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bbylovell · 2 years ago

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Rose - Oneshot

Pairing: Jonathan Levy x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Jonathan wants to say you came into his life like a flower, but it feels too fickle, too unlasting. Instead, he thinks, you grew like a rose bush for him.

A/N: The Jonathan Levy era is here folks. Keep in mind this was written after watching only the first two episodes of the show. I am completely ignoring Jonathan's second wife and his cheating.

I don't own photos or characters. Divider from @firefly-graphics

Ava’s head is lying on your stomach. You’re lying on your back, your head in Jonathan’s lap. He’s against the headboard, trying to find the courage in himself to fully wake up Ava, and break your drowsy state. This is no way for the three of you to sleep tonight, there’s not even a pillow behind his back, and you’re surely going to freeze, just in a pair of shorts and one of his t-shirts.

You’re actually matching with him, pulling off the plain grey cotton better than he ever could. His book is long forgotten to the side, the sun having set a few minutes ago, all his will to get any more reading done that evening lost to the wind. There was a movie playing on his laptop, one that you’d set up for Ava. A movie Jonathan had paused when he saw his daughter asleep, your eyes hazy and struggling to stay open.

The lights had remained on, a half-hope of his that he’d finish his chapter and tuck his daughter into bed before drifting off himself in your arms. He knows now that that was a foolish hope. There’s no sight prettier than the softness of you in his arms, his daughter in yours, both of you in his. He feels strong, indestructible. Wants to take the two of you and let no harm ever come to you again, be it at the expense of his own safety. There’s a bubbling need for him to protect. Feral and unknown. You’d scoff at him if he ever told you this, tell him that his old man is showing and they don’t do things like that anymore, but he wants to think it all the same.

He lets his fingers follow your hairline, down to the curve of your jaw. The movements make you catch his eye and he’s filled with instant regret for even drawing a drop of your attention towards him like this.

You smile at him and let your eyes droop to half-shut again

Unlike Mira, who’d come into his life like a twenty-year hurricane, and left just as abruptly, you come into his life like you’d always been there. In many ways you’d had. Had been introduced as the daughter of his PhD supervisor, graduating with your Bachelor’s the same week he had stuttered his way through and promptly threw up after his field of study exam.

He wants to say you came into his life like a flower, but it feels too fickle, too unlasting. Instead, he thinks, you grew like a rose bush for him. When you had blossomed out for him in love, he knew, that this wasn’t a storm he had to ride out, one that would inevitably end for better or for worse, but that with a little care, a little attention and love, your adoration for him, your rose bush would be a permanent fixture in his life.

Your seed had taken root quietly. For many years, as he drifts in and out of your life, helping you secure a position with a supervisor for a graduate degree, visiting your mother every once in a while, smiling at you, when you shyly bring in a tray of coffee cups and sit quietly all through the afternoons he’s spent in your living room, you furrow your way into his chest.

Though you don’t make a sound, barely talk to him for the first year of his acquaintance with you, you’re working. Growing a myriad of roots, a complex maze that only you alone can make your way through. You do it so subtly, like the gentle flutter of your eyelashes. Always there but never noticed.

By the time you burst up in a little sprout, a promise of what is to come, it’s too late for Jonathan to weed you out. You’ve reached deep inside his chest and with your roots, you tug at heartstrings he didn’t know he had. You’re walking across the stage to receive your degree, when he notices you for you. Feels his heart quiver in a concerning way, thinks he’s hallucinated hearing your name called out, booming over the cathedral where the ceremony is held. But you’re very real. There’s an earthy, grounded freshness to you, an aura hanging around your body that Jonathan hadn’t noticed until then. It draws him in, leaves him thirsty for more as he hungrily drinks the sight of you, as your traditional academic robes billow with every step.

When you were graduating, he was steps away from becoming an instructor, his post-doc in its final stages. Tenure was almost on the tip of his tongue, if he kept his contacts, if his cards were played right. He just had to get to and then through associate professorship. Ava had just arrived, had disrupted his mind and his sleep schedule, had taken over the entire house with a seemingly never-ending load of laundry filled with baby onesies, toys scattered across the living room, a milk bottle always drying alongside all the rest of their dishes.

Needless to say, there was a lot on his plate. He shouldn’t have even been at the ceremony that day had it not been for the promise of the cocktail hour afterwards. But he was and his relationship with you changes irredeemably.

You don’t belong in his life, really. You’re…nobody to him, at least, you should be. The daughter of a mentor who supported him during one of the hardest periods of his life. The daughter of a mentor whom he gave a favour to and put in a good word with the department head, who had sat in on his defence. Jonathan really could just chalk you up to an acquaintance, had it not been for the way your seedling had made its home in his chest.

So, he runs to the campus floral shop, booming with business and buys you a mismatched bunch of flowers from the ones left over. He taps your shoulder and pulls you, beaming, away from all your friends. Your mother, he knows, is away in Europe at a conference, will be back next week and will celebrate privately with you. He’s tongue-tied as he congratulates you, his fingers have turned into knots as he struggles to hand you the flowers.

As a child you’ve probably been to so many of these you were most likely bored out of your mind through the commencement ceremony. Still, Jonathan thinks you deserve flowers. Knows that you’re fond of brushing past the big events of your life as if they were just another day, a day not worth noting in the album of your life as your eyes are already drifting on towards new adventures. He tries that day, to make you slow down, to breathe deeper, smile wider, take in the world around you without any responsibilities on your shoulders.

He also gives you his number, tells you to stay in touch and let him know if you ever decide to return to the dark world of academia. You laugh and give him a mysterious smile, not a yes or no. You don’t let him dwell too long on your smile, on the sudden glint in your eyes, before you ask him how Ava is doing, where her mother’s health is at, post-partum.

At the end, right before you’re pulled away again, he asks you for a hug and he’s oddly sentimental about the whole thing. It’s not like you were a child when he met you, but he’s seen you grow, has seen you take on the challenges of graduate school head-on and come out triumphant at the end of each one, if a little bruised or scarred. So, it does feel like the end of an era. The end of his time as a student, and a gaping, wild unknown territory of teaching, research, supervision in store for him.

Jonathan knows better than to ask you what you plan to do with the fancy piece of paper in your hands. Knows you must be sick of the question by now and that today was one of those rare days that was supposed to be reserved for only the present, the breaths between minutes.

He’s drawn out of his thoughts when he sees your eyes blink slowly, as if there’s molasses dripping from your eyelashes, drying stickily. You glance down at Ava, and he sees you brush the hair away from her face gently, tucking it behind her ear, and placing your hand over her eyes, so the frown can fade away from her otherwise smooth skin.

Reaching over, he dims the lights, and it feels like the room is lit by candles only.

Really, it’s just electricity, probably some horribly inefficient light bulbs that were killing baby pandas all over the world. He knows you’d like to light candles instead, knows you prefer natural light, and nice, comforting smells. When he had hugged you that day at graduation, you smelled like the citrus candle at the grocery market.

