#that ball from ali gets me every time

[targaryen-dynasty]

KINKTOBER SLEEPOVER.

GIF.

Modern!Maegor Targaryen x fem!Reader

Based on this request

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; p in v, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, age gap, power imbalance, rough sex, degrading, power play, size difference

WORDS: 1.3 K

NOTES: Thanks for your request @hypocritic-trash-baby! This sleepover really shows me how difficult it is for me to write something with less than 1.5 K words lmao. But I still had so much fun writing modern!Maegor. Hope you like it!

If you had known that working three hours overtime each evening was a part of the job when you had applied, you would not have taken it – regardless of how damn hot your boss was. 

Maegor was just your type. He was in his mid 40s, incredibly tall and bulky, but not fat, and allowed you to savor your feminine energy, despite you being his junior personal assistant and supposed to assist him. Whenever he was around, you didn’t have to bother opening doors, and if Maegor heard of someone being rude to you, it was only a matter of time until that person would crawl back to apologize. 

And not to talk about the looks he gave you. 

It was thrilling. 

You scarcely saw the violet hue of his eyes whenever you were around him, always dark blown with something you couldn't quite decipher. Even if you weren’t alone with him, he undressed you with his gaze, and it always strayed to your middle, lingering there a bit too long. 

You felt desired, and it was no surprise your confidence got a good boost from it. 

This was the main reason for the skirts of your office attire getting progressively shorter, always straddling that fine line between being appropriate or unfitting. 

It was another endless evening in the office, though this time, you and Maegor were completely alone. All your colleagues had left earlier to attend the birthday party of Maegor’s senior personal assistant, Alys, while she had passed all her tasks over to you. 

… what somehow brought you into the current predicament. 

Your chest was pressed flush against the wall of Maegor’s office. He had ripped your precious heart motif tights between your legs, had pulled your thong to the side and had rucked your skirt up around your waist. 

Maegor towered over your small frame. One of his paw-like hands held your arms locked behind your back, while the other cupped your chin to tilt your head back, forcing you to arch your back to accommodate his cock as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. 

“Waited so fuckin’ long for this,” Maegor grunted into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your flushed skin. “All those short skirts…,” he trailed off, seemingly needing a few seconds to regain his breath. “... you were just beggin’ for me to fuck you, huh?”

Your mouth hung agape, and with his hand tilting your head back to a point it was borderline painful, you weren't quite able to make any more sounds than breathy whines and whimpers. “Y-Yes,” you mewled, the sound straining your throat to the point you had to cough once. 

Maegor seemed to notice your struggle, and even though his hips didn’t slow down, he was generous enough to ease the grip on your face, allowing your head to bow forward. 

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, your name leaving his lips so smoothly, you almost came just hearing it, “takin’ my fuckin’ cock like the good girl you are.” While his hand kept your arms pinned behind your back, his other grabbed your thigh to raise your leg, draping it over his forearm as he braced it on the wall. 

The new angle had you seeing stars, his cock repeatedly attacking the sweet spot inside of you to the point you felt the urge to pee. Every moan hiccuped in your throat each time his hips slammed into yours, his heavy balls slapping against your aching clit, but not once giving you enough stimulation to push you over the edge. 

“That’s it, ‘m gonna get you all nice and ready for me. Gonna fill you up to show everyone you’re mine.” He said it as if he had been waiting for this just as long as you had, if not even longer. “Just knew I had to breed you when you pranced into my office for your job interview.” 

As he bent forward, he rested his forehead against the back of your head, looking down to where his cock was repeatedly disappearing inside of your cunt. “G-God, please, daddy… harder,” you whimpered, pressing your eyes shut. “N-Need you t-to… cum in me.” 

Your words made the animal behind you groan. “That’s what you want, huh? Bein’ fucked full of my cum until you’re pregnant with my child?” 

At this point, your mind was blank, his merciless pounding and words forcing every thought right out of your brain. You whined a string of incoherent words, rambling one ‘yes’ after the other. 

You could feel his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, a sign that let you know he was about to topple over the edge. With a few more thrusts, he fucked into you, until he released a breathy groan that heralded his orgasm. His twitching cock spilled his load deep inside of your cunt, and you squeezed him ever so tightly in response, milking him for every drop. 

While you thought he was done with you as he pulled out, a bit disappointed you didn’t get to come at all, your doubts were quickly pushed aside with his strong arms wrapping around you, turning you in his grasp, and lifting you from the ground. You squealed at the sudden action, more so when the coldness of his desk seeped into the naked flesh of your arse. 

Before you could say anything, he draped your legs over his shoulders and plunged his cock back into your cunt, his seed mixed with your arousal serving as lubricant. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, a threatening edge to his husky voice. “I fuckin’ own you and this sweet cunt of yours. Breedin’ you over and over, until I’ve knocked you up. Want everyone to know that I fuck you.”

His possessiveness intimidated you, but you didn’t complain, not when it meant you got to be fucked like this for the rest of your life. 

“You gonna look so fuckin’ radiant with a swollen belly.” You looked up at him with half lidded eyes, drool dripping from for parted lips – a clear sign that he had most definitely fucked you dumb by now. “Gonna be so, so full of me, pigeon, don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Mae–Da-Daddy, please,” you called out desperately, not caring if it was loud enough to be heard outside of his office, since no one was there to hear it in the first place. Finally, you felt the heat in the pit of your stomach building again, the coil ready to snap at any given moment. “I want it, please. Need it so bad.”

Maegor smirked wickedly at you, and reached between your bodies to press his thumb to your clit, dragging it over the little bud in circles. It had your moans growing in volume as your climax washed over you, your convulsing walls clenching tight enough around Maegor’s thick cock to trigger his second release of the night. Your boss came with a shuddered breath leaving his lips, and by the way his jaw set, you could tell that he was slightly overstimulated already. 

You wanted to prop yourself up on your elbows when he pulled out, but his hand was quick to push you down again. A gasp escaped your throat at the impact, wanting to see just too badly what he was up to when he bowed forwards and brought his hand to your abused cunt. 

The uncomfortable feeling of being overstimulated filled your veins as Maegor dragged a thick finger through your folds, eventually sliding it inside and using it as a plug to stop his seed from oozing out of your cunt, making sure it wasn't fruitless. 

A few seconds passed until he pulled your thong back in place and fixed your skirt, helping you down his desk. When you met his dark blown gaze, you knew the insatiable man in front of you wasn’t satisfied.

“I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Like we're going to hustle the shit out of his brain.❞

part 01 | it's called a hustle, sweetheart

chapter summary:

[ The math is easy in Helaena's head. One brother, heartbroken and moping and in a red flag relationship redder than Mars, and one hot best friend who is definitely his type. It's 1 + 1 = 3, really. ]

[ 2,345 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— this is going to be comedic and stupid in its comedy, bear with me - fake dating, fwb situation, toxic on and off alysmond, no use of y/n - mentions of sexy times but no sexy times yet (it'll be coming though, so minors gtfo) - multi parts - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— the main vibe is silly and sexy !! you're hel's hot friend !! you getting it down with cregan stark (as you should) !! dunno yet how many parts, but we vibing !! comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

You and Hel watch her baby brother, Aemond of usually calm and pretty countenance, drag and wince as he took a mug of coffee- a slow, almost painful affair - mumble something, somewhat of a gratitude and an apology 2 in 1 special, and reverse drag and wince back into into the room.

It's a painful shuffle. A Michael Jackson awkward moonwalk attempt. A pitying regression from the usually very pretty boy you've made it a habit of teasing.

In the past few months, there hadn't be a lot of teasing from you.

When the door clicks, you turn to Helaena with an absurdly amused snort. "He's really such a pathetic little meow meow, huh?"

She slaps your arm. "Stop it. He's really down. Alys really did a number on him this time."

"She always seems to do a number on him every time they breakup." You fight the urge to roll your eyes, for the sake of the concerned frown on your best friend's pinched, starlight eyebrows.

After all, this isn't the first time of the very many on and off moments of the Alys and Aemond Train. You bore witness to it like you're sat in an empty cinema, popcorn stale and it hurts your jaw to chew, and the train has come unloose from the tracks about thirty minutes into the film, but the plot is predictable because it recycles.

Which makes it a garbage film you can hardly stomach, rolling your eyes and getting the fuck out of the cinema about to demand a refund.

Sure the first time, you felt bad, felt horrible for the both of them as it did seem like they loved each other. You had even commended the maturity of their decision, expressed sympathy and an even pious comments of 'but you were both so good together!'

But then the pity kind of loses its momentum when it's been the third time. The fourth. The fifth. So on and on and on...

At some point, you start thinking that maybe Aemond Targaryen— of pretty Jupiter glaze and cherry-pinched lips, a Greek god humbling at the image of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen's genes combined— third time's the charm! or fourth in Viserys' case, snort  — is kind of a masochist.

Because despite saying that they're growing toxic for each other, he comes back.

Every.

Goddamned.

Time.

The maturity made way for screaming matches, bolts of peaking jealousy, and purposeful social media posts made to hook, line, and sinker the other person— like. Gods.

There was pettiness. There was red flags. And then there was the Wikipedia page that pops up when you search 'who is the worst toxic relationship?' and it doesn't even have a paragraph. Or a sentence. Just a picture of Aemond and Alys.

If Aegon Targaryen was made of easy vices and churlish, lazy smirks— his fingers, though cold and sometimes clammy, are still nice against your shoulder when he makes lazy circles at an attempt to flirt before you laugh it off and threaten rip his balls off, because if there's a few things that piss off Helaena, it's her older brother trying to go near any of her friends —

Aemond liked it in deep, ruby-red shards of a cracked heart being put together again and again. At first with superglue. Now he was more or less going with prayers and spit.

At some point, the pity turns to amusement turns to a roll of your eyes turns to concern shifting from the young man to his sister, your best friend, left somewhat the only one left to care for her crash and burn of a baby brother.

And you know for a fact that Daeron Targaryen is a menace on a dirt bike, and yet out here, in these streets, Helaena was worrying for Aemond.

Their mother's favourite child, their grandfather's most studious, and the pride and ego of Kings Landing U Business Department.

Helaena isn't used to worrying about Aemond like this.

You're not used to Helaena worrying for Aemond like this, and the usually pretty boy you liked to tease was starting to piss you off because of it.

"Hel," you start carefully, knowing you're threading on dangerous waters. As much as Hel adored you and no matter how many times she says her brothers are idiots cut from a blended cloth of her Hightower and Targaryen roots— she was also unmistakably protective of them.

She sighs, putting down the pancake batter she was mixing, and you, who was in charge of actually frying them, turn. She had hoped to talk to Aemond when he woke up, but clearly he was still very much smashed at any attempts of comfort or reprimand, even she wasn't sure anymore.

"I know, okay?" Hel mutters. "I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid," you rush. At her doubtful look, you insist. "It's really not. I care about the little punk too. Even though lately I kind of just... want to hang him by his boxers on the balcony... make him see reason from there."

It works, Hel laughs. Then she smirks. "That little punk is only three years younger than you and a whole foot taller, babe." Then she blinks. Eyes going wide as saucers, which would be comical if not for the fact that she looked like she got the prophecy of Bathroom Urge Number #1. "Oh gods. Oh my god!"

"...Did you poop yourself?" Her face descends into a scowl, swatting you with the bowl. You yelp, giggling. "Hey, hey! Stop- Hel, you're going to spill everywhere! You know kitchen rules! No violence near the stove!"

"I was about to say I got it, you harlot! I didn't shit myself!" But she stops pestering you with the bowl as you snort.

"Okay, one, harlot? Who are you? A medieval peasant?"

"Please. If we were in the Middle Ages, I'd be a princess."

"That's actually too true, my princess, how dare I."

Hel raises an eyebrow. "But back to point- wait, actually, damn, where were you last night?"

Helaena already knew the answer. Apart from the fact that it is a best friend's duty to be apart of every slight and win in another's life, you had used your regaling tales about Cregan Stark as a means to distract Hel from worrying about her brother every time he broke up (or her; they're very gracious to each other as they take turns in piling to this toxicity), once again, with Alys.

"At Cregan's," you respond lightly, turning to flip another pancake into an awaiting plate. You were at Cregan's last night, so you only found out about Aemond's newly- and briefly - placed single status this morning when you got into the apartment you shared with Hel. She promptly placed her brother in her room while she, seeing as you weren't in yours, slept on your bed.

"And what did you do?" She knew exactly what you did— what you both did, every time since meeting again two months ago at the bar you worked.

"I helped him, uh." You stuck your tongue out, busying yourself with breakfast to clench at an excuse. "With his taxes."

Helaena snorts. "What does taxes have anything to do with the hickies? Gods, you look like you got mauled."

You snicker, fingers briefly dancing over the blue and violet marks over your neck and collarbone. It dipped lower to your chest and thighs, but you weren't going to tell your best friend that. By her wry grin, she already knew anyway.

"Okay, okay, enough of that. You said you 'got it'? Got what? A way to stop your brother's toxic relationship with the very hot older woman that we all known and adore as Alys Rivers?"

"Yes!" Then she hesitates. "But... are you and Cregan...?"

"What? No! I told you." You roll your eyes. "It's just a thing with us. We're both single, not really ready for the dating scene. He broke up with a serious relationship not long ago, he's not ready for it, and I'm sorry, but unlike your brother, is dealing healthily with it."

"With you."

"With me, yes." You shrug, turning off the stove once you've scraped the entire bowl. "So no, we're not in a relationship. But what's your plan got to do with my amazing- and frequent - sex life?"

"And you're sure you don't like him like that?"

You roll your eyes. Hard. "Yes, my royal pain the ass, I am."

Before you can react, Helaena has grasped you by your arms, watery lavender eyes wide and begging.

"Hel, I love you, but I don't like you like that."

"I love you too and same, no, no—"

"What do you mean 'no, no'? That is so offensive—"

"—I mean Aemond."

"I don't really love your brother either, though, I find him extremely pretty," you muse.

"Good! Might help with my plan!"

"What is your plan?"

"I will owe you, so, so much."

Your eyes narrow. "The fact that you're not telling it to me straight means it's a big ask, Targaryen."

As guilt flashes in her eyes, you know you're right. "So, so much. I swear. I will do your laundry— the chores! All of 'em! For a month!"

"Helaena Targaryen, I swear to the gods—"

"Canyoupleasefakedatemybrother?!"

You blink, triyng to unwound what she just spat in one exhale. "I am not fucking the sad out of your brother, that is also not healthy."

"What!? No!" Hel inhales, enunciating better now. "I said, Can you please fake date my brother? My poor, heartbroken, wonderful, you said so yourself 'very pretty', baby brother?"

She blinks, owlish and pityingly, the way you know she knows has gotten her out of a lot of messes. Has gotten her brother, Aegon, out of a lot of messes with their grandfather, who you know to be an asshole to anyone— the incident when he sideway called you a whore, still very bright in your mind; a grudge that keeps on going — but his granddaughter.

"Hel, I adore you, but that's the single most, stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"No, no, it's a lot more complicated than just you fake dating him, duh, I mean like, he knows it too! Like we're going to hustle the shit out of his brain!"

Your eyes flicker to Helaena's room where said sad sack she wants to hustle the shit out of, is in. "Elaborate."

"I meant like. Okay, so we know how this is going to go, right?" She rolls her eyes, her voice lowering to a hush, but her grip on you is just as strong. "They're broken up, he mopes around for a few days, goes to the seven stages of grief the on steroids version, making weird posts and baits against Alys until one of them takes a bite, then they meet trying to feel each other, suss each other out, next thing you know, they're in bed together and we're back to the Good Days of Aemond and Alys as seen on TV! But oh wait, it's worse every time it recycles! Like your favourite show but with butt-ugly new cast they never address!"

Hel takes a deep breath, defeated and desperate all at once. "I am so tired of it. Mom is so tired of it. You're tired of it. And I know, deep down, Aems knows this isn't a sustainable way to love someone. To be in love with someone. But he doesn't know anything but Alys. She's his first everything- yeah, I know about that too, it's disgusting. But now... there's you! My very hot, very beautiful, very amazing best friend."

You nod. "I am agreeing with most of your points so far, especially the compliments geared toward me."

She playfully slaps your arm, continuing. "If we pitch this as like, you helping Aemond make Alys jealous... make it seem as if we're helping him out by sussing her out... you're a total bombshell, babe, Aems will see that there's more to love and lust than just Alys Rivers. It doesn't have to tell all, start and end with her. Every time." She grins as if she's so smart, finally releasing you and placing her hands on her hips to complete the look of 'Yeah, my idea is brilliant, I know'.  "We just need to get his eye away from the not really prize, and make him realise there's more than just the toxic in and out of a failing relationship with your first love."

It's hard to tell her that her idea might not be so bad after all, but Helaena is already grinning as she reads your face like an open book, jumping and clapping around silently.

"Hold on, girlfriend," you say lamely. "How are we even sure I'm his type? Imagine thinking all this, and I'm a plate of grass to a carnivore."

Helaena snorts. "Please, girlfriend. You're older than him, hot as hell, and has a coochie that keeps Cregan Stark well entertained that he's politely said no to the female population that wants him. You are not grass. You are a prime rib-eye they need to ship from the other side of the globe and further ruin our climate."

At your snort, a blush spreading across your face, you press your tongue against your cheek, not willing to concede just yet but feel your will slipping with all the positives.

First, no chores for a fucking month.

Two, you'll have fun (in his own way), adorable pretty boy Aemond again, sans the toxic.

"He can't fall in love with me, Helaena," you say carefully. "I'm serious. I don't like him that way."

She is already shaking her head.

"Of course not, he won't. We just need him to focus on anything else other than Alys. Gods bless her soul."

"She's still alive, Hel, Jesus."

"But you're perfect for this. No ones going to fall in love with anyone. I promise." Helaena grins, tearing a piece of pancake and popping it in her mouth. "My plan is foolproof."

A few thousand hours later, her plan, is in fact, not foolproof.

TAGLIST (message to be added! please ensure you are able to be tagged to get notifs): @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss

[ewanmitchs]

⎯⎯ TEAR U APART [sneak peek] ┆ gif credit. ౨ৎ

༊*·˚ 𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒖𝒔’𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆, hello, lil loves. ♡! this is just a lil sneak peek of my new & first full oneshot on this blog − i hope y’all enjoy reading this lil snippet & i cannot wait to share the rest of it with u all. sending y’all sm love, xoxo. !!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

꒰ p.s. ꒱ this oneshot that i’m writing is completely based on this song linked here − if u wanna listen to it to set the vibe (if u’re an american horror story girlie, you’ll get it) + if u wanna talk & gossip abt this lil sneak peek, pls feel free to msg me, my loves. ♡ྀི

IT’S ONLY JUST A CRUSH, IT’LL GO AWAY − that’s what aemond targaryen keeps telling himself as he brutally, without mercy, fucks into the whore underneath him, hearing her whiny, annoying little cries as he abuses her loose cunt by shoving his well-endowed cock in and out, in and out, in and out.

allison? allie? alys? what was her name?

aemond couldn’t remember, nor could he give less of a fuck.

it simply does not matter right now, not when aemond is balls deep inside of this random woman, using her cunt to chase his high as he pleases, imagining that it is you − always you.

aemond cannot think straight, not when all he can focus on right now is chasing his own release, thinking of your beautiful face as it flashes in his mind − your innocent doe eyes, your luscious hair, that little charm bracelet that you always wear that jingles every time you move, your gorgeous, feminine figure, your perky breasts which he can only imagine burying his face into to kiss and suckle on your little nipples, your soft, heavenly skin which always smells of vanilla and something floral and just utterly you.

and gods, he can just imagine your glossy, pouty lips wrapped around his cock, letting him fuck your throat until he’s shooting his load down your abused throat, raw from him making you deep throat him − and oh, fuck, he’s coming now.

with only three more ruthless thrusts, aemond releases a low, deep groan as he finally spurts his hot cum into the condom, feeling the woman beneath him moaning louder and louder as she rubs her clit in quick, tight little circles, her release hitting her just as his had.

aemond wishes that she would shut the fuck up, but he isn't worried − soon, she won't be able to utter another word.

nasty fucking whore, aemond thinks.

in the woman’s state of pure, delirious ecstasy, she doesn’t even notice when aemond slyly slips out the small, sharp pocketknife of his (that’s made out of valyrian steel) out of the back of his pants − too fucked out by aemond to truly notice anything, her mind too fuzzy with her orgasmic bliss.

and no, aemond doesn’t fully undress while fucking the random women that he picks up at a bar or wherever, he never has.

aemond doesn't want any of the whores women that he picks up and sleeps with, then violently kills them to see him completely bare, they don't deserve it − the only beautiful, doe-like eyes that are meant to see him naked and bare is you and only you.

with that being said, aemond forcefully (and painfully) covers her mouth with one of his massive, masculine hands, rough and calloused, watching with amusement as he slits her throat with a heavy-lidded eye, his one-eye crazed and dilated, filled with bloodlust − not just from his post orgasm, but from the crimson blood squirting from the dumb whore’s throat.

aemond smirks, leaning down, getting blood on himself, making his cock harden once again − before he is whispering darkly into her ear as she tries to clutch the deep slit on her throat, gasping desperately for breath, choking on her own blood.

aemond cannot help but release a little, breathless chuckle, watching as the life slowly fades away from her.

