#she's asking him his opinion on what to get for her daughter and he's trying his best but he is Not Helpful

[batchilla]

The most married divorced couple - Chapter 4 - Coffee and Custody

Years of well honed instincts through gruelling training had Jason as a perpetually light sleeper. A perpetually light sleeper who knew, even in his sleep, that he was being watched. 

He opens one eye, slowly sitting up as he takes in his surroundings - his wife’s… his ex wife's penthouse apartment. Well, that told him who was watching him at least. Sure enough, peering at him from behind the furthest arm of the couch he’d spent the night on is a tell-tale mess of curls so like his own - and Mary comes scrambling, not around the couch, but up to sit on the arm. “DAD!” 

Every time. Every time, that single word reminds him that there is in fact good in the world, and that his baby girl might just be the epitome of that. She all but tackles him into a cuddle. “You're here!”

He tries not to wince. He doesn’t ever want her to hug him less enthusiastically - but last night hadn’t gone well, and becoming climbing equipment for his daughter did not exactly help his recovery. 

Jason hugs her tight “Hi baby.” he says, his head resting on hers.

“Mm not a baby.” she grumbles “are you stayin’ for breakfast?”

“If mum says yes.” He says, part of him feeling dirty over the manipulative tactic - but the truth of the matter always was that Mary had a higher success rate in campaigning for him to stay then he did. Something about those adorable little eyes, he suspects. Mary hms, tucking her head against her shoulder. 

“M’ glad you came Dad. I don’t want Mr Brett to be my new dad.” Fucking what? Part of him wanted to resort to old methods on this ‘Mr Brett’ with extreme prejudice. For sniffing around his wife and daughter, and for trying to take what should have still been his. 

“What's that now baby?” he says, trying to keep the growing emotions that were making him feel like he was on fire. She didn’t need to know about any of that. 

“Mr Brett, he walks me to school sometimes cus I’m best friends with Jaxon and Riley and Kyle, and sometimes Mum walks me with them. They say its like a ‘carpool’ but cars don’t go to the pool, and the other day he and mummy went for a playdate while I was at grandpa Bruce’s and then Mum was asking how I felt about Mr Brett and I said he was so nice but that I don’t want a new dad and then she turned on baby shark and I got distracted.”  He takes a deep breath. He can’t get mad in front of Mary. Another deep breath. He realistically can’t get mad at all. He knows that. He had been divorced from his wife for four years. She was allowed to seek out … companionship. Had he? No. Did it feel akin to a betrayal? He knew it shouldn’t - but it did. She didn’t need to be lonely - and he didn’t want her to be. But he did hope that he’d somehow end up being the solution, not this fucking ‘Mr Brett’ asshole. Even then - companionship was one thing, but a relationship serious enough she’d mention it to Mary?

“Well, I’m sure he’s… nice, if your Mum likes him.”

“Mhm. Maybe you can say hi when he comes to get me for school.” “Speaking of school!” His wife's voice sounds from her doorway, loud enough to tell him she’d heard enough of that to panic slightly. “Mary, get dressed, you’ll be late.” 

Mary reluctantly separates from the hug, dragging her feet dramatically “Okay mum. Even though Dad’s here and he NEVER is, school happens every day and is super boring.”

“Nice try bubba.” she says, folding her arms and shaking her head. The second their child shuts the door - still loudly complaining about how unfair it all was, which in Jason’s opinion was psychological warfare, which his ex wife seemed somehow immune to, Jason turns to her. “We need to talk.”

She sighs “I guess we do. But not in front of Mary.” She runs a hand through her hair. “She’ll have eggs and toast soldiers - you want some?”

“Sure,” he says, trying to sound less bitter than he feels as he watches her head to the kitchen.

“So, Brett…” He says, following her to the kitchen and grabbing the bread and putting it in the toaster.

“Charles Brett.” you clarified.

Jason had to physically restrain himself from laughing. “Charles Brett? Those are both first names. You’ve replaced me with a man with a first name for a last name.”

“I haven’t REPLACED you, you LEFT!” She says, indignant furry in her eyes as she whips around to face him, stove at her back. Jason felt his blood boil. Yes, he’d left, but he hadn’t wanted to!

“And then you wouldn’t let me come BACK!” he counters, trying to keep his voice level, but not managing it. 

“BECAUSE YOU WERE RIGHT TO LEAVE!” She yells, tears in her eyes. 

“you fighting?” Mary asks, opening her bedroom door, tugging at the tie of her Gotham academy uniform as if it had personally offended her.

  “No sweetie.” they say in unison, as they shoot her reassuring smiles.

It doesn’t work.

She regards you both suspiciously, and takes her toast and eggs “please don’t fight. Dad’s never here and mum always cries when you leave so please don’t fight now.” “What?”

“Please don’t fight. Dad’s never here and mum always gets sad when you leave so please don’t fight now.”

“What?” Jason asks, glancing from Mary to you. You were proud that you’d raised an honest, headstrong young lady who had no hesitation speaking her mind. You did sometimes, such as right now, wish she did it a little less often around Jason. Jason who was now looking at you with a face you hated for how little you could read. He used to be an open book to her. Mary pulls herself onto the chair at the kitchen bench and dips her toast into her egg. “We got two names.” she points out to Jason. “Todd’s a boy's name.”

You sigh, and sip your coffee. She’d heard all of it. How lovely. 

Your baby girl looks at you, her hair in an attempt of a ponytail, her uniform slightly overlarge still, being early in the school year, both making her look so, so tiny. “What did dad mean? That you wouldn’t let him come back?”

You feel like you're falling. Luckily, there’s no amount of hurt, upset, or angry that Jason could be that would mean he wouldn’t come to your aid. “See cherub… Daddy didn’t mean that.” He says, grabbing her shoulder gently.

“I did… Well, I’m sure someone at school might’ve said, or the news… Marriage is supposed to be a promise to love each other forever … and I broke that promise.” Jason takes a deep breath.

 “What I did hurt your mum. She hasn’t forgiven me. Maybe she won’t ever. She doesn’t have to.” He shakes his head. “I said what I said because I was upset, but… It’s not her fault. It’s mine.”

You offer him an awkward, tight smile. “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you baby girl. Just that … being married wasn’t the best option for us anymore.”

“...” Mary leans into her Dads side, her face solemn and thoughtful. You have to avert your gaze from the pair, lest you start crying - or worse - forgive him. 

“Do you still love mum?” she asks quietly, and Jason opens his mouth, hesitating for a second - which saves him from needing to answer the question. Only to make the situation a million times worse for you. Jason looks to the door. “Brett?” he asks, addressing you, but his gaze not leaving the door, with a look in his eyes that reminds you of darker days. “Brett.” You confirm, taking a deep breath as you move towards the door. “You packed M?”

“Yeah Mum,” she says, grabbing her backpack and shrugging it on, wrapping her arms around Jason’s waist in a goodbye hug. 

“See ya soon Dad?”

“...Yeah, baby. Really soon. Promise.” He says, ruffling her hair. 

You open the door, hoping to do this quickly, before things get even more uncomfortable. Charles Brett is a shorter man, with brown hair, brown eyes, forever slightly unkempt and a had perpetually tired look in his eyes from being a single father of three. But he has a kind smile, and you like him. He’s … a good man. He’s not Jason, but then again no one is. 

“Charles, Hi.” You say, leaning against the door to bar entrance. Normally you’d invite him in, have coffee or let the kids watch a episode of bluey while you chatted if the morning was running on schedule. 

He says your name, but catches your discomfort before he says anything more, and his gaze moves past you, looking for its source - and he finds it.

“Oh, Hello - Jason, yes? The ex husband?” He asks, pretending not to know who he was, as if he hadn’t seen the many magazines and heard the gossip surrounding his incredibly public, if staged, infidelity. As if Jason, in his need to convince Roman you meant nothing, hadn’t publicly called you a bitch. Jason doesn’t seem to remember that at this moment, and you watch as he puffs up his chest in rage. 

“Yeah. You have an issue with that?” he asks, moving to stand behind you.

“And if I do—-”

“Not. In. Front. Of. The. Kids.” You interject, before it can go too far. 

“Have a good day at school sweetie.” You say, kissing the crown of Mary’s head, giving Charles an apologetic smile, and all but slamming the door and turning to Jason. 

“He’s a good man.” You growl. Because he is. And because Mary needs a positive male influence, and Jason hasn’t been able to be that. And because you are a little worried that Jason is going to use his alter ego to run him off. 

“He’s sniffing around where he doesn’t belong.” Jason counters, stepping forward. You step back, and feel the door knob press against your spine. 

“He belongs here if I want him here.” You reply, refusing to be intimidated. “Yeah, well he doesn’t get to be my kids fucking dad! I’m her dad!” You cut your own angry response short “what? We’ve been on two dates. No one is becoming a dad to our daughter?!” “That’s not what she said” Jason says, folding his arms. “Mary got ‘married’ twice last week at recess and last I checked had two boyfriends and a girlfriend.” You roll your eyes. “She is not the leading expert in how adult relationships work.” Jason takes a deep breath. “So it’s not… serious?” You shrug. “It’s not … Look. We’re adults. We both have kids. We don’t have a lot of time for casual flings, and the kids get along so need to be protected. We are taking it seriously, but it’s early days.” He nods slightly, “I’m having bab’s look into him.” You close your eyes and exhale. “Jay…” “I won’t do anything unless I find something substantial.” he reluctantly promises. “But I don’t take chances when it comes to you.” You feel his presence loom closer despite your eyes being closed. You open them to see your ex husband’s hand lingering in the air a few centimetres from your shoulder, his eyes sad and longing as he stands before you. “Is he good to you?” He asks, the anger gone from his voice. “Can you… see a future with him?” “Why does it matter to you?” You ask. It’s mostly rhetorical. You know why, and really what you mean to ask without saying it in as many words… is if Jason feels he has any right to intervene if his search finds anything more serious than a questionable browser history.

“Why does it matter to you?” The words feel wrong against his very ears. His tenuous grasp on the cool facade he’d put up, which had almost begun to take a true effect, with those six words is utterly shattered. He feels his heart pounding, too fast, too hard, too angry. The pit changed him, in many ways. The anger had always been there. The pit had made it worse. He’d never once take it out on you. He’d sooner die. But it exists in him, clawing like a beast against the inside of his ribs. Why does it matter? Why does it FUCKING MATTER? It screams, it throws itself against his skin, it burns his eyes and boils in his blood. How can you not understand how deeply he loves you? How can you not understand that he’d destroy anything that wished you or Mary harm and delight in it? That if you hadn’t been in his life back then, he’d surely be on a very different path? How do you not understand? He turns away, tugging a hand through his hair, he cannot look at her in this moment, cannot meet those beautiful eyes, can’t bear to see the face he adores above all others contorted by anger. “It matters to me because I still fucking love you.” He says through gritted teeth, through the shame, the rage, and the hurt. “And because I know you know that,” He continues, stepping further back to pace the apartment - the home - that he had once shared with you. He hears her move across the hardwood towards him. Feels a hand on his arm. “Jason…” She says quietly, as if to soothe a wounded beast - and he wishes it didn’t work as well as it did. He wishes he didn’t feel like a frightened, pained, hissing beast. He pushes her away. Not aggressively - but a firm, nonverbal denial. “Roman fucked with our kid. I don’t regret what we did as a result. But love, he’s been in the ground for years. I know that it could happen again… But I don’t want to keep missing my kids' childhood because of that fear. If her safety costs us… then so be it. But I don’t accept that it will. I refuse. The only fucking reason I kept these-”

 He holds up the rings on the cord around his neck “Is to put yours back on your fucking finger one day.” He sits at the bench, his hands in his pockets so you can’t see his knuckles go white. So you can’t see his pain, or how bad what he is about to do scares him. “I don’t ever want to fight you. You know that, right?” He looks at you, and he hopes that whoever or whatever is out there he doesn’t sound as sad as he feels. He looks at her, his friend, his daughter's mother, his ex wife who he’d never truly seen as an ex anything, and he sees a woman who’s hurting as he is, but while he sees the solution to their pain as recovery of what was, she sees the solution as acceptance. She cannot help him. He cannot help her. But, together, perhaps, they can help their daughter. “I want you to know this isn’t just because of Brett. Though hearing Mary talk about a new dad did light a fire under my ass. I want custody. Shared, I mean.” He puts his head in his hands, elbows on the kitchen counter. “I’ll be asking for 50/50. Please.” He looks at her through his fingers. “We make a good team. Don’t make this be ugly.” She sighs, sad and tired and hurting. “I think we’re both a little too charged to talk about that right now. Can we have coffee in a few days?” He nods. “Yeah. Yeah that works for me. I uh… I’ll call Alfred to send a car round for me… and you can text me the details?”

A week later, you find yourself sitting in the back of a coffee shop, waiting for Jason to return with your drinks. You try not to dwell on the fact that despite not having asked, you knew he didn’t need to to know your order even after all this time.  You shuffle the papers of notes you’d had your lawyer look over. True, you trusted him. You thought he’d be a good father. You’d still stayed divorced for a reason. “I have concerns.” You say ternsly as he takes the seat across from you. He’s cleaned up. You can’t focus on that. You have a little girl who needs to come first right now - and you take a breath to remind yourself that she’s just as important to Jason. “Figures.” He says, but his tone is lighthearted. “Part of me just hates the idea of seeing her less.” You admit. He just nods, without judgement, without making the point that he knows what that’s like, simply letting you speak for the moment. “And it’s not because I like having her more than you, but because… I cried when she went on her first sleepover and she’s my baby.” You continue, picking at the napkin dispenser absentmindedly. “But beyond that there are logistical concerns as well. I know your … various residences…” safehouses. 

“Are safe. But moving as often as you do…” At least twice a week as a safety precaution.

“isn’t ideal for obvious reasons. Not to mention… She’s smart. She’s smart and she’s nosey.” Jason sips his coffee “her father’s daughter” “Nosey maybe. Smart? Debatable.” He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “I see your point though. We don’t want her to find out about the families… extracurricular activities.” You sip your drink. Sure enough, he’d remembered your order. Damn him and his perfect memory and his perfect face. “I’ve put some thought into it.” He reassures, and you nearly snort. Some thought? Knowing Jason, knowing his family? Several hours of thought had gone into any decision they deemed remotely important. You’d attended meetings, essentially war councils, while you were still married about the most minor aspects of their cover. “With my … schedule, 50/50 won’t be possible without her knowing everything, and she isn’t ready yet. But I want weekends, which I… we? Would spend at the manor. For stability.” “We?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. Jason gives you the same grin that had made you fall in love with him. Your stomach turns to a lepidopterarium. Damn him. “Well, last I checked Bruce said you were welcome at the manor whenever you wished… and if she was coming with you, it wouldn’t need to be a legal arrangement. Less of a paper trail is safer for Mary.” Jason says it matter of fact. Detached. Like he’s explaining a mission, not talking about his life, or his child’s. You know better than to fall for it. He runs a hand through his hair and winks at you. “Though if there needs to be a paper trail I’d prefer it be one leading to us again. I said some shit I shouldn’t have the other day. I apologise for that. You can keep seeing that Charles idiot - I was a prick about him, and his background check came back clean. But… I meant it. I fully intend to fight to get you back.” He stands to leave before you can process or argue. “So… See you Saturday morning?” he says not at all a genuine question, kissing your forehead and heading to the door, much like he might disappear after a one liner as Red Hood. You suspect it’s a strategy that works on cops or criminals - but is less impressive to his ex wife. All you can think to call after him is “SAYING THAT AND WALKING OFF ISN’T AS SLICK AS YOU THINK”

taglist @jasontoddproblems

@fic-over-cannon

@stormz369

[honey-dont]

Can we see Doctor in B2 or Penny in A3?

they ran into each other in the mall

[peachysunrize]

Labyrinth ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, very very gentle, angst angst angst angst!!!, humiliation, reader is Daemon & Laena’s oldest daughter, no description for reader (besides white hair) you can imagine her however you like, Aemond is a vulnerable & insecure baby girl, like he is really really insecure, mentions of murder, fluff, nightmares, chronic pain, mentions of Aemond’s injury, anxiety attack, babes are in looooove, English isn’t my first language<3 it’s very heavily plotted and the smut is at the end of the story.

Word count: 11.5k (she's so long but worth it)

a/n: I’ve always wanted to write something with this kind of trope, especially when it’s from the man’s pov, and there’re so little fics that get into the depths of Aemond’s pain and suffering so I needed to try and write something that says his part of the story as well! Please please tell me your opinions and favorite lines of this piece! I’ve worked sooo hard for this fic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Reblogs and comments are appreciated<3🩷

A very special thank you to my babies, @namelesslosers & @neptuneiris for beta-ing and supporting my ideas😭🫂✨

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

Aemond watches the scene unfold in front of him; his mother seeking justice for him, slashing Rhaenyra’s forearm with the dagger in her hand, spilling her blood in fury.

He looks around the room, finding you scared behind your grandfather, looking at him with wide teary eyes. He scowls when he sees how you look at him with pity, thinking he is a deformed monster in your eyes, to his best friend’s eyes.

You leave the hall in a rush, and he scoffs at how unbearable he must look for you to go in such haste, allowing this injustice to wreck his world and him to cope with the aftermath alone. How could you leave him like that? What happened to all the hours he helped you build that stupid sandcastle next to where Vhagar lays? Did you forget every moment, every laughter you had together?

He stands up and walks to his mother, telling her that Vhagar is worth it. But is it true? It might be worth gaining the largest dragon alive, but in the back of his mind, he thinks about how he has lost you.

No, you left him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He is the one with his eye in a tray, he is the one who needs tending to for the first time, and you left him while he and his mother were humiliated by Rhaenyra and her bastards.

The morning comes sooner than expected, the milk of the poppy knocked him out immediately last night. He walks down the stairs where his family is gathering to leave, his mother holding Helaena’s hand while god knows where his father is, probably saying his goodbyes to his daughter and Princess Rhaenys. 

Aemond moves toward the hill that Vhagar is sleeping on, catching the sight of you waiting for him next to the sandcastles he helped you build yesterday after your mother’s funeral.

“What do you want?” he asks, standing in front of you, trying not to frown too much to loosen his stitches.

“I-I wanted to ask how you were doing…”

“After leaving me all alone? You were my friend! I needed you and you left me! And you ask how I am after I got my eye cut out?” He shouts at you, waking up Vhagar from her drowsy nap.

“I-I don’t have any excuses, but Aemond, please—” “No, I hate you! I hate your stupid hair, your eyes, your laugh, even-even your sandcastles! They are so childish and-and ugly!” “I know you are upset with me, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you, but please let me—” “No!” he yells at you again, marching toward the castle next to your feet before he stomps all over it, screaming and crying while he ruins the perfect sculpture he himself has made for you.

“Aemond…” the sob that wrecks through you makes him stop, but you are not looking at his feet, you are looking at his face, crying for him. He doesn’t spare a glance at you when he walks to climb Vhagar’s saddle, but guilt overwhelms his emotions and dread fills him.

You just wanted to talk, and he treated you so poorly even if his anger was justified.

Oblivious to him, as soon as he and his family were gone, you ran to your grandmother, crying in her arms and begging her to allow you to study with Maesters, in hopes that someday you may help your childhood friend with the pain he will carry for the rest of his life.

•••••••••••

Jacaerys’ name day, another pathetic excuse to have his sister and her pups in the capital under the same roof, drinking and wasting the crown’s money. He can’t blame them though, they’re desperate to get on the lords’ good sides by showing off their heritage, going with songs and praises for the heir after his mother.

Unnecessary, stupid… 

Aemond groans, running his hand over his face as he wakes up with the sounds of banging in the hallway. He knows that they’re arriving today, and he’s aware that the royal chambers should be ready when his sister makes a face, but to wake him up at such an early hour after the rough night he had should have severe consequences.

With another deep groan, he sits up on his bed, looking at the sea from between the sheer curtains of his room, watching the sunlight shine bright on the surface of the water, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already taking turns in the sky over the city.

He stands up, looking down at the soaked undershirt he had on during sleep, exhaling deeply as he pulls the fabric off, slamming it down on the couch as he walks to the balcony to get some fresh air. The morning breeze hits his sweat-covered chest, stinging the empty socket of his eye.

He knows he should go back inside, to cover his scar and avoid pain from the cold wind, but the contrast of the coldness of it on his heated skin is soothing his mind, calming his beating heart. He will regret it during the day, but for now, after experiencing yet another nightmare, he needs to feel alive again.

As soon as the sharp pain starts from the depths of his skull, he moves back, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. He stands straight, his nails digging inside his palms as he controls, or tries to control his breathing. 

It always starts like this; a sting, then another one but sharper, then a minimal pain that surrounds his scar, and finally, the stabbing pain all over his face followed by the worst headache someone can ever endure.

He reaches for the nearest surface he can lean on, knuckles turning white as he keeps his weight up, trying not to fall on his knees just yet.

He can do it, he has done it countless times.

Aemond steadies himself on his feet before he sighs shakily, walking towards the clothes his mother’s servants laid down for him yesterday. It is a simple outfit; a leather tunic with black pants and a fresh beige undershirt. Nothing too fancy, and nothing less regal that a prince should wear.

He takes his time while getting ready, allowing the phantom pain of his eye to fade away slowly. Before he can button up his tunic, his chamber servants come running in, putting a bowl of water with a warm towel on the side desk while they prepare his breakfast. He covers the left side of his face with his hand so as to not scare them with the unbearable sight of the empty space in his face.

He watches them with a sleepy gaze as they clear the room, slamming the door behind them. Aemond sits in front of his mirror, taking the brush in his hand to untangle his unruly hair.

There are no thoughts in his head as he stares blankly at his reflection; he hates his scar with a passion that could set the realm on fire. There is no gentleness in his features, everything is sharp, angular, and rough. There is no trace left of the boy he was before his nephew took out his eye.

Doomed before he could even try to become someone worthy.