You don’t smell like it anymore though. Because you’d given up candles for him. For his inflamed, damaged lungs that struggled with the stale air of his favourite lecture hall. The one with the high ceiling windows, the seemingly never ending amount of chalk close to the blackboard, the projector always working.

Over the years, as he secures tenure and Ava grows up, your sprout grows, fresh green branches hardening into delicate twigs, jagged edges of leaves springing up in every available corner. But there are no flower buds yet.

You meet him for coffee, rant about the job market to him, appalled at how you could have two, top-notch degrees, stellar references, and several first-author publications, and still not manage to land an interview. He listens, hums and shows his support, tries to rack his mind for any of his friends who took a master-out and went into industry instead who could maybe line something up for you.

He takes you to museums and art galleries, to street food stalls afterwards and buys you greasy foods that don’t rest well with his stomach. Invites you over for dinner, watches fondly as you talk with his wife, play with his daughter. Comes to your apartment in turn, and meets your mismatched group of friends that you love fiercely and proudly. Considers himself blessed that he’s considered part of them, part of the people you deem worthy of your attention, your time, your cooking and wine.��

His marriage becomes strained. He texts you more, sets up coffee, lunches and walks in the park with you more and more. Your chatter, your fresh, still hopeful outlook on life breathes air into his lungs, new life into his soul. He finds he can forget the growing pit in his stomach when he’s with you, the terrifying fear that if things don’t work out with Mira, if they don’t figure out how to heal, leaving Mira and being left by her is going to tear him to bits.

Instead, he laughs until he has to reach for his inhaler at your eerily accurate impressions of your shared acquaintances at the university. He tries new food with you and watches foreign films that are poorly translated through the subtitles. Exchanges books and gets into heated arguments, pushes you to use and maintain the skills you learned while writing your thesis as he vehemently stands his ground on the other side of the debate.

Six months after you graduate, you secure a job, and a well-paying salary, with a workweek that ends Friday evening, no ifs ands buts or doubts about it. Of course you would. Jonathan had no doubt about it. And if he’s honest with himself, on a Saturday evening cooped up in his office with a stack of essays to grade, he’s jealous of you.

The day he takes you to see that new space documentary at the movies, he gets a taste of a line you’ve never crossed with him. A line you’ve surely crossed with all your friends, except him. He notices that day that you’ve always kept him at an arm’s length away, that your friendship with him was different than his friendship with you.

And, fuck, does it hurt, does he hate how it makes his stomach twist.

Jonathan had just juggled the popcorn and the tickets, handing them over to the boy to be ripped when he felt you stall, stiffening up beside him. You don’t mention anything and he doesn’t ask. Just like how he never mentions Mira anymore and you never ask. You keep your conversation, your questions and attention, for little Ava.

But, instead of following him to the last door on the right, you stop at the third door to your left. You tell him you want to watch a movie instead, a cheap thing, with a cheap budget and mediocre acting at best. He wants to say that? You sure? But your eyes are glinting and he doesn’t want to prod.

Of course, the film is, objectively, terrible. You’re the only ones in the theatre so it doesn’t matter if he pokes fun, mocks the acting, goes discretely silent at the sex scene that really, shows too much. He’s grateful that you don’t notice how he blushes, how he wants to melt into a literal puddle on the floor. You’d surely think he’s an old fart, if it seems like he can’t handle a little full frontal nudity.

But you’re too astute of an observator, can pick up on the cues of his body better than he can, and you nudge him and with a little flick of your head, let him know that it’s ok to leave.

You notice how he blushed, how he wanted to melt into a literal puddle on the floor. You don’t care though. You don’t think he’s an old fart, and instead, walk behind him and throw popcorn at the back of his head until he looks at you with a glare.

That’s when it happens.

He hears your name called across the theatre, a rush of people piling out of one of the doors.

Mile-wide grin, square-set shoulders and clean-shaven. The man waves you down, and Jonathan doesn’t know where he wants to look at that moment. He follows behind you, the greasy bag of his popcorn brushing against the side of his pants and surely leaving stains behind.

This is Jonathan. He remembers you saying, turning towards him with a smile that has the promise of an apology behind it. Jonathan reaches forward and gives the so far unidentified man a handshake, maybe a little firmer than necessary. A family friend, we go way back.

Awkward would be one way to describe the way you talk with your ex. At least from your perspective, it really is awkward. Gauche, maladroit. It makes his skin crawl to see the way you look at him, the way you dig your nails into your palm. You hand over sugary-sweet smiles that Jonathan can see right through. It’s the synthetic sweetness of maraschino cherries, the taste of the fruit underneath, subtle and addicting, drowned out through chemicals and fructose corn syrup. High in calories, low in nutrients.

But Mr. Patagonia jacket doesn’t seem to mind this, thinks that the encounter has gone wonderfully, since he confirms with you if you still have his number and asks you to text him, for coffee or dinner sometime.

It hits Jonathan then, that the nauseating feeling crawling up his throat isn’t the popcorn.

You’ve never talked to him about this stuff. People with whom you wanted to be closer to than just friends, with whom you’ve wanted to cross that line with. It occurs to him that never, not once, have you ever shut down plans with him because you had a date. It was always that there was something at work, something at home, you were just too tired.

He’s not sure why it bothers him so much. You’re allowed to dictate your relationship with him, and matters of the hearts are intensely private affairs, not to be divulged with just anyone. So, it shouldn’t bother him. Surely, he doesn’t have the right to demand you divulge your love life to him, and he’s not going to even attempt to go there.

But, though he tells himself to calm the fuck down, he’s still bothered. Bothered by the fact that he’s never even met one of your partners. Ever. Not in passing, not in the evenings he’s spent at your house and the ones you’ve spent at his. You’ve always opened the door by yourself, grinning wide as you welcome him inside, and in turn, you’ve always come alone, with a bottle of wine.

Sorry about that. My ex.

Jonathan, still deep in thought, hums and muses that he seemed like a nice guy. He says it only out of politeness. He didn’t care for the guy the minute he gestured over for you to come over and didn’t tell you to stay put so he could come towards the two of you.

His eyes fall on you as he watches for a reaction to his words. Nothing. You don’t twitch an eyebrow or bat a lash. You make a low noise at the back of your throat and say that when he wants to be, he can be a nice guy.

“Hey, you,” your voice is raspy, quiet with the fear of waking up the girl curled into your body. It draws him out of his thoughts and makes him acutely aware that he’s been staring at the wall ahead of him with a horrible kink in his neck. He takes a deep breath and straightens up, his back cracking.

He peers down and it feels like he’s looking at two stars. “We can’t sleep like this,” he says just as quietly as you. All the other girls never loved Ava as much as you did, some didn’t even like her at all, had fled at the break of dawn from his bed when they saw the toys strewn across the living room. It makes his heart warm to see the way she’s fallen asleep on you now, how much she must trust you. “Ava’s gotta get to bed.”

You’re going to ask for five more minutes, and Jonathan already knows he’s going to give you ten.

“Five more minutes?” Your free hand comes to hold his, and you bend your head awkwardly to give Ava a kiss. “She’s so warm. Wanna stay like this forever.”