“you’re nothing but a nasty, little fucking whore,” he purrs into her ear, pressing his face into the deep slit on her throat, licking a stripe of the oozing blood, softly humming at the taste as he muffles the gurgling noises she makes with his hand once more − until eventually, she stops breathing.

truthfully, even while all of this mess is happening right before his eye, all aemond can think about is you, and the taste of the sharp, metallic taste of that whore’s blood, so tart and whorish − and fuck, aemond can only imagine what your sweet blood tastes like.

however, aemond isn’t too worried, he can be patient − besides, soon enough, he’ll get to taste your sweetness, and then, you’ll be his… forever.

∘ ∘ ∘ cont,

[itsphoenix0724]

Meet Me On The Ice (Azriel x Reader)~ Chapter 4

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.2k

MMOTI Masterlist

A/N: Hi everyone! I just wanted to talk to everyone. ik I've been really noncommittal with this series, but I'm going to keep working on it bc I love it, and I hope you guys continue to love it too <3 I tried to build some insight into why Az doesn't like the reader in this chapter and I hope it came across okay, as always constructive criticism/feedback is welcome!

Disclaimer: DISCLAIMER: I am not a figure skater or a hockey player, so while I'm trying to be as accurate as possible, it's likely some things may not be correct and/or are bent a little to fit the plot!

You could say that a tentative truce was established between the two of you after your night at the arcade. So much so Alis finally permitted you to get out on the ice. 

“Don’t be nervous, the two of you have come leaps and bounds since last week.” She reassures you from her spot on the stands. “We’re gonna start with some basics, and then we work our way up to the lifts just like in the studio.” You shoot Azriel a nervous glare and he tries his best to send you a reassuring look. 

Even though you still feel like you’re walking on eggshells around him, it’s almost nice being around him sometimes.

 Reluctantly, Az has gotten used to your relentless positivity. Even if he can still hear your voice echo in his head sometimes. 

It happened when you were thirteen, and it was a stupid comment he wasn’t even meant to hear. He has tried to put it behind him so many times, but every time he looked at you it popped up in the corner of his mind like a buzzing fly. Reflexively his hands tucked in the pockets of his sweatpants as you skated up to him with your sparkly eyes and sunshiney smile. The version of you from years ago scatters like ash in the wind as Az takes you in, amusement lighting in his eyes as he takes in your hot pink leg warmers. 

“Is this an 80s workout video?” He chuckles and he likes the way your eyebrows furrow in false outrage. 

“For your information, they keep my feet super warm so don’t come crying to me when you’re freezing.” You poke him in the chest and he laughs. It feels nice, he thinks, to simply exist around you without hostility. 

The figure skates still feel tight on his feet, but practice is mostly uneventful after that. Azriel even manages to safely get you off the ground without losing his balance. 

“Great work!” Alis actually seems proud for a moment. “I need you two to stay for a moment so you can try on your costumes.” Azriel looks horrified at the thought of him having to wear leggings, but something cold thaws in his chest when he sees your excitement. You had to throw your old costume away after Lucien’s accident, the fabric was permanently stained red. Az goes first. His costume is simple, a black shirt and leggings with bands of blue around his wrists and chest. You try to put a lid on your bubbling laughter when Az comes out of the changing room, but it still boils over even as Az shoots you a murderous glare. Your dress matches the blue on his costume, with lace cutouts that expose your collar bones, and delicate fabric that flows like water around your upper thighs. The whole thing is delicately studded with blue and silver rhinestones like you wrapped yourself in the night sky. Azriel briefly feels like the air is sucked out of his lungs as he watches you examine yourself in the mirror. 

“Well, what do you think?” You twirl once for effect scattering stardust in your wake. “It’s not so bad is it?” 

“No,” Azriel coughs around a closing throat. “Not bad at all.” You nod, sending him a puzzling look. The two of you change back into your normal clothes and bid Alis goodnight before walking to your cars.

“We’re still on tonight for bowling with Rhys and Cas right?” You ask rocking back on the balls of your feet.

“Absolutely.” He agrees.

“There’s actually something I wanted to ask you about,” You start right before you’re about to split for your cars. Azriel nods at you to continue. “Lucien wanted to know if he could come tonight, he really needs to get out of the house, so he’ll be there too.” 

“Alright.” Az answers “See you later.” he tucks his hands in his hoodie pocket again before walking to his own car. 

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Lucien somehow successfully gets into the passenger seat of your car casted foot and all. You didn’t realize how much you missed him until you were driving around like you always did, singing along badly and loudly to your driving playlist. Eventually, you pull up infront of the bowling alley, bright neon lights bouncing off of the hood of your car. You help Lucien out of the seat, handing him his crutches and slowly walking into the bowling alley. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel are already inside having claimed a booth and a lane in the back corner. Cas greets you joyfully scooping you up and twirling you around immediately, he also claps Lucien on the shoulder and you’re grateful that at least someone is making an effort to make him feel included. Rhys ordered you nachos and a drink and got Lucien a soft pretzel immediately chatting up a storm about their shared business communication class. Az hasn’t even said hello to you, even though this is supposed to be one of your bonding experiences, he just gave the both of you a noncommittal head nod and shoveled pizza in his mouth. You try not to outwardly sigh because you thought you were making progress, you thought you were past this. 

You thought you were almost friends. 

Attempting to stomp down the flash of hurt you send him a tight-lipped smile and a nod in return. This is Lucien’s first night out since his accident, so you will remain positive for his sake. 

Bowling continues uneventfully after that. Azriel and Cas are seemingly in a heated competition over this bowling match, and you and Rhys are playing much less committedly. Rhys has been flirting with the girl behind the counter for the past fifteen minutes, and you had been half-heartedly throwing your ball down the lane when it was your turn. 

Lucien had been a good cheerleader from his spot in the booth, but you weren’t very concerned about the game, content to sip on the slushy you bought. The two of you are in the middle of a very animated conversation when Cassian calls your name, coming behind you and looping his arms around your shoulders. 

“Are you coming to the victory party this Saturday after the game?” He drawls, glancing at Azriel out of the corner of his eye. “I would invite you to Vanserra, but-” Cassian glances at Lucien’s casted leg but the red-head simply shrugs. 

“No offense taken here.” Lucien raises his hands in mock surrender, “That’s not really my scene anyway.” 

“Well, we are planning on crushing your brothers’ team anyway, too bad Azzy’s still benched.” Cassian croons and Azriel sends him a murderous glare from where he’s about to launch his bowling ball. “You should come, we’ll be drinking on the Smokehound tab anyhow.” It was a sort of unspoken agreement amongst some of the local university hockey teams, losers host an after-party, booze included. 

“I’ll think about it.” You promise, and Cas ruffles your hair before leaving to grab his bowling ball. 

You completely miss the silent daggers Azriel is sending Cassian from behind your back. He doesn’t want you anywhere near this party, and Rhys won’t be too happy about your attendance either. Cas does nothing but chuckles at him with a knowing glint in his eye that sparks his irritation. You look at him once over your shoulder, and you must mistake his glower for being directed at you because for a brief second hurt flashes across your eyes. 

Something pinches in his chest and Azriel can do nothing but shove his hands in his pockets and avert his gaze to the ground.

@sidthedollface2 @bionic-donut @lyinginameadow @feyretopia @natashachelsea @going-through-shit @mika-no-sekai-blog @hijabi-desi-bookworm @brandywineeeee @littlelunelunatic @gorlillaglue25

[wosowrites]

I Had To (Guro Reiten x Reader)

warnings: none

prompt: in which during your last training session before the world cup, the nerves get to you. But Guro is there

a/n: based off this request here. Also I never proof read so sorry guys

The last training session before the World Cup opener was the most chill one and the most stressful one all at once. It was your first ever world cup, having missed the last one with a torn ACL. You had never been so terrified. Your heart was pounding and your mind was full of what ifs.

"What if I tore it again?"

"What if I cost the girls the tournament?"

"What if-"

Your thought was cut off by Caroline coming up to you and placing her hand on your shoulder. You were all lined up with a coach placed to receive a ball to lay off to the player to take a shot but you had just froze. The ball at your feet, the coach looking at you with expecting eyes and all your teammates staring into your back.

Your head snapped towards Caroline and your breathing got heavy. "I’m sorry. I can’t do this," you said.

You left your ball where it was and rushed towards your bag which your picked up and walked out of the training facility with.

The entire Norwegian team and staff watched as you made your escape, and then they’re heads turned to Guro. "Go get her back," Ada said to the young winger.

Guro didn’t have to be begged. She broke into a run, trying to follow you even though you were now out of her sight. Eventually she found you in the parking lot. Training didn’t end for another twenty minutes so the bus wasn’t there yet. You were sitting on a bench, staring at a Mustang. "Y/n?" Guro said gently.

You head turned to look at her and your heart momentarily swelled with joy that she had come to find you. But it was quickly replaced with the pain and doubts once again. "What’s going on ganske," Guro said softly.

"It shouldn’t be me. I shouldn’t be here. Other girls deserve it just as much as I do. I- I should not be on this roster. What sets me apart? Nothing. I miss shots, I score goals, I make passes, I miss passes. Im average. I’m fucking average and I don’t get why I’m here," you rambled. "What makes me different then the girls who aren’t here today? Nothing. I mean-"

You really didn’t expect Guro to kiss you. You didn’t expect her lips to come crashing into yours, or her hand to make it’s away under your shirt and onto your lower back. It took you a while to react, but once you did, you dropped your bag to the floor and pushed your body onto hers. Your legs straddling her waist, you grinded your hips onto her, tugged at her ponytail and moaned into her mouth at the touch of her hands on your ass. But then it seemed like she snapped.

She gently pushed you off of her and looked stunned. "I had to do that. You deserve yk be here," she said quickly. And then she was rushing back to the training ground and you were left wanting more.

Norway vs New Zealand didn’t go well for you. You started, which shocked you but no one else. And although you took shots and tried your very best, New Zealand scored and there was nothing you could do about it. You were frustrated, tired and a little heartbroken. And yet your mind trailed back to that kiss the second the final whistle blew.

So, you signed a couple things, your gaze going back to Guro every second you weren't talking with a fan or being congratulated for your work by Kiwis. Every single time you got close to Guro she would cross the field, head towards Ingrid, Caroline or anyone else but you. Eventually, you got tired of her doing so so you snuck up on her as she was deep in conversation with Ali Riley. "Guro," you said, tapping her shoulder.

The winger quickly spun towards you, excusing herself from the Kiwi captain. "Talk to me," you said. "Here? Really?" she spat, saying it in a tone a little harsher than she had wanted.

You scowled at her, eyes hard and mad before grabbing her face and pressing your lips to hers. You were a little off to the side, close to the New Zealand bench and the eyes of both teams widened as fans started yelling loudly. The kiss was short enough to be appropriate but long enough to let Guro know you wanted her too. You didn't say much to the blue, only the words "I had to do this". You then turn your back to her and walk into the tunnel, your heart racing.

Part of you knew your actions on the field were slightly inappropriate but the adrenaline had you without a care in the world. You were the first in the changing room, quickly followed by Ingrid who started squealing and yelling in Norwegian. She asked a ton of questions and dint give you any time to answer, instead leaping from one interrogation to the other. Your head coach ignored you as he walked in, he was still mad about the game, and clearly partially mad at you, but that didnt matter because Guro had a smile on her face despite the loss. And if Guro was smiling then the world was good.

He then sent you off to the showers and you grabbed your sweatsuit to put on after. You corner Guro as she was about to enter her stall. "Are you mad?" you asked her with wide eyes, worried that maybe kissing her on the biggest stage of the world wasn't the best idea. "Would I be smiling like a dork if I was?" she teased and you blushed. "I wish you could join me," Guro added, nodding towards her shower. "At the hotel," you winked and then went into your stall.

[gxthicwxrm]

Fire Like A Targaryen Pt. 2

Pairing: Daemon Targryen x Fem!reader

Summary: the aftermath of the attack on your family

Warning: Angst, fighting, cursing, mentions of child death

Masterlist - Part One

---

"Where were you, Daemon?" You say his name like a curse. Gritted teeth, you circle your disheveled husband, who sits at the end of your bed. His head leans into his hands before running them through his hair to look at you.

"My love, I am so sorry-" He starts, reaching out to you before you smack away his hand.

"NO! WHERE the FUCK were you when a man tried TO KILL OUR DAUGHTER?! Huh? This blade almost killed both of your children, and you can't tell me the truth? You are a coward, Daemon Targaryen." Tears burn down your face as you throw your arms to your side, tossing the bloodied dagger onto the white sheets while he stands, stepping towards you. His cheek, damp with tears, glistens in the glow of the fireplace beside you.

"Tell me where you were. Please, Daemon. You owe it to me to tell me the truth." You let him grab your hands as you look up at him, looking for honesty in his blue eyes.

"I was with Rhaenyra." Everything you feared was confirmed at this moment as your heart stills. Dropping his hands, you slowly step away from him before turning to face the wall, feeling the heat against your face from the fireplace as a fire inside your soul goes ablaze. Your world collapsed as you lay between a blade and your child, and your husband, the man who swore to you, made a vow to you, was getting his dick wet. 'Why are you surprised?' A nagging voice echoes in your head, your voice.' You knew the man you married.' Blame creeps into your bones before a realization takes hold.

"Of course you were. Of course, only you would bury yourself in another woman as your two children and wife were brutally attacked. What is wrong with you?." You snarl, turning towards Daemon. He is speechless, with his arms stretched out to you, making you scoff.

"I have sacrificed so much for this Targaryen name. I have balled up and thrown my pride and dignity out the window for the sake of this family. I have shed blood for this family. I have KILLED FOR MY FAMILY. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE BUT FUCKED A WHORE?" Screaming, you throw a glass vase from the table to your left, narrowly missing his head as he dodges it.

"Enough! Stop this! You speak of sacrifice! Huh? I have killed many to protect this family. Blood doesn't stop covering my hands, Y/N. Every day I go to battle, I think of this family. I think of my daughter. Of my wife." He reaches for you, but you smack him away. Luckily, he pulls back and resorts to picking at his cuticles. His outburst caught you off guard, as he had been silent for the rest of this argument. Unknowing what to say next, you walk away from him, heading towards the door.

"I wasn't fucking her." He whispers, making you abruptly stop before turning to him.

"What?" The shock was clear on your face as you swore you heard him wrong. "What did you just say?"

"I wasn't having sex with Rhaenyra when you were…when the two of you were…I wasn't fucking her. I wanted you to know that." He sits on the bed's footboard, pushing his hair out of his face.

"Then what were you doing with her? Making fucking quilts?" You spat, unable to believe the words he was saying. He's lied to you over and over about this same woman. "So you deny being with her after admitting you were? Liar." You shake your head, mumbling the last part.

"I was leaving her." You scoff at his words. "Please listen to me. I wanted to break it off with her. I have been unfaithful to you and our family and wanted to make it right. I wanted you and Alys and our family. Not her. I swear to every God that exists and doesn't, my love. I am so sorry I wasn't here to protect you, Alys, and our son. I have failed our family too many times; I know this. Just please allow me a second chance. A chance to be the man our family deserves." You've found yourself moved to his side, sitting on the bed. His words moved you, but doubt still rang in your head.

"How do I know this isn't another lie? How do I know you are truly over her?" You ask, defeated, as your anger leaves your body and tears fill your eyes.

"If it helps, you can ask her yourself. She will not lie to you. She never has." His words were correct, seeing how Rhaenyra was the one who told you about their affair. "But I will spend every day of my life proving it to you until my last breath." He declares as you silently take in his words.

After a moment of silence, you have decided your plan of action.

"I will have my own room." You finally say, breaking the crushing silence. To your side, you see him turn to look at you as you stare straight ahead.

"Y/N, pleas-,"

"Let me finish. I will have my own room until I can trust you again. Alys can choose which room she'd like to stay in if she doesn't go between them. I can't pretend this didn't happen and go back to normal, not overnight. I need time." You state, nodding your head in satisfaction before finally turning to him. His features look broken in the light illuminating the fireplace. Tear streaks mark his face as you fight to reach to brush them away but curl your hand to stop yourself. He takes in your features, deciding how serious you are before deciding not to push anymore.

"How much time?" Daemon finally says after a moment of silence. Without hesitation, you answer him.

"As much time as it takes to forget the images of you with her, Daemon. I want to forgive you for our family, our daughter, and me. But I need time. I'll stay here tonight but find a room for myself tomorrow."

"Okay." He says with a sad sigh.

Despite how hard you fought against doing this, you found yourself knocking on the dark wooden door. Once the door swings open, it reveals the silver-haired heir to the throne. Her glossy hair is messy and sticking out in tendrils as she uses the door to cover her nightgown.

"Y/N. Hello. This isn't the best time this moment-"

"Are you and Daemon done?" You throw the words at her, but she barely flinches; barely. Her eyes give away her surprise at your confrontation.

"Uhm, let me get dressed, and I'll come out." She goes to close the door, but your hand stops the wood.

"No. You have been sleeping with a married man, your uncle." You lower your voice at the last part. "You owe me this. Are you still seeing him? I could care less about status and the throne. This is my family. Answer the damn question." You growl through gritted teeth, grinding them so hard you thought they were crushing into powder. Rhaenyra almost looks scared for a second before she blinks it away, standing straighter before looking into your eyes.

"He broke it off with me. I won't lie. I didn't take it well at first. But we aren't meant for each other. It was a mistake. For both of us. He told me it will be one of his biggest regrets for not bonding with you and leaning into me." Her words light a different rage in you as you hold back from grabbing her. With a deep breath, you ask your final question.

"When did he break it off?"

"The night of the attack on you and your daughter. He was leaving the room as the guards met him in the hall and alerted him." She says, still hovering behind the door when someone shuffles in, making her look into the room before turning back to you.

"I am sorry, Y/N. As a woman, as family, I should've told you about the affair. I should've ended it. Nothing I say will take my actions back, but it is one of my biggest regrets too." With that, turn away from her halls before returning to your chambers, where your daughter lies in your bed. Blowing the candle out, you lay beside her before pulling the covers over you and closing your eyes to let sleep take hold.

part three coming soon!

[princesssszzzz]

Northern Heat

Word count: 6.4K

Warnings: Fire/Ice Smuttiness

Pairing: Baegan ~ Baela x Cregan

Summary:

A flirty Baela spends a night with her tennis coach Cregan Stark after an unexpected encounter at a bar. Modern!AU

Read on AO3

Baela leaned back in her chair, letting out a sigh as she sipped her iced latte. The sun streamed through the large windows of the campus coffee shop, warming her, the wooden tables, and the scattered groups of students enjoying their break. The place was lively but not too crowded, with the hum of conversation mixing with the sound of the espresso machine hissing in the background.

Aly took a bite of her toast, smirking at Baela. “So, you’re telling me you’re spending extra hours at tennis practice just to stare at his muscles?”

Baela laughed, trying to hide her grin. “I mean, have you seen them? The guy’s sculpted. And the way his shirt clings to him when he serves. It’s hard to focus on my backhand when I’ve got that in front of me.”

Netty sipped her cold brew, raising an eyebrow. “You know, you could just ask him out. It’s not like he’s your professor.”

Baela rolled her eyes, shaking her head, letting her growing curls fan her face. “It’s not that simple. Cregan is different. He’s not like the boys around here. He’s all about honor and doing the right thing. I think if I even hinted at something, he’d probably run the other way.”

“Or maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment,” Aly said, winking. “You’re the best player he’s coached. Maybe he’s more interested in improving your game than anything else.”

“Yeah, right,” Baela scoffed. “I’m there every other day pretending I need more practice just to spend time with him. He’s so serious about it too, like ‘Baela, you need to work on your footwork’ or ‘Baela, you’re getting too aggressive on your returns.’ Meanwhile, I’m just trying not to drool.”

Netty giggled at her ridiculous deep-voiced impressions of their coach. “You could always just stop pretending, and show him how good you actually are. Then maybe he’ll take you seriously as more than just a student.”

“Maybe,” Baela mused, stirring her drink. “But I don’t want to scare him off. He’s kind of old-fashioned, you know? And I like the way things are right now, even if he’s all ‘Coach Stark’ and nothing else.”

They let their conversation drift to other topics. The class assignments and weekend plans but Baela’s thoughts kept circling back to Cregan. She pictured him at the tennis courts, his focus entirely on her form and technique, those deep blue eyes watching her every move. He was always so composed, so controlled, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface, something he wasn’t letting show.

As they finished up their lunch, Baela’s phone buzzed with a message from her sister, Rhaena, who was off on some exotic beach vacation with Garmund in her gap year. *Wish you were here, B! Sun, sand, and no worries.* Baela smiled at the thought, but she was content with where she was for now. She was right in the middle of her own little game, where every day with Cregan was another serve in a match that had only just begun.

“Ready to head out?” Aly asked, gathering her things.

“Yeah,” Baela said, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”

“You’re not seriously going back to the courts again, are you?” Netty teased her, speaking loudly so Aly wouldn't miss her calling out Baela.

Baela just grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

As they left the coffee shop, Baela’s thoughts were already on tomorrow’s practice, wondering if maybe Cregan would notice that she wasn’t struggling with her backhand after all.

Baela’s silver curls bounced as she sent the tennis ball flying over the net, her lilac eyes focused on the game. The afternoon sun just barely lit up the courts, contrasting her Targaryen features and the rest of the world even more pronounced. She was used to standing out. No one else on this campus had her ethereal look, and she always noticed how it drew attention. But today, her mind was less on her appearance and more on the man standing on the other side of the net.

Cregan Stark watched her with his usual calm focus, brown eyes steady and unreadable as he returned her shot. His brown hair was slightly tousled from their practice, and Baela found herself studying him in a way she never used to with others. His features were common enough. The typical brown hair and brown eyes. On Coach Stark though, it looked different, more intriguing. She’d never paid attention to those details in anyone else until she met him.

