. Then he groaned, head dropping. “These are going to be the longest six weeks of my life, I just know it.”

  You laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek before you sat up and carefully lifted Penny. She was so doll-like, ugh, you loved her so much. You turned her in your grasp, a hand cradling the back of her head and neck while your other supported her bottom as you pressed her cheek against yours, the both of you facing Eddie.

  “But isn’t this worth it?” 

  There wasn’t any humor behind the reply he rasped out, his features morphing into the tender expression that always made you feel breathless, like you were important to him, “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”