It was about six months after he finalised the divorce that Jonathan dared something beyond the friendly touches he normally gave you. In turn, you’d sit closer beside him when you were on his couch, pressed the length of your thigh against his and made his heart beat two times faster. Three months later, he kisses you for the first time.

He’s sitting on the floor with you in your apartment, hours into what should have been just one round of Dutch Blitz, when it happens. You’re glowing, triumphant and content with the rush of your latest win, when Jonathan realises that the only thing he wants in that moment is to feel your lips against his. Realises that he hasn’t felt a need this strong ever in his life.

He murmurs your name, catches your attention from the glass of wine you’re topping up for him, and you smile and give him a wink.

He pushes the cards between the two of you to the side and stands up on his knees, though they protest in old age. He’s mirroring the way you are now, and his hand comes to wrap around your waist, something he’s never done before, not like this. Not with the lights dimmed, soft music in the background and his heart beating the way it is. He hears the faint clink of the wine bottle hitting the glass tabletop, as your eyes fall on him and everything drowns out except for you.

It feels like he’s moving purely on instinct, not an ounce of logic is behind his actions. All his thoughts are you. The aching, soul-burning desire he has for you to be his. You’ve drawn closer to him, and right now you’re looking up at him through your eyelashes. He asks you if it would be alright if he kissed you, if it would be something you liked.

You brush the tip of your nose against his, repeating the action with your lips. Tantalisingly, as if daring him to do it, you tell him, demand him to kiss you. And he does. His lungs burn and he knows that this is it for him. That the feelings he holds for you are beyond love and adoration. They’re beyond words. They existed at the beginning of the universe, at the beginning of time.

Jonathan, in that moment, feels both the chest-crushing pressure of nothingness of before the universe, and the sudden breath in, the moment where nothing changes into now, the beginning of time and life itself, all in your arms. His knees are killing him, and he thinks he’s a little hazy-headed from the alcohol, but nothing’s ever felt this right as it does now.

He doesn’t think that he’s indestructible, that the world can bring him any harm. He is the world, the rivers and mountains, galaxies and stars and atoms and everything in between. He breathes life into beings and takes it away in the blink of his eye, in the soft caress of your hands against his neck.

Being in your arms, holding you like he is now, is a solace, a safe haven for him from which he never wants to stray from. His Garden of Eden, his paradise on Earth, his home. A home that he’ll never have the temptation of running from. Why would he?

Your rose bush blooms for him at that moment, takes his breath away. The seemingly inconspicuous, leafy bush, neither fruit tree nor weed, blossoms into love. If it was possible to ignore the space you had taken up in his body, it’s impossible now. He can’t see unless he’s looking at you, the flower you’ve grown into under the care of his hand, his friendship, his life. He knows that nothing else in his life will be worth as much as you are.

He’s stumbled upon an underwater cave of riches, of luxuries never seen before on land, and instead of ripping them from their home, into harsh light and to be battered over by greedy hands, he’ll make his home here. Will let the saltwater flow into his lungs, give his last breath away to the ocean, and never leave again.

In short, Jonathan realises that he loves you, that he’s loved you for some time now, and will never love anyone else other than you.

He’s not sure how to tell you all this. The sudden tornado of feelings you cause in his chest. So, instead, he pulls away, breathless, only to push his forehead against yours, to let his hands underneath your shirt and trace the knuckles of your spinal cord.

Kissing you wasn't an impulse at all. He wasn’t acting to fulfil a need, no matter how burning or life-threatening. Kissing you was pure logical decision-making. It was the next rational step in his relationship with you. It was like the exhale of his lungs after the inhale, the inhale to follow after the exhale. There was no second-guessing, no impulsive heat-of-the-moment movements, breathing was never like that, and kissing you would never be like that either.

You tell him, eyes glowing and filled with love, that you did like it, how he kissed you, and wouldn’t mind it if he did it again sometime.

He sits back, and pulls you with him into his arms. His back comes to rest at the edge of the loveseat behind him, his legs fall to either side of your body as his arms wrap around your shoulders.

He’s never letting you go.

“Ok, baby,” his hand comes to soothe over the side of your head. It’s been fifteen minutes and it’s high time that everyone gets to bed. “Honey, I’m going to take Ava to bed, alright?” Your eyes are fluttering, and he takes the pillow closest to him and prepares it right beside his leg. As he slips out from underneath you, you barely feel it, as your head falls onto the pillow seconds later.

He walks around and presses a kiss to his daughter’s temple before he gathers her in his arms. She’s half-awake, her voice slurred and dripping with sleep. When he asks her if she’s brushed her teeth, she tells him yes, that you helped her to do so, before the movie.

Jonathan falls a little more in love with you at that moment. For the common sense you had, for the way you could perceive what would happen once the three of you were cuddled up in bed, for the care you extend to his daughter as if she were your own.

Once Ava’s tucked in, sung to, kissed and loved, her night light turned on, he comes back to your shared room. He manages to catch you coming out of the bathroom, little flecks of water darkening the grey of your shirt.

“Sorry,” he feels shy with you suddenly, and shoves his hands into his pockets like a little bird tucking its head underneath its wing. You smile at him and walk towards him, your arms fall around his waist and smile up at him. He loves you.

“For what?” You press your nose against the side of his neck, briefly bite his skin, but change your mind halfway through and kiss over the spot instead.

He shrugs, “Waking you up.”

“It’s ok,” your hands come to the nape of his neck and you pull him down towards you. Your lips are breaths away from his. “I’ll thank you in the morning when I don’t have a kink in my back.”

The next rational decision is to kiss you. The world wouldn’t make sense if he didn’t. It took Jonathan a while to get used to the feelings that would rush through him when he kissed you. At first, he naively thought that they would stop after a while. Now, two years after that kiss, he still feels it, just as intense, just as life-changing as the first time. The only thing that’s changed now is that he knows that he has to prepare for them. Ground his feet, take in a deep breath, so he’s not as thrown off as he was that night.

Now, he pulls your leg to rest on the side of his hip, his other hand comes and rests on your upper thigh. You jump into his arms and he walks you over towards the bed, lays you down and hovers over you, his weight resting on his forearms right beside his head.

Jonathan loves you.

“I love you,” you murmur, threading your hands through his hair.

Jonathan smiles.

So, what's the verdict? More Jonathan Levy?

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought of it, it means the world to me! Masterlist here.

Everything tags: @whats-belay

Taglists are open!