As they rallied back and forth, Baela decided to break the silence between the loud ball smacking. “You know, I’ve always liked your accent,” she said casually, before sending another ball his way.

Cregan paused mid-swing, nearly missing the ball as it flew past him. A faint blush crept up his neck, and he shook his head with a half-smile. “I don’t have an accent,” he protested, even though his deep voice tinged with that unmistakable northern lilt.

“Oh, but you do,” Baela teased, stepping closer to the net. “It’s that northern charm. Makes everything you say sound so rugged.”

Cregan chuckled at her, trying to mask his embarrassment as he retrieved the ball. “I never noticed.”

Baela twirled her racket in her hand, enjoying the way she could get under his skin. “I’m sure the girls back home notice. You must’ve broken a few hearts with that voice.”

Cregan leaned, shaking his head again but this time with a playful glint in his eye. “You’ve been watching too many romantic dramas. I’m just a guy who talks about tennis too much.” He respectfully lowered his head while wiping his sweat, thinking Baela would move on to talk about something else.

“Well, speaking of,” Baela said, trying to keep the conversation going, “how much do you lift at the gym? You’ve got some serious muscles, Coach.”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the question. “Uh, I don’t keep track. Just enough to stay fit, I guess.” She grinned at his obvious lie and attempts to remain humble.

“Come on,” Baela pressed, moving closer to him as if she could coax the information out of him with her proximity. “And what about outside of tennis and working out? Do you live alone, or do you have someone waiting for you after practice?”

Cregan’s expression softened, and he let out a small sigh, recognizing the direction she was steering the conversation. “I live alone,” he said simply, his tone still guarded. “And most of my time outside of coaching is pretty quiet. Not much to tell.”

Baela tilted her head, studying him with those lilac eyes that always seemed to see more than people wanted to reveal. “Quiet’s not so bad,” she said softly, letting the moment linger between them.

Cregan cleared his throat, sensing the need to bring the conversation back to safer ground. “So, about your backhand,” he began, but Baela just laughed, cutting him off.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” her smile making it clear she wasn’t offended.

“It’s my job to make sure you’re ready for your next match,” Cregan replied, a hint of his smile forming. “And you’ve been slacking on your right footwork.” Baela rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in her voice as she said, “Alright, Coach. But one of these days, you’re going to have to stop hiding behind the tennis court.”

Cregan’s gaze met hers before she moved, and for a brief moment, the professionalism he clung to wavered, revealing a flicker of something more. But just as quickly, he composed himself, nodding toward the baseline. “Let’s see that backhand, Targaryen.”

Baela smiled, turning to take her position. “Whatever you say, Stark,” she called over her shoulder already planning her next move, both on and off the court. -

The drive out to the small, off-the-beaten-path bar had been filled with laughter and loud music as Baela, Aly, and Netty left their school and annoying classmates far behind. They were in the middle of nowhere now, hours away surrounded by fields and old farmhouses that looked nothing like the sleek buildings they were used to in the city.

“This place is so different,” Netty said, leaning forward from the back seat. “It’s like we’ve stepped back in time or something.”

Baela grinned, her lilac eyes scanning the quaint, almost hick-town vibe of the area. “Yeah, it’s kind of nice not having to deal with any of those idiots from school, though.”

“True,” Aly added as she navigated the narrow road slowly, trying not to crash. “I swear, if I have to hear another guy try to impress me by talking about his car, I’m going to scream.”

They all laughed, the kind of carefree giggle that only comes when you’re far enough from your usual world that it feels like nothing can touch you.

When they finally pulled into the gravel parking lot of the bar, the place looked like something out of an old movie. Wooden beams, dim lighting, and a jukebox playing some country song in the corner. It was perfect for a night of just being themselves.

As they grabbed a booth and ordered drinks, the conversation turned to family. A topic that was always full of drama for Baela.

“So, what’s the latest with your mom?” Aly asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Baela shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. “She’s good. She spent so long raising me and Rhaena, so we’ve been telling her to ignore my dad and go be a model, do whatever makes her happy. I even told her to cheat on him if she bumps into hot actor or something.”

Netty snorted into her coke. “Goddamn, Baela. That’s cold.”

“Why not?” Baela said with a laugh. “It’s not like he’s ever around. He’s too busy doing whatever dirty work my uncle has him wrapped up in. Pretty sure he’s a criminal, honestly.”

“At least you’ve got money,” Netty said, half-joking. “I mean, I grew up broke. Had to hustle for a scholarship just to get into our school. Now I steal food for fun, even though you keep offering to pay for everything with your dad’s credit card.”

She giggled at her kleptomaniac tendencies, almost getting her and Aly arrested once at a mall.

Baela rolled her eyes but smiled. “You know I don’t care about the money.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Netty waved her off with a grin. “But where’s the fun in swiping a card?”

They all laughed again. It was nice to let loose, especially with the chaos of their lives. As they settled into the vibe of the bar, they listened to Aly rant about bailing her cousin out of jail before Baela spoke again. She decided to share something that had been gnawing at her.

“Speaking of cousin drama,” she began, lowering her voice a little, “Aegon’s been following me around again, trying to.” She widened her eyes. “Well, you know.”

Aly and Netty exchanged looks of disgust. “That’s messed up,” Aly said, shaking her head. “He’s so disgusting.”

“Yeah, tell him to back off,” Netty added. “Or better yet, just smack him.”

Baela sighed. “I know, it’s just yuck.”

Before they could dive further into that conversation, Baela’s attention was suddenly caught by a loud burst of deep laughter from the bar. Her eyes widened when she realized it was Cregan, clearly drunk and surrounded by a group of guys. He was louder than she’d ever heard him, his usual stoic demeanor replaced by something much rowdier.

“What?” Baela started, blinking in surprise.

Aly followed her gaze and grinned. “Well, well, if it isn’t Coach Stark letting loose.”

Netty peered, trying not to look too hard. “He’s hot even when he’s a mess. Bless him.”

Baela felt her heart skip a beat. She had a crush on Cregan, sure, but seeing him like this was a shock. She’d never imagined him as anything other than the serious, honorable guy he was on the tennis court. This side of him, drunk and loud, was completely new.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Baela muttered, still trying to wrap her head around it.

Aly nudged her with a smirk. “Maybe now’s your chance to see what he’s really like.”

Baela hesitated, watching as Cregan laughed with his friends, his brown hair looking disheveled and his usually sharp eyes completely relaxed. It was weird seeing him so unguarded, but part of her was curious, maybe even excited, to see this side of him.

“Go on,” Netty urged, "Go say hi.”

Baela took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay, but if this is a disaster, I’m blaming you two.”

With that, she slid out of the booth and made her way over to the bar, her heart racing. As she got closer, Cregan looked up and noticed her, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer.

“Baela?” he said, his voice a little slurred but still familiar. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, trying to sound casual as she leaned against the bar.

Cregan chuckled, though it was rougher than usual. “Just, having a night out, I guess.”

Baela smiled, but she could feel the awkwardness in the air. He was shocked to see her there. This wasn’t the Cregan she was used to, and it threw her off. “Well, it’s good to see you, Coach. Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking into his drink. “Didn’t think you’d see me like this, either.”

There was a beat of silence before Cregan looked back up at her, his usual guarded expression slipping away for just a moment. “You having a good time with your friends?” He peered over at the two girls failing to hide that they’d been watching him.

Baela nodded, sensing a vulnerability in him that she hadn’t noticed before. “Yeah, we needed to get away from school for a bit and get a drink.”

Cregan smiled faintly, then gestured to his drink. “Want a round? My treat.”

Baela was about to say no to be polite, but then she saw the way his eyes held a glint of something. Curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself nodding. “Sure, why not?”

As they stood at the bar, drinks in hand, Baela couldn’t help but feel like she was seeing a new side of Cregan.

-

Baela twirled on the dance floor, her silver curls catching the light as she moved to the beat of the tenth unfamiliar country song. She didn’t care that she didn’t know the words. All she cared about was the feeling of freedom that came from being miles away from campus, far from the prying eyes of their annoying classmates.

Aly and Netty danced alongside her, laughing as they tried to keep up with the rhythm. The bar was small and a bit rundown, but it had a certain charm that made it perfect for a night like this. It was just the three of them, letting loose and enjoying the night without a care in the world. No cousins. No school.

As Baela spun around again, she caught a glimpse of Cregan at the bar. He was alone now and was watching her, his brown eyes fixed on her every move. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, making her heart race. It was a look she wasn’t used to from him, one that was far from the usual stern and professional expression he wore during practice.

He was still sitting at the bar, his drink in hand, but he hadn’t taken a sip in a while. Instead, his attention was entirely on her, as if she was the only other person in the room. Baela’s stomach fluttered at the thought. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this, and it was throwing her off balance in the best way possible.

When the song ended, Aly and Netty finally decided to take a break, leaving the dance floor and giving Baela a knowing look as they headed toward a booth in the corner. “Go talk to him,” Netty whispered with a grin before she and Aly retreated to the bathroom to give Baela and Cregan some privacy.

Baela hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, summoning her courage, she made her way back over and slid onto the stool next to Cregan. His eyes followed her every move, and the heat of his gaze was almost palpable.

“You guys sure know how to make a statement.”

She blushed at his comment, feeling a little more emboldened by the alcohol coursing through her veins. “Well, it’s not every day we end up in a place like this. We figured we’d go big or go home.”

He gave her a lazy smile that sent another shiver down her spine. “You certainly did that.”

Baela bit her lip, noticing the way his gaze lingered on her mouth before he finally took a sip of his drink. “You're different tonight,” she observed, her tone curious. “Looser, I guess.”

Cregan’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Maybe that’s because I’m not on the clock. No reason to be uptight when I’m off-duty.”

Baela raised an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. “Or maybe you’re just drunk.”

He shook his head, the smirk never leaving his face. “I’m of sound mind, I promise. This is just what we do in the North. We drink, we let loose, we have a good time. That doesn’t mean I’m not in control.”

Baela felt her pulse quicken at his words, the flirtatious edge in his voice catching her off guard. “You’re not worried about getting too carried away?”

Cregan’s eyes darkened slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Depends on what you mean by ‘carried away.’”

Baela swallowed hard, her mind racing to keep up with the sudden shift in their conversation. This wasn’t the careful, measured Cregan she was used to.

“So,” she began, trying to keep her voice steady, “what would you do if I told you I wanted to get carried away?”

Cregan’s smirk faded into something more serious, more intense. “I’d ask you if you were sure that’s what you really wanted.”

Baela’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or if she was really feeling this way, but suddenly, the idea of getting carried away with Cregan didn’t seem so crazy.

Before she could respond, though, he leaned back slightly, giving her a moment to think. “No one knows you’re my student here,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s just you and me.”

The realization hit Baela like a ton of bricks. No one in this bar had any idea who they were or what their relationship was supposed to be. They were just two people in a bar, sharing a moment that could go anywhere.

“I’m not used to seeing you like this,” Baela admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan reached out, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Maybe it’s time you got used to it.”

Baela’s heart skipped a beat at his touch, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his words. She’d never seen this side of him before, but now that she had, she wasn’t sure she could go back to pretending he was just her coach. Not when he was looking at her like this.

Around them, the bar continued to buzz with activity, but for Baela, the only thing that mattered was the man sitting beside her. The man who, in this moment, wasn’t just her coach but something much more.

As the night wore on, the bar began to empty out, leaving only a few stragglers nursing their last drinks. Netty and Aly finished their dancing, cheeks flushed and smiles wide, before grabbing their things and heading toward the exit. They waved at Baela on their way out, giving her one last teasing grin before disappearing into the night.

Baela watched them leave, then turned back to Cregan, who was still sitting beside her. He signaled the bartender for another round of drinks, a mischievous grin on his face. “You might be a tough girl, Baela, but you’re still a city girl through and through,” he teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Baela shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You said you wanted a cocktail or martini earlier. But this place? It’s all about the beer.”

Baela rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, but only because you’re buying.”

Cregan grinned as the bartender set down two new frosty mugs of beer in front of them. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.”

They clinked their heavy mugs together, the cool beer a stark contrast to the warmth of the bar. The conversation flowed easily between them, and before they knew it, hours had passed, and they were the last ones left inside.

Eventually, Cregan tossed some cash on the counter, and they made their way outside into the cool night air. Baela couldn’t help but notice the old, beat-up truck parked in the lot, its paint chipped and rusted in places. She smirked, pointing at it. “That yours?”

Cregan glanced at the truck, then back at her, a wry smile on his face. “Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”

Baela laughed, shaking her head. “Nothing, just… it’s a little different from my new BMW, that’s all.”

Cregan smirked, leaning against the truck. “Your family’s got more money than mine for sure, but we’ve been around here longer. This old boy’s been through a lot.” He patted the creaky frame.

Baela grinned, appreciating his honesty. “Well, let’s see if it still runs.”

Cregan opened the passenger door for her, and she slid in, the worn leather seats creaking beneath her. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, she couldn’t resist making one last jab. “You sure this thing’s gonna make it out of the parking lot?”

Cregan shot her a sideways glance, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s got a few more miles in it, just like me.”

He started the engine, the truck rumbling to life with a low growl. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Baela turned to him, her expression softening.

“Hey you don’t have to drive me home, you know,” she said, her voice teasing, trying to sound seductive.

Cregan glanced at her, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? Where am I taking you, then?”

Baela leaned back in her creaky seat, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked him in the eye. “Your place.”

Cregan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly, and the flirtatious banter between them suddenly charged with yet another tension. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just kept his eyes on the gravel road as they drove through the dark streets.

Finally, he nodded, his voice low and steady. “Alright, Baela. My place it is.”

Cregan’s truck rumbled down a winding, tree-lined road, the headlights cutting through the darkness as they made their way to his place. Baela stared out the cracked window, the cool night air streaming in slowly. Her thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened that night. The sudden shift from playful banter to something far more intense and intimate was throwing her off but in the best way possible. She was finally getting what she wanted.

When they finally pulled up in front of a large but modest weather-worn house, Baela couldn’t help but smirk. The place had a certain rustic charm, but it was clear it had seen better days. The paint was peeling in places, and the porch looked like it could use some work. “Wow, Coach,” Baela teased, stepping out of the truck. “Ever think about renovating? You know, joining us in the 21st century?”

"It’s a little rough around the edges, but it’s home,” he replied, his tone still playful. “It’s got character.”

Baela followed him up the loudly creaking steps, her eyes flicking to the worn wood beneath her feet. “Yeah, it’s got...something. Might want to start with replacing these steps before they collapse.”

He unlocked the door, shaking his head with a grin at her comments. “I’ll get right on that, Princess.”

Inside, the house was just as she’d imagined. Cozy and dated, with an old-fashioned feel that spoke to the house’s long history. The furniture was sturdy but clearly well-worn, and the decor was simple, with no frills or unnecessary luxuries. Her parents would hate to live in a place like this. It was a far cry from the sleek, modern interiors she was used to, but there was something undeniably charming about it.

Baela took it all in, walking around the small living room as she shrugged out of her jacket. “This place is definitely you, Cregan. Rugged, a little rough around the edges, but solid.”

Cregan appreciated the flattery, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her. “You’re full of compliments tonight, aren’t you?”

Baela turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just calling it like I see it.”

He shook his head, grinning while staring at her. “Make yourself at home, then.”

She walked over to the old couch, running her hand along the worn fabric before turning back to him with a teasing smile. “May I?”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s sturdier than it looks.”

Baela didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her every move, the tension between them thickening with each passing moment. She bit her lip, feeling a thrill at the way he looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. With a playful glint in her eye, she slowly reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one smooth motion.

Cregan’s breath hitched as she tossed the shirt aside, leaving her in just her bra and low-rise jeans. “Baela.”

She smiled, reclining on the old couch as if it were the most comfortable thing in the world. “You said to make myself at home.”

His eyes darkened, the air between them sparking up as he pushed off the doorframe and took a step toward her. “Baela.” He repeated her name.

She leaned back, resting her head against the arm of the couch as she looked up at him, her voice soft and teasing. “Yes?”

Cregan’s jaw tightened as he closed the distance between them, the space shrinking until he was standing right in front of her, looking down at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her body.

Baela’s heart pounded in her chest as she met his gaze, the banter between them fading into something far more serious, far more sensual.

Baela watched as Cregan stood over her, his usually guarded expression replaced with something raw and intense. The tension that had been simmering between them finally reached a boiling point, and she could feel the electricity crackling in the air.

She tilted her head back, her silver curls spilling over the arm of the couch as she gazed up at him, a soft, teasing smile playing on her lips. “Are you just going to stand there, Coach? Or are you going to join me?”

Cregan’s eyes darkened, the usual restraint he showed around her nowhere to be found. He slowly knelt beside the couch, his hands resting on her knees as he gently pushed them apart. His touch was careful, almost reverent, but there was a hunger in his eyes that made Baela’s heart race.

“You’re something else, Baela,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You know that?”

She laughed softly, the sound light and breathless. “I’ve been told that once or twice.”

Without another word, Cregan leaned down, his lips brushing against her skin as he kissed a slow path along her inner thigh. Baela’s breath caught in her throat, her teasing demeanor slipping as a shiver of anticipation ran through her.

The scruff of his beard grazed her skin, the sensation both ticklish and incredibly intimate. She let out a surprised giggle, the unexpected feeling breaking through the seriousness of the moment. “Your beard,” she whispered, her voice full of laughter. “It tickles.”

Cregan paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked up at her. “You like it?”

She nodded, biting her lip to stifle another giggle. “It’s different. Good different.”

With a low chuckle, he returned to his slow exploration, his hands firm and sure as they guided her hips closer to him. Baela’s laughter faded into soft gasps as the sensation of his mouth on her skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through her. The playful banter between them melted away, replaced by something deeper, more intimate.

Time seemed to blur as they lost themselves in the moment, the connection between them intensifying with each passing second. When Cregan finally moved to kiss her, his lips claiming hers with a fierce passion, Baela responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

She moaned into his mouth, tasting him. He tasted like mint and the faint traces of cinnamon, a mix that uniquely seemed like him. It made her crave more and when his hands trailed down her back to remove their clothes, she let out a small sigh of satisfaction, arching into him unconsciously. She felt him smirk against her mouth before he deepened the kiss.

Cregan lifted her effortlessly, guiding her onto his lap as he settled back against the worn couch. Baela straddled him, her hands bracing against his shoulders as she gazed down at him, her silver curls framing her face. She could feel the heat of his body beneath her palms, his breath warm against her lips as he looked up at her with so much desire.

His dark gaze traveled down her body, making her blush slightly, but he quickly caught her eye again. He smirked as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind. “You’re beautiful, Baela,” he breathed. “Everything about you is gorgeous.”

Baela flushed even darker as she bit her lip, moving in to kiss him again. She kissed him long and deep, feeling him respond hungrily as one hand came up to cup her breast, her hips grinding lightly into him. Her breathing quickened as he began to caress her, rubbing against her intimately. His erection pressed firmly against her stomach, which elicited a soft whimper from her. He smiled against her lips. “What do you want?"

He whispered huskily again when she didn't answer, too preoccupied with nipping him with kisses. "Tell me, baby."

Baela shook her head against his lips. She couldn't breathe properly, her chest heaving with the need for air as he continued kissing her senselessly. She ran one hand up his chiseled arm as he held her against him, his fingers digging into her hip bone.

He pulled away just enough to say, “Come on, you're always so brave. Don’t be shy now, tell me what you want.” His voice sounded hoarse and it took everything in her not to squirm in pleasure, her arousal flaring even more. “Please tell me what you want.” His tone was pleading and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You know what I want Stark.” The words were barely audible as she fought to stay sane.

“I want to hear you say it, Baela. Please.”

Her breath hitched as his fingers slipped in between them, finding the opening between her legs. The cool air made her shudder as his fingers brushed against her sensitive skin. “Oh, god.”

She sighed before speaking again. "Fuck me."

“Yes,” he said immediately, pressing his lips hard against hers to emphasize his agreement as he licked his way around her breasts, kissing every inch of her exposed skin until his mouth found her nipple and lined himself up to her opening.

Baela cried out, arching upwards into him as she arched against him. His fingers teased her, teasing her until she begged him to thrust inside her. He complied instantly, sliding deep inside her. They both gasped and then moaned together, panting with the intensity of their pleasure. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as they moved together.

Cregan’s grip tightened, his eyes never leaving hers as he moved with her, their bodies perfectly in sync. Baela’s breath hitched as the intensity of the moment threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to look away, wanting to capture every detail of this moment between them.

They rocked slowly, building up the speed as they rode the waves of their passion. His hands gripped her bottom as he pulled her in tighter, driving into her relentlessly, his cock stretching her further as they continued their erotic dance. She groaned softly, the pleasure unbearable as her climax peaked. She buried her face in his shoulder as she trembled and convulsed, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes from the force of her release. She only wanted this, to make sure this wasn't fleeting.

He groaned as well, his entire body trembling as his climax crashed over him. After a few minutes, he leaned back, resting his weight against her as he struggled for breath. His face glistened with sweat, his chest rising rapidly as he tried to calm himself. Baela smiled fondly as she smoothed the damp strands of his dark brown hair off his forehead.

The tension that had built up between them over the past weeks finally found its release, their connection had deepened with every touch, every kiss, every shared breath. The playful banter, the unspoken longing, the undeniable chemistry. All of it came together in a perfect storm of emotions that left them both breathless.