He ties his hair, revealing more of the healed wound and the dark empty socket on his face. Sometimes he gets stuck inside the labyrinth of his head, running and running until he reaches the middle, but it’s never enough. At the end of the maze, someone drops dead; whether he kills them or they kill him. There is no escape from these dreams, from these self-destructive thoughts that haunt him day and night.

He reaches for a box on the vanity, pulling out the sapphire gem before reaching for an ointment Maester has given him to help the gem fill his eye socket without pain.

He looks at himself again; he looks less like a brute, the gem adds to his beauty but in his mind, it’s not enough, it’ll never be. He sees his brothers, healthy and handsome, being subjected to women’s attention all the time, and sometimes he wishes desperately to be in their place, to be able to talk to a lady without frightening her. But he has learned that a maimed man is less worthy than a whore in Streets of Silk, so he exercises and trains daily to become worthy again, to live up to his Targaryen name. There are deep yet little scars adorning all over the skin of his hands and arms — a reminder of how he has become the man he is.

He eats his breakfast in silence, tension rising in his shoulders as the smoke of the candles on his desk reaches his eye. He drops his spoon on the table, blowing the candles out before he reaches for his eyepatch.

He has told everyone that there shouldn’t be any scented candles in his rooms, but as it seems no one ever pays attention to what he has to say, not even to help with the pain of his eye.

He stands up, knocking a few plates on the table to the floor, smearing fresh fruits on his carpet. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, but he can’t care less about anything other than the fact that he needs to join his family in the throne room — and he does after he grabs his dagger and secures it in his belt.

“Ser,” Aemond nods at his appointed guard, earning a ‘good morning, my prince’ from him. Aemond walks down the stairs with his head held high, scoffing at the servants who make a path for him hurriedly, trying to avoid being seen by him or see him.

The bustling of the castle is irritating; everyone is running from one corner to another and decorating the keep for their princess’ arrival. He is not annoyed that he has to reunite with his sister and nephews, but because he has to endure their presence for longer than necessary, to look them in the eye and act civil as if the pain he copes with already isn’t enough torment from them.

He nods at Ser Cole, who follows him into the crowded hall, eying everyone who is waiting for the Realm’s delight. Aegon and Helaena are standing side by side, his sister is clutching Aegon’s arm tightly as the crowd makes her feel small under its gaze. His mother looks at the throne silently, and he can see the hesitation in her eyes — how are they going to go through these weeks of celebration, they have no idea.

“Good morrow, Mother,” he whispers as he stands behind her, his eye softening at the small smile she gives him, “you look radiant this morning.”

“Hush you, sweet talker,” she chuckles lowly, rubbing his arms lovingly, “have you heard about the Velaryons’ arrival?”

“Lord Corlys is coming as well?” he asks, shifting on his feet nervously, his fingers tightening slightly on Alicent’s elbows, “I did not know…” “Neither did I, darling. They shall arrive at the same time as Rhaenyra, at least I know Daemon’s eldest will.”

“Driving on dragonback, obviously,” he mutters, sighing shakily. 

Alicent notices his hesitancy, she gently cups his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Do not project your anger on her, she was but a child.”

“Yet she kept silent that night. She was supposed to be my friend,” he says, looking away from his mother, lowering his head in shame, beating himself for letting his emotions take hold of him.

“Give your courtesy and leave if you wish not to talk to her,” Alicent smiles sadly at Aemond, patting his cheek before they both look at the doors of the hall.

Something in his guts drops when he sees Rhaenyra entering, her family walking towards them, all smiling and laughing as if they aren’t going to experience the most dreadful weeks of their lives. 

“Your grace,” Rhaenyra says, trying to break the visible tension between the families. The crowd goes silent, and the only thing they can hear is the soft exhales of the people close to them, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what happens in a few seconds.

“Princess,” Alicent smiles, “welcome back to your home,” she replies politely, giving Daemon a half courtesy before she congratulates Jacaerys for his eight-and-ten name day.

“Aegon…”

Aemond looks away from his sister as she acknowledges them all, instead his eye finds Daemon’s who is staring back at him with a smirk on his face. Aemond’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Daemon chuckles at that, giving him a challenging look.

He looks back at Rhaenyra who says his name, giving him a forced smile before she turns around quickly and asks for the King.

“He is quite unwell, he shall join us in the evening,” Alicent explains, telling the maids to make haste and set the garden ready to start the celebrations; nothing too fancy for the noon, a tea gathering in the garden to reunite everyone, or at least to make sure the court has something to gossip about.

Aemond follows them slowly, taking time to observe each and every one of them. He can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in his chest as his eye finds Lucerys Velaryon, laughing and looping his arm with Rhaena. He looks away immediately, lips forming into a sneer as he walks with his hands behind him, grinding his teeth while he thinks about how he was robbed of everything good because of that bastard, because of the hideous scar he gave him.

The garden is filled with new bushes; roses, lilacs, daisies, and surprisingly winter roses. The sight would have been quite beautiful if all this fuss wasn’t for his nephew. He walks away from the crowd, making his way toward his siblings who are trying to appeal content with the events. Helaena is in her own world, lifting a worm from the ground as she counts its feet. Aegon is gulping down his wine while he listens to Daeron telling him about whatever book he has read these past few days, or at least he seems like he is paying attention.

Aemond sighs, grabbing a goblet of wine himself to nurse on it as he tries to distract himself from the chilly wind that hits his face. Luckily the eyepatch covers his eye socket fully and doesn’t let the cold breeze hit his scar, but the tension in his bones has remained from the morning rush of pain he experienced earlier. It’d be best if he left this pointless gathering earlier anyway.

“How are you faring this beautiful morning, brother?” Aegon asks him, grinning sarcastically. Daeron groans in response, even though the question wasn’t meant for him. Everyone can tell he is fed up with Aegon’s constant teasing of Rhaenyra’s family coming back to Red Keep.  

“Well enough to know I will be leaving in a few minutes,” Aemond replies, sipping on his wine as he catches Luke stealing glances at him. Pathetic, he is too scared to even look at him properly, he is glad though, it gives him a sense of comfort to know the mark he has left on his face scares him enough to keep him away from him.

“Can’t do that! It’d be rude if you left without saying hi to our favorite Velaryons.” Aegon smirks, tipping his head back as he laughs at Aemond’s sneer.

“As much as I hate to say this, but the idiot is right; you can’t give them more reasons to resent us,” Daeron says, looking at his older brother with kind eyes, “besides, they are here anyway.” he points at the passageway leading to the garden, catching the sight of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys walking side by side toward the crowd.

Aemond’s heart stops for a second when his good eye lays upon you, following your grandparents with a gentle smile grazing your lips. You are a sight to behold; silver hair falling around your shoulders like curtains of moonlight that shine bright like a diamond beneath the morning rays of sunshine. Your gown the bluest of blue that shows your devotion to your mother’s house, and your lips painted pink in the most alluring way… 

Aemond’s eye sees a sight his mind can not comprehend, too unreal and beautiful that makes him doubt if he is seeing you with his sapphire eye through the patch.

His face is blank, but his heart is beating so fast he can hear his pulse in his ears. His eye follows you, watching you bow before his mother and sister, looking away immediately to find your sisters already giddy to hug you. Rhaena is the first to run to you, wrapping her arms around you while Baela approaches you slowly, letting her twin have her moment with you.

He doesn’t move from his spot, he can’t move even if he wants to; he’s struck between shock and something he can’t pinpoint; he can only say for sure that he hopes it’s a rush of adrenaline of not seeing you for so long.

The only time he looks away from you is when Daeron pats his back and encourages him to join everyone to say hello and welcome your family to the Keep. He doesn’t need to say a word, just a nod at both Corlys and Rhaenys is enough, but when you turn around to greet him and his siblings, his breath gets stuck in his lungs. 

You look at him from beneath your lashes, beaming so radiantly at him that he almost forgets the pain in his eye or the pain he has caused you the last time he saw you. The world around him fades away, the noises become distance as his sky-blue eye finds yours easily, and he has to swallow sharply while he desperately tries to keep his face stoic and serious and not show you how he is panicking from inside, palms sweaty and lips drying while he gazes at you, his childhood friend who… suddenly the bubble around you breaks and he remembers how you abandoned him that night at Driftmark.

“My lady,” he says in a hushed tone, watching your reaction closely.

“My prince, it’s so good to see you again,” you grin at him, “I hope you are doing well.”

“As well as a half-blinded man can do,” averting his eye from you, he regrets the words he said immediately, flushing a bit in embarrassment, but when he looks back at you, your smile hasn’t left your face, if anything you look at him with empathy and much kindness that he has a hard time believing you are real; it’s been too long since anyone has looked at him with such sincerity.

“Darling,” Daemon steps closer to them, ruining the moment for Aemond to say something, anything to take back what he said earlier.

He watches your smile wavering a little when you look at your father, hands fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. He notices how you try to ignore your father and Rhaenyra as they approach you, a tense smile on his sister’s lips while she tightens her grip on her husband’s arm.

“We have missed you, the girls, and I,” Daemon says, reaching to caress your hair as gently as the Rogue prince can, “you did not visit us at Dragonstone.” “I don’t like it there, the castle unnerves me,” You reply softly, “I rather enjoy the silence of grandsire’s castle.” “You are a Targaryen, you should visit your ancestor’s sit,” Rhaenyra tries her best to persuade you to think about coming back with them, leaving your lovely grandparents alone.

“I’m a Velaryon just as much as I’m a Targaryen, but ‘tis not a matter we should discuss at such a joyous day, don’t you think, princess?” you say, and Aemond sees it in your eyes how desperately you wish for the conversation to end. Aemond watches his sister’s words falter, her confidence crumbling with each word that you utter. Your statement is not rude, not even filled with malicious intent, but the mention of your Mother’s side of the family makes the Targaryen couple uncomfortable.

“I would have loved to stay and talk with you, Father, but I’m afraid the journey on dragonback has left me starving. Please, excuse me,” you nod at them before walking past them to the corner where Aemond and his siblings were sitting minutes ago, reaching for a glass of wine to gulp down.

Aemond doesn’t spare a glance at the couple, following you closely so he can sit in silence and out of the sun, truly not wishing for another fit of agony that consumes his skull.

“You have grown, Aemond,” you sit beside him, turning your head to look at his side profile, “no longer the child who used to build sandcastles with me when I would visit the Keep.”

“Yes, no longer a child with friends. Spending years apart without any contact, surely you are not that surprised how I have turned out to be,” he scoffs at your words, frowning when he turns around and finds you chuckling gently, “Did I jest about something I’m not aware of?”

“No, no, I just remembered how we promised to never let anyone break us apart, but you were the first who did so; you stomped your feet on my sandcastles the morning after my Mother’s funeral. You are right though, no ravens were exchanged, but I do hope you’re still the sweet prince who helped me study.” your lips twist into a small smile.

You are not angry with him, how can you not be angry with him? You had spent hours after they freed your Mother’s soul into the sea to find the perfect place to build your sandcastles and he ruined them the morning he was about to leave.

Your teary eyes have haunted him from that moment to this day.

“I apologize, I did not wish to remind you of that night,”

“I’m reminded every time I look into a mirror, do not concern yourself.” his reply is curt as he gazes at you, your eyes full of sadness and sympathy for a man you no longer know. Or maybe you know him too much, he thinks.

“I look forward to spending time with you, my prince. I hope we can catch up on each other's lives.” “Perhaps we can,” he sounds unsure of himself, Getting to know you again while you have turned into a woman grown — the most beautiful woman he has ever seen at that — is going to be a challenge he does not know he welcomes or fears greatly.

•••••••••••

He leaves sooner than he should, hiding in his room with a warm towel on his face as he soothes the pain of his eye, the headache he had since morning finally fading away. There are so many thoughts lingering in his head, and ironically, they are all filled by you; your gown, bright smile, and gentle personality.

He groans, so frustrated that he has met you a few hours prior yet you have consumed his every thought. If he focuses hard enough, he can see the labyrinth of his nightmares, the hedges are covered in ivy, suffocating as they reach for air — he thinks of him as the hedge, and how easily he has let you wrap yourself around his thoughts this quickly.

Weak, he thinks to himself, he’s weak.

He sits up, dropping the towel in the bowl on his nightstand, breathing deeply as he looks around his dark room, spotting a lit candle on his desk in the corner.

Sometimes it baffles him how his room represents his inner self so openly; it’s not messy, no, but if you squint you can see the abandoned book in the foot of his chair, ink dripping from his pot on the carpet, the candle illuminating the trail of black paint on his desk. It seems as if his room is showing the ugly part of itself to his eye, and for a second he thinks about how he sees himself — an ugly monster with an unsightly scar.

Aemond leaves his room a few minutes after fixing his eyepatch and hair, walking to the king’s solar to join his family for dinner. He walks with his hands clasped together behind him, looking straight to avoid eye contact with anyone who sees him on his way up the stairs. He doesn't expect to see you of all people, heading out of your room to take the same path as him.

“Aemond!” You say his name with such enthusiasm that has his heart racing again, beaming at him as if you are excited to see him. How could you be this giddy to meet him? No one has expressed to be happy to spend time with him, let alone smile at him the way you do. Is this an act of modesty? It has to be, he thinks, or else it does not make sense at all.

“My lady,” he bows his head politely, “How come you are late for such an interesting gathering?”

You giggle a little, walking side by side with him, “I was spending some time with Helaena’s children. Oh, they are such sweet babes!”

“Indeed they are,” he replies quietly, watching you curiously as you round him to stand on his good side, “what are you doing, My Lady?”

“I did not realize I was on your blind side, Aemond, forgive me,” “There is nothing to forgive,” he sucks in a harsh breath, pondering over your response for the rest of the way til King’s solar. The silence is oddly comfortable even though he gets a bit nervous when you keep glancing at him. 

There’s an unusual warmth spreading through his chest, he can’t understand it — it can be his heart since it’s beating too hard and fast, or perhaps even his lungs! He can’t even breathe properly, but at the same time, he feels… right, much better than before. He blames you for the conflicted emotions, it’s all your doings, he is sure. Because whenever he looks at you, he feels as if his clothes are suffocating him, his ears ring while the world fades around him, and the center of his world becomes you.

Weak, worthless, he has just met you, yet all these years apart seem blurry to him, as if he has known you since the age of the Firstmen; so familiar and comforting, even though you left him alone the night he needed you the most.

The guards open the door to the solar, and Aemond follows you inside, his eye wandering all over the room, taking his surroundings in. His mother and Rhaenyra are sitting at the table, his nephews are standing on their mother’s side while Aegon is trying to listen to whatever lecture Otto is giving him.

He watches you walk to your sisters, wrapping your arms around Baela and Rhaena as they both start talking to you about the things they have done during the past years you’ve been Lord Corlys’ ward in Driftmark.

“You’re staring,” Daeron says out of nowhere, pulling Aemond out of his thoughts but he doesn’t look away, he keeps his eye trailing on you until you turn around and catch his eye as well, smiling broadly at him.

“I am merely observing,” he replies, but knows his brother is right. It’s only the first dinner but he can already feel his eye itching to be on you again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Daeron shrugs, leading him to Aegon and Helaena to sit down.

He finds an empty seat next to him, thinking Daeron is the one who’d sit beside him, but when he sees it’s you who reaches for the chair, his heart leaps to his throat before he composes himself quickly, pulling it out like the prince he is.

You give a smile that is worth countless gold dragons, and for the second time today, he questions if the sapphire is a magical eye, because the world turns a bit brighter and less dull when he looks at you. He sits next to you, his eyebrows twisting into a deep frown when he sees Lucerys at the other side of the table engaged in a deep conversation with Rhaena, playing the role of the happy family quite well.

Everyone stands up when the guards bring in the King, everyone except for Helaena but neither she nor Aemond pays any attention to others. One is busy playing with her hairpin, and he is busy admiring your ethereal face as you kiss the king, your uncle’s cheek, thanking him for having you and your grandparents in his home after so many years. As soon as Viserys sits behind the table, you take your place next to him again, giving him a small smile before you turn your head to listen to what his father has to say. 

He knows what his father is about to say; first, he thanks them all for coming, paying special attention to his grandsons and Rhaenyra while he lies over and over again about how much he loves them all, how they should never let the House of the Dragon fall into ruins, oblivious to the fact that not Rhaenyra nor Alicent were the ones who broke the family into different agendas, but it was him who started the flame.

Tonight, Aemond doesn’t look at his sister to attend to her. His eye is solely on you, taking in the shape of your lashes kissing your cheekbones, carving the silhouette of your nose and lips in his memories. He looks at the way your lips curve into a grin, cheeks forming into the most beautiful shape he has ever witnessed.

You turn your head a little to glance at him, catching him red-handed while he tries to play it cool, but he finds that he is not powerful enough to look away from your blown-out pupils and the orange hue that’s cast on your irises softly.

He breaks the eye contact, a scowl forming on his face as he reaches for his goblet of wine, nearly throwing the goblet across the table when he hears Lucerys laughing at the two of you.

You beat him to it before he could open his mouth, “Is there something funny, Prince Lucerys?” your voice is so soft and slow, almost humiliatingly sweet, and funnily, it terrifies Luke. 

Aemond smirks as he watches his nephew stuttering over his words while everyone around the table sits in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the young prince to say something, anything.

“I was surprised by how fast Uncle Aemond took a liking to you, given his looks and all,”  he explains, sarcasm dripping like honey from each of his words.

Fucking bastard, Aemond thinks to himself as an ugly sneer sits on his face. As much as he wants to leap toward him and cut off his tongue, he can’t — not when you put your hand on his over the hilt of his dagger.

Your skin is so smooth atop his calloused one. The way your fingers wrap around his wrist sets his body on fire, burning the skin in a way unknown to any man, but this is no ordinary burn; there’s no trace of fire, no long-forgotten ashes of his bones are visible, instead his fingers twitch for more, begging for more skin to skin contact, but he pulls his hand away from you without looking away from Luke’s blushing face.

“Your words are mean for no reason, Lucerys, given how it’s been your doing that has caused Aemond his scar,” you say, “I find him quite handsome actually. He was my beloved friend when we were younger. There are, of course, many feelings between us. Nothing has happened out of the blue for you to mock him for.”

“I-I apologize, good sister, I wasn’t…”

“It is not me who you should apologize to, it’s Aemond. I have taken no offense on my behalf but I do believe you owe him an apology.” You explain, sipping from your glass slowly while keeping your eyes on Lucerys.

No one, not even the King has the strength to intrude into the situation, maybe in doubt of saying something to hurt you, or perhaps you’re just speaking the truth, and for once, everyone fears your gentle mannerisms.

“I apologize, uncle,” 

Aemond’s stare is blank as he looks at Luke who’s chewing the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. He nods, not bothering to reply to him; he will never forgive nor forget what he has done to him, crushing his hopes and ruining his worth for a lifetime.

“Let us put our differences aside, and become a family again,” the king says, coughing before he reaches to drink from his cup. 

The dinner goes smoothly from there and to Aemond’s surprise, he engages in more conversations with you. He does not talk too much, he’d rather listen to your giggles and stories rather than talk about his boring and miserable life.

His eye always lingers on you for far longer than it should, not in an inappropriate way, but more in a sense of intrigue and curiosity, trying to understand you from his perspective. He simply can’t though; you are worlds apart. He is a cold-hearted, broken, and worthless man when it comes to your bright and beautiful personality. Even if he gets to know you again after so many years, he would never think himself worthy enough to be in your presence.

“Aemond…?” you call his name oh so sweetly, making him feel as if he is on top of Vhagar, flying atop the city while the wind blows in his hair; it makes him feel alive.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Are you alright? You look quite flushed,” You smile sweetly, reaching to put the back of your hand on his cheek, flustering him even more than he already is.

“Yes, yes, I might have had too much wine,” he doesn’t know who he is trying to convince; you or him? By the sound of it, it’s him who needs to be convinced that it’s the wine in his blood and not the same unknown feeling he gets when you look at him. No, it is definitely the wine. It has to be.

“Oh, well then, I wish to spend more time with you if you are not against it,”

“Why would I be?” he asks almost too quickly, making you chuckle at his… enthusiasm. If he can even call it that.

“Then I’d be overjoyed if we could rebound what we had as children.”

•••••••••••

After the dinner, something between you and Aemond shifted; he spent more time outside his room, he was calmer and less serious, and the pain in his skull was almost gone. You joined him in the library a few times in the next few days, meeting each other at your door to attend the meals side by side, and almost everyone could feel how he was changing the longer he had you close, almost turning into the little boy he once was.

Both of you forget your last interactions as an act of mercy for the other.

With your insistence, he agreed to miss the tourney being held for Jace’s nameday to sneak out of the castle and take you to the beach. He did not need much convincing, but when you gave him those doe eyes with a little pout on your lips, he felt weaker than he ever did and gave in immediately.

Aemond helps you down the rocks near the shoreline with your small hands in his, taking cautious steps down to not trip over and hurt yourself. He keeps his eye on your feet instead of his, worrying more about you than himself even though he is stepping down with his good eye on you, not looking where he is going.

That seems to be a bad decision, because the next second, not only does his foot miss a small rock, but yours slips on one too, tumbling into his arms as the two of you fall on the soft sand, Aemond’s arms wrapping tightly around your back to keep you steady.

He looks at you, panting as his eye widens at the closeness; your faces are inches away from each other, and he can feel your soft rushed exhales on his lips. You look like a goddess atop him, the sun illuminating your silver hair, reminding him of the last sennight when you arrived and your hair made your face shine even brighter.

He has never seen such a beauty before, sure he has seen the ladies of the court, but your Valyrian beauty combined with sunlight and the blue hue of the sky has him mesmerized, not realizing how his hands are gripping your waist while he stares at you.

You giggle at first, then break into a fit of laughter while you lean more into him, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles lowly at first, then matches your laughter and throws his head back, holding you on him by one arm while the other comes to run over his face. 

“I have never heard you laugh so freely before,” you say after you have calmed down, putting your palms on either side of his face while you hover over him.