#I— AHHHHH SKBDKSKSKAK #SO FUCKING GOODOODO #THIS PART RIGHT HERE ->#‘He’s stumbled upon an underwater cave of riches #of luxuries never seen before on land #and instead of ripping them from their home #into harsh light and to be battered over by greedy hands #he’ll make his home here. Will let the saltwater flow into his lungs #give his last breath away to the ocean and never leave again.’#SCRUMPTIOUS. PHENOMENAL. OUT OF THIS WORLD. CHEFS KISS.#IDK WHAT IT IS ABOUT THAT PART BUT I JUST— 👀👀👀🥺#SO GOOD OP!!!!!! <33333333

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bbylovell · 2 years ago

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The Six Times You Met Bob Floyd In School and The One Time You Didn't || Robert "Bob" Floyd

Description: How Single Dad!Bob x Teacher!Reader's relationship progressed over the course of a school year

Content: emetophobia warning (mentions of upset stomachs and throwing up but it’s very minor), the bird strike is a plot line, mother's not being the best sometimes (it's like one sentence), bob is a great father figure, fluff

Word Count: 9k (I'm so sorry lol)

A special thank you to @imjess-themess for mentioning this in the discord and everyone who helped talk about the backstory/offer stories from their childhood ( @hederasgarden, @mayhem24-7forever, @jostystyles). Of course, thank you to @callsign-phoenix for rereading this a million times, encouraging me, and for making this beautiful header.

If anyone likes this or wants more about this story, I have an entire google doc of headcanons waiting for the internet to see!

One:

The first day of school was always exciting, it was a mark of a new beginning and a new time of change. You didn’t realize how true those two things would become until later in the school year. Standing by the door of your newly decorated classroom, you greeted each child as they came in, doing your best to learn their names as soon as possible. You tried to make a mental note of how many students had come in. The task was becoming increasingly more difficult as more families crowded the hallways and children rushed passed to get to their new classrooms. A short blonde girl with mismatched socks and crooked pigtails caught your eye as she hurried down the hall, a big smile spreading across her face as she made eye contact with you. When she got to where you were standing, you leaned down to ask her name but were cut off by a voice.

“Cassie! You forgot your lunch, I know you’re excited but-” the voice stopped as he got to where you were standing.

Your eyes were met with a pair of old converse and when you looked up to see who they belonged to, you were caught off guard. He couldn’t have been much older than you and was by far the youngest parent you’d met all day. As you stood up straight to introduce yourself he looked down at the girl, Cassie, the name rang a bell but you couldn’t remember why.

“Cassie! You forgot your lunch, I know you’re excited but-” the voice stopped as he got to where you were standing.

“She’s very um… very excited, I’m so sorry.” He adjusted the small backpack on his shoulder to try and stick his hand out to shake yours, “I’m Bob Floyd, her uncle and legal guardian and I’m assuming you’re Mrs-”

“Miss…” you corrected him, suddenly embarrassed by this, “I’m not married.”

“Oh I apologize, I guess I just assumed…” he trailed off as his gaze fell to your empty ring finger, looking away quickly before he leaned down, “Cassie, how about you go inside and see where your seat is.”

A big smile spread on Cassie’s face as she hugged his neck goodbye. You saw tears well up in his eyes as he whispered “I love you” into her shoulder. He stayed crouched down as he watched her walk into the classroom, greeting everyone she saw.

He stood back up and stuck his hands in his pockets as he lowered his voice, “I’m not sure if they told you about Cassie’s situation, but I could uh-I could tell you more about it if you had any questions.”

You were suddenly reminded why the name seemed so familiar, you had received an email regarding the custody status of one of your students a few weeks ago. It wasn’t unusual to have students being taken care of by relatives, especially so close to a military base. The file didn’t share many details, only that Cassie’s mother had lost custody at the beginning of the summer and an uncle was going to be receiving full custody. You had to admit, when you heard she was going to be taken care of by an uncle, you expected him to be an older gentleman. Yet, here he stood, slightly taller than you and in casual clothing. He had a baseball hat and glasses on, making it impossible to see most of his face, but you could tell he was quite attractive. Not that it mattered, it would be inappropriate to crush on a student’s guardian.

“No need for that, the school told me that you would be taking care of her and as long as she is happy and safe, that’s all that matters.” You replied as you looked at Cassie and back to Bob.

Your heart swelled at the smile on his face as he watched Cassie continue to introduce herself to everyone. Bob turned back to you, your eyes meeting for the first time and you were taken aback by how blue his were. Your voice was caught in your throat as you watched him scan your features. After a moment, he looked down and cleared his throat to speak.

“I should get going, if you ever need a volunteer to help around the classroom, please don’t hesitate to ask. I wanna make this school year as good as possible for her.” Bob said as he stole one last look at Cassie.

“Absolutely, you’ll be my first call.” You replied, trying to stabilize your voice. This was going to be a long year.

Two:

As the first month of school came to a close, you had decided you wanted to have meetings with Bob to discuss Cassie a bit more. While phone calls home and meetings with parents were usually a bad sign, this one couldn’t be farther from. It wasn’t any of your business and you expected Bob to tell you off for asking, but you were curious to see if Cassie was adjusting well at home. She was the perfect student in class, but sometimes that can be a way for children to overcompensate. As you read her file, you saw Bob’s number and dialed it. You had no idea what he did for work but you just hoped he wasn’t busy. After a few rings, he picked up.

“Uh, hello?!” He semi-shouted into the phone, noise filled the background and it caused you to slightly pull the phone away from your ear.

“Hello?” You cleared your throat slightly, “Is this Robert Floyd?”

You heard him excuse himself and the sound of a door slamming before the background noise became nothing more than a dull hum, “Yes, may I ask who this is?”

“This is Cassie’s teacher, I was wondering if we could schedule a meeting to talk about a few things.” You answered, cursing yourself for how stern your voice came out.

There was some shuffling on the other end of the line before Bob was mumbling something you couldn’t make out under his breath. “Um, yeah” he started but was cut off by the sound of a door opening and some shouting that sounded urgent, “I’m sorry, things are crazy here right now, can we do it today when I pick her up?”

You barely got a reply out before he rushed to say goodbye and you heard the beep of the phone call ending. You felt horrible, obviously he was busy at work doing whatever he does and you had to call and bother him instead of just waiting until the end of the day to ask. This was not how it was supposed to go, you wanted to explain to him that this was a good meeting and tell him not to worry, but there wasn’t enough time.

Meanwhile at base, Bob was freaking out. For one, he knew that meetings like this were not good signs. It was typically because a child was acting out or causing problems during class. Cassie was an angel at home, sometimes she could get moody when she was tired, but besides that, she always listened. Secondly, this meeting meant he was going to have to sit across from a woman he considered to be the most beautiful person he’d ever met and actually talk to her for more than 3 minutes in a hallway. Not to mention, the idea that she might view him as not cut out for this filled him with dread.

He tried to distract himself with training and drills but nothing worked, his mind was stuck on the meeting planned for this afternoon. When the time finally came for him to leave to pick up Cassie, his palms were sweating and his voice was shaky as he bid everyone goodbye.

Once he got to the school and made his way down the hall he saw Cassie sitting in the hallway, not a good sign. She looked up and her face lit up with a big smile when she saw Bob walking towards her. Bob kneeled down to greet her, trying not to show the nervousness he was feeling as he kissed her forehead and mumbled, “How was school today pumpkin?” against it.

“So good Uncle Bobby, we did multiplication and I learned how to spell Massachusetts!” Cassie beamed with pride as you walked out of the classroom and ushered Bob in, telling Cassie it’d only be a few minutes.