Baela let out a soft, contented sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder, her silver curls brushing against his cheek. Cregan wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they sat there in the quiet aftermath, the tension between them finally giving way to a comfortable, shared silence.

After a long moment, Baela lifted her head, her lilac eyes meeting his with a playful smile. “I guess your old couch isn’t so bad after all.”

Cregan chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Told you it was sturdier than it looks.”

Baela laughed, the sound light and carefree as she nestled against him, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

The soft morning light filtered through the thin curtains of Cregan’s bedroom, casting a waking Baela up. She stirred, a lazy smile stretching across her face as the events of the previous night came flooding back. She felt the warmth of the blankets against her skin and the comfort of the old, worn-in bed beneath her. It was surprisingly cozy for such a rugged place, though she had a feeling that might have had more to do with the man than the bed itself.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she turned her head just in time to see Cregan walk in, still naked, carrying a tray with breakfast. Baela couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the sight of him so casual and at ease making the moment feel both surreal and ridiculously charming.

“Well, good morning to you too,” she teased, her lilac eyes sparkling with amusement. “You always serve breakfast like this, Coach?”

Cregan grinned, setting the tray down on the bed before leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Only for special guests.”

Baela rolled her eyes playfully, sitting up and taking in the spread before her. Eggs, toast, and a few slices of bacon. Simple, but it smelled delicious. She grabbed a piece of toast, nibbling on it as she looked up at him, curiosity getting the better of her.

“So,” she started her voice light and teasing. “How does a guy like you end up being a tennis coach? I mean, you don’t exactly fit the stereotype.”

Cregan chuckled, sliding back into the bed beside her and leaning against the headboard. “Honestly? I don’t know. It just happened. I played a lot of sports growing up, and was pretty good at it. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I was coaching.”

Baela raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his vague answer. “That’s it? No secret passion for tennis? No dramatic backstory?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nope. Just a guy who’s good at sports and wanted a job.”

Baela was about to press him further when something suddenly dawned on her. Her eyes widened, and she dropped the toast onto the tray, sitting up straight. “Oh my gods, I left my phone at the bar! Netty and Aly have probably been calling this entire time.”

Cregan smirked, clearly not as concerned as she was. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean, ‘don’t worry about it’? I need my phone! What if someone took it?”

He leaned in, his grin widening as he brushed a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “Baela, it’s fine. I own the bar.”

She blinked, her mind trying to process what he’d just said. “What?”

Cregan nodded, clearly enjoying her confusion. “And most of the northern part of town, too. It’s a family thing.”

Baela stared at him, utterly shocked. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, still grinning as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers. “Afraid not, Princess.”

Baela’s mind reeled as she tried to wrap her head around this new revelation. Cregan wasn’t just a coach. He was practically the king of this small town. And here she was, sitting naked in his bed, having spent the night in his arms.

Before she could ask any more questions, the older man kissed her, his lips warm and insistent against hers. The shock of his revelation melted away, replaced by the familiar heat of their connection. Baela kissed him back, her hands finding their way to his chest as she pulled him closer.

As their lips parted, Baela couldn’t help but smile, the surprise still lingering in her eyes. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Cregan chuckled, his forehead resting against hers as he looked into her lilac eyes. “Stick around, Baela. You might find there’s a lot more to discover.”

Baela smiled softly, shaking her head in disbelief as she pulled him in for another kiss, the rest of the world fading away as she lost herself in the moment.

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story: Pt. 23

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 22

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

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@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

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Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, light smut, nightmares, arguing, mentions of violence/domestic violence, sexual harassment, attempted sexual assault, mentions of blood, mentions of vomit, anxiety, panic attack, crying

Word Count: 8k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part 23: Scary Monsters and Super Creeps

Monday, June 26th, 1989

You've been grinding on Eddie's lap on his couch for what feels like hours, hungrily kissing his plush lips and tangling your fingers in his hair. His hands are squeezing your ass, leading you as your hips roll against him. You both let out low moans at every touch, winding each other up more and more with every passing second. You break away from his mouth, migrating to suck on his neck. "I love you, Eds." You say breathily, nipping his throat with your teeth. You await his reply, but he doesn't say anything. He's stopped the motions of his hands as well, going completely still. You look up to see what's going on. His face has gone stiff as stone, and his eyes look right through you. "What's wrong, love?" You ask, cupping his cheek.

"Get out." He says flatly, ceasing his touches on you altogether.

"What? Why?" You ask, confused. You were both having a good time just a second ago, and now he wants you to leave?

"I said, get out!" He yells at you, violently shoving you off of him. You gasp as you fall backwards from his lap and onto the floor of his trailer.

"What the hell is your problem?" You shout back, Eddie's never gotten physical with you like this. He would never, ever hurt you. Right?

"My problem? I think you fucking know, Y/N." He replies angrily, crossing his arms.

"Clearly I don't, Eddie. Can you just tell me?" You ask, matching his attitude. You have no clue where this is coming from, he's not himself at all.

"God, could you be any more stupid? I'm talking about Tommy!" He shouts, getting on his feet. His fists ball at his sides as he looms over you, and you're afraid he might hit you.

"What about him? I already told you everything!" You don't back down, standing up as well. You cross your own arms, shaking like a leaf as you wait to see where this goes.

"Oh, right!" He laughs mockingly. "Yeah, I don't buy that whole sob story, sweetheart. You keep...letting him touch you, and call you little names. If he's so fucking awful, why don't you fight back?" There's such cruelty in his voice, and his facial expression isn't much better. Is he seriously trying to suggest that you want to be harassed?

"Because...we'd lose our jobs, Eds. And we need the money...for our future." You say sadly, tears welling in your eyes. You wish you could tell him why the money is so important, that you want to move in together and get your lives started for real.

"Our future? What the fuck does that even mean, Y/N?" Eddie yells even louder, getting closer to you. You flinch at his words, your eyes squeezing shut to avoid looking at him. "Look at me!" He screams, and you open your eyes again. His face has gone all red, the vein in his neck poking out in his rage. "You know what I think, princess? I think you like the extra attention. To have two guys into you at once, that's gotta be thrilling for you. And I know how much you like a thrill...I'm sure Tommy does, too." His words make you want to vomit. This isn't Eddie, this isn't the man you fell in love with. But here he is, standing before you, saying the most vile things. You thought he was different. But you guess you were wrong.

"You know damn well that I don't like what Tommy's doing. I love you, Eddie. I only want you. I don't know what else you want me to say." You say in defeat, seconds away from tumbling to the floor. Your knees threaten to give out from under you, and your brain is in a swirling frenzy of fear and anger. You resent him for assuming the worst of you, and you're afraid to lose him all the same. This is all too much, this can't be happening.

"Well, I don't love you." His words feel like a knife stabbing you deep in your heart, but he doesn't stop there. "I can't love you...because you're a whore." The proverbial blade twists, deepening the agony. His eyes bore into yours, letting you know he means everything he's saying. He steps closer as he continues to speak, which in turn makes you walk backwards with every footfall. "You're a whore for attention. A whore for pain. A whore for pity. I'm sure you tell every man you meet about your father ditching you. Crying in their arms, eating up the comfort they offer. Stop me if I'm wrong, here, sweetheart." Your back meets the wall, with Eddie standing just centimeters away from your face. "Answer me!" He shouts again, some of his spit hitting your cheek.

"You're wrong, Eddie. I only care about you. I love you more than anything. You're my whole world. I need you." You sob uncontrollably as you try to get him to understand. Your vision blurs with tears, and your chest hitches repeatedly as you continue to fall apart.

"Stop lying, bitch!" He screams, and his hand comes up to slap you across the face. It stings like nothing you've ever experienced, and you gasp in shock at him hitting you.

"I'm not lying! I love you, Eddie! Please, you have to believe me!" You sob even harder, to a point where you feel sick to your stomach.

"Shut up! Just shut up! You're a liar! A liar, and a whore! I fucking hate you! I can't stand you! Your phony panic attacks, and your constant whining and crying about everything!" Eddie keeps slapping you harder and harder with every heartbreaking sentence he utters. He's screaming so loud, his voice rings in your ears.

"Eddie, please! Stop it! You're hurting me! I love you, please! Please! Please!" You beg for him to stop, but he doesn't. His free hand holds you firm against the wall, the back of your skull digging into the paneling as he repeatedly hits you. The slaps hurt so much, and your cheek has begun to swell.

"You lying bitch! You don't love me! You never did! Stop lying!"

"Mew!" Eddie's shouting has been suddenly interrupted by the sound of Arwen's meowing. You're thrown at first, as your eyes have been closed again for a while. You notice the hitting has also stopped, and you look to find that Eddie isn't here anymore. You're not in the trailer anymore, either. You're surrounded by dark fog and nothingness. And then you hear the sound again. "Mew!" Louder this time. And you sense what feels like tiny claws digging into your chest. "Mew!" Another petulant noise from your feline friend.

"Arwen!" You call out, and the words echo into the void. But there's no response. "I've gotta wake up."

Your realization that you were dreaming snaps you awake instantly, and you gasp as you look around you. You're in your room, with Arwen pressing her paws against your chest. None of it was real. Eddie didn't hit you, or say any of those disgusting things. He would never do that. You let out a sigh of relief, wiping your tears away. Your heart is still pounding, and you're coated in sweat. You look at the clock, 9:30am, you slept through your alarm. Your eyes return to Arwen, who's still making imaginary biscuits on your chest.

"Good morning, little one. Thanks for helping me wake up." You say sweetly to her, scratching behind her ears. She leans into your hand, purring loudly. "I gotta call Eddie." You observe aloud, as there's still a teeny tiny part of you that's worried the dream was true. You pluck the kitten away from her pretend bakery, setting her in the plush cat bed on the floor. You jog down the hall, almost tripping as you reach the phone on the end table beside the couch. You fumble with the headset, bringing it to your ear. You pound Eddie's number into the little buttons, waiting for the dial to go through. It rings once, before he picks up.

"Hello?" He asks, and you're so fucking happy to hear his voice.

"Eddie!" You exclaim, a little too loud.

"Y/N? What's wrong? I was just on my way over." You can hear Eddie's concern through the phone, which puts you a little more at ease.

"I, uh, had another nightmare. It was really bad, and scary. I just had to make sure you didn't hate me. I'll explain more when you get here." You're talking way too fast, and some more tears spring from your eyes.

"I could never hate you, princess. I'll be right over, okay? And you can tell me all about it over breakfast." He replies sweetly, wishing he could hold you in his arms and shower you with kisses.

"Okay. I love you, Eds." You sniffle, trying to calm yourself down. There's a pause, and you're worried that you're still asleep. Your chest tightens, and a wave of nausea rolls over you. Here it comes, he's gonna call you a whore again.

"I love you too, sweetheart. See you soon." He says, which makes your entire body relax. He can hear your sigh of relief, and he knows for sure that he needs to get to your place now.

"Bye, love." You reply with a nod, hanging up the phone.

"Everything okay, sugarpuff?" Mom asks, having come from her own room when she heard you making noise a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, just a bad dream. That's all." You try to stop yourself from crying again. But the mere mention of it makes all the awful images of Eddie berating you come flooding back. You burst into tears, and Mom moves forward to take you into a firm hug. Your head burrows into her chest, and you sob uncontrollably.

"Oh, Y/N. It's okay, it was just a dream. Eddie's coming over, right?" She asks, rubbing her hand up and down your back to comfort you. You nod against her at the question, and she tuts lightly. "It's gonna be alright, sweetie. He'll be here soon." You stay with her just like this, standing in the middle of the living room until Eddie shows up a few minutes later. He comes in through the door, and Mom looks over at him. "I think you can take over from here." She smiles at him, pulling away from you.

You meet Eddie's eyes, your own are red and puffy from crying so much. The look of complete and utter care and worry on his face tells you everything you need to know. He closes the door without a word, and you run over to him. You wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing so hard you're almost suffocating him. He strokes your hair with his hand, laying his chin on top of your head. "It's okay, love. I'm right here. Just calm down, it's alright." He coos quietly, trying his best to console you. You've gotta be at work in about an hour, and you still haven't showered, or gotten dressed, or eaten. "C'mon, baby. Let's get you cleaned up and you can tell me everything." He says softly, ending your tight embrace to lead you to the bathroom. He closes the door, and helps you strip off your sweat-soaked pajamas.

You still haven't said a word to him since he's arrived, you just can't manage it right now. Eddie remains patient the whole way, getting the shower set nice and warm for you. He sits on the toilet while you wash up, waiting to hand you a towel. You don't spend a lot of time showering, you want to be able to tell Eddie everything. The warmth of the shower calms you down little by little, and you've stopped crying completely by the time you're done. You step out of the shower, and take the towel Eddie's extending your way. You wrap it around your trembling body, and head over to your bedroom to get dressed. "You ready to talk, sweetheart?" He asks, shutting your door and sitting on your bed. Arwen perks up at his presence, padding her way over to be picked up by him. He does so, setting her in his lap while you pull out your uniform.

"Yeah. I think so." You say quietly, retrieving some panties and socks from your dresser. You begin to recount your terrible nightmare to Eddie, managing to avoid another fit of tears. A couple singular ones still escape, but it's already a major improvement. He doesn't interrupt you as you put every nasty little detail out there. He just listens intently, waiting until the end to weigh in. Once you're finished and dressed, he stands up to put himself before you. He gently sets his hands on your shoulders, and gazes deep into your eyes.

"Y/N, I am so sorry that you went through that. It sounds like the worst dream ever. But I am telling you right now, I would never, ever lay a hand on you." He raises a hand to cup your cheek, making you flinch. He drops it immediately, remembering what the dream version of him did. "Shit, sorry." He clears his throat, kicking himself for the mistake. "I would never call you mean names, or say any of those awful things. I love you so much, baby. And nothing is ever going to change that. I promise." He means every last word he's said, and you appreciate him putting in the effort to make these things clear to you. You didn't have any doubt before, but it's good to hear him effectively put any future ones to rest.

"I love you, too, Eddie. More than anything in the world. Thank you." You carefully press your lips to his, and you melt into each other. Another couple tears roll down your cheeks, and you feel a few come down Eddie's face as well. Your heart swells at the intensity of his love for you. Just hearing you say what he did to you in your nightmare breaks his heart. He knows you don't actually think he'd do such a thing, but he can't even imagine hurting you. Not like that, with such cruel intentions. Never. He wishes so much that you didn't have to see that, feel that. If he could, he'd wipe it all away from your memory for you. Like recording over an old videotape. He'd replace it all with happy things. Kisses, late-night drives, D&D campaigns, movie dates, cuddling in either of your beds. Even things you haven't gotten to do yet. Like living together, picking out furniture, bickering about paint samples. Or getting married, your smiling face as you walk down the aisle, how gorgeous you'd look in your dress. Anything to chase the ugly caricature of himself away.

You break away to breathe, both of you wiping your eyes. "Let's get some food in you, princess. I'd hate for you to go to work hungry." Eddie says quietly, taking hold of your hand. You gladly let him do so, walking down the hall together to the kitchen. You set a Pop Tart into the toaster for Eddie, and pour a bowl of cereal for yourself. "You gonna be okay to work today? We could call you in sick if you want." Eddie offers, always looking for ways to help you feel better.

"I'll be fine, Eds. I think work will take my mind off this. I'll just stew all day if I stay here." You reply, taking a large bite of your Frosted Flakes.

"If you say so, angel." He sighs quietly, munching away at his pastry. He's scared out of his wits at the idea of you going to work today. You're still visibly shaken up, despite him doing everything in his power to comfort you. He has no idea how today will go for you, especially if a certain someone tries his little games on you again. It's pretty much a given at this point, and that's the most terrifying part. Maybe he can get Biggs to keep you in the ticket booth or something, that way you don't have to deal with Tommy at all.

"Alright, everyone. Quiet down, we need to get through these assignments before we open." Mr. Biggs bellows to all of the employees of the Hawk as you stand in a small circle in the lobby. Well, except for Milo since he always works the projector. Your boss looks at Tommy first, pointing his pencil at him while reading the paper in his hand. "Hagan, you'll be in the ticket booth." He moves on down the list. "Jamie and Eddie will be on concessions and clean-up. And Y/N, I'm going to have you do inventory today. You'll just count everything in the storage room and fill it in on this clipboard. You'll also need to add everything currently set out in concessions." Biggs hands you the clipboard he's kept tucked under his arm, and a freshly sharpened number two pencil.

You take them apprehensively, looking down at the sheets of paper clipped to the board. "Um, okay." You say softly. You've never done 'inventory' before. It's usually something that Harriet does as the assistant manager.

"I figured since you've shown such strong work ethic, you can do with a little more responsibility." Biggs says, his lips upturning into a stilted smile. The man doesn't use said facial muscles very often, so it's kinda off-putting. "That'll be all. Let's get to work." He dismisses everyone to attend to their duties, but keeps you behind for a moment. Eddie gives you a look, and you nod to tell him you'll be alright. "Y/N, the reason I'm giving you this assignment is because I think you have potential here. And if you do well with this, and a few other tasks I have in mind, you could very well become a supervisor in the near future. Pay raise and all."

"Oh, really? I appreciate that very much, Mr. Biggs. I won't let you down." You say semi-excitedly. You tone it down so you don't seem too eager for it. But, supervisor...it has a nice ring to it.

"That's what I like to hear. Well, I'll leave you to it. If you need any help, you can ask Harriet. But I'm sure you're bright enough to figure it out on your own." He replies, his smile fading as he mentally moves on to something else regarding the theater. You're just about to go on your way, when he stops you one final time. "Oh, and Y/N? Don't tell anyone about this just yet. I'd hate for them to get jealous, especially since I haven't fully made up my mind."

"Sure thing, sir. I'll keep my mouth shut." You chirp.

"Good woman. Come find me once you're finished." And he leaves you without another word. Eddie's been watching this interaction from the concession counter, quirking an eyebrow curiously. He'll have to ask you about it later on, it appears you’ve got a special job to do. 

You head into the storage room, flicking on the light switch. The overhead light casts shadows all about the place from the stacks of tall boxes that surround you. You look down at the sheet, finding cups listed at the top. They're measured by case, so you go ahead and count the boxes. There's open ones for each size as well, and you're guessing you need to add those, too. But not as a whole. So, according to that logic, there's 4.5 cases of small cups, 3.7 medium, and 5.1 large. This isn't so hard, you think to yourself. You continue down the list: lids, candy, soda syrup, popcorn, artificial butter, napkins, boxed candies, straws, etc. It's simple observation and addition, you're surprised this is considered a supervisory task at all. A monkey could do it. You move on to the refrigeration and freezer in the back of the room, adding up the various pre-made snacks like hotdogs and pretzels. 

You hear the door to the storage area open up behind you, and you don't bother to turn around. You figure it's just Eddie coming in to have some fun with you. You could certainly use it, this morning really fucked you up. You hear the lock click, and a sly smile spreads across your face. "Couldn't wait until later on, Eds?" You ask, back still turned as you keep working your way through the papers.

"'Fraid not, sweet thing. But I think you've got me confused with somebody else." You freeze immediately when you realize it's not Eddie in the now-locked room with you. It's Tommy, who's managed to leave his post outside and slink in here under everyone's noses.

"Go away, Tommy. I'm busy." You say shortly, paying him no mind. If you make it obvious you're uninterested, he'll go away. Won't he?

"Sounds like you're plenty available to me." He sneers, and you hear his footsteps approaching you slowly.

"Well, I'm not. Biggs needs me to finish this." You insist, refusing to face him.

"Ugh, when did you get so boring, babygirl? We used to have so much fun." Tommy's only a few steps away from you now, and you just try to keep working. You've only got half a page left until you can retreat to concessions. Just ignore him. You don't say anything else, pressing your lips together in irritation. After a few moments of silence, he moves even closer. His hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing hard. "It's pretty rude to ignore me, Y/N. You're so uptight. Why don't you let me help you relax?" He speaks in your ear, his hot breath against your skin makes you feel sick.

"Leave me alone, Tommy. I'm not your girlfriend anymore. And I'm definitely not gonna fuck you." You raise your voice a little, hoping it's enough to alert someone out there of the very dangerous situation you've found yourself in.

"Oh, come on, you don't mean that. I know you want me, Y/N. You'd be stupid not to." He leans in from behind to try and kiss your neck.

"Get away from me!" You smack him in the face as hard as you can with the back of the clipboard.

"Ow, fuck! You fucking bitch!" He shouts as his nose starts gushing blood. You push past him and run for the door, hoping to get away. But he catches up to you pretty quickly, pulling you backwards by the arm. You scream in surprise, falling onto your back on the packed carpet. The clipboard falls from your grasp, sliding across the floor. Tommy looms over you, clutching his nose. "You're gonna regret that, Y/N." He seethes, using his free arm to pull you up by yours.

"Let me go, Tommy!" You yell, trying to kick and punch him so he'll let you go. But he's stronger than you, despite only having one hand available. He slams you up against one of the shelves, knocking over a case of Raisinettes. The little cardboard boxes spill all over the floor, the candies inside rolling around their packages. The metal racks sting your lower back and head when you make contact. He presses his body against yours, his nose dripping onto your clean white shirt while he holds you against your will.

"C'mon, Y/N. You're wasting your time with Munson. Let a real man show you how it's done." He insists, his eyes wild. A thick stripe of blood runs down the middle of his face, like an elongated mustache. He pays no mind to drops of it running into his mouth, he's too focused on you.

"Eddie's more of a man than you'll ever be. Now let me go, right now." You hold strong, trying your best to stand your ground.