“I don’t remember having a reason to do so,” he replies, smiling up at you.

“I’m glad that I’m able to bring joy to your life, you deserve it.” leaning down, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek before standing up, smoothing down your skirt.

He is at loss of words, speechless to his core. He deserves it, he thinks, do you truly think a monster like him deserves any chance of happiness?  How are you not disgusted by him, his scar, his sour and mean tongue? How can you ever leave a butterfly kiss on someone as unworthy as him? 

He looks at you from where he is staying lying on the sand, watching as you extend your hand to him, rocking on your heels in anticipation so you can go and wander on the beach and reunite with the sea.

He grabs your hand, standing up on his feet as well. There is sand in both of your clothes, but you have just begun your venture and won’t stop until you are satisfied.

You don’t let go of his hand when you start jogging, pulling him with you as you giggle in delight. And he observes you as he always does; wind in your hair, waves crashing against the shore while your laughter fills the air around him. He doesn’t realize his smile has widened and he is following you just as excited, letting the sand and the sea separate you from the outer world.

“You promised you would make a sandcastle for me!” you say, pulling him behind you to the spot where you would sneak away as children, sitting down to get to work.

“I did not,” he replies, unbuttoning his tunic so he can stay under the sun without being bothered by the heat.

“Fine, you did not. But you ruined the one we built together at Driftmark so you owe me one!”

He chuckles at you, his dimples on display as he shakes his head, “Alright, I will make one for you.”

It took you a good few hours to finish the sandcastle; it could have finished much sooner if you hadn’t thrown wet sand at him, cleaning your dirty hands with his white cotton undershirt just to annoy him — and it worked. In a second, he was chasing you around the beach with hands full of wet sand curved into balls, throwing them at you.

And here you are now, fingers laced together, shoes in one hand as you both walk on the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. You point at the sunset, leaning on his side when you come to a stop to watch the sky change color as the sun goes down.

Aemond on the other hand, looks at your calm face that is glowing under the pink and orange sunlight. How did he get so lucky to be blessed by such a beauty to lay his eye upon? Maybe he truly deserves this unknown feeling that spreads through him like fire and makes his fingers tingle and his heart beat in happiness. Maybe he deserves to be loved by you and love you unconditionally in return.

You turn around, dropping your shoes before you reach up to cup his cheeks. He closes his eye and basks in the attention you give him; so unique and pure. He drops his boots as well, arms circling your waist to pull you closer.

Aemond doesn’t dare to open his eye, fearing that he might ruin this perfect moment as you trace the lines of his lips, his cheekbones, and his jaw. You are so gentle with him, something he is not quite used to. It has always been him, alone in a cold room, but now and here with you, he feels as if he can breathe again, and forget every pain he has endured to reach this moment of his life.

“Open your eye, My Prince,” you whisper before you peck the corner of his lips, pulling him in so you can rest your forehead on his.

He obligates, sighing shakily when he finds you already looking at him. Your gaze is so genuine that somehow scares him, a rush of destructive thoughts comes into his head, but you seem to notice it from how his hands shake on your waist.

“Don’t think about anything, just… just focus on me.” 

He does as you say, his brain shutting those annoying voices at the back of his head down as soon as your nose brushes against his, your soft lips brushing over his so endearingly. He is hesitant at first but when you peck him again, he moves forward as well, meeting you halfway until his lips are locked with yours.

You taste as sweet as the strawberry cakes you had this morning, if not sweeter. The way your lips move together makes his head hazy. You are kissing his breath away, leaving him begging for more. His chest moves up and down quickly when you break the kiss, and you caress his thin swollen lips, bruised by your kisses and lack of air, while he admires you from head to toe.

The sun has set, but the glimmer of love has risen inside of Aemond’s broken heart.

•••••••••••

A kiss here and there, more sneaking around the castle and to the beach until the main event for Jace’s birthday arrives. He is in his mother’s solar, listening to her talk about how lovely you are and how much of a wonderful couple you would make with him if only you weren’t Daemon’s daughter.

“Mother—”

“You should dance with her tonight, my darling!” Alicent says, running her hands over his arms when he stands up and approaches her, “I have heard Daemon has plans of betrothing her. Obviously, he has yet to find someone suitable, but he is thinking about it.”

Aemond’s heart drops when Alicent says your father is looking for a suiter, fortunately, Alicent sees his surprise, shock, and fear. She reaches to cup his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye contact while she talks, “Don’t let her go if you truly wish to have her. I know that she would stand strong against her father and Rhaenyra, but she would need your support and love as well to feel brave enough to turn down a good match.”

“They would make her happier than I can ever do, Mother,” he replies, his voice breaking slightly. Losing you terrifies him, and he is aware that his mother can read him like an open book, shushing him while he inhales sharply.

“I have never seen her happier than I have with you, and I have never seen you this happy and lively, darling. Be selfish for once, choose your happiness this time.”

“How can I choose my happiness over her life?!” he asks harshly, frowning at his mother.

A knock interrupts Alicent before she can respond, and the guards open the door for you to step inside the queen’s room.

“Oh, I apologize, it was not my intention to interrupt you.”

Aemond seems to be struck by your beauty; your body is wrapped in a teal-colored gown with a low neckline that leaves your shoulders and collarbones on display. Your silver hair is braided with some parts of it pinned up, some strands framing your bare neck.

“You look so beautiful, my darling,” Alicent says, nudging Aemond a bit forward when she sees how he is looking at you.

“Thank you, my queen. You look very beautiful as well,” you look away from the queen, smiling when he approaches you slowly, “you said you were going to wear something close to this color and I decided it would look quite good to match. How do I look?”

“Enchanting,” he breathes out, reaching to hold your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “You look breathtaking, My Lady.”

“So do you, My Prince.”

“Shall we then?” he offers you his arm and you accept without hesitation, looking back to see if the queen will come with you and she assures you she will come with the King.

“You said you were going to retrieve me from my chambers for the party,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk toward the great hall.

“I am deeply sorry. Mother wanted to have a word with me,” he explains, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is everything alright, Aemond?” you ask him, and he chuckles at how adorably your brows twist into a frown in worry. “Yes, darling, she merely wished to remind me to make sure you have a great time tonight. You are our special guest.”

“Does that mean you will dance with me?” you ask, holding his hands in yours before you reach the hall.

“We shall see,” he brings your hands to his lips again, leading you toward the hall, bowing and nodding at the ladies and lords who take it upon themselves to greet you.

You come to a stop in front of the table, Rhaena coming to hug you and twirl you around, gasping at the sight of your beautiful gown, gasping even louder when she sees how your dress matches Aemond’s tunic.

A ghost of a smile finds its way on Aemond’s face as he watches you get flustered at your sister’s attention to details, but soon, his eye hardens when he finds his uncle glaring at the two of you. Tonight will change the course of so many lives.

He watches you laugh with your sisters, pointing at the empty chair next to you so he would sit close by all night. With one last glare at his uncle, he walks to his seat and pours wine into his cup, blushing a bit when he hears you laughing again. You are not even laughing at something he has said and he is the one who gets flushed.

He is knee-deep inside these new feelings but he welcomes the challenge with open arms. Or at least he tries to do so without Daemon being an obstacle to his plans. 

He looks at you when Rhanea and Helaena pull you to the dancefloor for the new song, pairing up with different lords to dance with, but what catches his eye, isn’t who you are dancing with, but more than who Daemon is talking to. He recognizes the lord to be from the south, probably a Tyrell, and when his uncle and the lord look in your direction, he knows something is not right, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his stomach.

He watches the lord closely as he makes his way through the crowd to get to you, bowing and introducing himself before taking your hand to dance with you. He can see how uncomfortable he is making you, probably discussing his sick desire to have a wife and kids while he dances with a Targaryen-Valeryon goddess.

“Stop glaring and do something!” Baela slides into the seat next to him, hissing the words at him while she keeps her eyes fixed on you as well, “I don’t like you, I will never like you, but you make her happy. Do something before our father ruins her life because of Rhaenyra.” “I thought you liked your stepmother,” Aemond chooses to ignore most of the things she said.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s schemes, please, Aemond, my sister deserves to feel appreciated. I have never seen any lord take an interest in her the way you have. You are the only thing she could talk about in the last few days. I will beg you if I have to.” Aemond turns his head toward Baela, letting her words calm down the hesitancy he has toward courting you. There are far more handsome men than him in the court, yet, he is the one who is blessed to hold you and kiss you, to gaze into your eyes and see forever in them.

He hisses when he feels a sting in his skull, not now, no. The pain can’t start now. He gulps his wine before he nods at Bela and stands up to walk to the crowd in the middle of the hall, catching your eyes for a second before he has to bow and start the dance with a lady he does not care to engage in a conversation with.

He thinks about how much he has changed in a few days; there will always be a part of him who thinks he’s not worthy of your affection, that you can do better than him, but also the thought of you in another man’s arms sets his skin ablaze. He is torn between keeping you all to himself or letting you have a wonderful future with another guy who can stand by your side and make you proud, who is not maimed and scarred like him.

Luckily, everyone needs to change their partner and he reaches with his hand to grab yours and pull you to his side, grinning when he hears your delighted shriek. “My Prince Aemond,” you say, squeezing his hand while the two of you twirl around the room.

 He doesn’t wish to say, but the tempo is too high for me, and it worries him that somehow he might make a fool of himself or you if he trips over someone’s shoe on his blindside.

“Lady Targaryen, you look like a Valyrian Goddess, my beloved.”

“Why thank you, my good prince. I have to say that this color truly brings out your beautiful eye,” you reply coyly, tipping your chin up while you bite your lip.

“You are playing with fire, darling.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing a feather-like kiss on your earlobe without anyone noticing.

“I’m a Targaryen, Prince Aemond, fire is in my blood,”

“Is that so? Well, I must say—”

He doesn’t know what happens, or how it happens, but in a second he can’t see you when he twirls you around him, and suddenly, the weight of your waist isn’t in his hand anymore.

“Aemond!” you fall down by his feet, and he sees that his boots have caught the edge of your heels, making you twist your ankle in the wrong way and causing your fall.

What have I done?

What have I done?

I dropped her.

I did this.

What happened?

His eye has widened in fear, and he is frozen in place, hands shaking slightly as he feels the crowd around you look in your direction, staring and gaping at him before the hushed whispers start to fill the room.

“Aemond, look—”

He can’t look at you. He will never be able to live with himself for humiliating you in the way he did tonight.

Stupid, weak, useless good for nothing, Aemond. If another lord was dancing with her, he wouldn’t have dropped her. A prince but less worthy than a common whore. 

With trembling lips, and a pain blooming in his eyesocket, he dashes out of the room, leaving you on the floor. 

His vision is blurry, the pain is getting worse and the air is stuck in his lungs. He can’t breathe, no, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. How can he when all he wanted to do was to dance with you but ended up hurting you? How could he hurt you like this? 

He skips the steps, running to his room while he groans in pain, the stinging is getting stronger, the agony in his nerves is spreading through his skull and it only gets worse when he opens the door to his chambers to find not only scented candles but the windows and the balcony door is open as well.

“You are dismissed!” he shouts at the guard before he slams the door shut, “Ah!” He tumbles down, gripping the nearest chair to keep himself on his feet at least before he falls on his knees, clawing at the eyepatch to pull it off as if it’s burning his skin.

The pain is like a dagger, stabbing him over and over again until even his knees don’t have the strength to keep him up. He falls on the floor, curling into a ball while the pain spreads through his face, and he finally breaks down, bursting into tears from agony and humiliation. If only he wasn’t in pain… if only his eye wasn’t cut out…

Aemond doesn’t hear when the door opens, nor he can see who the person is. Tears have flooded his vision, but as soon as he feels your soft hand on his arms, trying to help him sit up, he flinches, backing away from you while he gasps for air, feeling his tunic clinging to his sweaty body. 

“Aemond, please let me—” “No, no, no, no…” he stands up hurriedly, walking to the balcony on unsteady legs to get some air in his lungs, only to be met by a freezing wind that makes the chronic pain in his eye even worse. He drops to his knees again, this time the sounds of his gasps and painful yelps are louder than before.

You rush to his side, kneeling in front of him to cup his cheeks, kissing his clammy forehead before you wipe his tears away gently. He lets you touch him this time, too exhausted to utter a word, to push you away even if he has to.

“It’s going to be okay, Aemond, let me help you,” You help him on his feet, making sure to have your arms wrapped tightly around him while he leans his weight on you, trusting you to take care of him, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him to push you out of his room.

“Gently, my love, gently,” you help him lay down on the bed, pecking his cheek again, rising to get the smoke out of the room but his hands shot up and grabs your forearm tightly.

“Stay, please,” he whimpers, his beautiful eye tearing in pain.

“I will, my dearest, I just need to blow out the candles and close the windows, and I’ll be back in bed with you.” You reach and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon his knuckles before he lets you go.

He can’t see you clearly, but your shadow moves from side to side frantically, blowing the candles on the balcony so the smoke won’t get inside again, shutting the windows quickly so the cold wind doesn’t bother him anymore before you come to bed again.

You unlace your gown, taking it off so you can tend to him more easily, pulling at the few pins inside your head to let the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You climb onto the bed, a jar of his salve and ointment in hand with clean rags in your other as you sit comfortably next to him, helping him take off his tunic and pants.

Aemond lies on the pillow on your lap, sniffing as you look at his face; bare and raw of emotions with his sapphire glinting in the low lights of the room.

“My love, you need to help me pull the gem out,” you whisper, almost sound scared of him, or scared of what you might see.

“No, it is an unbecoming sight—”

“Nothing about you is unbecoming. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on, and for you and your suffering, I begged my grandma to allow me to study about your condition with the Maesters,” you lean to kiss the bridge of his nose, “the skin around your eyesocket is swollen, if we do not pull it out now, it shall make it more unbearable for you.”

He hesitates for a moment. While he would love to ask you about why you studied something so gruesome because of him, he can’t help but feel so wanted. The pain is getting worse, sure, he has to pull the gem out anyway but to hear you say how you have begged Rhaenys to let you partake in those classes, to maybe someday help him with his pain… that truly makes him feel fuzzy all over.

“Alright…” he whispers, gritting his teeth in pain as he reaches out with his fingers to grab the side of the gem, pulling it out slowly while he groans and the pain nearly knocks him out. “Shouldn’t we use something more—” “Take it out, take it out—I don’t care how!”

You nod, tears falling from your eyes as you watch him writhe in pain more as the two of you pull his sapphire out, leaving a heavily swollen and empty eyesocket on display. His hand falls limp on the bed while you drop the gem into a clean bowl before pouring some of the ointment on a rag, gently holding his face in one hand while the other daps slowly over the scar and his ripped eyelids, pressing a few kisses here and there to soothe his whimpering.

He clings to your arms and waist tightly, letting his tears fall freely while you soothe his pain away, falling into slumber easily beneath your gentle touch.

•••••••••••

He is running.

Where is he? Why is he running?

He looks around him, finding himself in the labyrinth he always sees in his dreams.

The hedges are covered in ivy, the walls have gotten taller and the paths are thinner.

What’s this smell?

He steps closer to the source of it, taking different routes until the smell gets worse and stronger. He knows where the center of the maze is, he has been here countless times.

He turns around, finding the space of the labyrinth of his dream, but he doesn’t expect to see you there, not while standing with your nightshift covered in maroon, hands dripping with thick droplets of blood as you look at him horrifyingly.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Don’t- don’t come closer,” you say, taking a step away from him.

“I don’t understand, why—” “You did this to me!” screaming at him, your hands cover your heart, and he finally sees how your chest has been ripped open and blood gushes out of the wound.

“I was not here—”

“You did this to me! You hurt me, Aemond!”

“Aemond!”

“Aemond!”...

He jolts up, gasping for air, hands clutching the bedsheets as he experiences another nightmare. He looks at you, finding you awake and alarmed while you rub his back, eyes filled with worry and pain for him.

“You should leave,” his voice is barely above whispering, his nails digging into the palms of his hand while he blinks his tears away.

“Aemond—” “I will only hurt you, why don’t you understand?!” he asks, raising his voice a little. 

He is torn between needing you to wishing you were gone; he can’t cope if he ever hurts you again.

“You have not hurt me, you won’t hurt me.” “I killed you in my dream! You fell in front of everyone and twisted your ankle because of me, I humiliated you! How can you say I won’t fucking hurt you? I have already done it.” He explains, but instead of pushing you away, he welcomes you when you pull him down into your embrace, holding his head tightly in your neck as he sobs uncontrollably.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful. I won’t let you ruin yourself for something that was a mistake on my behalf.” you kiss the side of his face, rocking him from side to side while he calms down eventually.

“Don’t push me away, I love you, Aemond. Let me be here and help you carry this heavy pain with you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around you.

He looks at how you lay back on the pillows, gently pulling him in your arms until he is lying in your chest while you play with his hair.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

•••••••••••

He opens his eye slowly when he feels someone caressing his hair, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. Smiling a little, he finds you admiring him in his sleep, taking notes of every line and deep of his skin.

“It’s very rude to stare,” he says, his voice thick and raspy from all the crying he did last night.

“Not when he is my lover,” you whisper back, nuzzling your nose against his, “you look like a fairy when you sleep.”

“No one has ever told me that. How do you come up with such unique ways to describe me?” He leans over, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while he waits for you to answer.

“You are a wonderful muse for poetry, I shall start writing about your hair and eye!”

He keeps his lips sealed to your skin, sucking and nibbling until he is satisfied with the marks he has left. His pupil is blown out with a newfound lust; how can he not desire you when you are lying in his arms with your wild white hair plastered over his pillows?

“You are staring,” he chuckles at how breathless you sound. He hasn’t even begun to do anything and he already has you melting under his touch.

“Can you blame me? I have the most exquisite lady of the realm in my bed.”

“What happened to the insecure boy I held last night?” You ask while leaning up towards him, pushing him down on his back so you can straddle his narrow hips.

“It’s still here with us in this room, but he has begun to heal. You have helped him when he had no one,” his palms rest on your thighs.

“I need you,” it comes more as a plea, but Aemond obliges and flips the two of you over, hiding his face in your neck to prep it with kisses while he whispers that he needs you too.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, moving them together with a rhythm that encourages him to take the next step.

His hand inches downward, pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already wet for him.

“I-I have already lost my maidenhand…”

“I don’t care, I have you now,”

He silences your whine with another deep kiss, his fingers circling your clit until you are squirming and bucking your hips into his palm, your arms pulling him in by the shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, watching you take a deep breath when he pushes one digit inside while he tugs at the front of your shift, pulling it down until your tits are on display. He covers your chest with marks and bruises the same time another finger enters you, making you gasp loudly in pleasure.

He stretches you on his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly at first, but soon he is speeding up, his patience running thin as he scissors you open not roughly to make it hurt, but to make sure you are ready to take him.

“A-Aemond, please, need you closer,”

He nods because he too can feel the need to become one with you, to take you as his, or more so you take him as yours.

His breeches are thrown on the floor, followed by his undershirt immediately as he takes home between your spread legs, one hand holding him up while the other guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. You both gasp in union when his tip nudges past your muscles, pushing in slowly and gently until he is sheathed inside you completely.

You throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your nails dig into his naked chest as he lets you get adjusted to his size.

“Can I move?” He asks, leaning down over you as he cages you beneath him, both of his forearms holding himself up against the pillow under your head.

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, and he finally caves in and moves slowly; pulling his hips back a little before driving in.

The next minutes pass by him gently making love to you, circling his hips and kissing you, bringing you closer and closer to your highest point. You know you both are close when his groans and moans grow louder, and your voice matches his tone as he quickenes his pace, the loud sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing in the chambers of the prince.

You both finish together; you with a gasp of his name, and him with a loud groan of yours as he fills you and you gush around him. He trembles above you, whether it is for the climax he experiences or the overwhelming love he holds for you. 

He watches your face twist in pleasure — the pleasure he is giving you — and he memorizes every sound, counting each lash that he can while he himself rides his high with you.

He drops face down on the bed next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at each other with a satisfied expression on your faces.

“They would ask about our whereabouts if we are late for breakfast.” You say, giggling when he groans in absolute disgust — he is not ready to leave this room and face the world again when he knows he can stay and take you again, thrive in your attention and love for all day.

“Must you ruin this moment for us? Now I can only think about how to face your father after what we did.”

“You should look him in the eye and ask for my hand,” you sit up, throwing the cover off of you before getting off the bed “and you shall do it with the braids I do for you,”

“You are impossible,” he says, but he knows that behind his words, there is no hidden intent, nothing but adoration and playfulness.

“Come, sit!” You pull him off the bed as well, leading him to his vanity before pushing him down on the chair, both of you stark naked as you brush his hair slowly.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, his reflection doesn’t disgust him, it doesn’t scare him or make him self-conscious. He feels… beautiful, he feels worthy again of having this life, having you as his.

“Do you wish to know what I see when I look at you?” You ask him, letting his soft hair fall around his shoulders before you lean down, wrapping your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He nods, hands coming to cover yours where they caress the skin above his heart.

“I see a broken man who needed to be saved. I see a boy, fierce and strong as he claims the largest dragon alive. I see my friend who danced with me in different gatherings, my beloved friend who built sandcastles with me and helped me with my Valyrian studies. I see my Aemond, finally freed from the labyrinth of his mind.”

[lilacgaby]

6:21 a.m

husband!bakugo experiences one moment of what you deal with everyday with your kids.

you were currently cuddled into katsuki's chest, fast asleep.

in between taking care of your newborn son and your toddler daughter, he knew you were exhausted out of your mind. he already had to return to hero work since he took a month off for your last few weeks pregnant, but he wasn't home all day besides the weekends. like today.

speaking her into existence, his toddler daughter slowly waddled over to your side of the bed, about to pat you on the back and awaken you.

"tsk. hey, no." he whispered, making her pout. "i wanna play." she said, crossing her arms. she rubbed her eyes, obviously still a bit sleepy herself.