As soon as the door closed, Bob began to rattle off apologies. “Listen, I’m so sorry if she has been acting out, this has been a huge adjustment period for both of us and I’m kind of working on setting boundaries and none of these parenting books prepare you-” He stopped abruptly when he noticed a big smile appear on your face as you let out a chuckle and waved your hands to motion him to stop talking.

“Mr. Floyd, that’s not why you’re here.” You said and he let out a sigh of relief and rested his hands on the back of a chair. He watched as you sat behind your desk, motioning for him to join you. “Like I said Mr. Floyd, Cassie-”

“Please just call me Bob” he interrupted and wiped his palms on his jean clad thighs, “It’s what everyone else calls me, Mr. Floyd makes me feel like I’m old.”

“Okay,” you started again, “Cassie didn’t do anything wrong, quite the opposite actually. She is one of the brightest students I have, not to mention she is incredibly kind hearted and will do anything to help around the classroom”

Bob felt his heart swell with pride. He loved Cassie more than anything in the world and was so happy that she was adjusting to a new school, new house, and even a new guardian so well. Not that Bob taking care of her was anything new, it had just been a few years since he’d been that active in her life and he was terrified of falling short.

Your voice got his attention again, “Her file doesn’t say much about her life before moving here…” he could tell you were proceeding with caution to avoid overstepping so he sent you an encouraging smile.

“Cassie doesn’t know the details on why she is here if that is what you wanted to ask,” Bob cleared his throat and looked down at the carpet, “I’ve just told her that her mom needed a little help and that she would be staying with me and my friends for a little bit. I think she’s still distracted with how new this life is to realize this is forever…”

Bob didn’t have to look up to know you were staring at him, gaging his reactions. He quickly wiped a tear that had started to fall before he stood up, accidentally scaring you with how sudden it was. “If that’s all, we really better get going, Cassie gets hangry if she doesn’t have a snack around this time.”

Bob took a step away from his chair when you stood up to walk him out, “Of course, it was lovely seeing you again, you two have a good night.”

As soon as he was out of your eye sight, Bob let out a deep sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, trembling from the aftershocks of seeing you again. What was he going to do the rest of the school year?

Three:

As the school year continued, flu season quickly arrived. It was inevitable for kids to become sick and once one kid had it, it was like wildfire in the school. Which was how you ended up sitting on a plastic bed in the back room of the office, trying to comfort Cassie while they called Bob for the third time. You still didn’t know what he did for work but you imagined it must have been something really important that he couldn’t pick up the phone.

“Has Uncle Bobby answered yet?” Cassie asked through sobs and your heart broke further when you had to shake your head.

Another twenty minutes had passed and Cassie calmed down a little, but was still sniffling. It was at this point you had begun to become impatient and frustrated with him. How can you not answer your phone and make the emergency contacts impossible to reach as well? As if on cue to your thoughts, the front office door burst open to reveal a very sweaty Bob in a green flight suit.

“Oh no,” you muttered as you stood up and took a few steps towards where he was standing. You were filled with guilt at your thoughts because you now understood that he wasn’t just busy at work, he was 30,000 feet in the air. You stayed halfway down the hall and observed as time slowed and nearly everyone in the office stopped to admire him for a moment. His hair that was regularly in perfect condition was now windswept and slightly damp, his fair skin had become flushed and the sleeves of the suit were rolled to his elbows. It wasn’t until he began to frantically ask where Cassie was that everything came back to full speed and he was motioned to walk towards you. Bob didn’t slow down as he got closer to you and it forced you to have to explain what happened as you tried to keep up with his long strides.

“She said her stomach started hurting a little after you dropped her off, but she didn’t seem too sick so we held off from calling but then,” you turned your head to look at her through the window into the small room, “She got sick and we tried to call you as soon as it happened because she was so upset but we couldn’t get a hold of anyone.”

You watched Bob clench his jaw as he watched Cassie begin to doze off on the plastic bed. Your stomach turned as you feared he was angry at you for not calling earlier and you prepared yourself for the worst. To your surprise, Bob turned to you and placed his hand on your arm to get your attention. In a soft voice, he spoke as you made eye contact, “I’m really sorry, I can’t have my phone up in the plane and the two emergency contacts were also up in the sky with me. It’s my fault,” he ran his hand through his hair, “I’m just so new to this whole thing and when they asked who I wanted, I put the two people I trusted most, but neglected to think about how one of them is flying my plane. Thank you for sitting with her.”

You gave him a soft smile and cleared your throat as you felt eyes fall on the two of you. He took the hint and pulled his arm back before walking into the room. You stood in the doorway and watched as he kneeled next to the bed and gently shook Cassie awake. She sat up quickly and began to get upset again when she saw Bob was in front of her.

“Uncle Bobby,” she took a deep breath as tears started to slide down her cheeks again, “My stomach really hurt and then I got sick and it got on my desk and on my clothes.”

You took a step back as Bob wiped her tears and pushed the hair off of her face and behind her ears. He spoke in a calm voice and reminded her to take deep breaths. You had a small smile on your face that dropped quickly when you saw Cassie try and push Bob back as he raised his arms to hug her. A confused expression fell on his face as he tried to understand what he did wrong.

“NO! My clothes are gross and I smell bad, I don’t wanna get you sick!” Cassie raised her voice and you saw a hurt expression flash across Bob’s face.

“Pumpkin,” he started, moving his hands to hold her face, “I don’t care that you got sick and your clothes are dirty, okay? That’s what the washer is for. Plus,” he grabbed her hand and put it on the back of his neck, “Feel how sweaty I am, we’re both gross today.”

Your heart swelled as you watched Cassie let out a squealing laugh, the first sign of happiness she showed all day. When you turned around, you saw that everyone else in the office had been not only watching Bob and Cassie interact, but also you. They sent smug, knowing smiles to each other as they pretended to busy themselves with paperwork. Bob walked out of the small room, Cassie’s hand in his and sent you a smile that made you sweat as he walked her to the desk. You tried to compose yourself as you walked past him, but you couldn’t help but notice how small the pen from the sign out sheet looked in his hand.

You watched them walk out the front doors for a moment and right before you turned around, Bob sent you a wave before picking up Cassie and getting her buckled into the back seat. You sent back a small wave before taking a few steps and leaning against the cool concrete wall. This was not getting any easier.

Four:

Shortly after Bob had to pick up Cassie early from school she had come home with a sheet of paper announcing career day and Bob immediately knew he needed to be there. He requested to take half of that day off and started planning what aspects of his job he wanted to talk about. Some people might have found it silly he was putting in so much effort for a class of 3rd graders, but he felt this was the best chance for him to show to everyone he could show up, that he was cut out for this.

When the day finally arrived, Bob woke up extra early to make sure he had enough time to get him and Cassie ready. He usually just drank a coffee and put on something casual to drop her off in, but this was important. On his second attempt at fixing his bed head, Cassie walked into the bathroom.

“Uncle Bobby?” she asked and he hummed a response to tell her he was listening, “Are you almost done? We have to leave soon and I don’t have my hair done.”