"What are you gonna do about it? I'm much stronger than you. I can just take what I want if I have to." He says threateningly, tightening his grip on your wrists. You try to kick him in the crotch, but he easily blocks the blow. "Big mistake, Y/N. I was tryin' to play nice." He tries to force his blood-soaked lips onto yours, but you twist your head so they land on your cheek instead.

"Help! Somebody, please! Eddie! Jamie! Someone, help!" You scream, almost gagging at Tommy's blood smearing onto your skin. You don't want any part of him on you, you want this to stop. He keeps trying to kiss you, even going so far as to hold your head in place. This lets your left arm free for a moment, and you take the opportunity to sock him right in the jaw. Your fist lands hard on the bone, and it hurts like hell. You've never really had to punch anyone before, you didn't anticipate inflicting pain on yourself in the process. He cries out at the blow, and tears begin to well in your eyes from your own agony.

"Stop fighting! I'm gonna make you see, Y/N! You should be mine, you need me!" Tommy screams at you, stilling your head. He stares at you with insane intensity, managing to kiss you now. You attempt to scream and cry, but it's muffled by his iron-flavored lips. You keep trying to spit out any and all taste of him, but it just goes back in your mouth. You feel sick, and you can't fight back. He's managed to pin you completely to the shelf now.

You suddenly have the urge to vomit, and you accept it as a way out. Maybe this will be enough to get Tommy away from you. You let it all go, regardless of the mess. The bile rushes up your throat, and spurts against the seal he's created with your lips. Even the force of him can't stop the puke from spilling out. It sprays out slightly from the edges of your mouths, some of which he ends up swallowing. He pulls away at the vile taste, rapidly spitting to get it out. The rest unfortunately lands on your uniform along with his. "Fuck! Ew, I swallowed some!" Tommy almost shrieks, and you manage to push him a few feet away from you.

You dash for the door, fumbling with the handle. You push it down to disengage the lock, finally freeing yourself from captivity. You almost fall onto the floor, scrambling over your own feet to get to Eddie. "Oh, my god!" A random movie-goer exclaims when she sees you covered in your own vomit. You stand upright, pushing past people to reach the concession stand.

Eddie's eyes find you immediately as you reach the counter, and he kicks into overdrive when he sees the state of you. He stops scooping popcorn for the matinee rush, and comes to you. His hands sit on your shoulders, and he searches your face for any information he can find. "Y/N, what's wrong? What the hell happened? Are you sick?" He asks frantically, so many questions at once.

"T-Tommy..." You stutter, before trailing off completely. You feel sick again once the name leaves your lips, and you lunge behind the counter to throw up in the trash can that's kept back here. You fall to your knees, just barely making it into the can. You're an absolute mess, covered in your own barf, barfing some more in front of all the customers. It's all so embarrassing.

"Y/N! You fucking bitch!" You hear Tommy's voice shouting from behind you. He's come out from the closet now, clearly dazed and disgusted from your defensive strategies. Eddie's eyes snap to Tommy, noticing the bloodied nose and vomit covering his shirt and vest. What the fuck did he do? Eddie thinks to himself, his own rage beginning to take hold. "Where is she?" Tommy demands, he can't see you behind the counter.

"I think a better question is what the hell did you do to her?" Eddie seethes, coming out from behind the stand to get closer to Tommy. Please, not another fight. I can't take much more of this. You sob as silently as you can to maintain your hiding place, wiping the puke away from your chin. You look up at Jamie who's frozen in place behind the counter. He gazes down at you, shaking his head as a signal to stay where you are. You nod, agreeing that it's probably best at the moment.

"I didn't do anything! Your fucking whore of a girlfriend on the other hand hit me in the face, twice! And then she yakked all over me!" Tommy retorts, gesturing at himself. The customers in the lobby have stopped to watch the show, gathering along the walls as they've long forgotten about the film they paid to see. Biggs and Harriet come out of their office, wondering what the hell is going on now. They find Eddie and Tommy in yet another stand-off, and all the looky-lou's munching away on their popcorn.

"Attention Hawkins Theater patrons! It appears we have an employee issue to work through here. Please, if you've paid for a ticket, make your way to the auditorium and enjoy your film. If not, I must ask you to leave the premises until we can settle this matter." Biggs announces to the crowd, snapping at Jamie to usher them all to their respective destinations. It takes a few minutes to clear the lobby, but you eventually hear all the chattering voices stop. "Okay. Now, I would love to know why our business day is being interrupted by yet another fight between you two." He says, addressing Eddie and Tommy now.

"Y/N came over to the counter a few minutes ago, clearly upset. I dunno what happened, exactly. But it seems Tommy here had something to do with it." Eddie explains as calmly as he can, clenching his teeth together as he speaks.

"Okay. Well, where is Y/N? I'd like to hear what she has to say." Biggs replies, and you slowly stand up to reveal yourself. You face your boss, tears still streaming down your cheeks. His eyes bug out at how awful you look. "Y/N. Can you please tell us what happened?" He asks, looking very concerned for you.

You nod, coming out from behind the counter completely. You stand beside Eddie, needing him to hold your hand. He does, squeezing lightly to comfort you. "I-I...was doing inventory like you asked. I was almost done, actually. I had my back turned to the door, and I heard someone come in. I thought maybe it was Eddie to check in on me, but it was Tommy." Your eyes flick to Tommy, which you instantly regret. You squeeze them shut for a moment, more stinging tears escaping them. You stare at the floor once you open them again. You're trembling beyond your control, but you have to get the words out. "He, um, locked the door. And he tried to get me to have sex with him. I said no, but he didn't listen. He tried to...k-kiss me, and I hit him with the clipboard. That's why his nose is bleeding." You point awkwardly to Tommy's face.

"Is that all?" Biggs asks, pressing you further.

"No. Um, I tried to run away from him, and then he knocked me down. Then he picked me up, pinning me against one of the shelves." You choke back a sob, and Eddie's other hand strokes your arm gently. You let out a shake breath, and keep telling your story. "He kept trying to kiss me, and he managed to, once on the cheek." You point to said cheek, which everyone can clearly see has a streak of blood on it. "And then I punched him, and I w-was screaming. But I forgot the walls are pretty soundproof in there." You chuckle dryly, not finding it funny at all. "He got mad, and held me harder. He kissed my mouth, and I...uh, threw up." You pause again, another wave of nausea washing over you.

"Anything else?" Biggs asks, and the queasiness thankfully passes.

You nod. "He got grossed out by the vomit going everywhere, and I managed to get away this time. I came to get Eddie, and that's all." You finish awkwardly, losing the ability to form words. Eddie pulls you into his arms, and you continue to sob into his chest. He holds you close, and you can feel him shaking as well. But you know it's for a much different reason. He's angry, furious that this happened. And on today of all days? When you're already having a hard time? Absolutely not.

Biggs contemplates your words for a minute, before speaking once more. "Tommy, get out. You're fired." He says, which makes Tommy scoff.

"What?! You can't do that!" Tommy yells, gearing up to pull out the threats.

"Yes I can, Mr. Hagan. I agreed to give you a job here at your father's behest. But at the end of the day, this is my business. And I will run it as I see fit." Mr. Biggs replies calmly.

"Oh, please! She totally wanted it!" Tommy insists, gesturing at you in an accusing manner.

"No the fuck she didn't, Tommy! She said no, more than once! And she hit you to get away, more than once! And your persistence literally made her sick! What about that says that she wanted anything to do with you?!" Eddie screams, leaving you for a moment to get in Tommy's face. "I told you to leave her alone! But you didn't listen! You kept touchin' her, and calling her names like she's your property! You're a fucking pig!" Suddenly, Tommy's fist makes contact with Eddie's face. “Fuck!” He stumbles back slightly, his hand coming up to hold where he was hit.

"Fuck you, man! I don't want your bitch of a girlfriend anyway! You can have her, she's fucking crazy!" Tommy yells, ending in a resigned laugh.

"Oh, you're gonna fuckin' regret that, Hagan!" Eddie attempts to lunge at Tommy, but Mr. Biggs pulls his arms behind his back, effectively restraining him. "Let me go, dammit! He tried to rape her, for fuck's sake! Fuckin' piece of shit, I'll kill you!" Eddie continues to scream, kicking and squirming to break loose. But Biggs manages to hold him still, not wanting a bloodbath in his goddamn theater.

"Calm down, Munson! He'll only get you in trouble if you hurt him. I know you care about Y/N. We all do, alright? But she's going to be fine. You have to stop, you need to stop!" Biggs does his best to reason with Eddie. It's proving difficult, however, and he's extremely protective of you.

While this is happening, Tommy attempts to make a break for the door. "Oh, no you don't!" Harriet shouts, chasing him down and tackling him to the floor. He squeaks out a groan as the wind is knocked out of him, and she yanks him off the carpet and holds him tight. Harriet may look a bit old and frail, but she knows how to use her strength to her advantage. "Jamie, call the police, please." She calls to your coworker who has stiffened up once again at the fight breaking out. He goes for the phone behind the counter, quickly dialing 911. "I'll lock him in the office until they arrive, boss." She says with a smile as she leads Tommy to the back room. He still tries to break free, but it's no use. "Keep tryin', bub. I did my time in the army, and I can do a helluva lot more than hold you still if I need to." That seems to shut him up, which makes her smirk.

Once the asshole is secured, Biggs lets Eddie go free. "Fuck, man. Should've let me beat his ass. It's what he deserves." Eddie grumbles, rubbing his sore wrists.

"He's not worth it, kid. Trust me. He's the cops' problem now." Mr. Biggs sighs, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "Shit, his father is going to rip me to pieces for this."

"Oh, come off it, Henry. You know everyone hates Jack fuckin' Hagan. But they love you, and they love the Hawk. We're a goddamn town landmark. We aren't going anywhere. No rich asshole's opinion is going to change that." Harriet says once she returns to the lobby.

"I suppose you're right, Harriet." Biggs thinks it over for a moment, scoffing slightly. "I can't believe I didn't throw the little snot out of here on his first day."

"None of us could believe it either, sir." Eddie comments, returning to your side as you wait for the police to arrive.

"We'll have to stop the showing, some of these customers are witnesses." Jamie pipes up, taking the initiative to run up to the booth and tell Milo to kill the movie.

"I'm sorry." You say quietly, drawing everyone's attention to you as you haven't spoken in a while. You've been too busy listening to everyone else to contribute to the conversation.

"For what?" Eddie asks, wondering why you're apologizing.

"For...the mess. And hitting Tommy. And for dating him in the first place." You say as you begin to fall to pieces again.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. It's not your fault. He was gonna hurt you, you were just defending yourself." Eddie tries to comfort you, but you shake your head.

"No! If I wasn't so stupid, none of this would've happened! I made you upset! And the theater is losing business! And I was supposed to do the inventory, because I might be made a supervisor! But I've messed it all up, and we have to deal with the cops again!" You're crumbling into hysterics, sobbing and rambling and blaming yourself. You can't breathe, or think straight, You fall back against the counter, sliding down to the floor. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" You keep repeating, your vision blurring with every syllable. You feel lightheaded, like you might pass out.

Eddie kneels before you, tapping your cheek to keep you conscious. "Y/N, it's okay. I promise, just calm down. I'm right here, princess. Just stay with me." His shaking voice begins to echo and distort. The theater fades to black a moment after.

You wake up an hour later in the back of an ambulance. It's parked outside the theater, with the doors sitting open. You're laying on a gurney, with an oxygen mask over your face. A male EMT is attending to you, checking your vitals on the beeping machines inside the vehicle. Eddie's sat by your side, holding your hand like his life depends on it. Tears stain his cheeks, and his lower lip trembles. He's got a dark bruise next to his left eye, from where Tommy punched him. He notices your fingers twitching in his hold, and he looks to find that you're awake. "Oh, Y/N. Thank fuck!" He lets out a sigh of relief, which gains the attention of the EMT.

"What's going on?" You ask groggily, focusing on his thumb brushing against your fingers to stay lucid.

"You passed out, sweetheart. How are you feeling?" Eddie questions.

"Tired, and oddly hungry." You reply, smiling weakly at him. He returns it, brushing your hair with his other hand. "Can we go home now? Mom's probably worried about me." You sit up, pulling the mask off your mouth and nose.

"She's already here, love. Dustin, too. And the cops need to talk to you." Eddie says softly, slowly pushing you back down onto the gurney. "You gotta slow down, baby. They're still checking you out."

"Okay." You say simply, allowing him to put the mask back over your face. "I'm sorry." You add, the pangs of sadness hitting you again. Today has totally sucked, more than you ever thought possible.

Eddie tuts, shaking his head to reject your apology. "Angel, please stop apologizing. None of this is your fault. I mean it." He speaks seriously, needing you to accept this simple fact. "It's gonna be okay. We'll get through this, just like everything else. Together."

"Together." You nod to affirm his statement. You just need to relax, and ignore your destructive tendencies.

"I'll go get your mom, alright? She's been worried sick about you." He kisses your hand, getting out of the ambulance to give your mother a turn to see you.

"Hey, sugarpuff. How's it going in here?" Mom asks a minute later, hopping up into the boxy vehicle to sit beside you. Dustin's following close behind, squeezing in with her on the little seat inside.

"I'm fine. I think." You laugh lightly, looking down at the wires and IV attached to various parts of your body.

"Eddie called us right away. He was so worried about you, Y/N. He could barely contain himself." Mom says, her heart aching at how incoherent and desperate Eddie sounded when he called your house. He was crying so hard, she could barely make out any words besides 'theater' and 'Y/N' and 'police'.

"Did he tell you everything?" You ask.

"Actually, Mr. Biggs did. Eddie was a mess until you woke up, nobody could understand what he was saying." Dustin answers. He pauses, his eyes changing a little. "Are you okay, Y/N? I'm sorry about what Tommy did." He asks, barely above a whisper.

"I'm okay. Tommy's in worse shape than I am, I'm sure." You roll your eyes at the idea. You hope more than anything that the taste of your puke never leaves his memory, and that his nose never looks the same again.

"Well, he sure doesn't look happy in the back of that cop car." Dustin snickers, earning a small smack on the arm from Mom. "What? He deserves it!"

"That may be true. But I taught you better than that, Dusty." She scolds him, and he bows his head. "Is she cleared to go, sir? She still needs to talk to the police." Mom asks, addressing the EMT.

"Yes, ma'am. Let me just take out the IV, and she'll be all set." He smiles kindly, and you read his name tag. 'Chad'.

"Thanks for the help, Chad. I'm sorry to be such a bother." You joke, making him let out an airy chuckle.

"No trouble at all, young lady. I'd love to go a few more months before seeing you for a third time, though." Chad replies, and your eyes widen. He was the one that took you to the hospital after the fight with Jason. "I see you still have that necklace. It's very pretty on you, I'm glad I didn't leave it behind." He says casually, keeping your eyes on him while he removes the needle from your arm.

"Well, thank you for bringing it along. It means a lot to me." You reply breathlessly, utterly gobsmacked at this man.

"So does the man who's name is carved into it, it seems. He sure is a keeper. Going after not one jerk that messed with you, but two? I've never seen a man so passionate about a woman before." Chad laughs again, drawing one from you, too. "All set, Ms. Henderson. Just make sure to eat real soon, and drink plenty of water."

"I will, Chad. Thanks again." You smile as you remove the mask, sliding off the gurney to go find Eddie. Mom and Dustin keep close behind, and you see your boyfriend leaning against a lightpost while having a smoke.

"All good, babydoll?" Eddie asks, taking your hand as you extend it to him.

"Yep. Let's get these questions out of the way, I'm starving." You reply as Chief Powell approaches you. "Oh, hey, Chief! It's nice to see you again." You smile at the tall man, gaining one in return.

"It's nice to see you, too, Y/N. Though I'd prefer if it wasn't regarding a crime, for once." He chuckles, and you do too. "You ready for us?"

"Yeah. Let's get this over with." You reply, exhaling deeply as you prepare to recount the events of today for the second time. "I'll be right back. You good to wait?" You turn to Eddie for a moment, checking in on him for once. It's been all about you today, you can only imagine how hard it's been for him. To see you cry so much, to see you get hurt again.

"You know it, baby. I'll be right here, and we can go get some drive-thru after." He gives you a warm smile, and you let him go to give your side of the story. It doesn't take long to make your statement, you're able to keep yourself together enough for Powell. He's a kind man, and extremely gentle with his questions.

"Thanks for the help, Y/N. We'll be in touch with any updates." Powell says, dismissing you as he and Callahan make their way back to their vehicle.

You return to your boyfriend's side, when you hear a couple more sets of footsteps approaching you. You turn to see Mr. Biggs, Harriet, Milo, and Jamie. "I'm deeply sorry, Y/N. I never should've kept Tommy on, it was unreasonable and unfair to you." Biggs says, regret lacing his voice. Harriet nudges him, urging him to say something else. He gives her a look, sighing loudly. "And I'd like to offer you the position of supervisor. You'll get a five dollar raise, and I'll go over your duties once you feel comfortable returning to work."

"I accept your apology, Mr. Biggs. I understand the pressure you were put under to hire him. I will say I'm disappointed that you gave in to such a thing so easily, I know you've got more integrity than that. And as for the job, I'll happily take it. I'm looking forward to proving myself worthy of the position." You say as calmly as you can. It's not what you actually feel, you're far more angry on the inside. But you're too exhausted to care about that right now.

"Thank you, Y/N. I hope to see you back soon." He says, turning to leave with Harriet close behind him.

"You gonna be alright, Y/N?" Jamie asks.

"Yeah. I could use a hug from my boys, though. If I'm not too disgusting for you, anyway." You say with a light laugh, and Jamie and Milo reciprocate it. They each give you a tight hug, wishing you well before heading home for the day. It's safe to say the Hawk is closed until tomorrow after all the shit that's gone down. "Food time?" You ask, turning to Eddie once again.

"Food time, princess. Let's go." Eddie smirks, flicking his cigarette away and leading you to the van. You say goodbye to Mom and Dustin, you'll see them at home in a bit. You hop into the van, and Eddie drives you both to get some burgers and fries. You take the food back to your place, sharing it with your family for lunch after you clean yourself up. Afterwards, you're feeling rather tired, so Eddie takes you back to your room. You crawl into bed together, and he spoons you to keep you safe and warm. Arwen is napping in her cat bed, purring quietly as she sleeps.

"I love you, Eddie. I don't know what I'd do without you." You say quietly as your eyes begin to flutter closed.

"I love you too, Y/N. I'm always gonna be here for you." He replies, his words humming against you as he presses tender kisses to the back of your neck. You settle into him entirely, and slowly drift off into a much-needed rest.

To be continued...

[happilyhertale]

Long Lost Love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader, Part 12

Summary: You are the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra. When the invitation to Aegon and Helaena's wedding came, your entire family rushes from Dragonstone to King's Landing to take part in the festivities. You haven't seen your family in King's Landing for 6 years so you are very excited...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: At the beginning none – eventually smut (uncle/niece)

Author’s note: Hello you! (:

This is my first fic so please be nice (: I thought I'd just try a little self-considered story. I hope u like it.

The events are not entirely similar from the series.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

18+ NSFW

Word count: 4k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7a, Part 7b, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You're speechless.

He stands before you and holds out his hand to you.

Aemond wants to dance with you.

You don't seem to move at first, for some reason you can't move at all. Until Daemon nudges you lightly and barely noticeably with his elbow. He grins slightly without taking his eyes off the goblet he brings to his mouth.

Back in reality, you reach for his hand as if of your own accord. Immediately you feel a fire go through your whole body.

He holds your hand firmly, yet gently in his. He smiles shyly at you and leads you around the table, straight into the crowd. You are still speechless and cannot take your eyes off him.

Aemond dares to stand in the crowd with you, to embrace you and want to dance with you. Ever since he reached out to you, you feel like all the eyes in the hall are on you. You have never seen Aemond so willing to attract the public's attention.

He puts his hand on your waist and presses you tightly against him, his other hand holds your hand up. You put your hand on his shoulder.

You look him in the eye. He visibly swallows. As the music starts, Aemond leads you across the dance floor without a hitch. Every step is on point and you are almost impressed. You feel your body heat up as he guides you across the ball floor. You are lost in his beautiful purple eye and take in his scent. His scent, which you've been missing for days. And yet it seems that none of you dares to speak first.

Until he seeks your gaze with his eye, "Y/N I'm.. so sorry. I'm ashamed... I am ashamed that I made you feel that I was dishonest with you."

He sighs and his gaze flits briefly to the crowd, "That you had to see that kiss... I'm disgusted with myself."

You look at him, tears welling up in your eyes, he continues, "I assure you I pushed her away. Too late… Yes. But I pushed her away." His gaze is firmly fixed on you again.

"You... You pushed her away?", you whisper. He nods at you.

"Alys means nothing to me anymore. There was a time when she was close to me. But… she was never as close to me as you are. Since I found out weeks ago that you were coming here, my thoughts have… have only been about you. My wish to see you again... After all this time. I could think of nothing else but wanting to be close to you again."

You slide even closer to his body as you dance. He holds you close and looks at you gently.

"Yesterday, when I saw how close you were to the Stark Lord... I'm sorry, I couldn't bear it. I had to do something. I wanted to talk to you, but when you stood in front of me, almost crying... I couldn't say anything... I just wanted to hold you in my arms, but I couldn't."

Barely perceptible, he wipes away a tear running down your cheek with his hand.

"And… I haven't slept with you yet because it's important to me that it's perfect for you. Don't get me wrong... I want to make love to you. Oh, only the gods can guess how much I long to sleep with you. But I don't want to sleep with you out of temptation..." you interrupt him, "I don't want a perfect moment, Aemond... I want you."