"mommy is sleeping, she can't play it's bedtime. go back to bed." he said, hoping to every single deity that'd hear him that she wouldn't start crying.

she pouted even more now, before stomping her feet over to his side of the bed and pulling on him. "nooo, i dont wanna sleep!" she said, her voice getting loud.

"don't yell at me missy, use your inside voice." he rolled his eyes, paying attention to your body that seemed to always be on high alert stirring slightly. he soothed you back to sleep, before untangling himself from you and sitting on the corner of your shared bed, now face to face with your daughter.

"we're going to your room and you're going to sleep, unless you want to be put in time out." her eyes widened, her crossed arms dropping as she decided to start negotiating.

"two bedtime stories, go fish, and uno."

"one bedtime story, one go fish game, and i won't tell your mom this happened."

"and pancakes for breakfast." she ordered.

she nodded to herself, seeming happy with the arrangement. she grabbed onto his sweatpants, trying to pull him off to her room already.

"i'm going, im going."

he was heading out, until he heard the whines of his son start sounding out from the baby monitor, making both him and his daughter freeze.

she tugged on his pants, "the baby's crying."

he sighed. "i know." he was squinting his eyes in the dark environment trying to see if you had woken up. after he saw no movement, he ran to go get your son.

he picked him up in his arm and then followed his daughter to her room across the hallway. he proceeded to play go fish one handed, occasionally asking his son, who was drinking a bottle of formula, for 'help', which made his daughter say "you're cheating!"

he read them 'goldilocks and the three bears', which he kept having to reread pages because he 'wasn't doing the voices good enough' in his daughter's opinion.

his voice, still husky because he was half-asleep, soothed his son to sleep in his arms, and his daughter back to sleep.

he layed his son down in the cot in your shared room, too lazy to go back to the nursery.

like puzzle pieces, you fit back into one another, your head back in his chest and his laid on top of yours. he was glad you got to sleep the entire time, even though he knew you had woken up because of your daughter's loud nature, you managed to go back to sleep.

a win was a win, he thought as he went back to sleep.

and woke up with his daughter hugging your back, sticking her toungue out at him when he asked why she was even there again. making you laugh when you woke up to his scrunched up face of annoyance.

as he made the chocolate chip pancakes, your daughter clung to your side as your son laid in your chest, he thought about how having kids was one of the best decisions he'd ever made.

"hurry up and give me more! you always give mommy the better pancakes!"

most of the time.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aemond goes to Storm’s End to spend some time with the Baratheon daughters as he agreed to marry one of them in exchange of House Baratheon’s banners and men. He spends time with each sisters, and ends up getting along with you the best although your older sister says she deserves the prince more. You disregard their opinion and continue spending time with Aemond. Smut happens in secret…and almost gets caught

Request: Library sex!! Aemond find someone who loves books and reading and they end up having sex or maybee not all the way

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, almost getting caught,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Aemond returned to Storm’s End, he viewed the Baratheon daughters as part of his duty. He was obligated to marry one of you in exchange for your house’s support for his brother’s claim. Any of you would have done the job, but Lord Borros let him choose. 

The daughters, on the other hand, saw him as a valuable prize. He was a prince. They competed fiercely for his favor, each eager to secure the final spot as his bride. 

‘’Did Prince Aemond propose?’’ you asked Floris as she returned from her afternoon with the prince. 

‘’He has not,’’ Floris said, sitting down on the end of the couch, still giddy from her outing. ‘’But he might soon.’’ 

‘’Did you kiss?’’ Cassandra pressed, wondering why her sister assumed so. 

Floris shook her head, and Cassandra sighed, turning her attention back to her embroidery. She was trying to make a dragon to impress Aemond, but it was somehow looking like an oversized bee with a long neck. 

Beside you, Ellyn breathed a dreamy sigh, thinking of the prince’s tall stature and sharp jawline. ‘’I’m seeing him tomorrow. I picked out a dress just for him.’’ 

‘’Is it the blue one?’’ Floris asked. 

Ellyn nodded with a sly smile. At the moment the dress had been made, it fitted Ellyn perfectly, but now her breasts were slightly spilling out of the neckline. It wasn’t appropriate wear for a casual dinner — not anymore. But when a prince was visiting and looking for his future wife, it was perfect. 

‘’That’s unfair. Not all of us have been graced by the Gods…’’ Maris moaned, jealousy evident in her voice.

When she spent time with Aemond, he made it clear that he had no interest in her. He didn’t say he didn’t wish to marry her, but she felt his disinterest. And he didn’t ask to see her again.

Cassandra interrupted, her tone sharp. ‘’As the oldest, I should be the one marrying the prince. I have flowered, therefore I am capable of providing heirs.’’ 

You rolled your eyes without letting her see. Three out of four of your sisters had flowered; it didn’t make her superior. Not anymore. ‘’I doubt heirs are on the prince’s mind right now, Cassandra. Not when there’s a war in preparation.’’

‘’What do you know about war?’’ She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

‘’Why do you think Prince Aemond and Prince Lucerys asked for our father’s banners and men?’’

‘’She’s right,’’ Maris said, agreeing with you. ‘’He is only marrying one of us because his brother needs our house’s support. If the king had not sent him here, he would never have thought of making one of us his wife. I doubt he even knew our names before he flew to Storm’s End on his big dragon.’’ 

Cassandra huffed, refusing to recognize that Maris was right. 

Instead of waiting around for Ellyn’s return with Cassandra, Maris and Floris, you went to the library. You didn’t want to listen to her bragging about Aemond’s eye peeking down at her chest. Using your body to get a man’s interest was not how you planned to find your husband. For seducing the prince. You wanted him to marry you for the person you were, not the size of your breasts. The conversations would be sad.

‘’A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one,’’ a voice you recognized as Aemond’s said quietly, his voice cutting through the stillness.

You raised your head from your book, seeing him standing by one of the shelves. ‘’May I help you with something, my prince?’’ 

Aemond plucked a book from the shelf and glanced at the first page. ‘’Searching for something to occupy my time. I do not mean to denigrate your home, but there is very little to do on Storm’s End.’’ 

‘’You read?’’ you asked, a hint of surprise in your voice. It was rare to find men who were genuinely interested in books.

The prince nodded once. ‘’I have a preference for history books.’’ He closed the book he was holding and returned it to its place on the shelf. 

‘’I’m afraid our library will disappoint you,’’ you said, a touch of regret in your tone. ‘’As you may have noticed, my father cannot read, and neither did my grandsire, so our collection is quite sparse.’’ 

Aemond’s gaze shifted to the book in your hands. ‘’What of the one you are reading?’’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘’I bought it in town. My septa taught me how to read.’’ 

She taught all of your sisters, but only you and Maris were interested in reading. She insisted that reading was knowledge and believed that a woman should be more than just a dutiful wife and mother. Your father would strongly disagree with her; he just sold one of his daughters for a political alliance.

‘’You never brought it up during our outing.’’ 

‘’I didn’t want to bore you.’’ 

Aemond stepped closer, the distance between you narrowing. ‘’I think reading makes you more interesting.’’ 

Your heart quickened as his words hung in the air. 

Before your first outing with Aemond, Floris had warned you not to mention reading or books, saying that men don’t like that. It made you smile to find out she was wrong.

‘’May I join you?’’ He gestured to the seat beside you. 

You nodded, and Aemond gracefully sat beside you. He took the book from your grasp. You wanted to protest, but he began reading to you, his voice deep in tone, but soft and calm at the core. No one had ever read to you before. 

The torches on the walls of the library casted a golden hue over the room, creating a serene atmosphere. If your sisters knew of this intimate moment, they would be jealous. Especially Cassandra. You would love to see her reaction, watching her jaw tighten as she glared at you. 

Occasionally, Aemond would pause and you heard the gentle rustle of pages turning. You allowed yourself to steal glances at him from time to times, watching his lips move as he read. He must have caught you because sometimes the corner would twitch into a slight smile.

While he read, Aemond’s voice wrapped around you like a warm embrace, each word painting vivid images in your mind. You could listen to him for hours. 

‘’Why did you stop?’’ you asked, turning your head to look at Aemond with a frown drawing between your eyebrows. 

He didn’t say anything. He simply looked back at you, his one eye intensely holding your gaze, and you felt a magnetic pull drawing you closer. You wanted to be all up in his personal space. You wanted to touch his face, gently trace the line of his jaw and feel the warmth of his lips beneath your fingertip.

Aemond’s gaze lowered from your eyes to your lips, sending your heart racing with a newfound intensity. Maybe this unchaperoned moment was not a good idea? Or, maybe it was exactly what you needed? Before he knew it, Aemond’s hand touched your chin, guiding it towards him. He gave you a chance to pull back, to deny him, but only a fool would do so. 

You let your desire take control, closing the gap between you and kissing him. He instinctively leaned in and deepened the kiss, so tender but passionate at the same time. His scent filled your nose, his fingers in your hair while his lips pulled your bottom lip softly as he pulled away. 

A silence filled the air, your head still spinning from the kiss. You reached out to tenderly caress Aemond’s face, soft and smooth beneath your palm.  

Aemond dove for a second kiss, and you heard the thud of the book falling to the ground, completely forgotten. At another moment, you would have picked it up right away, but your mind was…occupied. 

You reached behind Aemond’s neck and pulled him closer to you, his own hands grabbing at your waist and hips as the intensity of the kiss increased. 

It wasn’t in the prince’s habits to kiss a woman like that — to kiss a woman, ever —, but something within Aemond was pushing him to make a move on you. Was this the desire his brother often told him about? 

Humming against his mouth, you grabbed at the front of his jacket, needing something to grab onto as you felt your lower belly start to tingle. The new sensation caused you to shift in your seat, the sudden throbbing between your legs making sitting on a chair very uncomfortable.

‘’Did I hurt you?’’ Aemond asked when you broke the kiss. 

You shook your head. ‘’No. I… Please keep going.’’

He searched your eyes for a sign that would contradict your words, and resumed when he couldn’t find any. 

He slid his hand up your arm and pulled down your sleeve from your shoulder, his warm palm brushing against your bare skin and rising goosebumps. You glanced down at your newly uncovered shoulder, breathing heavily. Aemond then moved down your sides to cup one of your breasts, causing your breath to catch in your throat. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing his chest flush against you. It was a clumsy position on the small reading couch, but Aemond manoeuvered himself to make it work. His hands slid down your back as his mouth traveled lower, to the dip in your throat, kissing your neck. You moaned under his mouth, the new sensation awakening so many new feelings inside you. He reached down your leg to find the bottom of your skirts and lifted the fabric to ghost his hand over your ankle and up your leg, bunching the hem up as you breathed heavily. 

You knew where he was going — and you wanted it. Gentleman as always, he stopped and searched for your eyes, needing your consent before pursuing. You nodded, excitement bubbling as you felt his palm on the inner part of your thigh, very close to where you wanted him. His name left your lips in a whisper, a soft beg. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing his name as he dove his hand between your legs. You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, gently caressing the outside of you before swiping between your folds, causing you to gasp.

On the scale of forbidden things by your father, indulging in sexual activities outside of marriage — in his castle — was most likely at the top. He did not wish for his daughters to have a bastard baby or lose worth because they lost their maidenhood.

You should have asked Aemond to stop and pushed him away. But your desires were telling you to open your legs and let him in — literally. 

‘’Ahh,’’ you breathed out, your fist clenching over the prince’s clothed bicep as his long finger was deep inside of you, getting squeezed by your clenching walls. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, intently watching your expressions as you discovered a new pleasure. 

Aemond pressed his thumb down over your clit, and started to gently massage it. 

‘’Right there! It feels so good.’’ You sighed immediately and opened your legs a bit more, biting your lower lip to keep yourself from being too loud. There was no one else in the library, but anyone could come in. 

He added another finger, making you moan and pant around him. 

Unfortunately, the pleasure was short-lived as a servant calling your name. 

‘’H-here, Jeyne,’’ you replied, trying to keep your voice steady to avoid any suspicion.

You heard her footsteps approaching on the library’s floor, and you and Aemond quickly composed yourselves. You smoothed down the skirts of your dress while he picked up your book from the floor and opened it, pretending to read as Jeyne arrived.

The servant was visibly surprised to find Aemond with you as all your time in his company had to be chaperoned. She bowed her head to him respectfully before turning to you. ‘’I did not know you had company, miss.’’ Her tone indicated she was searching for gossip. 

You smiled kindly — and innocently — at Jeyne. ‘’Prince Aemond found me in the library during my afternoon reading. I was helping him find a book to take to his chamber as he forgot to bring one for his stay. You are not interrupting.’’ 

Despite their outward trustworthiness, you knew servants had loose lips, and that’s how rumors from the castle spread around town. 

‘’What is it that you wanted?’’ you asked, pressing her leave.

Jeyne glanced nervously between you and Aemond before speaking. ‘’Your father requests your presence in the great hall, miss. A raven arrived from Winterfell and he is struggling to read it.’’

You nodded, maintaining your composed demeanor. ‘’Thank you, Jeyne. Please inform my father that I will be there shortly.’’

You watched Jeyne leave, and let out a breath once she was out of earshot. That was close. Getting caught in a compromising position would not have been good for your reputation. 

Aemond closed his book, a frown marring his composed posture. ‘’I apologize for losing my manners, miss Y/N. I don't usually engage in these kinds of…activities in public places.’’ The mention of sex seemed to make him uncomfortable. His usual confidence was replaced by a rare vulnerability.

‘’I don’t either,’’ you said, your cheeks flushed as you stared at the skirt of your dress. ‘’I…I should get going. I promised to help Cassandra pick her dress for tomorrow. Not all dresses are suited for horseback riding.’’ You rose from the reading couch, giving Aemond one last glance. ‘’I’ll see you later at dinner, my prince.’’ 

You made a move to leave, but Aemond clasped his hand over your wrist. His touch was firm yet gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. ‘’That won't be necessary,’’ he interrupted, his voice low and steady. ‘’In case I haven't made myself clear, I've already made my choice. I want you.’’

—

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[hanasnx]

baby daddy jason for when the one parent-teacher conference the sweet unassuming teachers like “mrs. Todd” and you’re “uhhh we’re not married”, but Jason, despite not being up to the commitment, likes the idea. He definitely would not correct the teacher like you immediately would.

Actually idk where I was going with this I had an idea but then it kinda stopped soz

MINORS DNI 18+

You’re not even sure how it happened. In your opinion, it’s best that BABY DADDY!JASON TODD stay far away from you and your daughter. Maybe he sifted through your mail the last time he snuck in, maybe he intercepted your calls, maybe he followed her to school to add himself to her emergency contacts—all completely feasible when dealing with someone so meticulously thorough and annoyingly committed. You’re face to face with him outside your daughter’s teacher’s door.

“What are you doing here?” you seethe in a whisper, avoiding a scene.

Jason’s face twists in feigned confusion, pointing to the flyer on the wall. He reads out its words as his finger follows along, “‘Parent teacher conference.’” He points to himself finally. “Parent.” A smug curl forms on his lips, standing tall in outsmarting you even though it’s not what you asked.

Your nostrils flare as you suck in a breath. Unfortunately, Jason is exceptional at getting on your nerves. You wonder how he managed knocking you up. Advancing on him, he mirrors you, meeting you in the middle as you engage him, “Jason, I don’t want you here—“

The door swings open, and you jump in place, leaning away abruptly. Jason coolly inclines back, shoving his hands in his pockets, he’s got nothing to hide. Your daughter’s teacher greets you both with a cheerful grin, beckoning you in. “You made it! Come on in, come on in.” You exchange a warning glance with Jason, but you clutch your purse strap and duck in while he trails leisurely after.

The meeting goes well, the teacher rants and raves about your daughter, especially about her art skills, showcasing that talent with pictures of it. You open your mouth to speak, but Jason beats you to it, “Takes after her mother, huh? What do you know?” he says with pride, and you witness a genuine grin on his lips as he leans forward to take a closer look at the mess of glitter and stickers in the teacher’s hands.

Your heart skips a beat, and you fiddle with your hands in your lap. One reason you try to stay away from Jason is because of times like these. Makes you second guess your decision to end things with him, and that’s exactly what’s most dangerous.

“So, Mrs. Todd—“ the teacher’s voice breaks you from your stupor, gaze snapping up to her as you furrow your brows.

“Oh, we’re not married.” you object, interrupting her starkly, and she flushes, setting the artwork down with a nervous smile.

“Oh! My mistake. You two just seem so close…”

Jason sighs, raising an arm to wrap around the back of your chair. “Well, not yet.” he says with certainty, and you turn your attention to him, glancing at his arm placement and how the sleeve of his biker jacket brushes your hair. His hand cups your shoulder, which you stare at, and glare when he starts stroking your skin with his thumb. What makes you the most angry is not the entitlement to touch you—which he’s always had—but how he’s clearly messing with you on purpose. This is just like his brand of cruelty, embarrassing you further in a social situation. You tune out whatever crap he’s telling the teacher about the fake wedding and you peel his arm away from you, shoving it back into his lap.

“No, that’s not happening.” you object again, harsher this time and Jason merely scoffs through his nose as you deal with the poor confused teacher.

After the meeting, you’re practically corralled out of that room bickering. You somehow end up on the back of his bike instead of in the car you drove here. Somehow, further, letting him inside your place. Shouting over each other about how inconsiderate he is, and how serious you are, curtly removing your outerwear.

“Would it really be that bad?” he yells, that loud voice that gets you weak in the knees booming through your apartment. You’re lucky your babysitter still has your daughter. “Being married to me, would it really be that bad?”

“It’s not about that, Jason! You know that!”

Your objections are drowned out in how his big body herds you into your bedroom, how his hands push you down to rip off your jeans. How he palms your mouth to shut you up while he’s kissing on your neck, clumsily searching for the give in between your legs. His tip eases in as you lazily bat at his hefty shoulders and thick biceps. “Don’t wanna be Mrs. Todd, huh?” You relax under him the longer he’s inside you, rutting into you with patience as you jerk your head away from him. “What’s wrong with that? Don’t want my name? Don’t wanna be a happy little family?”

Your fist bangs against his rotator cuff and he laughs, husky and light in your ear. His teeth latch onto your lobe, playfully tugging on it while he bottoms out, and you emit a noise from your throat.

“Mrs. Todd,” he chides, “So wet for your husband. S’almost like you want it.”

[fathomlessgaze]

bring your child to work day: zayne and his daughter spend a day at the hospital

fluff, dad!zayne/reader (a little bit), ~2.2k

warnings: reader only makes a small appearance it's mostly about zayne + his daughter spending quality time together tbh, allusions to zayne + mc's lore (no specific memory idt just the overarching theme of their story), zayne is a devoted girl dad bc i believe in girldad!zayne...

a/n: mc/reader + zaynes daughter is named zenith here bc i liked the idea of them sharing an initial 😭 meaning the highest point/the point right above you in the sky bc i think thats what she would be for zayne+mc like one of the best moments of their lifetimes :( anyway it's mentioned in the fic but shes the spitting image of zayne thats his mini-me fr

“good morning,” zayne says, passing by the nurses’ station without much fuss. it’s an ordinary wednesday, after all.  

“morning,” greyson echoes with a curt nod, his eyes still focused on the files he’s reviewing from an overnight patient. 

“mornin’!” a third voice calls happily. 

greyson freezes, his papers falling unceremoniously on the floor. “huh!?” he exclaims, a little too loud for a hospital corridor. 

however the chief pays his outburst no mind, and he suddenly sees why, greyson’s gaze finding the little girl perched on his boss’ hip. of course, he remembers, it’s “bring your child to work” day. but for some reason, he never thought that zayne would actually bring his child to work. perhaps that explains why he’d made sure no surgeries were scheduled for this day weeks ago. 

zayne strokes her dark hair, brushing a loose strand from her pigtails behind her ear. “this is dr. greyson,��� he speaks softly, pointing in his direction. “dr. greyson, meet zenith.” 

“nice to meet you!” she exclaims, waving a chubby hand in the air, paying no mind to his wide eyes and slack jaw. 

she can’t be over four judging from her height, and, of course, greyson knew zayne had a daughter, but he didn’t really know. he remembers you mentioning her at your appointments, the photos on his desk and, of course, zayne’s paid time off actually being used at personal all time highs (which had already been on the incline after you moved in and then got married) since a few years ago, but it still feels surreal to actually see him with his child. 

if she has any opinion on greyson’s lack of response besides the cartoon birds that would appear around his head if they were in an animated tv show, she gives no hint. instead, she smiles brightly, her green eyes sparkling as she takes zayne’s glasses off his face and fists the lenses, trying to rotate them in her tiny hands and fit them on her own face. 

somehow, with the much too large frames perched on her nose, she looks even more like her father. everything, from her dark hair tied with ribbons to her hazel eyes, the curve of her brow and little nose, she is her father’s daughter to a t. perhaps the only un-zayne-like thing about her is the permanent cheeriness in her gaze and her gummy smile. that she must’ve gotten from you. while greyson has definitely noticed how his boss has become a little less taciturn and stern over the years, he would be lying to himself if he said he ever thought zayne would become even a miniscule fraction as bubbly as the daughter he holds close right now.

“i didn’t know you were bringing your daughter in today!” greyson exclaims, the realizations of today finally settling and coming together in his mind.

there’s a fondness in his eyes as he glances to zenith, his lips quirking the slightest bit upwards. “she’s been asking for weeks to come with me; i figured now would be the best time with the other kids here. i know you’ve seen the schedule for today, but—”

“oh my god!” yvonne gasps, speeding towards the trio gathered. “you brought your daughter, dr. zayne!” she extends her hand to the girl, which she happily takes. “i’m yvonne, i work with your dad.” 

“i’m zenif,” she babbles, her syllables getting caught on her missing tooth. 

simultaneously both greyson and yvonne coo at the little girl. 