Bob checked his watch and cursed under his breath, they had to leave in 20 minutes and Cassie’s hair was sticking up in every direction. He picked her up and put her on the counter so he could try and brush through the tangles. He liked to think that his braiding skills had gotten a lot better since the first day of school, but sometimes Phoenix would stifle a laugh when she’d see Cassie’s hair after school.

The entire drive to school was nerve wracking, Bob was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, rechecking his ribbons and switching through the stations. As they got close to the building Bob looked in the rearview and the sight of Cassie smiling at him was all he needed to calm his nerves for the remainder of the drive.

Bob pulled into the parking lot and Cassie excitedly undid her seatbelt before Bob was able to park. He shot her a warning look, “Cassie Grace,” he started.

“I know, I’m sorry I’m just so excited,” she said while nearly shaking in the backseat. Once they were parked she pushed the door open and jumped down.

As they made their way towards the front doors of the building Bob felt his anxiety coming back. Cassie must have sensed this because she grabbed his hand and led him closer to the doors, a big smile on her face. Once inside, she went into the office and Bob felt all eyes on them. Both women at the desk jumped up and reached for a pen to sign him in. They asked him questions about flying and what each ribbon meant, causing a blush to creep up on Bob’s neck. As soon as he finished signing his name Cassie saved him by pulling him away from the desk and towards her classroom.

The classroom was buzzing with excitement and Bob found himself scanning the room until he found you. You had a big smile on your face as you reintroduced yourself to family members and asked them questions about their work. Cassie let go of his hand and ran to where her friends were, leaving Bob standing alone in the doorway. Your eyes found his and you waved your arm to tell him to come in. He felt your gaze as he walked in slowly and took a seat next to Cassie, his knees bumping the desk.

A few weeks had passed since Bob had picked Cassie up in his flight suit and you were so grateful that people had begun to forget about it. It took a matter of 3 hours for word to spread that one of the students had a hot, young dad that flies airplanes for the navy and was also so sweet and delicate with her. It was tortue to listen to everyone in the break room talk about him like they knew him. Not that you knew much, but you knew that he wasn’t Cassie’s dad and that he didn’t fly the planes, he was a weapon systems officer. You didn’t like the jealous feeling that gnawed at your chest as they told tales of pilots they’d slept with due to the base being in such close proximity. You had no reason to be jealous, he hadn’t shown any interest in you and you didn’t even know if he was single. It was nothing more than a little crush and it would die off.

When you decided on doing career day this year, you knew you wanted to do it combined with one of the other teachers you had grown close to since starting, Sarah. She was a few years older and took you under her wing when you needed guidance. Also, she had also heard the gossip about a hot father figure in the navy and was astonished when she found out he was the guardian of one of your students. Needless to say, she wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

“Alrighty everyone,” you began and a silence fell over your students, “let’s start by welcoming and thanking all of our guests today.”

Your class erupted into a chorus of “thank you” and claps. You made eye contact with Bob who had a smile on his face as he watched you conduct your class. Your mouth went dry and your heart sped up as you had time to finally take him in. His uniform was neatly pressed, his face was freshly shaved and he looked incredible. You were never nervous speaking in front of kids or even parents, but knowing that he was watching you made your stomach turn.

You were relieved when Sarah arrived and you could force her to speak for you to avoid embarrassing yourself. As you made your way to the back of the classroom Sarah leaned in, “So which one is captain DILF?”

You stared at her with a slack jaw before looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard. When you saw that everyone was engaged in their own conversations, you whispered back, “He’s a lieutenant, not a captain.” Sarah’s eyes went wide and she fought back a laugh.

The presentations went in alphabetical order by last name, which put Bob as the second presenter. You had to admit, you were a bit surprised to see him not only here, but in dress blues. He seemed so reserved about himself and his line of work. Not that you were complaining, you were starting to understand why so many women hung around the bars closest to base.

When it was time for Bob to present, you clapped your hands to get the attention of the class and did your best to make your voice sound even, “That was awesome, everyone thank Ava’s mom for coming in.” You paused as they all thanked her. “Next we have Cassie’s uncle who is a naval aviator, let’s give a warm welcome to Lieutenant Bob Floyd.”

Bob stood up slowly and straightened the front of his uniform before walking to the front of the class. You saw him take a deep breath and move his shaking hands to his pockets, something you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t watching him so intensely. You felt Sarah look at you and a smirk spread across her face as she leaned in, “Oh yeah, you’re down bad.” You shushed her without taking your eyes off of him.

Bob looked to Cassie who had her thumbs up and was sporting an encouraging smile before he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “Hi everyone, thank you for having me. As you know, I am Cassie’s uncle and I am a naval aviator, but more specifically a weapon systems officer. They also call us backseaters.”

The longer he spoke, the more comfortable he began to look. His face lit up when he saw how invested the kids were in what he was saying. When his eyes met yours you shot him a big smile, causing him to fumble over his words slightly.

“We are…they uh, they call us backseaters because we sit behind our pilots. We usually work as a team for a long time. My pilot’s name is Natasha, but we call her Phoenix.” Bob said, a proud expression on his face as he spoke about his partner. “My job is to help aim and operate the weapons we have in our planes. But even more important than that, I’m responsible for being her extra set of eyes in the sky and helping to guide her decisions.”

You could tell that Bob had a lot of respect and admiration for Natasha and it warmed your heart to see how much his expression brightened when he talked about her. Bob continued to talk about different parts of his job and you were hooked on every word. The shy, nervous man you’d met before was gone and replaced with someone who could make life changing choices without a doubt in his mind.

Disappointment nagged at the back of your mind as he finished the questions a few of the kids had and sat back next to Cassie. Maybe it was because you wanted to know everything about his job, or maybe it was just because you wanted to hear him talk again. Either way, it was obvious now that you were falling hard for him, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Five:

When Bob had signed Cassie up for school, they asked him a lot of questions. Most of them he knew without giving it a second thought.

What’s her birthday? April 17th, 2014.

Does she have any allergies they should be aware of? Bees and no she doesn’t need an epi pen, it’s a mild reaction. He’ll pick her up, give her Benadryl and she’ll be okay.

The one question he wasn’t ready for was who her emergency contact should be, in case they couldn’t get a hold of Bob. He panicked because he never thought there would be a time when he wouldn’t drop everything to get her. He put down the two people he trusted in the sky most: Natasha Trace and Bradley Bradshaw. If he could put his life in their hands, he could also do so with Cassie’s. His last thought before he pulled the ejection handle was that the first person they were going to call to get Cassie from school when he didn’t answer was about to be ejected from a plane with him and the second person was going to insist on being the leader of search and rescue for them.

At the same time that Bob was being ejected from an F-18 you were finishing morning snacks with your students and getting them settled for a lesson about fractions. As you finished passing out their practice sheets a knock at the door got your attention. The principal, Mrs. Collins, was standing at the door and was motioning for you to come into the hallway. After instructing your students to work on completing the assignment, you walked to the door and stood just outside of it. She was typically a cheery person so the solemn expression she wore made your heart rate increase.