You almost whisper the end.

He looks at you and barely noticeably shakes his head, "Y/N you don't know what that means. This moment is so important. For a woman even more than for a man. My important moment was in a brothel and it marks me to this day... and not in any positive way... " and again you interrupt him " Aemond... you are my perfect moment. No matter what the situation. With you... it's perfect. I trust you..."

He pauses for a moment. He must smile slightly. He leans lightly towards you and whispers in your ear, "You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now."

You return his slight smile, "Then… just do it", you breathe.

He laughs briefly, "Oh, you really will be the death of me."

You lean against him, your face in the crook of his neck. You inhale his scent. How much you miss this... To be safe in Aemond's arms. Inhaling his unique scent.

Aemond can't help himself either and leans the side of his face carefully against your head.

You don't care what anyone else would say. You have had to do without his touch for too long.

After you have enjoyed your closeness for a while, you ask, "You can dance?"

He chuckles briefly, "Of course I can dance, I'm a prince after all. Just because I don't want to, doesn't mean I can't."

In response you press your face further into the crook of his neck.

"And furthermore, I didn't know any other way to help myself... I had to talk to the princess and… I had no other chance to get close to her...", he whispers softly in your ear.

You remove your face from his neck and look at him.

You have to smile slightly, "Aemond... Let's leave this stupid ball."

He looks at you, "Do I dance that badly?"

You have to laugh, "No. But I want to be alone with you... I've missed you."

He looks almost heartbroken as he finally nods.

He stops leading you across the dance floor and extends his arm to you. You are overjoyed to accept his invitation. As you take his arm, you lean close to his side.

As he leads you out of the hall, there are still a few pairs of eyes on you. Whether because you were dancing or because you were far too close to each other, you don't know.

But you couldn't care less.

Daemon's gaze meets Viserys'. Viserys nods at his brother with a smile and Daemon knows what that means.

He too has noticed how close you were. How much you enjoyed dancing close together.

Daemon has always known that you would have to wed someone someday. But still it pains him. It would be foolish to ignore any longer that you were likely to wed Aemond. What you feel for each other is probably more than a childhood love.

He leans towards Rhaenyra with a sigh and she looks at him, "I think we should prepare for our daughter to come to us soon with a request."

She looks at him questioningly, "What do you mean? Aemond?"

Daemon nods at her. Rhaenyra doesn't look happy, more worried.

Daemon gently takes her hand, "You know, there was nothing our daughter could do about it."

Rhaenyra looks at him.

"She's fallen for her uncle", Daemon smiles at her.

Rhaenyra has to suppress a smile.

"I am afraid for her. I'm not sure he's good for her."

Daemon sighs, "Who would have thought I'd be good for you? Try to look at it this way, the only good swordsman of the Targaryens, besides me of course, will consider it his life's work to protect our daughter."

She looks unconvinced, "Y/N is quite capable of protecting herself."

Daemon kisses her hand, "I am aware of that... But a capable man by her side, that can't hurt. I also think he's different with her. Almost tenderly... hopefully. And I trust her enough not to wed a tyrant."

"Let's hope so", Rhaenyra smiles slightly at Daemon.

After a short while she says to him, "I hope you realise that if he treats her badly, that I'll send you to him?“

He looks at her, one eyebrow raised, "I hope you are aware that I am on my way long before you can even send me."

Rhaenyra kisses Daemon gently.

Aemond has never led you anywhere so quickly.

He opens the door to his chambers and leads you inside. You stand in the middle of his chambers and look at each other. He swallows and reaches out for your hand. He holds it and strokes it gently with his thumb, with his other arm he embraces you. He simply holds you in his arms. You put your arms around his neck, hold yourself tightly against him. A tear leaves your eye. Not out of sadness, but rather out of the relieving feeling of being in his arms. You press your face into the crook of his neck again. A light sob escapes you as you inhale his scent. He just holds you and gently strokes your back.

"I'm so sorry Y/N...", he whispers in your ear. When he notices you sobbing again. Carefully taking your head from his shoulder, he holds your face in his hands and gently strokes away the tears, "No, my Love, please don't cry..."

You sob again, "... I... I thought I would never be here again... In your chambers... Just in your arms..."

He interrupts you with a gentle kiss. He leans his forehead against yours, "I would never have let you go..."

You just nod slightly.

"Come...", carefully he leads you to the bench in front of the fire.

You sit in front of the fire, he holds you tightly in his arms and gently caresses your arm.

Absently he looks into the fire.

You watch him discreetly... You have missed him. His beautiful face. These few days without him were hard for you to bear.

"It's rude to stare," you suddenly hear him say.

You bury your face in his shoulder and he chuckles lightly.

In time, you begin to caress his thigh. You draw light circles on his firm thighs with your fingers. You become more curious... Carefully, you let your fingers slide a little further upwards, still stroking him gently.

Slowly he turns his gaze away from the fire and looks at you from the side. But you do not return his gaze. You continue stroking until you are almost at his crotch. Your heart begins to pound harder and the thought of what you are about to touch makes you bite your lip.

"What are you up to?" he whispers in your ear.

Quietly you reply, "I... I want to do something good for you. You've only given me nice moments so far... beautiful feelings. I want to give you that too."

"Y/N, that was at least as nice for me... To be the first man to give you these feelings."

Nevertheless, you notice how the bulge in his crotch is getting bigger.

You look at him, "I want to be able to experience when you have such… beautiful feelings". He chuckles, gently strokes your cheek and kisses you passionately.

After a while you break the kiss. Unsure how to do it... what to do at all, you bite your lip.

"I'll show you what to do?" he asks you softly.

You nod slowly.

He kisses you again and carefully takes your hand, placing it right on his crotch.

A breath escapes your lips as you feel him. He is already hard. You look at him, he smirks.

He kisses you again and starts to move your hand on his crotch. Slowly you massage his length. You notice how his breathing quickens.

Aemond takes his hand off yours and starts to undo his belt. You continue to massage him, but interrupt the kiss. You want to see him.

He sits up for a moment and pulls his trousers down to the back of his knees. When he leans back again, you see him for the first time.

Unconsciously you swallow and bite your lip. Aemond caresses your cheek and pulls your chin up, he kisses you again. Between kisses he breathes, "Go on, touch him."

You look at him, a little unsure. But you dare, slowly you close your hand around his hard length.

He gasps briefly and closes his eyes. He puts his hand on yours and guides it. Slowly he lets it slide up and down. He squeezes a little harder and tells you, "You can press harder". You follow his lead. As you let your hand wander down his hot length, you notice him getting even bigger and harder.

He begins to moan and lets your hands slide up and down faster. This deep moan sends a wave of arousal through you. You feel yourself getting wet and you press your thighs together to at least try to get some satisfaction.

You take the lead and let your hand slide along him on its own. He groans again and reaches out with his hands beside him. He squeezes your knee, which is lying next to him on the bench. You can't help but kiss him. Greedily he kisses you back. The sounds of your kisses and moans fill his chambers.

Suddenly you notice your fingers getting a little wet. You look down and see little drops coming out of him. A light, clear liquid spreads over your fingers and his hard, pulsating length.

At this sight, the feeling rises in you that you must have more. You look up at him for a moment, his head leaning back, his eye closed. His breathing is rapid and interrupted by moans. He is so beautiful.

"I want to taste you," it escapes you.

He looks up, out of breath. His eye is dark, full of lust. He kisses you passionately.

"Just before I'm done... Then you can taste me...", he replies out of breath.

You look a little irritated, but you nod slowly.

Not for a second did you stop your movement. Aemond puts his head back again.

You look down again and something else occurs to you.

Carefully you slide down to the floor and push his legs a little apart. He looks down at you and gasps, "What are you doing?"

Sitting on your knees between his legs, you look at him, don't answer and just smirk slightly.

Your hand closes around him and you begin to slide it up and down his full length again. A deep grumble arises inside him and he watches you, full of lust.

Slowly you lean forward and you let your tongue wander along his shaft. Aemond moans loudly. When you reach the top, you surround the shaft with your lips and suck gently on it. He hisses, "Oh seven hells..., Y/N!"

With a "plop" you let him slide out, breathing heavily. You look at him, "You have to show me..." he just nods.

He leans in for a moment and kisses you. He lets himself fall back, strokes your cheek lightly with one hand. His hand wanders gently to the back of your head and presses it down lightly.

"Be careful with your teeth. Wrap your lips over your teeth," he whispers.

Your mouth closes around his cock, carefully he pushes your head down and up again. Delicately you let your lips glide over his length. This feeling makes the arousal between your legs flare up even more. You moan out.

Aemond responds with a twitch that travels once through his cock.

He whispers, "Take him... as far... into your mouth... as you can manage. Use...your hand...to help."

You try to take him all the way into your mouth, but he is too big. You gag for a moment, but you don't stop. And again you feel him twitch.

With one hand you grab the part of the length that doesn't fit in your mouth and you start stroking him. You squeeze him lightly and Aemond moans.

He lightly thrusts his hips rhythmically towards you. His hips tremble slightly as he controls the urge to rut into your throat.

A load of wetness leaks out of you and it would be a pure miracle if you didn't already have your underwear completely soaked. With rhythmic movements you try to satisfy your arousal. His breath is getting faster and faster, you can't help but moan again.

You let your mouth slide up and down faster. In your mouth you feel his length growing even bigger and you taste him a little.

You love it.

He carefully takes your free hand and guides it to his balls, he almost whispers between his gasps, "Squeeze them gently."

You follow his instruction. Tenderly you let your fingers wander over his balls, squeezing gently as you suck greedily on his cock. "You look so…  beautiful with my cock in your mouth," he whispers breathlessly.

His cock twitches more and more and the grumbling deep in his chest doesn't let up.

His hand first glides gently through your hair until he suddenly grabs hold of you and holds you tightly while his cock disappears almost completely into your mouth. This sight makes him come almost immediately. "Fuck, Fuck... Fuck! Y/N, take him all the way in your mouth... oh Fuuck, take all of me."

Suddenly he grips your hair tighter, his other hand claws into the sofa and you notice a violent twitch go through his balls and cock. You increase the tempo once more and suck eagerly on his cock. Aemond grips your hair even tighter as he inhales sharply, a moan caught in his throat.

His thighs tremble slightly. "In a moment... there will be a liquid in your mouth... swallow what you can..."

Then he moans loudly and your name passes his lips countless times.

With one last thrust from his hip, Aemond squirts his hot cum into your mouth, right down your throat. You have a large amount of liquid in your mouth and you try to swallow it all down. A little liquid runs down your lips, but you don't stop sucking and swallowing until you notice Aemond's grip on your hair loosening.

Slowly you lift your head up and wipe your lips with your hand.

Aemond's head is leaning back, his eye is closed. He gasps to himself, but he smiles.

You look at him for a moment. You have to smile. Carefully you stand up and then straddle his waist. He looks up and smiles at you, his hands find their way to your hips, he caresses you. You kiss each other gently.

"You taste delicious", you say with a smile on your lips.

He laughs briefly.

You kiss him again.

The next morning you wake up in your chambers. Aemond has spent the night in his chambers. You thought it wiser not to spend the night together, as the servants would come early in the morning to fetch your luggage. So that the carriages can be loaded for the hunt.

However, he did not miss the opportunity to accompany you to your chambers and kiss you passionately goodbye as well as gently caress your cheek.

You have to smile at the thought of your last evening. To feel him... and tasting... it was indescribably beautiful.

The heaviness of the last few days that lay on your chest has almost disappeared. You were hurt and yet missed Aemond at the same time. You are still not comfortable with Alys presence at court. You would prefer it if she would just leave.

But now Aemond is by your side again. You know how he feels about Alys and that nothing happened between them. At least not in the last few days... and apart from that kiss... You push the thought aside.

And again, you have to think of all the accidents that can happen during a hunt in the forest, and that makes the feeling of Alys presence a little more bearable.

Yet he went to the effort of dancing with you in public and explaining himself.... You're glad he reached out to you. And that your father talked to you. Almost stood up for Aemond...

You are jolted out of your thoughts when there is a knock at your door

"Yes?" you call out.

The door opens and four servants step inside. They curtsey slightly and the one speaks to you "Princess Y/N, we are to fetch your clothes and other things to load them into the carriages."

You slowly sit up in bed, "Yes, that's fine. There are two boxes next to the door. Please take them and load them."

The servants curtsey again and take the boxes. After you have bathed and dressed, you go to breakfast.

Your family is already gathered and light conversation fills the hall. Aemond is also at the table and your eyes meet.

You have to smile and bite your lower lip lightly. Even as you look away, Aemond is still looking at you with a smile.

Daemon notices and looks at you with a raised eyebrow as you sit down next to him. You kiss his cheek lightly, followed by a quiet "Daddy."

After a few more glances between you and Aemond, Daemon decides to tease you.

He looks at you from the side and turns to the family, "Did everyone have a restful sleep?"

You look at him confused. Even your mother looks at him irritated, "Since when do you care whether your fellow men have slept well?"

He shrugs slightly, "I don't know, I was walking along the corridor leading to the princes' chambers last night and heard unusual noises. So I was worried that not everyone had had a relaxing night's rest."

You choke slightly and have to cough, your gaze goes forward to Aemond. His eye is wide open, but he quickly regains his composure and looks unimpressed.

You look at your father, who smiles at you.

He wasn't near the chambers last night, why should he be? But he wanted to know if you were there. Just as you are about to answer, you hear Aemond's voice.

"Thank you for asking uncle, but don't worry, I really was able to sleep very relaxed."

Everyone at the table is now looking in Aemond's direction. No one says anything. Aegon even looks relatively amused and drinks his wine with relish. There is far too much surprise that Aemond and Daemon are talking to each other.

Daemon has to suppress a chuckle and replies, "Yes, I can imagine that only too well."

You look down at your plate and try to finish your breakfast as quickly as possible.

While standing in the courtyard, you watch absently as the carriages are loaded.

Your brothers look forward to the hunt. Your father does the same and looks forward to the wine.

Drinking wine, riding through the woods and killing animals. Except for the wine drinking, it doesn't sound very enticing to you.

Suddenly you hear a soft "My Love" in your ear. You turn around and see Aemond. You blush slightly, without knowing exactly why. Aemond has to smile in response.

You stand close together, "You'll come hunting as well?"

He nods slightly, "Of course. I am the king's son. My brother and sister are to be celebrated with this hunt... And I can't leave you alone in the wilderness after all." He smiles at you. Oh how you missed that smile.

"Well, she's not all alone, I'm still here too."

Aemond's jaw stiffens and as you look over Aemond's shoulder you see Rob.

"Rob," you smile at him. He smiles back and winks at you.

"Mmm, that's right. There are still dogs needed for the hunt", Aemond turns slowly in Rob's direction, his hand resting on your lower back. You whisper warningly to him, "Aemond..."

Rob chuckles slightly, "That's all right. After all, women like to bring the dogs to bed with them at night. That keeps them... warm".

You notice how Aemond stiffens. You also notice how the whole situation recharges.

"Rob? I'll see you later, yeah?", Rob smiles and gives you a quick nod.

You take Aemond by the arm and lead him away.

You stop in front of the royal carriages, the first ones already boarding them.

Aemond caresses your cheek.

You lean into the touch, "I don't like that we can't travel together."

He chuckles softly, "I'll see you when we arrive."

You nod at him. Aemond's gaze wanders briefly and no one seems to be looking, he takes your hand and gently kisses the inside of your wrist. You smile.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list

@leahjean  @afro-hispwriter  @jeyramarie  @powellssaturn @notabotiswear @hoshi-miharu-blog @random-human02 @m00n5t0n3 @sporadicshepherdzinebear @drewsgfduh @stargaryenx @dark-night-sky-99 @notabotiswear @ccosmic-illusion @darylandbethfanforever9 @grungegrrrl @spn-obession @carlottalhn @elle4404 @girl-with-an-orange-cat @genshinimpactislife @imjustboredso @tragicbucky @dollfaceyourfear @magnificantmermaid @mllemarianne @stargaryenx @mikariell95 @khaothick @aemonds-wifey

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest | Vol 29

Howdy folks!

This is the final Spreadsheet Digest of 2023! I started the spreadsheet back in May as a way for me to keep up with everything I read. Basically, I was having trouble finding fics I had read so I could reread them or I was getting two chapters into a new series before realizing I'd already read it. So I did what I do and I made a spreadsheet about it. Then I felt like other people might benefit from a searchable list of fics. Then, and I don't know why, I thought people might want to know what I thought about the stuff I was reading. And here we are - 29 volumes and 34 weeks later.

Sorry for long intro! This week I have 16 fics for you (Frankie, Joel, Max Phillips, Javi P, Ezra, Dieter, Dave York, and Jack/Whiskey). Summaries and Tags provided by the author where applicable - sometimes I filled in some stuff.

You can find my masterlist here and all my fic recs here

Recs under the Pedro!

My Way - Frankie one shot by @goodwithcheese

Summary: Frankie's working on his truck... you interrupt him Tags: PIV Sex, Frankie uses his words, aka "you know he talks you through it," frankie is bossy Thoughts: if he uhhh "uses his words" this much in the series this is technically set in, I do believe I'll be reading that. This was HOT. Like absurdly hot. Lemme be you car girl, Frankie

Cocoon - Joel series by @secretelephanttattoo

Summary: A short ode to Joel's coat. / a bath with Joel Tags: Angst and intimacy. 1 reference to blood and allusion to canon typical violence (nothing is described) Thoughts: God i love little intimate moments like this... wrapping yourself up in Joel's coat, washing the bad day out of his curls... I am SICK! Someone let me hold this man, please.

I'll Leave a Light On For You - Max Phillips one shot by @oonajaeadira

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons. Tags: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s. Thoughts: This is beautiful. Just absolutely stunning. I have a fascination with the concept of past lives, and I adore the way it's written about it here. There are some really interesting takes on it here with Max being a vampire. Also, side note, this fic made me cry. It's that soft angst that you don't expect to make you sob, but holy shit. When it hit (you'll know it when you read it) it hit. I was devastated. And then because it's adira and "we do soft here" it ends sweet.

Once in a Blue Moon - Dieter one shot by @whatsnewalycat

Summary: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo. Tags: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention Thoughts: Aly has this way of writing Dieter that is like she knows him in real life. He feels so personal and real to me in her stories. I think I say this every time I talk about her fics, but my Dieter would not exist without hers. Anyway -- this fic is wonderful. Dieter has all that silly druggie boy charm he always has, there's a really interesting inclusion of him having PTSD from working on the movie from The Bubble and a really interesting way that he's dealing with it. It's got perfect vibes for us christmas haters too. I loved this so much.

Jingle Balls / Dashing through the ho - Frankie series by @idolatrybarbie

Summary: Santa Frankie porn... that's it. That's the fic Tags: santa kink???, cockwarming, cum, like so much cum, unprotected vaginal sex, unethical use of a mall Santa Village, semi-public sex, dirty talk and pet names, mentions of free use. / santa kink again, free use, spreader bar, creampie, come eating, facefucking, throatpie, anal sex, degradation, cum, pet names (honey, little girl, sweet girl, baby), praise, CUM AGAIN GUYS LIKE IDK WHAT HAPPENED HERE. Thoughts: This is mostly my fault and I refuse to apologize for it

Galletita - Javi P one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Summary: Your sister and brother-in-law have enlisted your help with their small business while they await the birth of their first baby. You help with the cafe and find yourself face to face with a new customer whose appetite might have met its match in you. Tags: big boi Javi P is hungry and a little cranky, you like to bake and Javi likes to eat, belly kink, feeding kink, probably bad Spanish, we’re playing fast and loose with timelines, canon, and everything in general, so just forget about timey wimey boo boo wah wah and enjoy the story lmao Thoughts: I do, in fact, need a big boy

Devour - Ezra one shot by @frannyzooey

Summary: Falling for Ezra on the Green Tags: harvesting violence, mentions of gore and blood, mentions of cannibalism, love as consumption and all the visuals that come with it, so much fucking and filth and ass play and cum eating it isn’t funny Thoughts: It was a gift for me, so I really probably should not be so amazed by how much I love this fic. But oh my god, dude. Love as consumption, freak nasty smut, Ezra being Ezra, bi!Ez, the Din/Ez hints (I'd like to know more about that), it's all perfect. I will never stop being obsessed with this

Tear You Apart - Dieter one shot by @psychedelic-ink

Summary: it's the 70s and your friend invites you to an underground club where one of your favorite musicians is playing: dieter bravo. Tags: innocence kink, mild corruption kink, backstage sex, piv, dirty talk, weed, oral + handjob (male receiving)obsessed with rockstar Dieter. Thoughts: I'm surprised I haven't seen more rockstar Dieter. This was hot, filthy, and just... in the words of the man himself perfect.

One Man Show - Dieter one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: Dieter gets himself off! Tags: male masturbation, use of sex toys, anal fingering, butt plug, sex tape??? i guess Thoughts: I'm loving this solo session concept so much. Dieter filming himself!!! for no reason!!! is so hot. Everything about this is so fucking hot. I want him to send me that video...

I am a nightmare, you are a miracle - Joel series by @party-hearses

Summary: After your two year relationship with Tommy Miller ends, Joel takes you in — and it’s home like you’ve never quite known before. Tags: slow burn, explicit (eventual) smut, language, infidelity, alcohol, age difference, soft!joel, no cordyceps outbreak, sarah doesn’t exist (sorry), tommy stans don’t come for me. Thoughts: I have been very intentionally not reading WIPs and waiting for them to be finished, but I fucked up. I was scrolling the dash and frannyzooey recc'd this and it caught my eye and I just didn't even check if it was finished. But I regret nothing. Ch 4 is coming soon, I'm manifesting it. I fucking love Joel in this and I'm super intrigued by reader's uhhhh mommy issues and the way that those manifest.