“aren’t you the cutest thing? i’ve seen so many pictures of you but you’re just the dearest little one, hm?” 

and word of mouth travels fast, because, soon enough, a whole crowd has come to fuss over the most adorable little girl who looks exactly like the aloof department chair and has the sweetest smile. she graciously accepts their compliments with quiet ‘thank you's' and hides her face in her father’s neck and shoulder, causing even more ‘aww’s to fall from his colleagues’ lips. when the attention dies down, zayne finally gets to his office, nearly an hour later than he usually would have by now, but he can’t even be annoyed. his little girl is the most precious; of course, he would react in the same way. 

he shuts the door behind them and puts his bag down by his desk, moving zenith so she has a place on his lap when he sits down. “what would you like to do today, hm?” he asks, booting up his computer and finding a pile of files from the depths of a drawer. 

“what do you do?” she asks.

he hums. “well sometimes i see patients who don’t feel well, sometimes i do surgeries on them so they feel better, and sometimes i have to do paperwork. i don’t have any patients or surgeries scheduled today, so we can do whatever you want; how does that sound?”

“what about paperwork?” she exclaims. “you said that’s what you do?” 

“would you like to do paperwork with me?” 

she nods firmly. “i wanna spend time with daddy!” 

his heart softens, his already abnormally warm (at least for work standards) gaze growing even more endeared by his precious, favorite little girl. “you want to spend time with me?” 

her head bobs and she wraps her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “of course! i love you, daddy.”

pressing a kiss to her cheek, he can’t help a smile. of course he knows she loves him, loves spending time with him. when he’s home she’s practically glued to his hip. and he tries his best to make sure she knows the same. but sometimes it’s just nice to hear it from someone you love. “and i love you, princess.” 

it used to be a foreign expression on his tongue many, many years ago, before you’d returned to his life, and especially before she came into his life. but as time flew by, thanks to you and your help, he’d grown familiar, comfortable, fond with it. while he knew you didn’t mind him not saying that as much as other boyfriends and husbands might from all your conversations, knowing he expressed how much he loved you and then some through other ways, he knew she might not have understood just how her father expressed his feelings and fondness at her young age. 

so beyond his quiet actions, he makes sure to tell her. whether it’s a post-it note in her lunchbox, right next to the heart-shaped sandwich with the crusts cut off, just how she likes it, whenever it’s his turn to make her lunch, or a birthday card she’ll know how to read one day, he tries to tell her through words too. ‘i love you’ went from an expression he seldom said or heard, to one he couldn’t get enough of, whether it be from your lips or hers, and one he always wanted you both to know. 

“let’s see what kind of paperwork we can find for you, then.” coincidentally a knock sounds from the other side of the door. “come in.” 

“they brought some donuts and coloring pages out in the lobby,” yvonne says, popping her head in. “i figured you’d both be interested.” 

“thank you, yvonne.” when the door shuts, zayne leans back to look at his daughter, brushing her hair. “what do you think about that? do you want to take a look?” with her eager nods, zayne stands.

“i wanna walk,” she pouts, tugging on his once crisp button-up, and he puts her down accordingly, taking her small fingers in his. 

they make their way hand in hand down the corridor, drawing even more endeared coos from the staff until they reach the table. kneeling down to her height, he points at a smaller kids table in the corner.

“how about you get some coloring sheets and crayons? i can get you a donut and we can head back and do some paperwork,” he explains.  

she happily obliges, skipping over and inspecting the books with a familiar seriousness (which also makes the other staff coddle her just as much as her bright smiles. “aren’t you so precious!?” “she’s just like her father!” zayne can’t help the small quirk of his lips when he hears how cute they find his daughter, because she is, speaking from his personal experience.). meanwhile he grabs a strawberry donut with sprinkles and a chocolate one, both her favorites, placing them on a napkin and grabbing a few extra knowing how she takes after you in terms of her messiness. 

meeting her in the corner, he bends down, taking a quick look at the drawings she’s taken. “find anything you like?” he asks.

raising her pages to his eyes, she beams. “they have the bears!” 

he smiles softly, tucking her loose hair away. “yes, they do,” he hums. “who knew?” 

it totally wasn’t like he’d ordered specific character coloring books when it was time for the cardiology department to refill their kids’ activity section. it totally wasn’t like he’d looked for some ones he knew his daughter would love. it wasn’t like that at all; zayne maintains he’s as impassive and serious at work as ever…he’s lying to himself.

when she gathers her crayons, the duo make their way back to his office. the day flies quickly by, her babbles and light, curious questions bringing a new level of comfort and joy zayne never thought he’d get from his job. he loves what he does, of course, but everything just seems more enjoyable and memorable with his daughter by his side. or rather, with her on his lap, in her own little world of just her and her beloved dad, oblivious to the seriousness of the paperwork her father is dealing with as she busies herself with her own “paperwork” and scribbles vibrant colors all over the once black and white image.

and zayne thinks he would be perfectly content if it were to stay like this forever. even with all his prizes and awards, nothing could compare to the reward and title of being your husband and zenith’s father. 

he lowers his pen to the desk from his fingers, using his free hand to rest his head as he admires the precious life before him. “i love you, princess,” he murmurs, pinching her cheek. 

“i love you too, daddy!” she turns to face him, crumbs of donut glaze still around her lips. 

he takes a napkin and dabs at her face before checking his watch. you’d said you’d meet them around now… “how about we get lunch soon?” 

right on time, a knock sounds from the door, which opens to reveal you. “how are my favorite doctors doing?” you exclaim. 

“mama!” she cheers, hopping off zayne’s knee and running into your waiting embrace. 

kissing her head, you give her a squeeze. “how’s work with dada going?” 

“i love it here! daddy colors and eats dessert all day,” she cheers. 

glancing to your husband, you chuckle. “is that so?” 

he makes his way towards you both, giving you a peck as you stand, your daughter now on your hip. “something like that,” he mumbles. 

“then maybe i should become a doctor too,” you tease. “is now a good time for lunch?” 

he nods, opening the office door once more and allowing you to pass first. 

“i wanna become a doc-tor, too,” zenith ponders, suddenly serious with her small fingers tapping at her chin as she thinks, a habit no doubt from her father. “then daddy and i can color and eat snacks together forever!” 

“is that so?” you ask, but you can’t help the smile you shoot at your husband. 

she bobs her head, a determined furrow in her brow. “i wanna be with mama and daddy forever.” 

zayne has a warm fondness in his gaze as his eyes find his daughter. she looks up to him with wide eyes and her gummy grin, reaching her small hand out for his own, which he happily obliges. her tiny fist wraps around two of fingers, and he briefly wishes that she could stay his little girl for eternity. she doesn’t need to know how hard her dad’s job actually is, how much work he had to put in to get to where they are now, the sorrows of her parents’ past. she is a precious gem, the shining peak of all your shared lifetimes. 

this one existence, finally at peace, a happy ending for you and him, domestic bliss with the two, now three, of you, he thinks it’s worth every tear that’s been shed before. and maybe in another universe and lifetime, the you’ll get another happy ending. he thinks that even if it’s a simple life, as long as it’s with the two of you, it’d be one he cherishes and treasures close to every fiber of his existence, one he would fight all there may be to remember, for no god could tear his devotion. maybe he’d even bet every splintering past life that led to this one was worth the years he’s gotten to spend with you in this one, and the years still to come. so he hopes she stays as optimistic and bright as ever, that you stay by his side in this heavenly life he could only once dream of. after all, ice is made of crystals.

[kittykattysstuff]

When mom's away, it's time to play!

Warning: Stepcest.

Stepdad!Toji x fem!Reader

WC: 2.2K

Summary: Your mother won't be home during the weekend due to a business trip. With her gone and the entire house to yourselves, you and your stepdad Toji get to know each other in more intimate ways.

"Bye, dear. I'll be back Monday morning." Your mom gave you a kiss on the cheek as she left the house.

"Keep Toji some company, will you? This can be a great opportunity for you two to have some father-daughter bonding time."

She smiled, giving Toji a peck before she climbed into the driver's seat of her car. You gulped. Sometimes you wondered if your mother was either too oblivious to notice the furtive glances Toji threw your way whenever you were in the same room, or if she actually noticed them, and simply didn't care, confusing his inappropriate behavior for affection.

Well, it didn't matter what your mom thought. Her opinions wouldn't change the fact that you would be spending the whole weekend alone with Toji.

"Don't worry, love. I'm sure Y/N and I will have a lot of fun together."

You pretended not to notice the sexual innuendo behind your stepdad's words. God, this was going to be a long weekend. You and Toji waved as your mom started the car and drove away.

"Finally home alone. "Toji smirked, following you inside the house. You didn't need to turn to know he was shamelessly checking your ass. "Any plans for the weekend?"

He asked before you walked up the stairs to your room.

"Not really." You shrugged. You were more than ready to get this talk done and over with, but it seemed like Toji wouldn't let you off so easily.

"I intend to study for my upcoming exams."

That was a lie and Toji knew it. He knew you had already finished all your exams and didn't have any more classes until the next semester, since your mother had told him before you arrived from college at the beginning of the week.

"That's lame. Even Megumi's going to his friends' house. You should live a little, doll. How about we follow your mom's suggestion and have some father-daughter bonding?"

Toji's smile was so sweet, you could almost mistake him for an angel if you didn't know him. However, you did know him, and you knew that behind that sweet smile, were actually the most evil intentions. You felt yourself getting hot. You didn't want to admit it, but ever since you met Toji Fushiguro, you felt attracted to the man. His broad shoulders, thick thighs, and captivating emerald eyes made him look like a Greek god.

"Well, what do you have in mind?"

Against your better judgment, you indulged in his ideas.

"We could binge watch some of those rom-com movies that you like so much."

"You? Watching "girly" movies?" You asked, quoting the way he always complained about the films you and your mom liked to watch.

"Anything for you, doll."

Oh, you were definitely screwed. It took all your willpower not to jump him right then and there. Instead, you found yourself agreeing to his offer.

"Sure, why not."

Two hours later, the credits of "10 things I hate about you" appeared on the TV screen.

"This one wasn't so bad."

Your stepdad commented, stretching his huge arms, which were conveniently bare, given he was wearing a tight black tank top. You watched him put an arm on the back of the couch, getting dangerously close to you as he adjusted in a more comfortable position.

You were starting to seriously regret your choices today. You'd been doing a decent enough of a job trying to avoid Toji ever since he and your mom got married, almost one year ago. Because as soon as he stepped into your home in all his glory when they were still dating, two years ago, you knew you were in trouble.

The man was literally sex on legs, all your teenage dreams personified right in front of you, and the worst part is, he knew the effect he had on you. He knew it and he purposely took every chance he had to get closer to you; from accidental touches that started to linger more each time you both were in the same vicinity, to the hungry looks he sent you, not even trying to hide them.

You thought that once Toji and your mom got married, things would stop. But it was quite the opposite. Taking advantage of the fact you wouldn't be able to actively avoid him, since Toji and Megumi moved in with you and your mom after the wedding, Toji was everywhere. And he was driving you insane.

Your only solace was college. Your college was considerably far from your home, so as soon as you were accepted, you opted to live on campus rather than commute back home. The reprieve was great, especially because now you could be alone with your thoughts, without your step dad's presence everywhere you turned. If you didn't see nor think about Toji, then you were safe from the ever growing attraction between you.

However, now that the semester had finished and you wouldn't have classes for three weeks, your feelings were more and more difficult to ignore. Especially now that it was only the two of you in the house.

"What's next?"

Your step dad asked, though he didn't really seem interested in the answer whatsoever.

"Legally Blonde." You replied, selecting the next movie.

For the most part, things were going well. You were so concentrated on the film that you almost forgot about Toji's presence. That is, until his hand started to softly caress your shoulder. You held your breath as your step dad started rubbing circles on your skin delicately.

In hindsight, you know you should've stopped him instantly. But you were tired, Toji's touch was warm and honestly, you were craving some affection lately. So yeah, you let him touch you. After all, parents and their children touched all the time, that was normal, you rationalized. Except, there was nothing innocent in the way your step dad was getting closer to you.

His hand was now on your hips, massaging them expertly. You could feel his thigh pressed to yours. Before you noticed, a low moan fell from your lips. From your peripheral, you could see your step dad smirking.

"You're so far from me. Come closer, angel, I won't bite."

He didn't expect an answer from you, already pushing you to sit on his lap.

"This okay?"

Toji asked, his chin on your shoulder, his hot breath on your neck. You moaned again.

"Yes." You managed to say in a whisper.

"Y'know, this movie's getting boring, dontcha think?"

Toji said before sucking on your shoulder. Your breath caught in your throat.

"Toji, we shouldn't..."

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to touch you, doll."

Before you could protest, Toji captured your lips, giving you a bruising, passionate kiss. You opened your mouth, and he wasted no time to shove his tongue down your throat. He nibbled your lower lip with deliberate boldness, hearing a soft moan of pleasure in response, making his arousal sensually painful. As you kissed, Toji wanted to drink in your moans in sweet tremors of sinful pleasure.

Toji and you separated briefly, his sharp gaze locked on yours as you both struggled to regain you breath. Before things could get even more physical, he pressed his forehead to yours, inhaling deeply. You caressed his soft dak locks, reveling in the texture against your fingers. For a man as big as he was, Toji could be surprisingly endearing when he wanted to.

"Do you want this?" He finally asked, moving so that you'd be able to see each other in the dark room illuminated only by the dim light of the TV.

"If you say yes, I won't be able to hold back."

You knew that if you went further than this, there was no going back. You nodded, smiling. You had made your decision. You had wanted him for so long, you wouldn't miss the chance of having him all to yourself.

"I do, Toji. Fuck me."

"Damn. You're gonna drive me crazy."

Toji didn't waste time, ripping off your white buttoned shirt and your tight shorts to reveal your underwear.

"So perfect." He muttered as he unclasped your bra, immediately latching his mouth on your nipple, while he played with the other.

"All for me."

He said reverently, before sucking hardly, which elicited a gasp from you due to all the pleasure he was giving you. You kept your hands on his hair, in a tight grip. Toji's mouth and his finger kneading your tits felt magical.

"Yes, daddy, l'm all yours."

You didn't even notice what you had said until Toji stilled his movements, looking at you like a hawk. Instantly, you felt self-conscious, a blush on your cheeks as you mistook his sudden halt in his movements for rejection.

"Fuck."

Toji mumbled, licking his lips and watching you with a lust-filled gaze.

"Say that again."

Your shyness gave way to pure pleasure, the carnal desire consuming the two of you.

"Daddy."

You repeated, feeling his arousal as his dick twitched. Your step dad looked an animal, his expression was so filthy you almost came on the spot. He changed positions, laying you down on the couch, his firm, muscular chest pressing against your body.

You took his black tank top off, and kissed every inch of skin you could find. His shoulder blades, his abdomen, his chest, everywhere. Toji moaned, fueling you to continue.

"I know you're eager to play, baby, but I can't wait."

Toji took your hands off his body as gently as he could. Understanding what he meant, you moved your hands to his pants, ubuttoning his leather belt. Toji wriggled out of the fabric of clothing, throwing it away haphazardly. You could see the white patch of precum in his black boxers.

"I've dreamed about fucking your tight little pussy for so long, you've no idea."

Toji kept muttering as he got rid of the rest of yours and his underwear, the last remaining clothing between you two.

"Whenever I fuck your mom, I imagine you. I have to keep myself from moaning your name".

"Daddy, please, I need you."

"You want daddy's cock, little girl? Don't worry, daddy's gonna make you feel so good you won't want any other dick anymore."

"Yes, daddy, please, I need you so badly! Fuck, me daddy!"

Your stepdad kissed you again as he entered you without warning, giving you no time to adjust to his size. Toji sucked your mouth, bit your lips, swallowed your taste as if it were the last kiss he would give in his life. The kiss made you forget the slight discomfort you felt when he first penetrated you.

Toji buried himself to the hilt inside you, making you moan loudly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, so that he could reach even deeper.

"So tight. Perfect little pussy, was made for me."

"Only yours, daddy."

The position allowed him to explore all the curves of your body as he moved frenetically inside you. God, he was amazing. You couldn't fathom why you tried to resist your stepdad in the first place. Now that you had a taste, you would certainly become addicted.

You pressed your hands on his taut abdomen, feeling his strong chest, buffy arms and prominent collarbone. Holy shit, his body was a masterpiece. You moved in sync, lost in the pleasure of the skin to skin contact. Toji started rubbing his fingers over your clit, sending you over the edge.

"D-daddy, I'm close."

You mumbled, breathing heavily.

"Cum, baby. Let it all out for daddy."

You felt all the tension explode from your nerves, relaxing all your muscles at once and clouding your mind in the most genuine relieved ecstasy.

"Will you let daddy cum inside you baby?"

"Yes daddy, please! Cum inside me, need you!"

"Fuck!"

Your words made Toji cum inside you in full force, your insides creaming his cock deliciously. Toji pulled you to his side, letting you lay on top of him.

"That was amazing."

You smiled, turning your head and resting your chin on his chest. He smiled back at you, stroking your cheeks lovingly. You leaned on his touch, letting yourself enjoy this rare soft side of his, knowing that this could very well be the first and last time you two were so intimate.

"Well, I'm glad. Now stand up."

He urged you, leaning forward on his elbows and creating some distance between you. You tried to hide your disappointment with a fake smile. That was the problem. You held back so much because you knew that when you caved, you wouldn't wanna let him go. Swallowing, you reminded yourself that it was only natural. After all, he wasn't yours to begin with. He was your mother's. Putting on a brave face, you finally stood up, gathering your clothes and attempting to cover your body the best you could. Before you could stray too far, however, you felt a tug in your hand.

"What is it, Toji?"

You asked, feeling irritated. He told you to go, but still kept bothering you. Classic Toji.

"Hey, I thought it was daddy. And where do you think you're going? I was gonna ask you to take a bath. It's only the beginning of the weekend, darling, we still have lots of time for father-daughter bonding moments. And I intend to enjoy it as much as I can."

[shanastoryteller]

Merry bday! A continuation of Enola Holmes marrying the viscount of Basilweather would be really cool 😀

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

She wrinkles her nose when Tewksbury passes over her cup of tea with two sugars, unstirred, and she knows.

She puts down the cup too quickly, blood pounding in her ears, and Tewksbury frowns, reaching for her hand. "Enola?"

"Got to go," she says, pushing herself to standing, almost just leaves him sitting there, hand outstretched, but he's her husband and she loves him, so she darts over to smack a kiss on his lips before she's running for the door.

"Enola!" he calls out again, but now he sounds less worried and more exasperated, which is better, which is good. There's nothing for him to worry about.

She wants her mother, who's banned from London and is causing political unrest in Southern France currently, or Edith, who's doing something clever and illegal in Scotland. She'd take Victoria, but Mycroft will be there, and he's the last person she wants to see right now. Sherlock, while beloved, is useless, but his boy is a doctor.

She drops in at 221B Baker Street, picking the lock like always, and is relieved that Sherlock is still asleep and decides not to have any opinions on the various bones scattered about the kitchen table. She assumes there's a reasonable explanation for them.

"Oh, Enola!" John grins and shoves some femurs to the side to make space at the table. "Here, join me, would you like some oatmeal? Are you looking for your brother? I can wake him-"

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out, then bites her bottom lip.

John blinks once, then twice, then says with a gentleness that had made her like him in the first place - because Sherlock wanted to be gentle, but was quite bad at it, so someone had to teach him - "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Wanted seems like not the correct word, although of course it is, because she and Tewksbury had been, not trying, but not-not trying, which probably amounted to the same thing, considering how often they - well.

"I can fix it," he says, voice low and serious, "if it's something that needs to be fixed."

Enola lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "No. No, it doesn't need to be fixed."

She loves that he offered. She loves John, more her brother than Mycroft will ever be, sometimes even more her brother than Sherlock is. If nothing else, her brothers had picked their partners well. Victoria and John are a delight.

John is the functional one between them, explosions and skeletons notwithstanding. John is the one that coaxed her brother into a proper relationship and John is the one that knew they were like parents to all the Irregulars and John isn't normal but he grew up normal.

"Are you worried something's wrong?" he asks. "I can look you over."

"No," she says, although, "I mean, yes, that'd be nice because Tewksbury will go spare, but no, I'm not worried anything's wrong."

He leans back in his chair, looking her over, and after almost ten years of dealing with her and Sherlock and even occasionally Mycroft he can read them almost as well as they can read everyone else.

"It's alright to be scared," he says finally. "Lots of women are when they find out, even when it's wanted, even when the baby's healthy."

"I'm not scared," she says, but for the first time her words feel like a lie. "I shouldn't be scared. What do I have to be scared of?"

She wishes her mother was here.

Will her children miss her like this too?

Sometimes she misses her mother even when she's right in front of her, and if nothing else, she's her mother's daughter.

John gets to his feet, stand in front of her, and opens his arms. She looks away even as she steps forward, like if she doesn't look at him when she does it then it doesn't count as weakness.

His arms close around her. He smells like chai and antiseptic and it's only years of association that make the combination comforting. "I can't wait to be an uncle."

He'll be an uncle. Sherlock will be an uncle. Even Mycroft, and Victoria will be delighted to be an aunt, and to raise her children with Enola's. Of course there's her mother-in-law, and Tewksbury's uncle, who have been angling for her to have a child from the day they married.

There's Tewksbury, who loves her, who isn't going to die on her or leave her if either of them have anything to say about it, who isn't going to leave her to raise their children the way her mother raised her.

Alone.

She's been saying she wasn't going to do this alone from the beginning, but standing here in Sherlock's kitchen, with John holding her steady, she really believes it.

[cartierre]

CHIHIRO | lh44

synopsis: and if all is too late, is there still a way to salvage what we once called love?

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader (formerly), theo james x fem!reader (mentioned) warnings: angst, heartbreak, (some) vulgar language, lots of dialogue, no use of y/n word count: 2.1k

author's note: yes this is inspired by billie eilish's song 'chihiro' and also a bit by nicole's and lewis' relationship/break up! tried to be experimental, please give me your honest opinion about this i beg you. this is also not proof read since i hate reading my own stuff!

You’re fine. 

Everything’s fine.