“Something has happened, but before I tell you, I need you to know you must continue to appear calm and then you have to continue the rest of the day. Is that understood?” She warned in a low voice and you nodded slowly, confused where this was going.

She saw her upset face had caught the eye of a few students so she did her best to have a neutral expression before she continued, “Cassie Floyd’s guardian was in an accident at work. He is alive but is going to be in the hospital overnight and will not be able to get her from school today.”

She continued to speak but your ears refused to hear any more. Your stomach dropped to the floor and your heart began to ache. You were aware of the dangers of Bob’s work, but you never allowed yourself to consider this outcome. You looked back into the classroom and saw Cassie focused intently on the paper in front of her. Mrs. Collins caught onto what you saw and let out a sigh, knowing exactly where your head was at.

“I know continuing class will be difficult, but it is not any of our places to tell her. One of her emergency contacts, Bradley Bradshaw, will be here at pick up.” She said as she tried to put on a fake smile, urging you to follow.

After a moment, you took a deep breath and cleared your throat before following suit. “That sounds amazing Mrs. Collins, how exciting!” You said, raising your voice in a fake cheery tone so none of the students would suspect anything.

You found it impossible to focus the rest of the day. Your thoughts were consumed with scenarios of accidents, how injured Bob was, but above all, Cassie. You still didn’t know a lot about her life before, but you knew how much she loved Bob by the way her face lit up every time he picked her up from school. It was going to break her heart to find out that Bob was in an accident. Yes, and maybe you were a little selfish and upset that he could have died before the school year ended and you could finally tell him how you feel.

When time for pick up came around you anxiously awaited the arrival of Bradley, as well as Cassie’s reaction to seeing him. You didn’t know if she and Bob had ever had a conversation about what would happen if he got injured at work. For all you knew, Cassie could know what happened as soon as Bradley walked through the door. Your thoughts were interrupted by a tall man with a mustache and white tank top walking in, eyes scanning the room.

Cassie jumped up from her seat and ran towards him, “UNCLE CHICKEN!” she yelled in an excited voice. You held back a laugh as he leaned down to pick her up in a crushing hug.

“Hey kiddo.” He said as he set her down and ruffled her hair, earning a laugh from Cassie.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Uncle Bobby?” She asked, looking between you and Bradley for answers. The two of you shared a knowing look and he kneeled down to be at eye level with her.

“Something came up so Uncle Bobby sent me to get you.” Bradley started, awaiting a response from Cassie. She gave him a skeptical look at first, but eventually turned around and walked to her desk to grab her backpack. Bradley stood up and walked over to you as she did.

“You must be Cassie’s teacher,” he started, looking over to see where Cassie was before continuing, “I’m Bradley, one of Bob’s coworkers. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You were thrown off by this comment, but decided to ignore it, needing answers, “Bob, is he… how bad was it?”

Bradley let out a sigh before lowering his voice and leaning in slightly to avoid anyone potentially hearing. “There was a bird strike during training, both engines caught fire and Phoenix couldn’t get control. They ejected in the nick of time and now they’re in the hospital overnight for observation.”

As you opened your mouth to ask more questions, Cassie walked up to Bradley and he cleared his throat before leaning back down to her, “Alright Cass, what do you say we head home and I’ll make you mac and cheese for dinner?”

A big smile spread on Cassie’s face and she grabbed Bradley’s hand to lead him out of the classroom. You sent Bradley a small smile and he mouthed, “Thank you” your way.

Two days passed and Cassie hadn’t been in school for either of them. You did your best not to think about Bob or how Cassie reacted to the news with little avail. A few of the other students Cassie was close with had asked where she was and each time you just said she was sick. It was now Friday and you knew that if she wasn’t back today, it was going to be another two days not seeing Bob, two days you would spend worrying about Cassie. Sat at your desk you saw a familiar tall blond walk down the hallway. Your hands started to sweat as you watched him make his way, a little slower than usual, to the door. He had a few butterfly stitches on his cheek and he winced when Cassie hugged him, but he was alive. He pulled away from the hug and patted her back to motion for her to sit down at her desk before standing up and looking at you. You made eye contact for a moment before he walked towards you.

“Excuse me, can we talk outside for just a minute?” he asked, sticking his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, despite the weather starting to get warm again.

You stood up slowly and looked at the class, it was still early and many of your students hadn’t arrived yet, “Yes, of course.”

You followed Bob out to the hall, making sure to stand within view of your students while you spoke to him. His hat did little to conceal the dark circles under his eyes and the oversized hoodie covered most, but not all of the bandage on the side of his neck by his shoulder. He caught you staring at the white gauze, “It’s not as bad as it looks, I swear.” Despite his reassuring smile you didn’t believe him.

“How are you?” You asked before realizing your mistake, “and Cassie? How’s Cassie holding up?”

Bob let out a long breath and watched her through the window, “I really scared her this time. She’s been having a lot of anxiety and nightmares. I told her I would talk to you about it… I know every time we talk I find a way to say that I wasn’t prepared for this part of parenting, but I think I’ve met the worst one yet.”

His eyes were tired and you could tell Cassie wasn’t the only one not sleeping at night, “And how are you holding up?”

Bob sucked in a breath and rubbed his eyes under his glasses, “I’ve been better, just wanna see her okay again. I think being back at school is going to help a lot.”

You could tell there was more he needed to say, but it wasn’t your place to ask any further questions. This left you staring at him as you tried to find the words. Bob must have sensed your discomfort, but for the wrong reason when he spoke up again, “Anyways, I have the next week off, so if she needs anything during that time, please call at any time.”

He turned around and walked back towards the door slowly. You wanted to grab his arm and tell him that it wasn’t him confessing something to you that made you uncomfortable, or yell down the hallway and make him tell you everything he was ever too scared to admit to anyone else. You wanted to tell him if he needed any help, you could be there, but instead you just watched him walk away until he pushed the door open with his good shoulder and got into his truck.

Six:

Just as soon as the school year started, it had come to an end. Somehow, it was already the last week of school and all of your students were anxious for Friday to come so summer could officially start. Usually by the last week of school you were pushing students out the door so you could go home too. But here you were, 20 minutes after pick up ended, directing Cassie on which posters to take down. You didn’t mind staying after class with her, you knew Bob was busy at work and always tried to get there as soon as he could. Some days, like today, he was held longer at training. Eventually Cassie broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “Uncle Bobby talks about you at home a lot.”

You dropped the pin you had used to hold up a poster at this confession. Trying to remain professional and calm, you looked at her with surprise in your eyes and cleared your throat. “Is that so?” You asked.

She nodded enthusiastically before replying, “Yes, whenever Aunt Tasha comes over he spends a long time talking to her in the kitchen and a few nights ago she called him a wimp for not talking to you more,” she laughed and you choked on air as your skin felt like it was on fire, “and when he came to talk to the class, my braids were uneven because he spent too much time on his hair and didn’t have time to fix mine.”

Cassie changed the subject and began to tell you about the beach day she had with Bob last weekend, but you couldn’t hear her. Your mind was in overdrive at her confession, did Bob really talk about you a lot? Sometimes kids could be dramatic, but talking to Natasha about you? You forced yourself to stop thinking about it so you wouldn’t get a false hope.