MASTERLIST BINGE INCOMING | @brandyllyn

To sell your love for peace - Javi P series by @brandyllyn

Summary: You are Javier’s newest informant. You’re not his usual type but he’s willing to make an exception. More than one. Tags: smut, sex work, canon typical violence, javi being a moron Thoughts: I adore a lovers to idiots to lovers story... and man is Javi an idiot. The characterization of Javi here is perfect. Protective!Javi is very canon and I love seeing it in fic. Also, I don't normally go for miscommunication tropes (they tend to annoy me) but this was perfect. I loved every second of this story.

The Serpent Under It - Dave York one shot by brandyllyn

Summary: Dave is very good at his job Tags: Canon typical violence. kinda dark yo, soulmate AU Thoughts: I don't typically read soulmate AUs, but I actually read several of brandyllyn's this week. They're very different from the normal trope. This one broke my heart and it's less than 800 words.

To perish twice - Javi P series by brandyllyn

Summary: You can feel when your soulmate comes. Tags: smut, soulmate AU, Javi being an idiot, male masturbation, piv sex Thoughts: This is what I mean... you can feel when your soulmate has a fuckin orgasm??? What a concept. This was really hot, kind of funny, and had just the right amount of angst.

Cross My Heart - Ezra one shot by brandyllyn

Summary: While waiting at a clinic for the hope of a prosthetic arm, Ezra meets a woman who will change his life Tags: Talk of self harm / suicide but no one does it, discussion of medical procedures and prostheses, some use of ability based slurs by Ezra and others, canon typical violence Thoughts: We love a man who will threaten to murder someone's entire family for you... no seriously. I absolutely love Ezra's characterization here and I love the FMC's story AHHH. It's just a very sweet story... with a little Ezra flair.

Into the Shade - Ezra series by brandyllyn

Summary: Why would anyone fake having a soulmate? Tags: Ezra being Ezra, con man!ezra, soulmate AU, smut, Ezra x OFC smut, Ezra x reader is in there though. Thoughts: Yet again, the typical soulmate concept has been turned on its head here, and I love it. I also adore the flores animae - the particular soulmate mechanic in this fic. It's really interesting!

Dreams are Sweet Until They're Not - Jack Daniels series by brandyllyn

Summary: A crimson rose could only mean one thing. Tags: soulmates au, Jack being a slut, angst, smut, happy ending Thoughts: Okay last soulmates AU on the list, sorry. I went a little nuts. They're just so good. The ending of this one was so sweet, dude.

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My fics this week:

Something Sweet - Javi p x reader - You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you. (fluff, smut)

Under Your Skin - jack daniels x javi p x reader - You’ve worked on Chucho’s ranch since you were 15 years old, grew up with Javi, loved Javi… He comes back after nearly 20 years to find you hooking up with a certain former secret agent. He’s jealous, for sure, but of who? (smut)

in the a.m. - javi p x reader - Between sleeping with informants and getting in bed with Los Pepes in the fight to bring down Escobar, Javier Peña also finds time to be with you. Wrestling with crippling self hatred, Javi tries and fails to keep his blood stained hands off of you. Based on some of my favorite Arctic Monkeys songs (smut, angst)

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Happy Reading!

[lythea-creation]

I'm right here - Hiba x fem reader x Tasneem

summary: (f/n) is looking forward to a night out with her girlfriends. Little does she know that it won't end up how she expected it at all.

warnings: toxic relationship, ANGST

word count: 847

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

Requested? Yes

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Today was one of those days I could almost burst from excitement.

My girlfriends Hiba and Tasneem had invited me to go to Pins with them to have some fun together.

Of course Ali and Omar were going to come as well, but that did not worsen my mood in the slightest.

I had taken my time choosing the perfect outfit. Enough to look hot, but subtle enough to not look cheap. I had wanted to dress up for them.

I could not help checking my phone every minute as I was waiting for them outside. Tasneem had assured me that they were picking up and I did not need to worry about anything but showing up.

“Hey, hottie”, Hiba called out through an open car window.

She was wearing her signature smirk as she was eyeing me up and down.

“Are you gonna come in or just keep decorating your neighborhood?”, she teased me.

That made me snap out of my trance and jump into the car.

Hiba took a hold of my waist pulling me onto her lap when I intended to climb over her to get to the middle seat.

“Hey! Don't keep her to yourself”, Tasneem protested and pulled me away from Hiba by my arm.

A giggle left my lips at their behavior. They could be so sweet.

During the ride their whole attention was on me as they were complimenting my outfit and taking this chance to make out. The driver would never rat us out.

But the touches, compliments and kisses all stopped as soon as we left the car again. As if we were entering another universe.

All of a sudden Hiba and Tasneem were walking ahead and I was struggling to keep up with their fast pace.

They threw themselves at the boys, chatting away. It was like I did not even exist anymore, although I was right next to them.

Ali and Omar were nice to me as well, giving their best to include me in the conversation. But it was like Hiba and Tasneem were actively ignoring and excluding me, drawing every little attention away from me, even if it was merely a simple question.

Our teams were uneven. So Hiba and Tasneem just decided that I was not going to play and instead only watch.

When Omar considered that it was not fair to leave me out of it, he made the compromise to play together with me and switch between trys.

The girls were cheering the boys on while they played, giving them a high-five when they managed to hit a lot of pins.

Now it was my turn.

I picked one of the balls and got to the line in front of the bowling alley.

Before playing I turned back around to the others, hoping for some encouragment from my girlfriends. But they were not even looking at me. They were invested in another conversation with the boys. Honestly they appeared like they were flirting.

Tears sprung to my eyes, blurring my vision.

How could they do that to me? Why had they invited me in the first place if they did not care if I was here?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I rubbed my eyes to clear my vision again.

I had no idea how I did it, but somehow I managed to get a strike, hitting all the pins at once.

Suddenly my sadness and betrayal were replaced by excitement. Maybe I had overreacted.

I made my way over to the others. “Guys! Did you see that? I hit them all”, I declared proudly.

“Nice job”, Omar complimented me.

Hiba and Tasneem were still not paying any attention though.

My face fell again as the disappointment returned.

I sat down on a chair, swiping through my phone. I was skipping through the pictures we had taken mere minutes ago in the car. If I did not have those pictures I might have thought I had imagined it all, considering how different they were acting right now.

Without saying another word I stormed outside, glancing at the others on my way. They did not notice that I was leaving. Of course they did not.

By now the tears were falling, my head hanging low hoping that no one would see.

Should I text my mom to pick me up? But then I would have to explain the situation or at least come up with a decent lie. My mind was not ready for that.

So I decided to walk home instead.

I did not care that it was dark and I was alone. I did not care that I had to walk for two hours straight to arrive home either. I just wanted to get home and hide under my blanket.

The outfit that I had felt so confident in earlier was feeling suffocating now. Apparently it was not enough. I had pictured this whole night completely differently.

It should not have ended with me walking home alone, crying my heart out.

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Tag List: @sunwoniie

Part 2

This was so heartbreaking to write! What do you think about it?

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Ange, as usual I come with my post-episode thoughts-

This episode was quite good, I say that of course meaning it was pretty good, all things considering in terms of the character developmental issues we've all been highlighting so far. I know that generally after every episode airs we all talk about the shitty mistakes the show's made, myself included, and the way things could've been better handled, but I thought this week, I'd try and say some more positive things-

The acting, superb, as usual. Ryan Condal may be full of shit, but boy do these actors make do with what they've been given.

Aemond speaking High Valyrian? Yes, I did giggle and blush, it was hot as FUCK

Seeing Sunfyre, and that little moment where Aegon smiled with his dragon, I wished we could've seen more of their bond. Aemond serving cunt while fighting. Sir? You're slaying dragons (and possibly your brother) and you're serving cunt?

I like Alys so far, actually, seeing more of her makes me more curious to see her interact with Aemond

Daemon in Aemond Targaryen dress-up

Another Milly cameo.

Gwayne Hightower serving cunt

There are more, but these come to mind. Naturally, of course, I had my issues, but the usually are a continuation of what I had issues with before, such as-

The greens basically hating each other

The non-existent brotherly relationship between Aegon and Aemond

Helaena erasure, Jaehaera erasure, Maelor erasure (What, no Daeron mention?)

This episode made it more clear the angle being taken, that Rhaenyra is some form of the righteous, morally correct side, and the greens are the villains, versus both sides being morally complex, and the characters having good and bad traits, for example Aegon caring for his family, yet he's obviously not the best ruler Aemond being loyal to his brother, yet clearly ambitious, Rhaenyra actually being selfish, not just some saviour-esque figure. This angle annoys me because it takes away from what is in my opinion a key aspect of the story in the books, which is that all of these people are complex, do good and horrible things, and this is a war of succession, not this whole thing about Rhaenyra finally going to war because of the song of ice and fire, and all what Viserys told her.

I really can't handle the whole Aemond betraying Aegon thing. Both teams are flawed, yet the show makes it look like only team green is. Look forward to your thoughts too <3

-🦋 anon

Alright. I am here to dump my thoughts! Thank you for returning each week for this, I adore you for it!

I have made my peace with the deviation from the source material. I have a better time watching if I treat it as a separate piece of media.

Daemon is basically useless at this point, just tripping balls at Harrenhal and achieving absolutely fuck all. Having said that, I am enjoying the hallucination scenes, and Alys's character is so, so interesting. I love what Gayle has done with her.

I am growing a little frustrated with Rhaenyra's approach. I get that she wants to be a peaceful ruler, and to avoid war, but war is happening right under her nose. It's good to see some discord being sewn among Team Black - them playing the picture perfect, grieving family while the Greens are at each other's throats was beginning to grate on me a little. Jace's frustration was really well acted and totally believable.

I enjoyed the meeting of the small council - I feel like Aemond got his own back for Aegon humiliating him in the brothel. I do feel for Aegon though, he is being ignored and discarded by his family, and I feel if there was a little more cohesiveness then he wouldn't behave so rashly.

I really felt the absence of both Otto and Helaena this episode.

I teared up seeing the scenes between Rhaenys and Meleys, and Aegon and Sunfyre, knowing what was to come. I cried at Rhaenys's death. Seeing the light go out of Meleys's eyes broke me.

I don't think what Aemond did to Aegon was premeditated, he was simply frustrated and wanted to get him out of the way, so he couldn't cause any further problems. His means for doing so were incredibly extreme though!

Overall, I really enjoyed this episode. I am hopeful the rest of the season will be much better in the second half.

[narcolini]

night//morning - pt. 2

part one - ao3 link luca x marcus (or luca & marcus tbh), 2.6k, i have no idea what to label this i can't lie. pining and un-satisfaction tagging: @drabbles-mc @ashlingiswriting @garbinge @hausofmamadas (bear squad jeje)

Tuesday, 05:48:

‘Hey mate, um, hope you’re doing alright. Just thought I’d check in and, yeah, well, actually I had something I wanted to talk to you about. No rush, of course, but when you’ve got a minute—and everything’s, you know, less intense. Just, um, give me a bell when you can. Cheers.’

Seen, 22:53.

‘That’s not yours.’

Four ounces will do twelve, six will do eighteen.

‘Luca.’

‘Yes, chef?’

‘That’s not your dough.’

‘What?’ He straightens, palms stilling on the floured edges. ‘Shit. That’s the…’

‘The filo.’

‘The filo, right. Sorry.’ Not the shortcrust he’d made, but the pastry she’d taken out of the fridge herself. He’d even reached across her to grab it. Mind in the locker room behind, sense on the wood-panelled floor of his bedroom. He’s spun the filo into a useless ball in his daze, patted it with flour it didn’t need, fucked up her prep entirely. ‘That’s my fault, Ali.’

‘Yeah.’ She scoffs, but there’s no malice in it. There’s no time for that.

‘I’ll make more.’

Ali nods, eyeing him from the side as he sets about fixing his mistake. 

It wasn’t an easily made mistake, it wasn’t even a common one. It was an absolutely absurd thing for anyone with even a crumb of kitchen experience to do. They both know that, so there’s no point in trying to pretend otherwise. In shutting the door for the sake of pride. 

‘I haven’t been focusing,’ he says. Bowl, flour, oil. Bin the old and wipe down the counter before starting again. ‘Got a friend and…Yeah, he’s been on my mind a lot. Haven’t been sleeping well.’

She does him the mercy of ignoring the pause that slipped between friend and—friend and—to say, ‘I can tell,’ instead. ‘It’s not like you.’

He nods. ‘I know.’

‘To mistake filo for shortcrust.’

‘I know, mate.’ He laughs, smile spreading, all corners and teeth. ‘You gonna rub that in all day?’

She shrugs. ‘Maybe all week.’ 

‘Alright, cool, I deserve a week.’

But with Ali, it’s never a week, it’s twenty minutes and then it’s forgotten about, because stress sits on her like lead. Shoulders down, jaw tight. He never gets a word from her after opening. Whether he’d been her best friend that day, or the nitpicking prat by her ear. 

‘Have you spoken to him about it?’ she asks, reaching for the shortcrust that he was supposed to be working with. Picking up slack like they’re trained to do. ‘Problems shared, and all that.’

‘Sent him a few voice notes.’ One, to be exact, three days after the last message Marcus had sent. ‘I don’t want to push him.’

‘So he’s going through some shit,’ she deducts. ‘And you’re dragging yourself through the same shit, along with him?’

He sighs, talking around the end of it, ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

‘You know what I’m going to say,’ she adds, throwing a smile that he only catches the shadow of. Wry and knowing. 

‘Yeah.’ Can’t help anyone when you’re both in the mud. ‘Thanks, Ali.’

She nods, chin flicking to his half-made dough. ‘Thank me by working faster.’

‘Alright.’ 

Faster and more efficiently. More focused. He pushes his hands into the mix, knuckles deep, welcomes the attention it requires from him like a rope thrown overboard. A gnarled root on the edge of the pit. 

For the rest of the day, that’s all there is. Ali as a silent partner, in tandem, in sync. Rudy talking about football through every break they overlap on. The mice in the bins, the customer sending his praises to the chef. 

Open, service, shut. Then the cold of his pillow as he gets into bed again.

And still no reply from Marcus, either. Just a little thumbs up, pinned to the corner of his voice note, sent some time around lunch. 

He’s seen it, at least, listened and agreed to get back to him when possible. So it’s Luca’s turn to wait again, because he can’t do more than that. Shouldn’t, even. It’s easy to add things, fix the acid, sweeten the sour, but harder to take them away. He has to remember that. At one end of the spectrum, is that shit with Frankie, and at the other? This mania he’s driving himself into with Marcus, brakes off, steam pluming.  

It’s not like him. It’s deeply unlike him, even, he’s unfamiliar and stumbling because of it. 

Control what you can, control the reaction to what you can’t.

‘Fucking hell.’ He draws the fuck out, long and groaning, and presses his palms over his eyes. Finally time to rest and he’s lying here thinking about it, turning it over and over, fold mix fold. ‘Get a grip, man.’

Marcus is fine. And he’s fine. There’s no way to perfect a recipe with an undecided end product, no fine tuning to be made on a relationship with no future. Spending this much of his time trying to do so, will only twist him further into the ground. Bury him neck deep.

His phone buzzes then—buzzes because it’s still on silent from work, audible against the wood of his bedside. He’s on it before it gets to the second round of vibrations. Taps answer before he realises it’s a video call, and not just the usual voice-only chat. 

Marcus appears on his screen, well, the top half of his head does, the bottom is lost somewhere beneath the home button. ‘Shit,’ he laughs, ‘you answered too quick, man. I’m still—hang on.’

‘Yeah, course.’ 

It’s near black in Luca’s bedroom, his own image nothing but a pixelated blob of grey in the bottom corner. He clicks the lamp on while Marcus finishes whatever he’s doing and, God, shit, that won’t work. He looks like the fucking personification of pillow-talk. Amber lighting, bed-squashed hair, bare shoulders against his mattress. 

He sits upright, and holds the phone at an appropriate angle. 

‘Wasn’t expecting you to call this late,’ he says.

Marcus’s beanie bobs back into frame. ‘It’s only late for you, dude.’

‘Right, obviously.’

‘Sorry—there. All done.’ His face fills the screen at last, still angled like he’s got the phone sitting on his chest, but his smile is there now. Cheeks to either side of Luca’s phone. ‘You good?’

‘I’m alright.’ He nods. Puts his free arm across his chest, hand anchoring on the shoulder. ‘Are you on break?’

‘Nah, had the morning off to sort some things out. Heading over there now.’

‘Cool. Nice.’ 

‘Yeah, real fun.’ Marcus laughs, dry and unaffected. ‘Sure love spending the morning with some anaemic-looking dinosaur, going over Mom’s will.’ 

He mirrors the empty laugh, nodding alongside it. ‘Beats brunch though, right?’

‘Fuck brunch,’ Marcus quips. 

It barks through his screen, passionate enough to make Luca laugh for real that time, a smile tugging on his lips. 

‘Who the fuck invented giving up two meals for one?’ 

‘Dunno,’ Luca humours, ‘the French?’

‘Probably the French, yeah.’ 

He’s walking now, buildings passing by from the upwards angle Luca has access to. It’s raining, misting Marcus’s camera, and pearling on the knit of his hat. He walks a few more steps without saying anything else, head shaking like he’s still thinking about brunch. 

‘Did you listen to my voice note?’ Luca asks, switching the rain-dropped Marcus into his other hand, and covering his chest in the opposite way. 

‘Shit, yeah,’ his eyes flick down to the phone, into the camera, ‘was gonna ask. What’s up? You wanted to talk about something?’

‘Yeah, I did.’ And suddenly it’s back down his throat, fleeing and cloying to the sides. Unwilling to come to life. ‘I know you’ve been having a tough time of it.’

Marcus sighs, or scoffs, or whatever sort of frustrated, dissatisfaction sits in-between the two. ‘I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disappear on you.’

‘No, no, that’s not it,’ Luca corrects keenly. ‘I get it, it’s completely understandable, mate. But I’ve been thinking—well, wracking my brain, really, over what I could do to help out.’ Drag it back, claw it out. ‘And I settled on coming to Chicago,’ he says. ‘I think.’

‘What?’

‘I was thinking I could come to Chicago.’ It’s easier the second time. Goes out of him like it isn’t an utterly absurd, completely over-stepping, gesture. ‘I've got some holidays to use up, y’know, been saving them for something important.’

Marcus frowns slightly, staring ahead like Luca’s there and not sitting under his chin. ‘Shouldn’t you be using it to, I don’t know, see your family or something? Go back home?’

He could do that in a weekend. Could go for a day, once a week, if it really compelled him. ‘I mean, Mum’s in Copenhagen so often she may as well buy a flat here, and Frankie. Well, yeah, you know.’

‘Would sooner close the borders than have you back,’ he says, with half a smile printed in his cheek.

‘Mhm. So. My remaining two weeks are yours, if you want them.’

The lump’s back in his throat again, this time paired with a creeping heat in the shell of his ears. Marcus says nothing, head tilting like he’s physically weighing up the idea, a set of scales balanced between his eyes. Luca’s offer slow-rolling between the two. 

It feels like three minutes pass in wait of it. Four now. The room’s silent minus the tinny echo of downtown Chicago, cracking through the line. He pulls his knees up, bent, to balance his arm and the phone on top of them. 

‘You really wanna stay here?’ Marcus asks eventually. 

He shrugs, watching himself do it in the corner of his screen. Easier to look there than— ‘I can get a hotel,’ he suggests.

‘No, I mean,’ he looks down at Luca, ‘you really wanna waste your vacation days on me?’

‘Yeah,’ he replies, thick with sarcasm, ‘call it self-flagellation.’

‘Self-what?’ Marcus laughs. ‘Come on, none of your cryptic shit when I’m being serious, please.’

‘Sorry.’ He smiles. ‘Bad joke. But it wouldn’t be a waste, Marcus.’

And he knows better than to think of it like that, because he knows Luca, right? Even if it’s only in that surface level, co-worker sense—which it isn’t, it can’t be—because he knows Luca isn’t one for waste. Ever. Not when he’s paying attention, that is. 

‘Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to,’ he adds, once the silence starts to itch again.

Marcus sighs. ‘I don’t know, man. I mean, that’s, it’s fucking crazy that you would do that for me—’

‘Steady on, it’s not just for you.’ He laughs, voice full of fake offence. ‘I like holidays too, y’know?’

A tsk scuffs through the phone. ‘No you don’t, man.’

‘Alright,’ he knows him, ‘but I am long overdue.’ Outside of the kitchen, he knows him. ‘Been promising Carm for years,’ he says. Heat along the top of his ears, skin reddening down his neck, hidden by the orange of the bedside. ‘I’m sure he’d be glad to see me.’

‘Yeah,’ Marcus nods, ‘would be glad to have you in the Beef, too.’

‘Well, I didn’t say anything about working.’

‘Come on, like you’d be able to help yourself.’

‘I might.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ 

The silence steps back in; uninvited, between the laughs, over the unfinished hypotheticals. He watches Marcus duck under a low portion of scaffolding, then nod in a no problem way, as he pauses to let someone past. A whole world in his palm, a snapshot of a day he’s already lived through.