You’re so close.

No one can take this away from you now.

Taking a deep breath, the only thing you could concentrate on were your shaky hands in front of you, the many voices behind you overlapping and blurring into each other. You couldn’t distinguish your mother’s voice from your sister’s, or your bridesmaid’s from your friend’s. Your dad was out there somewhere, getting everyone to take their destined place to take one worry off your mind. 

The dress you picked out months ago suddenly starts to suffocate you, the white blinding your eyes in an uncomfortable manner. You couldn’t decipher what happened. A minute ago you felt like the most beautiful woman on earth and the next you felt like ripping off your own skin. 

You have cold feet.

No, no I don’t.

“I think I need some fresh air.”

The voices behind you stopped at once. There was a split second of awkward silence before you could hear some feet shuffling over to you. Your mother’s concerned face appeared in your view. You could tell she tried to hide her worry. 

“Are you sure my darling?” She asked. You just nodded without looking into her eyes.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry, your daughter is just having a panic attack.

“Should Savannah accompany you?” She looked at your sister, waving her over to help you up. You shook your head no. 

“I just need a moment to calm down from all the excitement.” You lied to their faces, sending them your most believable smile you had in store. You were a great liar, the perks of being an actress. 

Throwing over a soft robe to at least conceal some of the wedding dress, you hurried out of the suffocating room. You smiled and nodded at some of the people you passed by, trying to hold up your act of a happy bride. This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life after all.

Getting out of the small house next to the main one, you fled the eyes of the guests and escaped into the big, blossoming garden, finding your way into the massive maze that adorned the centrepiece. The old mansion behind you disappears from your sight and with each step away from the buzzing preparations of the wedding, your breath starts to normalise again. 

Bending over and holding yourself up by your knees, you caught your breath. The heavy feeling started to disperse, your mind clearing up. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on your surroundings.

The mild wind breezed through your hair and caressed your face, you could hear the leaves from the many hedgerows making up the maze and the water splashing softly against the fountain. Birds chirped in the distance and you could faintly make out some people’s voices up at the mansion. 

And some footsteps approaching you.

“The centrepiece of the hedge maze might not be the most convenient hiding spot.”

You tensed, your eyes snapping open and you straighten your back. He was behind you, so he couldn’t see the shock written clearly all over your face.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” You still hadn’t turned around. 

“It would be rude to turn down a wedding invitation without a good reason.” He answered, and you could hear his steps getting louder and louder behind you.

He slowly came into view. You had yet to turn your head into his direction, but from the side you could see him sitting down on one of the stone benches next to you. 

Finally, you turned your whole body to him. He wore a black suit, classic yet he made it seem so chic. His hair was braided back, his beard trimmed neatly and you could see some of his tattoos peeking out from underneath. Gold jewellery adorned his ears, his neck and hands.

He looked absolutely ethereal.

“And I figured if you didn’t want me to be here, you wouldn’t have invited me.”

You felt your body burn out of embarrassment. You didn’t answer him, you just kept staring at him with your most neutral face you could muster. 

“Theo was the one who suggested it.” 

He chuckled, and part of you wanted to melt right there. 

“He’s always been a gentleman.”

Silence. Birds chirping, leaves blowing, water splashing, the occasional yell from someone up the mansion. 

“I see you’ve got the venue you always wanted.” He looked around. “The waiting list must’ve been long.”

“They made an exception for us.” You kept your answers to a minimum.

“Right.” He nodded and kept admiring your surroundings. “The perks of being rich and famous.”

His eyes found yours again, you felt your heart stop for a second before returning to a rather fast speed. You hoped you kept your cool at least from outside.

“You look beautiful.” His eyes soften, the smile on his lips genuine.

“Thank you.” You gave him a nod.

“Theo is a lucky man.”

You could’ve been that lucky man.

“So they say.” 

He chuckled again. “You used to be more talkative.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to hold a conversation with you.” He laughed at your words, shaking his head.

“Say the words and I leave.”

You kept silent. He smiled.

“You have cold feet.” You felt like an arrow just entered right in the middle of your guts. “That’s why you’re out here and not up there.”

He analysed your body language. 

Fuck, he’s always been good at reading you like an open book.

“You’re scared.” He finalised his conclusion. “I’m just figuring out why… You always wanted this. Big engagement, great wedding, grand marriage…” He placed his chin on his hands, his arms resting on his upper legs. “What are you scared of?”

You bit your lip, your arms felt heavy on your sides, your fingers started to fiddle with the material of the robe. You felt so naked in front of him, so insecure and exposed. Your breath starts to pick up again.

“What are you running from, my love?”

He felt your body language change up in pace, your neutral stance completely flipping over. He stood up, his face painted in worry as he approached you. “Hey, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck you, Lewis!” You took a step away and he stilled instantly. “Don’t fucking call me your love!”

You breathed heavily, as if you were close to exploding from all the emotions flowing inside you. Maybe you were.

You’re fine. 

Everything’s fine.

You’re so close.

No one can take this away from you now.

You calmed yourself again.

The birds are chirping.

The leaves are blowing.

The water is splashing.

The wedding is happening.

“I’m sorry.” You apologised. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Lewis looked at you, you avoided his gaze. You could sense him sitting down again. 

“I think you swearing at me is the closest I’ve seen from the you I know.”

“Well, you don’t know me anymore.” You snapped. “You haven’t in years.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t.”

You sighed too, your hands dropping to your sides again. You know you should just leave and return to your girls. They were probably already looking for you. 

Yet you took one step after the other and sat down next to him. 

“I am scared.” You confessed. You didn’t know why you were telling him this. Maybe because you felt like he was the only person you could talk to. “It was supposed to be you.”

Your mother would kill you for having such thoughts and your friends wouldn’t understand. Your sister would roll her eyes at you and god forbid your future mother-in-law knows about any of the doubts you had about marrying her son.

“I know.” His words made you smile sadly. 

You looked at him and he looked at you. You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he did. No one, not even Theo.

“You were always meant to be a bride.” He twirled a strand of hair of yours between his fingers. “I just wasn’t meant to be a groom.”

You looked away and he let go of your hair, his hand lingering for a second in the air before dropping onto his lap. 

“I know.” Now he was the one smiling sadly.

You fiddled with the bow holding together your robe. Your thoughts were racing, but none made sense. 

“You shouldn’t be scared.” He took your hand in his, his fingers playing with your engagement ring. “You wouldn’t be wearing this if it was wrong to marry him.”

“Sometimes I catch myself thinking what ring I’d be wearing if you had been ready at the time.” You breathed out, leaning back against the bench. “And then I feel silly thinking that way about a man who has broken me in a way I thought I was never going to recover from it.” You snatched away your hand from his grip.

You heard him sigh next to you. He held his face in his hands and you could tell he was ashamed of his past actions. “I was an asshole.”

You chuckled at his words bitterly. “Yeah, you were.”

There was some understanding silence between you. This time it didn’t feel uncomfortable, no, more reassuring. He knew, you knew. There was no need to focus on your surroundings.

“I don’t think I want you at my wedding.” You breathed shakingly, unsure how he’d react to your words. You looked at him on your side. He was already staring at you. His eyes were sad, yet he understood you. He always did.

“Can you do me a favour?” He asked. “Can you show me your dress?”

Without any further words, you stood up and unveiled yourself from your robe. He sucked in a breath.

It wasn’t particularly extravagant. The simple cut hugging you perfectly as if it was custom made for you. Maybe because it was. The designer of your choice had outdone themselves, keeping it the exact same way you had envisioned it. 

Elegant, modern, ethereal.

It took Lewis a minute to compose himself. He never thought he’d see you in a wedding dress. Part of him regrets that he asked you to show yourself to him.

“You’re an angel.” You don’t look like an angel, you are an angel. You blushed.

You took your robe again, covering yourself up as much as you could. “Thank you.”

For a second you stood there and took a deep look at him. The way he sat there, it had changed. Before, he looked so confident, so sure of himself. After he saw you in your dress, you weren’t sure what to make of him.

He looked small.

“I should go.” You couldn’t bear it any longer. You’ve already talked too much to him.

Why were you still here? 

You turned around without waiting for his response. Taking the ends of your dress in your hand, you made sure to not get any dirt on it as you stepped away from the man you once loved. Once.

“I think-”

You staggered, halting in your movements. You were a few feet away from him, already at the entrance of the maze to make your way out of it. Turning around, you saw him as he stood up. 

“I think maybe I would’ve been ready.” He nodded unsure. “At one point.”

You stared at him, your lips pressed against each other. 

“I think I was overwhelmed by it all. My career, my team, you… That’s why I ran away.”

You kept staring at him without uttering a word, your dress still held up slightly. He continued.

“I think I see that vision of yours now.” He took a shaken breath. “It’s really beautiful.”

You felt your stomach twist and your hands grabbing the material of your dress more aggressively. Why did he tell you all this now? Was he trying to sabotage you? He’s done it once, you needed to make sure he wouldn’t do it again. Not this time, never again.

You cleared your throat. “I meant it, don’t come to my wedding.”

“Wait, I-”

“Lewis,” You interrupted him. “My love isn’t yours anymore. You’re the one who needs to let go now.”

And with that you turned your back to him, your face looking up at the mansion that stood upon you. Your future lay there. He couldn’t stop you anymore.

You’re fine. 

Everything’s fine.

You’re so close.

No one can take this away from you now.

You’ve never looked back again.

[punishereditz]

The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia

Pairing: Jack Reacher x f!reader

Warnings: 18 Plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! THIS STORY CONTAINS HEAVY SUBJECTS! Mentions of murder. Mentions of trafficking. (Not detailed.) Smut. Unprotected sex. P in V. Oral. (F receiving) Dirty talk. Size kink. Praise kink. Scratching. Creampie.

AN: Reba, you are my queen

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: Well, don't trust your soul to no backwoods Southern lawyer. 'Cause the judge in the town's got bloodstains on his hands

~

The station was silent expect for the small grunt you let out as you stretched. It was going on 11 pm, everyone had done left expect for you and Reacher. He was determined to keep working. This case was eating him alive. When a man he was stationed with years ago randomly shows up dead, he knew he had to look into it. The more he looked though, he learned just how complicated this whole thing was. The mayor. The judge. Lawyers. Officers. The preacher. All dead in a spam of a couple months. Why were all the men with high power in the town suddenly dying? He couldn't figure it out.

"Where's the files on the preacher?" Reacher asked as he stood with a soft sigh.

"Over at Scott's desk." You answered and looked back down to your papers. With a nod from Reacher, he walked across the room over to the chief's desk. Rustling through the papers before he found what he was looking for. He started to make his way back to your office, but as he walked down the hall, he came to a sudden stop. Taking a step back, he looked at the framed photo on the wall.

A picture of the mayor cutting a ribbon. Then his eyes drifted to the woman standing next to him. She looked familiar. Reacher couldn't figure out where he has seen her though. That's when his eyes moved to the background of the photo. A small child standing behind the mayor. It hit him like a ton of bricks. It was you. The child in the photo having the same scar as you that lines from your eyebrow to your hairline. You're the mayor's daughter? Reacher thought. It was all clicking in his mind. You were the one responsible for this. But... something still wasn't right. He was putting all the pieces together, but there was still a piece missing.

What was your motive? Why did you do it? Questions flooded Reacher's mind as he walked back into your office. Returning to his seat. His eyes lingering on you before he looked to the files. He didn't know what to do yet. He considered locking you in the cell right now, but he didn't have enough proof. And if you really are the one who did all this... will he be able to put you away? He's been in the town for almost a month now working with you and the station. He's grown partial to you. Captivated by you, even. There was something about you... your fierceness... your pretty eyes. It had Reacher longing. And he wasn't the only one feeling this way. You knew the second he walked into town he would be the death of you. That captivating smile and bluntness would get you into trouble. Once you got insight into how Reacher works, you knew he would figure you out. That he would know it was you.

And as you looked at him sitting across from you, you know that he knows now. It finally clicked for him. You're honestly shocked it took him this long. But now that he knows, you're not sure what to do. You thought about just telling him, but what would he do? How would he react? Would it hurt him? You couldn't stand the thought. The thought of him seeing you as a monster. You weren't sure why you cared so much about Reacher's opinion; you didn't care what anyone else thought of you. So why care about he thinks? You were hesitant and you hated it. As the night went on, neither of you said anything. But you both knew. You both thought about what to do.

Reacher tossed and turned in his hotel room. Completely restless. He was trying to find that missing piece, but he couldn't. Why? That was the question that played in his mind on repeat. He didn't know why. Why would you do it? It was starting to bother him too badly. With a sigh, he got out of bed, and he threw on his clothes. Walking out into the cold, rainy night. Walking to your house at 3 am. He didn't care how late it was or the fact that it was pouring down. He had to know. So, he marched up the steps and he banged on the door. The line between your eyebrows growing as you got out of bed and went to the door. When you opened it, the crease between your eyebrows deepened.

"Reacher? What are doing?" You slowly looked him up and down. His jeans a shade darker from the wetness, his shirt glued to him. His muscles showing through it. His hair dripping and his chin quivering. Fuck. He looked so good.

"Why did you do it?" He simply asked and you weren't the only one staring. Reacher's eyes glued to the oversized t-shirt, the outline of your nipples visible and the boxers that were barely visible. Fuck. You looked good.

"What?"

"Why did you do it?" He said more firmly.

"Did you walk here? You're going to end up sick." You moved to the side to let him in.

"Don't change the subject. Why did you do it?"

You sighed and stopped. Looking down. Not prepared for this conversation.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to figure it out." Now Reacher was confused.

"You knew I was going to find out?" You simply nodded and handed him a couple towels and a blanket.

"Yeah. Surprised you didn't realize sooner." You started to make a pot of coffee and Reacher hummed. Thinking.

"Why?" He asked again. You took a deep breath. Trying to prepare yourself.

"The mayor... he was my stepdad and when I was a kid... he used to do terrible things to my sister." You paused. "When I got older, I learned that half the men in town, especially my stepfather, were trafficking kids." Reacher's eyes widen as he realized.

"I tried to take it to court numerous times, but because the judge and lawyers were in on it, it didn't matter how much evidence and proof I had, they always dismissed it." Reacher nodded as he listened to you closely. It all made sense now.

"So..., that's why I did it, and I'll do it again." You broke the silence and you slide a cup of coffee over to him before you rested your hands on the counter and looked down.

Reacher took notice of it, and he stood up. Taking the quick step over to you. He gently placed his hand under your chin and tilted your head up so that you would look at him. "Is there anyone left?"

"Yeah... the chief. I think he's starting to suspect it's me." You spoke softly and held back a gasp as Reacher was suddenly so close and his cold hand was still holding your chin.

"Alright. We can take care of him tomorrow." He simply said and he let go of your chin. He still stood close though.

"What?" You grew confused and he simply repeated his words.

"We'll take care of him tomorrow."

You went to speak, but nothing came out. You went to argue with him and tell him that it's none of his business and he shouldn't get deeper into this than he already is, but you knew you couldn't fight him on this. He's too stubborn. He'll help rather you like it or not, so you don't push.

Instead, your eyes travel over his body. At his still soaking wet clothes that are stuck to him. Your eyes going to his muscles and lingering there. You realized you were staring and snapped yourself out of it. "I think I might have some clothes that will fit you. You can shower and get warmed up." You leaned off of the counter and started to walk down the hall. A smirk growing on his lips as he caught you staring. His eyes going to ass as you walked away. Then he quickly followed and watched as you searched for the clothes.

Now his turn to stare. His eyes stuck on your ass. His mind wondering off, but you quickly pulled him back to reality. "Here. These should work." You held them out to him, and he accepted them with a small smile and a soft thank you. He went into the bathroom and got into the shower. The scolding water hitting him. The tension in his muscles easing. His eyes fell closed and he let the water sooth him. When he opened his eyes, he looked down at his hard cock. With a groan of frustration, he let his head fall back. His mind continuing to wonder back to you. But not because of the case. Oh no. His mind kept going back to the image of you in those boxers. The outline of your breast in that shirt. You looked absolutely gorgeous to him. He wanted to jerk those clothes right off of you, but he knew he needed to hold back his thoughts. Although he wanted to bend you over the counter, he still felt the need to stay professional.

Even after solving everything, and being able to have you now, he still feels he should keep the relationship at a businesslike level. But you? You pace around your living room wondering if you should you just go join him in the shower or not. Over the past couple weeks, you've caught yourself staring and your thoughts wrapped up in a dirty fantasy about him. And after seeing him show up at your door in the rain and handle your confession so well, you can't stop the desire that is growing stronger. You let a frustrated groan out and you walked down the hall. You went to knock on the door, but before you could, the door was being opened and you were greeted by a shirtless Reacher. That's it.

You leaned up and captured him in a deep, heated kiss full of desperation. His body quickly relaxing and his strong arms wrapping around you. Lifting you up and carrying you back to your bedroom. His tongue gently brushing against your lips as he tried to deepen the kiss as he sat you down. Grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head. His hands going to your breast. Gently massaging them. He laid you down on the bed. Kissing down your neck. His lips grazzing over your breast as he kissed your stomach. Kissing each and every scar, freckle and mark he could find until he stopped at your hips. Grabbing your boxers and pulling them down.

Greeted by your wet cunt. He hummed in amusement. "This wet already?" He teased and spoke in a confident tone. Then before you could say anything, he wrapped his lips around your clit. Gently sucking on it. A sharp gasp leaving your mouth as his tongue circled around it. Your slow breaths turning into heavy pants as his tongue kept working your clit. His movements slow and gentle. Making a chill run down your spine, your back arching and your legs shaking. His mouth on your sensitive clit felt so good. He was working you like no one else has before. Bringing you a pleasure you had no idea you could feel. It had you shaking. It had you wanting more. You needed more. Despite how good it felt and how you didn't want it to end, you grabbed his hair and pulled his face up. Moving your legs off of his shoulders and pulling him up so he stands in front of you. You raised up and started to kiss his abs. Your mouth traveling down to his v line. Gently kissing him.

You gripped his sweatpants and pulled them down. When his cock was free, you had to hold back a gasp. He chuckled at the shocked expression that you couldn't hide. "Will... it fit?" You said shyly and Reacher grabbed you by the chin. Pulling you up. "You can take it." He whispered in your ear, and he laid down on the bed. Pulling you down on top him. He gently kissed you. A kiss of reassurances. He carefully rubbed his cock through your folds. Putting the head at your entrance. Then he moved his hand away. Wanting you to take this at your own time. You slowly pushed down on his cock. Gasping as your walls stretched around him.

"There you go... that's it. Good girl." Reacher groaned as he watched as your cunt slowly took all of him. His hands holding your ass. You sat there for a moment to adjust to him, then you lifted your hips. Dropping back down. He bit his lip to hold his noise back. You noticed and pulled his lip out from his teeth, and he softly whimpered. "Don't start holding back from me now." He whimpered again when he heard your dirty words and felt your walls clenching around him. His eyes going down to your breast as they bounced with your bouncing hips on his cock. Your movements getting a steady pace that makes you and Reacher breathless. Yours and his moans growing louder and louder. He couldn't help himself when he let his hands move all over your body. Moving along your sides, your breast, your neck, your hair, over your back and down to your ass.

Gripping it. Helping guide you on his cock. As he admired you, he looked up at your closed eyes. Your head back in pleasure and your hands moving up your own body and squeezing your breast. He completely lost all bit of control he had left. He put an arm around you and with a swift move, he moved your body under him. Getting on top of you. He thrusted deep into you. The breath being pulled right out of your lungs. You dug your fingers into his shoulders and a loud moan slipped from your lips. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he thrusted deeply into you. It was passionate. It was sweet. It was slow. He made each thrust into you mean something. He made sure with each thrust that you knew how he cared for you. How long he wanted this. His groans getting louder and his thrust getting harder and faster. Your walls clenching around him and your nails dragging down his back as the new speed felt sensational.

You didn't even know he could make you feel even better, but he does. Your climax was on the edge. Struggling to hold it back. His climax creeping up on him as well. The volume in his groans increasing as he felt your climax release onto him. Driving him into his climax. Filling your cunt up with his seed. The results of yours and his pleasure dripping down onto the bed. The two of taking a moment to catch your breath. Once you did though, he gave you a grin and thrusted into you again. Round after round. He made you feel the best pleasure of your entire life all into the morning. The sun setting and lighting the room. His arms wrapped around your small body. Holding you close to him before you two have to finish what you started. The reason he came into this town. The reason he was brought to you.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I’ve just seen Wonka AND IT WAS GREAT HONESTLY and if you’re taking requests I have an idea

So in the 2005 version, Wonka’s father is a dentist, right? Well, what if, in the 2023 version, he starts to crush on y/n, who is the daughter of a dentist? He tries to get her attention with chocolate flowers and such, but she doesn’t eat candy so none of his tricks work on her. He’s kinda obsessive but in a cute way, like he won’t give up until she notices him.

𝒩ℴ𝓉 𝒶 𝒻𝒶𝓃

A/N- , this is genius kinda changed it up a lil hope you don’t mind );

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬t

The second you saw the man at the gallery while strolling outside, you stopped with a quirked eyebrow.

This was the chocolate a lot of your patients had started eating, causing a ton of cavities. Maybe you’ll just stop by and see what everyone’s talking about.

You walked into the gallery, and towards the colorful exterior. You entered with a heavy sigh, okay, it looked better than you expected.

“Hello, Ma’am. Welcome to Wonkas, Would you like to try our new-“

“No thanks.” You looked at the man talking, he was dressed in a top hat with little curls peaking underneath, an interesting coat, and a cane.

“Alright. Let me know if there’s anything you need.” He said with a wide smile. And Willy didn’t show it, but the second you stepped in he was in awe.

You were beautiful. And in his opinion, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He was attractive in your eyes, but you pushed those thoughts down.

“Actually, do you happen to know where the owner is..?”

“You’re looking at him.”

“Oh..! I just wanted to.. ask some questions, if that’s alright.” You started.

“Ask away!" he said excitedly.

"May I ask what you put in your chocolates...? I'm a dentist, and I was just curious as to what everyone is getting cavities over."

He nodded, "Well, depends on what we're talking about. I got giraffes milk in all of them, then cocoa beans. Then my hover-chocs have hoverfly eggs." he rambled on.

You looked at the man, confused and interested.

"That's interesting... You're a strange man, Mr. Wonka." You said with a small laugh.

"Willy."

"I'm sorry?"

"Sorry, Willys my first name." He laughed, not being used to being called his last name.

"Right, of course. I'm Y/N."

"Pleased to meet you. Do you work at the office down the road?"

You nodded and smiled, and by the time you bid your farewell, he was already head over heels.

He had ran into you the next day as well, he called it an odd coincidence. He suddenly pulled a chocolate flower out from his hat, you smiled as he tried to hand it to you.

"Sorry, Willy. I don't eat chocolate." you shrugged. His eyes widened, and he tucked it away.

"Don't like chocolate?" He said, feigning offense as he held a hand on his heart.

“Just not a fan.”

He sighed. He'll steal your heart one way or another.

------------------------------

A couple days later, the receptionist calls you on your break. You head up to see a basket, a small teddy bear and chocolates stuffed in them.

You had a good idea of who it came from.

You smiled slightly at it, the receptionist began to tease but you rolled your eyes and laughed, taking it back to the break room.

You opened up the letter he left, a smile on your face as you read.

"Y/n, I know you're not a fan of chocolate or sweets or whatever, but I am hoping these will change your mind. These are zero-sugar, dark chocolate bars I made just for you, I tried to make them taste better than some other healthy ones. Let me know how they are." he had written down, with a small smiley face after that.

You smiled at the thoughtfulness of it, taking it out the wrapper and eating it. It was delicious, you'll give him that.

[jgracie]

🔥 DATING LEO VALDEZ

masterlist | rules

percy's version | jason's version | frank's version | travis' version | luke's version

in which you want to wear his initial on a chain 'round your neck (because he really knows you)

pairing leo valdez x reader

warnings none

an this is lowkey based off of the reader from leo and y/n's garage but she isn't a daughter of athena in this!!

Ever since you met Leo Valdez, you hated him. When he and his two friends arrived at camp, he was the first to get claimed and so you were given the task of showing him around camp. Not too bad, right? 

Wrong. As you walked him around camp, you clenched your jaw in annoyance as all he seemed to be capable of doing was making jokes. 

You weren’t a super serious person, but there was a time and place for jokes and it definitely wasn’t now, with Percy Jackson missing

Life sucked at that moment and his insensitivity was just making it worse. You knew he didn’t know any better, but you still couldn’t help but be upset

The Fates clearly enjoyed winding you up, since they had decided to make you part of a quest with none other than Valdez himself (as well as Jason and Piper)

During it, you got to know the three demigods more and became really good friends with Jason and Piper. Leo, however, not so much. He insisted on annoying you whenever he got the chance, and no matter how much you tried avoiding him, he'd find his way back

After the quest, you planned to keep your distance from him. Just because you were part of the eight demigods from the great prophecy, didn’t mean you had to be around Leo

Instead, you chose to stick to Annabeth, who was learning as much as she could about Roman mythology for your trip to Camp Jupiter

“Y/N, you like mechanics, don’t you?” Annabeth had asked you when you walked into Cabin 6 one day. You did like mechanics. It was something not a lot of people knew about you, since you weren’t a Hephaestus kid, but you’ve always had an affinity for machines

Sitting on her bed, you replied, “yeah, why?”

If you could go back and change your answer, you would. Putting her book down, Annabeth said, “could you go help Leo with the ship? I think there’s something up with it but he’s too stubborn to tell any of us, and you’re the only one who’d be able to tell just by looking at it.”

Begrudgingly, you got up and left, heading for Bunker 9. If anyone other than Annabeth had asked you, you would’ve disagreed, but you didn’t want to put her through any more stress

You knocked on the door of Bunker 9. No answer. Maybe this was your lucky day. Just as you were about turn away, the door opened, revealing the bane of your existence himself

“Hey Y/N, what’re you doing here?” He asked. Your eyebrows furrowed at the tone of his voice. Usually, it was teasing and made you want to rip your hair out. Today, it seemed almost sad

Letting yourself in, you said, “Annabeth thinks there’s something wrong with your ship, so I’m here to check,” you made your way to the incomplete ship, despite his protests

It took you one look to notice what was wrong. The issue was really minor, and you were surprised Leo hadn’t noticed it earlier. You grabbed a nearby screwdriver and began working, unaware of Leo’s watchful eyes pinned on you

“Okay, try it now,” you said, stepping back. Leo tried the mechanism, and it worked

He grinned, clearly relieved, “thanks a lot, Y/N, I was really worried I’d disappoint everyone,” The last part he mumbled to himself, but you heard it. You never pinned Leo as the type to care about other people’s opinions. If he cared about other people’s opinions, he would’ve left you alone a long time ago

“You won’t disappoint anyone, Leo, stop saying dumb things. You’re not perfect, none of us are, that’s why the prophecy says there are eight of us and not just one.”

After that day, Leo got less irritating, and you found yourself gravitating towards him more. You’d forgotten how much you enjoyed working with machines until you helped him fix the ship, and as the two of you continued to work together on the Argo II, you got closer

When Gaia had taken over Leo’s body and made him fire on Camp Jupiter, you were the first person to defend him, telling the others he’d do no such thing consciously

And when you happened to have a particularly bad nightmare, Leo was the first person you went to for comfort. He’d whisper comforting words in your ears, sometimes in English, sometimes in Spanish, and tell you stories about his days before camp to make you feel better

You sniffled as you lay on Leo’s bed. The boy in question sat at his desk, tinkering with a piece of metal. When you showed up at his door, he claimed he hadn’t been sleeping anyway, but you were starting to doubt that. Still, he insisted he was fine

“It’s just that Annabeth and Percy have been some of my best friends for years,” you said, your voice a tell-tale sign that you’d been crying, “and now they’re stuck in Tartarus and I can’t do anything about it.” 

Leo turned to look at you, and his heart ached at the sight of your eyes starting to well up with tears again, “it’ll be okay, I promise. They’re two of the strongest people I’ve ever met, if any two people could survive Tartarus, it’d definitely be Annabeth and Percy”

He made his way over to where you were sitting and started gently stroking your back as you leaned your head on his shoulder, “thanks Leo, you’re the best,” you said

When you received no reply, you looked up at him, confused, “are you alright?” 

“Y/N, do you like me? As more than a friend, because friends don’t do stuff like this,” he asked, shocking you. The truth was you did like him, but you were too shy to tell him. All those days building things together made you grow really fond of him. Speechless, you simply nodded

“I like you too, Y/N.”

Ok now actual dating hcs :) 

Leo’s such a sweet boyfriend. He’d do anything to make sure you’re living life as the princess you are. His love languages are acts of service and gift giving so best believe he’s making random things just to make your life more comfortable

(Check @/relatable_laura’s hubby home improvements folder on tiktok. That’s basically what Leo does for you)

He LOVES wearing t-shirts like the ones I put at the top of this post. At first, he bought them as a joke but eventually he got known for them in camp and began wearing them all the time

You actually gifted him the “big dick is back in town” one and he wears it religiously. The best compliment he’s ever received

Leo also teaches you morse code, and once you finally get the hang of it you guys are tapping messages to each other all the time 

A lot of the time it’s really random stuff like “I’m craving pizza right now” and you just do it because you like having a language that’s just spoken between the two of you

You spend so much time in Bunker 9 people have started joking about it being the 21st cabin: the Leo and Y/N cabin 

Leo also talks about you a lot. Whenever a new demigod arrives and he happens to be in charge of them, he’s always talking about you. It’s worse if they’re one of his siblings, since he insists they must know everything about their sister-in-law 

You’re literally his media naranja: the other half of his orange, his better half

“I have a very special surprise for you,” Leo said as he walked into your cabin, hands behind his back. You smiled when you saw him, as he always managed to make your days better just by being there

“Close your eyes and put your hands out,” you did as you were told, your smile growing in size. When he told you to open them, you did, and found a gold necklace with the letters L and V dangling off of it

“Oh my Gods, Leo! You got me a Louis Vuitton necklace? I can’t believe it!” You fought the urge to laugh as you watched his facial expression go from pride to disappointment

He grabbed the necklace from your hands, pouting as he looked down at it and realised he shared initials with the renowned company, “no, baby, this isn’t Louis Vuitton, it’s Leo Valdez, it’s so much better! Turn around so I can put it on you.”

You turned, still giggling, and he did the clasp of the necklace. It was a perfect fit. You went to look in a mirror and gasped when you saw it in the reflection, “Leo, this is so beautiful,” you mumbled. On your chest, it sparkled with the love you and Leo shared

You’d wear this necklace for the rest of your life. Not because he owns you, but because he really knows you. (I had to guys)

[tarjapearce]

I need to know how ranchero Miguel convinced the parents to let him marry their daughter. Was it a shotgun wedding? 👀

Indeed 👀. Bit of Drama and slight angst under the cut.

-------

You had woken up nauseous and dizzy, for the third time in a row. Your mother was concerned. Had something made you sick? She was stricter with the kitchen staff to be more careful. But upon the wafting smell of your usual morning soup, an egg drop soup, entered your room, you retched on the bathroom, again.

You paled.

When was the last time your period came? It was hard to keep tabs when you were trying to attend other business and try to not die in the process. Two months and counting. You barely had the chance of seeing Miguel as well, since he had his own good share of work in the barn.

And he was the last and only man you have been with. Your hands went around your tummy and tears were in the verge of spilling. You were pregnant.

God, you were so scared. You knew how your parents thought of him, and for all you knew, they still thought you were pure.

But as things were going sooner or later They'd find out, probably kick him out and you'd be forced to marry a guy that looked like him to make pass the child as his. The thought scared you shitless, so you washed your mouth, bathed, got dressed and went to him.

He was talking with the foreman of another estate, but excused himself upon seeing you.

His smile faltered when you approached, solemn look, and red nose by the constant sniffling.

"Hey, hey. Come here. ¿Qué le pasa a mi chula?" (What's wrong with you, gorgeous?)

You whimpered and buried your face in his chest. He held you tightly.

"You mom got you on another date?" He rolled his eyes and you shook your head.

"Your dad tried to sell Luis again?" Another shake of your head.

"Then what is it? You gotta tell me,princesa."

"I..." You hiccuped, "I think I'm pregnant."

You could feel him tense and he made you look at him. You thought he'd be angry but the shine in his eyes proved you otherwise.

"¿Voy a ser papá?" He questioned with a excited yet strained voice. You just stared at him and he kissed you, deeply (Am I gonna be a dad?)

"¡Me vas a hacer papá!" (You're making me a dad!)

He was happy and you broke down.

"Why are you crying? Aren't you excited?"

"I am but... Dad will kick you out and... and.. -" You hiccuped and he just held you with a smile.

" Ps, que me eche. I've got my own home anyways. And if... things get bad, you'll come with me. Okay?" He squeezed you tightly and grunted happily, "Dios te vas a ver preciosa con esa panza toda grandota y redonda. Te voy a cuidar, vas a ser mi reina. Ya vas a ver."

(He can do that.) (God, you'll look gorgeous with that big and round belly. Imma take care of you, you'll be my queen. You'll see.)

He just kept rambling things you couldn't understand, but seeing him giddy made your aching heart to relax.

"I'll talk to him. I... Le voy a pedir tu mano." (Imma ask him your hand in marriage)

"W-What? are you sure of it? I mean, I don't want you getting hurt. He might look like an old man but... he knows his tricks.

"Your mother is the one that I'm concerned about."

And he was right.

"ABSOLUTELY NO." She had protested, the staff had been hiding behind the doors, listening to the scene unfold.

"How dare you asking for such thing!"

"Mom-"

"No. Who do you think you are?! Of course you won't marry her! She's set for better things!"

Miguel's eyes narrowed and your heart stopped with sudden rage.

"I want him!" You stood up, stomping your hands on the table.

"I'm old enough to decide on my own, Mom. I... I love Miguel." With every word that spilled from your mouth, she held her heart as your dad just pinched his nose bridge. He had been silent the whole talk, just glaring holes at Miguel.

"Good lord... Just... Imagine the scandal, the people... What would they say about you?! About us?!"

"They already talk shit under our nose, mom. Their opinion is irrelevant. None really approaches us if it's not for a favor."

"You... you brat!"

"I'm pregnant."

Miguel stood to calm you down as the fight kept rising. Your dad immediately straightened up and looked at Miguel.

"You." His voice venomous, but calm, "And you." He pointed at you.

"Tomorrow at church. 8 am."

"You can't be serious! You'll wed them?!

"Your yelling won't make her less pregnant. And I rather have them wedded than having an off marriage child. A sin." Your dad mumbled and looked at you, your rage seemed to be consuming you by how they spoke of your future child. Miguel's expression hardened, a low growl emanating from him.

"Once you're married, I want you both out of my property, got it?"

"Fine! I didn't want to spent my life being a fucking trophy wife for some rich man I barely know."

You were wedded, and despite your dad underlying sadness, and he wanting to swallow his words back, pride didn't allow him to speak and ask you to stay. Your mother didn't even look at your way.

Miguel had packed your things and put them on his truck. You left to a new life with him and your future family.

[invisiblestringmm]

chapter five

“tell me everything about her.”

a/n: not much to say other than a massive thank you for the support and that I hope you love this chapter as much as I do! 🤍

warnings: slight angst, anxiety attack, language & lots of fluff.

5.638k words

Telling your parents about Lily’s dad being back into your life was harder than you believed it’d be - there were no judgements, of course, but they asked so many questions that you were convinced that the night would never end. It was five years of questions they kept to themselves, but you didn’t have much to say at the moment. You still had to meet Mason and tell him first, which in your opinion, would be the toughest part of it all alongside telling Lily.

Mason Mount.

Your dad’s jaw dropped when he heard the name and he seriously contemplated it to be a prank, but he let go of that theory because Lily definitely looked like Mason. “Except for the nose,” he said. When you left for bed, before shutting the door to your room, you heard your dad mumbling to himself how unbelievable that was as he drank down his scotch - you cringed at the thought of how embarrassing introducing Mason to your dad would be, considering that he was a massive football fan and that Mason played for Chelsea when the old man was wild about Arsenal.

Of course hoping for a quiet night was too much to ask, but you never thought it’d be like that. Still trying to process Mason’s appearance in your dreams, you felt like staring at the ceiling was a lot more interesting than getting out of bed to confront the day like an adult - staying in bed felt a lot more appealing. Hoping no one would come for you, hoping today wasn’t the day yours and your daughter’s life would fully change felt better than anything else you had to do today. Instead of thinking what you’d say to Mason, you decided you’d let it all out as naturally as possible. Concentrate on Lily, on how special she was, on how his life would be extraordinary with her in it because Lily was pure joy in human form.

Concentrate on apologising.

Two soft knocks on your door and that pair of hazel glistening eyes glancing at you with curiosity brought you back from your thoughts. Lily pushed the door with her foot, concentrating on not letting the liquid content in the cup she carefully held spill on her grandma’s carpet. “Good morning mummy,” the way she looked at you, spoke to you, walked to you made your chest clench. Lily was so precious and had no idea that the night before, her daddy watched her dance. She had no idea you’d see him today and tell him about her and how extraordinary she is. “I brought you peppermint tea.”

“Of course you did,” you murmured, sweetness in your voice as you got out of bed and took the cup from her tiny hands and put it on the bedside, placing a kiss on her fingers as you also took her in your arms and went back to bed. “Thank you so much, my love.”

With tiny arms wrapped around your neck, Lily smooched both of your cheeks. “Why can’t you come with us today, mummy?” she pouted, hoping to persuade you to join her at Foxwoods before you had planned.

“Mummy needs to do some adult stuff but I’ll be there before you notice,” you kissed the tip of her nose, hands cupping her face as your thumbs caressed the delicate skin of her cheeks. “But you’ll be a good girl and behave, won’t you?” Lily giggled and nodded, knowing what you implied by it. Christmas was the time of the year that your mum valued the most, so she was everywhere and making sure everything would be absolutely flawless - which meant her Latina nature became a lot more evident than usual and the only person who’d calm her down and bring a smile to her face was Lily.

You two spent a few more moments like that, cuddling in bed, as you updated yourself on the day’s news and sipped the peppermint tea she kindly brought you. The final moments of life being just the two of you against the world, which instantly took you to the day you were still pregnant and felt her moving inside you for the first time - the overwhelming joy and fear of not being a good mum to the child that was growing so strong inside you, it all vanished when you first held Lily in your arms and fed her your milk. That had to be the most magical experience and memory you had of learning to love your daughter.

In the end, motherhood was continually learning. About how to raise her properly so she’d be a decent adult, about how to adore everything about that other human, to be there whenever she needed and for whatever she needed because she was your priority.

As you finished doing her hair, you could only hope that it’d be the same for Mason once he learned to love her too. That’d he have the same level of interest, because this wasn’t about you ending up disappointed anymore - it was about Lily and her anticipations.

Truth is you got a little emotional watching her go with your parents without looking back, you knew you were doing it right every time that happened because it meant that while she still loved you like crazy, your daughter was also independent. It’d be good for her when it was actually time to leave home, but you tried not to focus too much on it. Back to reality, you got two missing calls from Willow, probably wanting to know what were the plans, when you realised that you also had no idea how today’s events would unfold, so you decided to text Mason.

Of course, he lived in the area, it definitely worked well for him since Chelsea’s training ground was in Cobham - what made your brain nearly explode was to see where you two were going when he sent you the location. That was the same café your mum would spend most of her afternoons at, so they probably bumped into each other at some point without knowing that there was a little human that linked them to each other. It only proved once again your whole point about how the wealthy were pretty much all linked by someone they had in common. But the nicest thing about your mum is that she couldn’t care less about the world you grew up in, probably the reason why you were so down to earth - while your dad tripled his fortune working for England’s most wealthy as a lawyer.

Only to add to your tension, you were now on FaceTime with both Willow and Jasmine, freaking out again about what to wear to see Mason in two hours. Your hair and makeup were done, and you had Jaz making fun of you for giving such importance to what you’d wear as if you were going on a date.

“You two just don’t get it,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “The last time we spent more than 30 minutes together was five years ago and I was a drunk, young mess. Then I was a pregnant mess again, months later, by his door. I was throwing up like, ten times a day!”

Now, you were a mum, and you couldn’t look like a mess if you were going to tell him that you were a mum to his daughter. You had to look fairly decent, and no one would change your mind about that - especially when you took your phone and walked into your mum’s closet for a pair of one of her golden hoop earrings and a watch. Luckily, she didn’t mind sharing.

“Oh my,” you heard Jaz gasping. “Is that a Birkin behind you?”

“Yeah, my dad spoils my mum with bags whenever he needs to persuade her of something,” you chuckled. “Which is quite a lot.”

“Sadly, you don’t have a brother to marry me,” Willow said, pouting. “Give Jaz a tour through your mum’s closet.” Jasmine didn’t notice, but you did - the teasing in your best friend’s voice because you’ve both talked about it before and knew that at some point you’d have fingers pointed at you declaring that it was for the money. That you were a clout chaser, getting pregnant by a young millionaire footballer when you were wealthier. It’d take a few hate messages before they associated your last name to its fame.

After a quick tour and a jaw-dropped Jasmine, still stunned by your mother’s collection of handbags, jewellery, and shoes, you said your goodbyes, blew the girls a kiss, and began to dress up. Informal and basic, but still classy. You definitely had the mum vibe in those jeans, but you also looked your age - most of the time, fully taken by the obligations of maternity, you’d overlook how young you still were and how little time you had to act like someone your age. Clubs weren’t something that often happened in your routine, even if you loved going out to dance. You’d go to bars with work colleagues, and old friends from school, but their lives were so much different from yours. Most of the time you felt distant even from Willow, who although was your best friend, wasn’t a mum.

By the time you were ready to leave the house after snapping a mirror selfie and sending it to Willow, Mason texted you saying he’d be there in 20 minutes and you decided to walk there instead of driving. You wouldn’t be able to focus and fresh air would come in handy, and the café wasn’t distant from your parents’ house.

During the short walk there, your phone buzzed with texts from your dad and Jaz.

Well, if things went bad with Mason, at least your support system was still one of the greatest you’ve ever seen. Letting out a long sigh, you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders when you spotted the cafe right across the street. The only good thing you could think about it now was that it seemed really intimate, not busy at all, that’s probably why he decided on this place.

When you stepped in, you were received by the soothing aroma of coffee and chocolate. It comforted you down but only for a few seconds when your eyes met Mason’s figure - his eyebrows slightly frowned, like he was focused on something that was going on only in his mind, and biting his nails. You stood there, astounded by the fact you’ve seen that same facial expression on your daughter countless times before, until his eyes found yours and the frown gave place to a wide smile and happy eyes.

There was no way you wouldn’t smile back at him, it was contagious.

It took you some courage to make your way to him, and your tension only boosted when Mason greeted you with a hug, his hand ran up and down your back as he breathed in your perfume and, unconsciously, you did the same. But his happiness in seeing you wouldn’t last much longer. You planned to be as sharp as possible instead of dragging the weight of that secret for the rest of the afternoon because that was the reason why you went there in the first place.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, pulling the chair for you and sitting in front of you right after.

“Chamomile tea, please.”

“Are you nervous?” there was a mischievous smile playing on the corners of his lips, making you shift uncomfortably on the chair. You don’t know why, but you just nodded and got a chuckle as a reply. The whole thing was absolute madness and torture. You could feel that pair of hazel eyes studying you with so much interest, Mason’s entire body language was incredibly easy to read because you could see Lily there, in everything that he did and even in his breathing. ‘Except for the nose,’ like your father said. Except for the nose, Lily was exactly like her father. “Well, I’m a bit nervous too.”