‘What’s your hesitation?’ he asks, quiet in a way that’s only appropriate for Copenhagen. For his bedroom in the dark, after the turn of midnight. ‘About me coming?’

Marcus shrugs, he assumes, only able to see the upside-down crescent that his mouth forms with it. ‘Guess I was kind of hoping to get out of here myself.’

‘We can do that,’ Luca answers, far too quick. Sharp enough to invite another silence in, hand on the door, fingers catching the edge of it. ‘You should, I mean. It’d be good for you.’

If Marcus notices the fumble, he chooses to ignore it. ‘Thing is, I can’t imagine myself leaving right now. Y’know, going far from home, incase I…’ He laughs without the spirit of it. ‘Man, fuck, I don’t really have a reason, do I?’

Luca shakes his head. It makes sense. He’s seen it before. ‘I get it,’ he says.

‘Really? Cause I’m feeling like all my logic is mad crazy right now. Keep doing shit and I don’t even know why.’

‘It’s normal.’

‘Is it?’

‘Were you wanting me to disagree?’

He holds his frown just long enough to make Marcus crack, teeth flashing as he smiles. ‘Okay, yes, I wanted you to tell me I’m not crazy.’

‘You’re not crazy,’ Luca obliges.

‘Thank-you.’

A nod. It’s nothing. ‘So where do people from Chicago go, when they don’t want to leave Chicago?’ he asks, lying back onto the pillows at last. He’s been slouching deeper and deeper as the call goes on, and it’s starting to bite. Numb-ache tugging between his shoulder blades. He needs his spine flat, stretched out. He hovers phone-Marcus over his face while his arm can tolerate it still.

‘I have no idea,’ Marcus answers, back to looking ahead of him. Into the road Luca has no view of. ‘Fucking…Costco?’

Luca snorts. Then he lifts his eyebrows, head tilting, like it’s a plausible option, something worth considering. Costco hotdogs and a Coke. He’d take it, if the offer was there.

‘Yeah, y’know, Costco might fix me,’ Marcus continues, laughing in between. ‘I will definitely do that.’

The smirk toys in the corner of Luca’s lips again. ‘I’m glad we could sort something, mate.’ 

‘Plus, it saves you buying a plane ticket.’

‘Yeah.’ He swallows, back to watching himself in the corner of the screen. A square of gold over the blue of Marcus’s jumper. Tired eyes watching tired eyes, slow blinks in-between. ‘I should probably head off,’ he says. ‘Getting late.’

‘Shit,’ he glances down, ‘I’m always messing with your sleep, dude. My bad.’

‘Yeah-no, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you called.’ His arm’s aching, and the phone drops slightly as he tries to maintain it. ‘It’s good to speak to you.’

Marcus is indoors now, having just stepped from the grey sky into the bright, man-made lighting of the Beef. ‘Hit me up tomorrow?’ he asks, with a quickness that gives Luca no time to do anything but nod in reply. ‘Sweet.’

‘Have a good day, man.’

‘Yeah, you too.’ He corrects himself. ‘Night.’

‘Night.’ 

The call ends, Marcus’s image replaced by the blinding white of their text conversation, that thumbs up emoji staring back at him again. 

There’s no relief now that his idea’s been voiced, because he’d barely even argued the case. Marcus didn’t want to travel, it was right there, even after his hesitation, the stone through the stream. Then I’ll come to you, he should’ve said, it makes the most sense. And I’ll muck about whenever you need a break from me, do all the touristy shit, you know? Visit the Bean.  

He sighs and lays the phone flat on his bare chest, screen going dark after a few passing breaths. 

Marcus was right, it was crazy of him to even offer to do that. Like throwing slate into a lake and expecting it to float. Another angle then, another gift in the post, maybe, one that neither of them can talk out of existence.

Or maybe nothing at all.

He switches the light off, night blanketing him. Tomorrow. He can think about it tomorrow. 

[lemonhemlock]

Jaehaera has a disability for narrative purposes, because GRRM needs to quickly explain away why the greens somehow stop demanding that Andal inheritance law be respected. Aegon III had to be king, so he's making his way backwards to fit his ending.

This gets even weirder when you realize that there's ANOTHER case of a young Targaryen girl getting passed over for the iron throne because of a disability - Vaella, who needed to get passed over because Aegon V was the one who is supposed to be King. Her claim is "immediately" dismissed despite the fact that she's the only child of the King's eldest son, presumably because of both her gender and her disability.

In fact, there's a... Weirdly significant number of Targaryen girls who are described as "simple-minded," or otherwise appear to be coded as intellectually disabled: Gael, Jaehaera, Vaella, and potentially Daella as well. Daella dies of childbirth at 18, Gael drowns herself at 19 after being "seduced and abandoned by a traveling singer," and giving birth to a stillborn baby, Jaehaera dies at 10, either by suicide or murder, and while we don't know what happens to Vaella, the fact that she's never mentioned at all after that event means either she lived an unremarkable ignored life and then died before present times, or that she died young. That's a weird amount of "simple-minded" Targaryen girls who die young. Idk if this pattern means anything, but I've noticed it before and it sticks out to me.

(while I do want Jaehaera in the show to have a character and not just be portrayed as an "simple-minded" little girl, I do hope they keep her as autistic. I think there's plenty of room to give her a ton of depth without simply erasing her neurodivergence and I really want the showrunners to realize that potential.)

Anonymous asked: not talked enough about how Jaehaera witnessed her twin's death. y'know the brother who grew up healthy and fit unlike herself. the brother who had a little too much of everything: toes, fingers. now he's down a whole head! I also believe Alicent was already planning their marriage when they were still kids lol. bedside reading time with granny Ali and she pulls out the tales of Jaehaerys and Alyssane again 🙄🙄 we get it grandma! tbh not so sure about the detailed timeline, but I thought it interesting that Jaehaera died shortly after ser Willis Fell (her larys-assigned KG) died from fever. like that was her guy! whom she had all for herself and now he's gone away commanding the KG, and now he's gone away for good. I'm probably one of the few who loves all 3 of Aegon III's little girl wives (tho Daenaera ranks lowest). I really felt for Myrielle and thought the whole doll-bit so needlessly cruel from Aegon III? his random af decision to marry Daenaera? he said fuck it we ball.

Anonymous asked: This fandom is so disgustingly ableist and no surprise here when many team green members have disabilities. And the show's treatment of disabilities is questionable to say the least. I have questions for GRRM too........

I received these additional asks about Jaehaera and was meaning to answer them, but I got distracted.

I want to clarify the fact that IMO the problem isn't if Jaehaera had a disability or was autistic/neurodivergent, the problem is that the author chose to incapacitate her so much that she is/would be incapable of taking care of herself. She is described as having some kind of mental setback ("she is eight going on four"), weeps inconsolably when she is corrected, wets her bed every night, doesn't laugh, has to be drugged to sit still at her own wedding. I cannot imagine how she could consent to a marriage or to marital relations in the future, with the whole trouble of child-birthing and rearing.

And what is the point of all this, I have to ask? Because this is very much not Jaehaera's story. It's not about how Westeros is so ill-equipped to handle mentally impaired individuals. In fact, the narrative doesn't know how to get rid of her quicker. After fighting a bloody civil war over Andal Law, the greens conveniently decide to disregard all that and don't push for her claim (that's how disabled she is). Everyone who could conceivably be on her side is quickly killed - her father, her grandmother, Ser Willis Fell. The new 15-year-old Lord Lyonel Hightower suddenly can't raise another army for the greens because he is too busy fucking Lady Sam. (?!) Jaehaera dies a horrible, graphic death, lingering in tremendous pain for half an hour. Couldn't she have received at least the mercy of a quick death?

This is why I see her being incapacitated for narrative purpose. All of this happens in favour of Daemon's freaking children - it's like they all had to band together to help erase Jaehaera from the annals (three of them at least). There is no reason for all of them to survive, considering how FB has no issue with inventing random events just to get rid of characters. Yet they do. Of course Aegon III becomes king at Jaehaera's expense, of course his brother Viserys II also gets to become king at some point, because why not? Daemon should get to have two kingly sons, not one, as a treat. Baela and Rhaena get this stupid gotcha moment at the Maiden's Day Ball when they bring their six-year-old cousin Daenaera to replace Jaehaera as Queen, as if that's some sort of triumph and not inappropriate AF.

This is why I dislike the introduction of characters like Daenaera and Myrielle - because they're been intentionally placed there to replace a traumatized and damaged little girl with a trauma-free, suitable, lovable consort. Don't get me wrong, these two girls don't get a chance at their own story either, they exist only to replace Jaehaera and to please Aegon III.

I also deeply dislike and do not understand why there are so many "simple-minded" Targaryen princesses - Daella and Gael have particularly awful stories. Vaella's story is just a repeat of Jaehaera's, but with less awfulness and violence. What's the point? Get some interviewer grill these questions into GRRM ASAP.

So, I do hope that they change this in the show somehow to make it less awful. I would not want Jaehaera reduced to an invalid, her claim passed over, and I would not want her to die. Of course, if she lives, then I would have to contend with her being the mother of Aegon III's senseless children, so, honestly, I don't know which is worse.

[fallingsunflower]

DWD Actor's Screen Times 

Some DWD spoilers ahead.

Hello there. I had some time to kill today and out of pure curiosity and boredom, I present to you (roughly) most of the actor's screen times in DWD.

These times are estimates. It would be nearly impossible to get it exactly correct, especially during group scenes. Please allow a little room for error.

The general order I believe is fairly accurate, however, in terms of who has the most/little screen time. And I was able to get pretty damn close to the time of some of the actors who had little screen time at all.

Also this is based entirely on screen time (mainly shots where you could visibly tell who a character was). I didn't base it on scenes - just the times we could see the characters on the screen.

I'll list them in order from most to least.

Florence Pugh - ~1 hour 11 minutes and 11 seconds

to be expected that she would have the most (for reference the movie is about 1 hour 55 minutes).

Harry Styles - ~37 minutes and 8 seconds

Also expected that he would have the second most amount of time.

Chris Pine - ~10 minutes and 40 seconds

I wish he had more to be honest. His character was more intriguing the second time through, in my opinion. He left me with a lot of questions at the end, and not in a good kind of curious way.

Olivia Wilde - ~9 minutes and 58 seconds

I honestly didn't mind Bunny but I found her to have more screen time than necessary, considering other characters' screen times were cut. I wouldn't mind her having this much time if others had more.

Sydney Chandler - ~4 minutes and 30 seconds

Kate Berlant - ~4 minutes

Gemma Chan - ~4 minutes

Nick Kroll - ~3 minutes and 2 seconds

Asif Ali - ~2 minutes and 35 seconds

Kiki Lane - ~2 minutes and 30 seconds

I'm curious how much screen time Kiki would have had if they didn't cut her from some scenes. I didn't even realize until watching DWD the second time that they completely cut her out of the ball scene. Her death scene is before it, yet we know she was originally at Frank's ball/party considering Kiki posted a picture of herself and Ari'el there. I'm curious why she and Ari'el were cut entirely from this sequence.

Dita Von Tease - ~34 seconds

Ari'el Stachel - <30 seconds

I did not record the times of every single character. For example, I do not have the times for Douglas Smith (Violet's husband, John) and Timothy Simmons (Dr. Collins). I would estimate them to each have roughly 4 or 5 minutes though.

Also my times include both individual scenes and group scenes.

Again, these are just rough estimates since I couldn't have gotten it completely perfect. If anyone would like to do the same and offer corrections, please do!

🌻

[izzielizzie]

Izzie’s One of Us is Back Celebration (Day 8)

natewyn parent trap au: chapter 5

(chapter one)

(chapter two)

(chapter three)

(chapter four)

story under the cut

“Bye Uncle Kris,” Ali says, reaching up to give her uncle a hug on the last day of camp.

“Bye Ali. Try not to get hit by wiffle balls, okay?”

Ali laughs. “Okay.”

She pulls away to hug Phoebe next. Finally, she circles around to Ellen, who’s standing apart from the group, biting her lip with her duffle bag in her hand. “There you are,” Ellen says, turning to her sister. “Are we really doing this?”

“Well, it was your idea,” Ali points out. 

“I know, I know, but what if Dad doesn’t like me?”

Ali puts a hand on Ellen’s shoulder. “Hey. You’re pretending to be me. There’s no way he couldn’t like you.”

Ellen narrows her eyes. “I feel like there was an insult in there somewhere.”

“There was,” Ali reassures her. “Oh and here, my jacket.” Ali reluctantly holds out her leather motorcycle jacket. Ellen reaches for it, but Ali pulls her arm back. “Promise you’ll take care of it?”

“Of course,” Ellen promises, reaching for it again. 

“And you won’t drop it on the ground or rip it or anything?”

Ellen sighs. “Ali, please, I’m twelve I know how to take care of jackets.”

Ali sighs. “Okay I know but this is really hard for me.”

“You’re not giving up your firstborn, would you relax?”

Ali knows Ellen is right, so hands it over. “Okay and you remember everything? Like how-”

“Ali please I’m nervous as it is. I don’t need to hear about your best friend Ben on vacation in Florida and your mortal enemy Jane that lives down the street.”

“Other way around.”

“Which one?”

Before Ali can respond, Ellen catches sight of her aunt waving at her. “Oh gosh I think Dad’s here. Okay, okay, goodbye Ali.”

Ali grins at her nervous twin. “Bye El,” she says, pulling her sister into a tight hug. The girls switch their luggage, and Ellen’s off. 

She sprints across the grass to her aunt, who’s waiting with a duffle bag at her feet. Ellen stops short, staring at the bag. “Are you… going somewhere?” Ellen knows that usually Aunt Maeve stays for a week after the camp ends to “close up shop” as Uncle Luis says. 

“Yes, you silly girl. I’m going with you!” 

Ellen knits her eyebrows together. “But… won’t Dad get suspicious? Ali didn’t know who you were when camp started.”

“And your dad still thinks that she —you— doesn’t know. I’m just coming as a friend of your father’s. Because we were friends. For a very long time.”

Ellen smiles, joy radiating through her now that she knows that her cover won’t be blown. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah. We got along like a house on f—” Aunt Maeve is cut off by the sound of a motorcycle approaching them. They both turn towards the noise, and soon a vintage bike revs towards them, coming to a stop just before it would barrel into Aunt Maeve. The driver climbs off the bike and pulls his helmet off at the same time, revealing a man with dark hair and blue eyes. 

Ellen turns to her aunt, asking a silent question. Maeve nods in response, and that’s all it takes for Ellen to dive into the driver’s arms — her father’s arms. Her dad hugs her back instantly, holding her tightly. To Ellen’s surprise, she feels tears in her eyes. Her dad pulls away and notices the tears. 

“Hey, kiddo. What’s wrong?”

Ellen can’t believe her ears. For the first time in her life, her father is talking to her. She’s so overcome by emotion that it takes her a few tries to speak. “Nothing.” She shakes her head. “I’m just so happy to see you. It feels like it’s been forever.”

Her dad looks between her and Maeve. Slowly, he grins his famous Macauley grin, and it nearly makes Ellen cry harder, because it’s her smile. The one that she sees in the mirror every day. Without knowing it, she had carried a part of her father with her everywhere. Ellen mimics the smile. She hugs him tighter. 

“I’ve missed you too honey. 

Ellen’s never ridden a motorcycle before, but she loves it instantly. The drive back to her father’s house is an hour long, and she was given the option of driving with Maeve in her car, but she politely turned it down. She wants to spend as much time as possible with her father. 

When Nate finally slows his motorcycle outside of his house, Ellen is instantly enamored by what she sees. Ali had done an impressive job of describing the little bungalow Nate and Ali call home: it’s a turquoise color with one story, an airy sunroom sandwiched between two gables, each with porches that wrap around to the backyard. There are plants hanging from hooks placed above the porches, along with neatly kept flower beds. A stone path leads to the back yard, and Ellen can’t wait to explore. She already adores this little house more than her penthouse at home — there’s so much more space!

Ellen climbs off the motorcycle when Nate parks it, and he turns around and helps her take the helmet on her head off. He does a double take when it comes off to reveal her short hair. “You got a haircut?” he asks her. 

Oh. Right. Ellen had nearly forgotten that Ali had started camp with long hair. She nods. “Yes. I thought it was time to cut it.”

Nate smiles. “It looks good. I like it.” 

“Thanks!” She presses herself against his side — there’s no such thing as too many hugs after all — and allows herself to be led inside the house and straight into the living room. Ellen hadn’t thought it possible, but the interior of the house is even more wonderful than the exterior. The room she’s in is bright and sunny, with white walls, mismatched furniture, knotted rugs, and low coffee tables that are piled high with books, board games, and interesting looking coasters. The TV is mounted against the wall, and below it is a little bookcase filled with a wide array of books and topped with a hodgepodge of books, keys, envelopes, and nicknacks. Ellen catches sight of a terrarium with a bearded dragon (Stan II) sitting on a rock. To her left she catches sight of a cat’s tail as it slinks out of the room.

“Inky!” she says with delight, happy to remember the cat’s name.

“Yep, Inky. And right now she’s sulking because you left,” Nate says. 

“Cats tend to do that,” Maeve says from behind them. Both father and daughter startle. Evidently, they had forgotten she was there.

“Do you have a cat, Maeve?” Ellen asks. She knows the answer, of course, since she adores the Santos’ dog, but it seems like an appropriate question for Ali to ask.

“Nope, just a very excitable golden retriever.”

Nate laughs at that and shrugs off his jacket at the same time. “I thought you didn’t like dogs?”

Maeve rolls her eyes. “Luis convinced me.”

It’s odd for Ellen to see her aunt conversing easily with her father. It feels like she’s watching a conversation between her mother and aunt, and she feels a pang of loss. She could have had all this for her entire life. Before she can dwell on this for too long, she’s being led to her room — Ali’s room — by her father so she can unpack.

“Wow,” Ellen says when she enters Ali’s room. It’s so incredibly Ali. The walls are a pale blue, and there’s a yellow desk in the corner of the room. Posters of soccer players and pictures of Ali and her friends are plastered on the walls in a haphazard manner that Ellen’s mother would never have allowed. Instead of looking thrown together, it actually looks good. There’s another knotted rug on the floor, and a white dresser that’s had stars and moons painted onto it. 

“What?” Nate asks. “Is something wrong?”

“Hmm?” Ellen asks, mentally kicking herself for the slip up. “Oh, no, it’s just really nice to be home.”

Nate grins and ruffles Ellen’s short hair. “It’s nice to have you back, Al.”

Ellen’s bag is tossed onto her bed and opened, but before she can start putting things away, she notices the quilt that’s neatly folded at the end of the bed. She picks it up, and with a start realizes that she has a matching one at home that had been gifted to her by Aunt Maeve.

Tears prick at her eyes as she looks up and watches her father methodically transfer t-shirts from the bag into a dresser drawer. Even though she’s had Aunt Maeve for her whole life, she can’t help but feel emotional at the fact that Ali missed out. All she has from their aunt is one little blanket when she could have had train rides to New York City, camping trips, restaurant visits, and outings to Maeve’s favorite café in New Haven. 

Ellen catches sight of her dad looking at her closely. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Nate looks unconvinced, but he shakes it off. “Okay, well, why don’t we go for a drive?”

They’re in Maeve’s car this time, since she insisted that trying to stick close to a motorcycle in an SUV is easier said than done. Nate gives directions to a bustling downtown, and has Maeve park in front of an ice cream parlor. 

Ellen freezes when she realizes that her dad is taking her for ice cream. Clearly, she and Ali forgot to talk about allergies, because Ellen has a terrible dairy allergy. She hopes her worry isn’t evident as they stand in line and she reads the menu, because if it is then Nate will ask her what’s wrong again and she may accidentally tell the truth.

Thankfully, there are a couple sorbet options on the menu, and when Nate asks for her order when they’re a couple people away from the front of the line, she says, “probably a sorbet.”

“Sorbet?” Nate asks. “You hate sorbet, Ali.”

Another thing Ali forgot to tell Ellen. Ellen scrambles for an explanation. “Oh. Yeah but I had some at camp. It was pretty good. I really liked the strawberry flavor.”

Nate stares at Ellen in shock as she stands on her toes to read the menu better. He’s about to say “but you’re allergic to strawberries,” when he sees the way Maeve is looking at his daughter. There’s something almost… maternal about it. And he thinks of the way his daughter started crying when she saw him, and how unfamiliar she seemed with her own bedroom. 

He catches Maeve’s eye, and mouths a name he hadn’t dared think of for years and years. “Ellen?”

There are instantly tears in her eyes, and she gives him a small nod. Nate feels like he’s been punched in the gut, and he doesn’t know how to react for a moment. But when the shock fades he turns to Maeve in a panic. 

“She’s with Bronwyn,” Maeve mouths, knowing instantly who Nate was thinking of. Relief pours through him, and he can finally turn back to his daughter — Ellen! — and hug her properly. She’s startled for a moment, but she hugs him back with all her might. 

“I love you, Ali.”

“I love you too Dad.”

Later that night, when Ellen is about to go to bed, Aunt Maeve enters her room, a phone in her hand. It’s the landline that Ellen had spotted earlier with much interest. Her mother doesn’t have a landline phone at home. 

“Phone for you, El,” she whispers. Nate and Maeve had decided earlier that they were going to let Ellen believe that she’s doing a good job as Ali. 

“Thanks,” she says. 

“Ellen? Ellen?” Ali’s frantic voice says over the phone.

“Oh my god Ali! Dad is amazing! And your house is amazing and your room is amazing and —”

“ELLEN!” Ali whisper-shouts. 

“What?”

“Mom’s getting married!”