The waiter brought chamomile tea for you, and peppermint for him. You couldn’t hold back a soft smile when this morning’s memories flooded your mind, and as you drank down your tea, you felt like having Lily on your mind would make this easier. Her eyes, the soft pinkish flush on her cheeks, her laugh… Slowly, you felt your hands steadier, your breathing calmer. The priority had to be your daughter and everything she meant for you, all these years where it was just the two of you would be over and her biggest dream would come true.

“Mason, I-”

“Let me begin,” Mason moved his cup aside and now it was him shifting on the chair, clearly uncomfortable and making an effort to find the correct words to say. A sigh parted his lips as he rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been feeling embarrassed for years now, for the way I treated you when you showed up at my door. I wasn’t prepared for a relationship and I didn’t know what to do, nor how to.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A relationship?”

“The way you kept calling, texting… it overwhelmed me a bit,”

“Wait. You assumed I went there to tell you I was in love with you or something?” you raised your voice a little, immediately regretting it when the waiter side-eyed you.

“Weren’t you?”

“I think that stick was a bit too far up your arse,” you muttered, suddenly feeling confident enough to straighten your posture and calmly drink down your tea again. You observed his jaw drop and Mason’s cheeks were so red you could swear he felt them burning.

“Anyway,” he coughed. “I am sorry, deeply and truly. I tried to find you the next day, but I had no idea where you lived and you blocked my number.”

“It doesn’t matter now, Mason. There is a reason why I went to your place, an extremely significant one. A reason that changed my whole life and it would’ve changed yours too if you hadn’t been a complete idiot,” a frustrated sigh parted your lips and it didn’t take long for your eyes to burn with tears. “But in the end, I also need to apologise because I should’ve insisted, and I truly hope you can forgive me someday…”

“What do you mean, Y/n?” His voice was soft yet tinged with a mix of urgency, curiosity, and apprehension.

As you sat across each other, the aroma of peppermint and chamomile mingling in the air, you took a deep breath, heart pounding against your chest. This was it, this was the moment. “There’s something I need to tell you,” you started, voice barely above a whisper, which was making Mason feel as tense as he’d ever been. You could see concern etched on his face. “That night changed everything I thought I knew,” You paused, trying to gather your thoughts. “I went to your house to tell you I was pregnant. We have a daughter.”

The words hung heavy between you, the silence only broken by Mason’s gasp. He stared at you, his eyes wide in shock, the natural flush on his cheeks instantly gone as his face went pale. “A-a daughter?” he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice. You nodded, eyes brimming with tears as you watched his reaction. “A daughter,” Mason repeated, his brows together in a frown as he mumbled it again a couple of times.

“I thought about going back there and forcing you to listen, and I know I should’ve,” you swallowed a sob, forcing yourself to push away all the hurt you felt that day and bringing Lily’s face back to your thoughts. Emotions swirling inside you. “But you shoved me off. I instantly felt like I’d face rejection again and it wasn’t about me anymore… it was about… her.” Your voice trailed off.

“I would never,” Mason reached for your hand across the table, his expression softening. “I wish you would’ve insisted.” He said, his tone gentle yet filled with a mix of hurt and, much to your surprise, understanding. You looked down, unable to meet his gaze when his warm hand gently squeezed yours. “Look at me, please.”

When you looked up, you noticed his eyes glistened with tears. Letting go of his hand, you reached for your phone and realised that the easier way to tell him the rest of the truth was opening his sister’s Instagram and showing him a picture of Lily and Summer that he’d seen before and even left a comment. The frown was there again as he took your phone from you, jaw dropping again, Mason blinked repeatedly. His mind raced, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what was unfolding before him. This was his daughter, the child he never knew he had. Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown out the cacophony of emotions swirling inside him.

His mind nearly exploded once he finally realised that he met her not long ago and his heart sank as the realisation that he had actually thought how adorable and polite she was, and also extremely thoughtful - it hit him like a ton of bricks. A type of anger he never felt before bubbled up inside him, mingling with hurt and another feeling that was still unknown to him and Mason could not yet describe but was directly tied to that lovely little girl.

Mason’s heart felt heavier by the second as he tried to process the truth - the woman he shared a fleeting connection with kept their daughter hidden from him for years. Confusion blurred his thoughts for a second, he asked himself if his sister knew, and if she did, it only made him feel angrier. Beneath the anger, though, there was indeed a flicker of understanding.

“I couldn’t hide it anymore, and Jaz confronted me after she was in the same room as you and Lil-“

“Lilian Maisie,” he murmured. “You named her after me?”

“She needed you around, somehow.” Your words hung in the air, laden with the weight of missed opportunities and what-ifs.

As he looked deep into your eyes, Mason saw a reflection of his own emotions - uncertainty, regret, but also a glimmer of what could be… hope? Despite the hurt he felt that moment, Mason couldn’t shake the feeling of connection he always felt towards you and he now wondered if it was Lily who tied him to you. Like a force of nature, one he didn’t know existed, always making him think about you and if you were well.

Silence settled over you for longer than you expected, but not once you nor Mason looked away from each other - the weight of revelation started to sink in. Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with emotion. “Tell me everything about her.”

Relief washed over you, tears streaming down your cheeks as you nodded, finally being able to breathe. “Do you think we could go somewhere else, though? Somewhere it could be just us. Maybe your car, I-“ a sob interrupted you but Mason quickly paid for the tea and gripped your hand as you left the café. It was only when you two finally got to his car that you allowed yourself to actually cry, loud sobs making your body shiver. It felt like the weight of the world was no longer on your shoulders.

“Breathe, please,” Mason cupped your face, his thumbs wiping your tears. “Can you breathe with me, Y/n?”

His tone was so gentle you couldn’t believe how well he was treating you when he had to face the fact that you literally hid a child from him for five years. His child. How long would that last, though? How long until things crumbled, once he realised reality and parenthood were not easy to face? That once he accepted this role, his life was no longer his and that everything was about her? Their daughter.

“Better?” He asked, letting go of you when you nodded. Oddly enough, you missed the warmth of his touch. “Think you can tell me more about Lily now?”

Nodding again, you decided to show Mason pictures of her growing up as you shared every little detail about your daughter. How she was the sweetest, and most chubby baby you’ve ever seen; that she was always paying attention to everything and everyone around her, and clapped her chubby hands whenever she liked something. You told Mason that her first word was ‘goal’, and there was a mix of a sob and a giggle parting his lips. You told him that Lily behaved like an adult most of the time, that she loved animals, and that she was always making sure everyone around her was happy.

That her laugh was the sweetest sound in the world, and how her eyes crinkle when she laughed. Just like him.

You told Mason that besides ballet, she also loved football, and you could see pride in his eyes.

You told Mason that she also loved peppermint tea and that it was your thing to share a cup every morning.

Last but not least, you told Mason that he was her biggest dream. That she longed and cried for him almost every night, that her life was nowhere near complete without him in it, and that if he wanted to be in Lily’s life, his life would instantly become better and happier because she loved him more than anything in the world without even knowing who he is. That was the purest form of love he’d have, and the only thing he’d have to give in return was his love.

“I was surprised I didn’t hear from you right after you met her and Willow that day,” you admitted, watching Mason frown again.

“Willow?”

You nodded. “My friend who was with me the night we met.”

“To be honest,” he moved in his seat, cheeks flushed pink. “You were the one who had my attention and I wouldn’t remember her face even if I tried. I think Woody ran into her at some point but-”

“He did?” you interrupted him, not remembering if Willow ever mentioned it to you. Mason just nodded.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“It’s funny, but that day… watching her with Summer, I felt something so weird.” Mason repeatedly and slowly shook his head, a smile playing on his lips, like he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. You could hear your heart pounding against your chest, “Like the world’s entire happiness was right there, in front of me. I remember how I went home thinking ‘Oh wow, what a sweet little girl’ and I couldn’t understand why.”

“Oh, Mason…” the familiar knot on your throat was there again and you nearly forced yourself not to cry again. “I’m so sorry, so sorry-” You were interrupted by his arms around you.

Did he really pull you into a hug? Was he really hiding his face in the crook of your neck, crying like a little kid? Were you really comforting him, right hand up and down his back as he sobbed his heart out?

That wasn’t the reaction you expected, and guilt hit so hard that you could feel how your vision instantly blurred and you finally allowed yourself to cry again. You broke his heart, prived your daughter from living the first 5 years of her life with that man who probably would’ve given her his whole world - and also everything and anything else she wanted him to give her. Like his love, affection, and a big family. You took that from both of them, and you couldn’t help feeling like a monster. So the only thing left to do now was to fix this, beg for everyone’s forgiveness, and work forever to repair the damage you’ve caused.

“Does she know about me?” his voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence between you. Mason still had his arms tightly wrapped around your body, which was only making things worse for you because how could he still show any sort of affection when you’ve done something so horrible?

You shook your head. “I wanted to see how you’d react before telling her,” you sighed, feeling completely vulnerable and defeated. “I was expecting lots of screaming, maybe you shoving me off again or something like that and telling me to speak to your lawyers.”

Too close for your sanity, Mason pulled from you just enough so he could look you into your eyes. The way his eyes were so red and puffy broke your heart into a million pieces because it was like seeing Lily crying - even the way he kept his brows in a frown, and slightly pouted. “Let’s save the lawyers for when we have to do the bureaucratic part of her getting my name.”

A nod was all you could give him back as you swallowed hard and your heart skipped a beat. You were far too naive thinking lawyers wouldn’t be brought into this, especially with your father being one of the greatest. You shook your head at the thought of Mason trying to take her from you, and even if you felt extremely guilty, you’d be ready to fight for your daughter no matter what or how much it’d cost you - the sudden pain in your chest and how you now desperately tried to catch your breath made Mason let go of you and cup your face again. You tried to look away, but he made you focus on him because he noticed what the word ‘lawyers’ did to you.

“Breathe with me, yeah?” His voice was calm, there was so much patience in every little gesture he offered you, that it wasn't hard to feel your heart and breathing going back to its normal pace. “I’m not taking Lily from you, ever. I promise.”

“You have every right to but I want yo-,“

“Y/n, don’t.” Mason interrupted you, and for a moment you felt like he could read your mind and soul by how deeply that man looked at you. “I would never, ever do that. She’s ours and we’re gonna find a way to make this work, let’s focus on her now, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay, but we can arrange a DNA test if it makes you more comfortable.”

“Do you have any doubts that she’s mine?”

“Gosh, no! She’s all you, Mason.”

For a moment, you could swear there was a glimpse of pride sparkling in his eyes. Mason took a long and deep breath and, much to your disappointment, let go of you. You watched him run both hands on his face, and stay silent for a few seconds. He was definitely lost in his thoughts, and once again you knew that because that was the same facial expression you’ve seen on Lily’s face multiple times.

“But I think it’ll be necessary, at some point. We can think about it later, let’s just focus on her and make sure she’s safe and-,” Mason stopped talking when he noticed a smile curving the sides of your lips. That’s what, deep down, you hoped for. Him putting her as a priority. “What?”

“You probably didn’t realise yet, but you’re behaving like a dad.”

That was when reality hit him again, like a slap in the face. Mason was a dad, and his life wasn’t just his anymore - there was a little human who loved him unconditionally without even knowing who he was, who waited and cried for him on countless nights, who hoped he’d show up for birthdays and important events such as a ballet recital. Mason was there the night before, watching his daughter without even knowing she was his. It hurt, but it also made him feel oddly happy.

Suddenly, he felt the impulse to wrap his arms around her slight figure and protect her from everything and everyone. Mason couldn’t understand why and how that feeling took power overer him so quickly, but now he understood why he always felt like part of him was missing. Lily was the missing piece.

“I didn’t want to leave you yet,” He started, your heart skipping a beat at his words. “I’d like to tell my family today, so you can do the same and we can set up a day with just the three of us.”

“She’s the only one left to tell now, but yes,” You nodded. “She’ll want to see you as soon as possible, I can already visualise her going wild thinking about what to wear. There’s just one thing…”

“What?”

“She’s not here now, my parents took her to the Cotswolds for Christmas and I’m supposed to meet them there. I can bring her back or you can meet us there…?”

Mason scratched his head, a sheepish smile on his lips. “I wouldn’t want to crash your family’s Christmas.”

“It wouldn’t be,” Unconsciously, you reached for his hand, watching how he instantly intertwined his pinky with yours in what was the most precious and delicate gesture he’s shown. You felt your cheeks burning under his gaze. “You’re her dad, that alone already makes you part of the family.”

Mason’s lips parted in a wide smile at your words, he unhurriedly nodded, his pinky playing with yours. You two shared a giggle and you watched him sigh before saying anything. “I don’t really want to think about the after, my brother having to do damage control because of the media. I want to enjoy this moment to meet her, what she’s like…”

“Yes, and you can come stay with us if you’d like to. There’s lots of space there, even if your family would like to join us,”

“Let me take you home now, and we’ll settle on what to do, yeah?” Mason gently squeezed your hand before letting you go, again, much to your dismay.

It stunned every inch of your heart and soul the way he responded to the news, almost as if deep down he already saw it coming. As you guided him to your parents’ house, your mind was working on how to tell Lily that she was finally meeting her daddy and that he couldn’t wait to see her - finally, she’d get one of the things she wanted the most for Christmas. You couldn’t avoid the feeling that it was all too perfect, though. That, at some point, something bad would happen and you feared for Lily's protection, understanding how exposed she’d be once the media was aware that golden boy Mason Mount is a father to a five-year-old girl who’s been entirely hidden from the limelight. You feared curious eyes and potentially evil words directed at her, to you, to your family. But, right now, it was about allowing Lily to finally have her daddy all to herself.

When Mason pulled over the car, you noticed how his jaw slightly dropped and how he bent his body to take a proper look at the house.

“What? Not what you expected?” You teased, lifting an eyebrow at him and watching how his cheeks immediately got pink. “At least no one can say it was about money, huh?”

“I’d fight whoever said it was,” Mason murmured. “But definitely not what I expected. Is that a fucking Arsenal flag or am I delusional?” You watched Mason’s eyes widen, and a loud laugh filled the car with pure bliss. That was the first moment you allowed yourself to relax and laugh. “Are you a Gunner?”

“Fucking hell, no! My dad is,” A single tear rolled down your cheek, as you recovered from the sudden wave of euphoria that caused you to laugh so hard. “He wasn’t happy to know that a Chelsea player knocked up his daughter.”

“Oh man, this is going to be fun!” Mason punched the air and then helped you with the seatbelt before getting out of the car to open the door for you. You muttered a ‘thank you’, stopping in front of him as you searched for the keys in your bag. “Can you send me pretty much everything you have of Lily? Photos, videos… I’d like to show my parents.”

“Of course, Mason,” With both hands in your coat’s pockets, you scanned him for a few seconds and, finally, gathered some courage to step forward and give his cheek a delicate kiss. “I’ll accept your follow request too, and we’ll sort things out so you can meet her, okay?”

He nodded, cheerfully, like a child having the best Christmas morning in the world. When you were about to turn and head home, he pulled you again and embraced you as tight as he possibly could.

“Do you believe she’ll like me?” Uncertainty was so clear in his voice that you felt your chest clench.

“She loves you, Mason. Lily loves you unconditionally,”

Watching him go was different this time because you knew Mason wasn’t going anywhere ever again. He’d stay, you knew that with your whole being - the thing is that if he was going to be there all the time, you’d have to find again to set boundaries between the two of you or things could end up badly. And it couldn’t, not if it involved Lily’s happiness and well-being.

You’d get along with Mason, and spend time with him so Lily would understand and live life with her parents around, but allowing yourself to have feelings for that insanely gorgeous was out of the question, even if you had no idea how to avoid it when he kept being so touchy and so lovely, much to your frustration.

In the end, it seemed that Mason would become an issue, but to your heart.

****

BONUS:

next chapter

[jinxs-gf]

chuck’s favorite regular

jinx x bartender!reader

summary: it’s your first night working at The Last Drop. the stories of jinx being an…interesting customer are true

content, warnings: bar & drinks? jinx calls r ‘toots’, idk how much I like this writing style (bear with me now)

word count: 1.1k

a.n. this was requested but the ask disappeared 😭

It was your first night bartending at the Last Drop. Silco's bar. He owns a lot of them, close to owning all in the Undercity. This one just so happens to be special. Previously the Hound of the Underground's place. Now Silco proudly resides inside it.

Your future bartending partner, Thieram warned you about your boss's daughter. How she was a wild card and if you happened to get caught in her wrath there was no escaping until she decided to let you out. Not unlike a spider's web, you could only hope she'd let go and not eat you alive. To have mercy.

Though he insists Jinx has none.

He's...kind of right you decide. She's not done anything crazy yet. But she gives off this certain energy, one that screams be careful, to not turn your back on her.

She looks fairly innocent at the moment, at least compared to the bar that's in full rage. Loud music, dangerous games, dancing bodies...who could believe this is the girl that torments Thieram on the daily? Maybe she won't be so bad...

You’re contradicting yourself you realize. It's only your first time meeting, you shouldn't set your opinions on her just yet

She sits on the bar table, kicking her legs and looking at you expectantly.

You gulp, "Can I uh...help you?"

"Yeah you can, toots. Mind getting me my drink?"

Dammit Thieram. He didn't tell you what she orders. He spent so much time warning you about her yet he couldn't simply give you what she drinks?! What if she gets upset that you don't know and unleashes her-

"Earth to toots! Yoohoooo" her hand is shaking aggressively in your face, snapping a few times.

You stand in your spot, completely dumbfounded, eyes wide and pulse jumping.

"Uh...what is your drink?" Your voice is meek and careful (and a bit shaky), you felt as if you were poking a bear with a stick. Stupid stupid stupid.

Jinx cackles suddenly and very loudly.

"You crack me up, toots. It's only blood in a bottle."

She drinks blood?! Thieram! How could he not mention-

You try to be as nonchalant as possible despite your own blood running cold.

"So you're like a...vampire? Or-"

She laughs in your face once more, "Oh you poor thing," it's said quite mockingly, "it's a joke! You were totally convinced!"

You blink your eyes once, twice, and shake your head. As if it'll erase the image of a blood sucking Jinx. Your blood...from your neck. A very graphic image your mind unfortunately conjured up.

As if she wasn't intimidating enough, knowing she's loaded with guns and bombs at all times. Imagine if she was a vampire?! You'd be doomed.

However, you were curious now, what if she did have fangs? Maybe you could get a peek-

"My drink is the bottom cabinet in front of you. It gets a special place for Chuck's favorite customer."

Chuck?

You squat down in search for her drink, reach for the lone bottle, "Oh um, who?"

"Oh you've got to know Chuck! He's hilarious! A friend of mine, not my best friend of course. He's a little weird—you can tell him I said that."

You nod along, terrified of the blue eyed menace (one of the many nicknames given by Thieram, you agree. Though even thinking it worries you, what if she can hear your thoughts?). Speaking of Thieram—oh! That’s who she’s talking about.

"You two must get on well," if the man in question's stories were anything to go by, you'd say they didn't get on well. He doesn't enjoy her company, but she certainly enjoys his. By tormenting him.

You only hope you don't land in the same boat as him.

"Oh we definitely do, toots. Who’da thought a girl like me could befriend a scaredy-cat like him? I'd say we'd make good friends too someday. Maybe tomorrow!”

"What's that supposed to mean?" Because to you it sounds like a threat. If you become a good "friend" to her like Thieram is, does that mean you'll get the same treatment? And as soon as tomorrow?! You've barely worked at this place for a few hours and she's already planning on tormenting you by tomorrow!

She doesn't answer your question, instead pointing to (what you assume is) her cup. If the colorful scribbles were anything to go by. And a straw lying right next to it. At least you didn't have to go searching for those.

You nod, gulping. You're hoping to please her, not get on her bad side.

Jinx brings her feet up the counter, crossing and holding them with her hands, rocking playfully back and forth.

She’s dangerously close to the edge, one miscalculated move and she’ll go splat onto the sticky floors.

Maybe it’ll knock some sense into her? Okay that’s rude.

You quietly hand her the drink, plopping the straw in.

Jinx jumps down the counter to sit on the stool, hunched over the bar table to sip. She dramatically smacks her lips, as if taste testing. You’ll admit you were a bit nervous, what if you forgot something in her drink? What if you poured it in wrong the wrong way? Would she get upset over that?

After a few seconds she smiles and nods manically, “10 out of 10! You pour a good cup o’ juice, toots.”

You breathe out relieved, deciding to play along, a little humor could ease your anxiety surely, “Thanks, am I already better than Th- Chuck?”

"You're certainly prettier than he is."

"Oh."

You blank, unsure of what to do with that information. Be flattered? Terrified? Or is she being sarcastic? You continue to play along,

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you joke and only hope it lands.

"It'll get me a free drink," she wriggles her eyebrows.

"Don't you automatically get free drinks? I heard the last guy that asked you to pay mysteriously disappeared."

"You heard right, toots."

You gulp for the—how many times have you done that tonight? She's great at making one sweat.

“It was great getting to know ya toots, but I’m a busy girl. Gotta bounce—think you’ll be okay? Ya know what? You seem like you can hold your own, here—just in case!”

Jinx goes in for a rough hug, and it’s over before you process it at all.

But wait—what was that noise behind you? That sudden weight on your back…

Uh oh.

And explosion goes off on you, and for a second you think it’s over.

But no, it’s simply a colorful, glitter bomb. The damage is done though, you’re sweating at your hairline. And your poor heart, it’s practically begging to run out of your chest.

There’s a note left on the counter, is it too hopeful to think it’s a ‘sorry for the bomb I just planted on your back’?

Nope. It’s simply a winky face in purple ink.

And you can't help but wonder...is she flirting with you?

How sick and twisted.

first time meeting and already down bad for each other? hmm

the request:

Reader is a newly hired bartender that Silco hired. One night it's the usual busyness. Loud music, shimmer people, etc etc. Similarly to "chuck" Jinx enjoys fucking around with them. Little powder bombs and stuff like that.