Shortly after, Bob ran through the door of your classroom in his flight suit like he had in the office so many months ago. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. There was maintenance that needed to be done and then there was traffic because I left later than usual and I know I always say it will never happen again but I swear this is the last time.” He rambled as he made eye contact with you.You put down the pen you were correcting papers with and stood up to greet him.

“It’s completely okay, Cassie and I were just talking while she helped me with some stuff I had to do before the school year is over,” you said as you motioned to her testing your markers and throwing out the bad ones.

Bob let out a laugh and leaned down to give Cassie a kiss on the forehead, “Oh boy, that’s never good.”

With you only being Cassie’s teacher for a few more days, you saw an opportunity and if it went poorly, you probably would only see Bob in passing at school when he dropped Cassie off next year. Navy bars were never your scene so that wouldn’t be a problem and you could always change grocery stores to avoid him. You mentally weighed the options before speaking up. “Yeah, she was just telling me about her Aunt Tasha and how much you talk to her about Cassie’s school.”

You saw Bob stiffen, obviously aware of the conversation you were referencing, “Yeah uh, she… I’m sorry it was completely inappropriate but you’re just so-” He cut himself off before he could finish his sentence. His gaze fell to the floor and a deep blush appeared on his cheeks.

That was the only confirmation you needed to continue, “It’s not that big of a deal, but between that and now I’m at school extra late, I’m starting to think you might owe me dinner or something.” A playful smirk appeared on your face.

Bob stared at you and you panicked, wondering if you overstepped yet again. After a moment, his mouth formed an O as he understood what you were getting at. “You might be right, are you free this Saturday? I could pick you up at 7?”

“It’s a date.” You replied, excitement bubbling in your chest. You somehow not only survived the school year, but had a new way to celebrate the end of the year.

Plus 1:

“That’s the problem, I don’t know what we’re doing, where we are going or anything!” You huffed as you crossed your arms and stood amidst a mess of clothing on your bedroom floor with your best friend on facetime. It was 6:45 and Bob said he would pick you up at 7. Your racing heart and sweating palms made it difficult to focus on the task at hand. “That’s it, I have to cancel.”

“Stop saying that, it’s going to be fine.” She said, her patience visibly wearing thin, “Put the first option back on, you picked it first for a reason.”

Maybe she was right, you picked the sundress up off the floor and pulled it over your head again. You did a half turn in the mirror to look at the back, it was shorter than anything you would ever wear to teach in. After 9 months of long pants and skirts to school, you felt naked in this. As you took a step away from the mirror, you spotted a truck stopping in front of your house. Upon closer inspection you realized that you recognized not only the truck, but the dirty blond hair in the front seat. Your head turned quickly to look at the clock and then back to your phone screen.

“Oh no… Oh no no no. He’s 10 minutes early, I thought I had more time to prepare!” You exclaimed, desperately gathering a few things to put in your bag. In all honesty, you hoped he’d be on time, but didn’t expect it. It didn’t have anything to do with him, just with the history of guys you’d been on dates with.

You watched from the window to see if he would text you to come out, but nothing came through. After a few minutes of waiting he got out of the truck and began to walk to your front door. Now it was 6:55 and you didn’t even have shoes on.

“He’s walking up to the door, I gotta go, bye love you!” You said, quickly hanging up before she could respond. You sat still on your bed, awaiting to hear a knock or your doorbell, but it was silent. You glanced back out the window and saw him pacing on your porch, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He checked his watch a few times and you watched him closely as you slid some sandals on. You slowly made your way into the hallway and as soon as the clock ticked to 7pm, there was a knock. Somehow your shaky legs carried you to the door and you opened it with a smile. He stared at you a moment before glancing down at the bouquet.

“You… wow um, these are for you.” He stuttered, handing the flowers to you, his eyes not breaking contact with yours, “You look absolutely amazing.”

A smile crept onto your cheeks as you took the flowers from him. It took you a second to process that not only did he pick you up at the door, but he was early and brought you flowers. As you felt his eyes on you still, you realized you hadn’t spoken to him yet.

“Oh my goodness, I’m being so rude. Thank you so much, these are beautiful, how about you come in while I grab a vase for them?” You asked, finally looking him over. He was dressed fairly casual, but you were still in awe. Your neck became hot as you turned to lead him to the kitchen, suddenly hyper aware of the dishes in the sink.

You reached into a cabinet and grabbed the vase with one hand and used the other to try and keep your dress from rising up. When you looked out of the corner of your eye to see if he was watching, his gaze was focused on the wall. Once you were flat on your feet again, Bob looked back towards you with a polite smile. You gently placed the flowers in the vase and filled it with water before taking a small step back to admire them.

Bob watched you a moment before he spoke up, “All good to go?”

The two of you made your way outside and as you reached the end of your driveway, he jogged ahead of you to open the door. He offered his hand to help you in and closed the door gently as you did the buckle on the seatbelt. Once he was in the driver’s seat he looked over at you again, seemingly trying to memorize what you looked like before turning the key.

You had dreaded the driving part of the date all day, it was always awkward and filled with small talk questions to make conversations. With Bob it was different, the conversation about how your days went flowed and any anxiety you had faded. The drive was short and ended at the local beach. Everyone had begun to pack up due to the sun setting, which left the sanded area less crowded than normal. Your gaze shifted from the beach when Bob reached behind you and revealed a cooler with a bundle of blankets. Before you could react he was opening his door and running around to open yours again. He offered his free hand to help you down.

Grateful of your past choice, you took off your sandals and carried them in one hand, the other was around Bob’s bicep as he guided you down closer to the water. He spread out the biggest blanket and placed the basket in the middle of it. You took a seat as he pulled out an assortment of fruit, sandwiches and snacks. Blown away by his efforts, you looked at him with your mouth slightly open in surprise.

Bob caught this expression and let out a chuckle, “Sorry if it isn’t very fancy, I’ve kind of forgotten how to eat like an adult.”

“That’s not it at all, this is amazing.” You praised, watching him lower his head slightly in an attempt to hide the blush that had appeared.

You spent the next hour or so talking about your hometowns, favorite books, and ridiculous hypotheticals. The conversation was lighthearted and felt like it took a weight off of your chest as you watched the sun begin to set. Your gaze was still focused on the water when you asked where Cassie was tonight.

Bob smiled and let out a laugh, “Everyone took her bowling, who knows what they’re up to now or how much sugar they’ve given her.”

A smile spread across your face and you looked back to where Bob was lying on his side, “It’s really great they do stuff like that, it has to make this whole thing easier.” His slight grin was replaced with a serious expression at your comment and you furrowed your brows in concern, wondering what you said wrong.

“Yeah it’s nice,” Bob sat up slowly so that your shoulders were touching, his touch sending electricity through you, “Speaking of that… I need to be honest with you.” Your heart sank but you nodded slowly, encouraging him to continue.

He cleared his throat, “I really like you, Cassie absolutely adores you and hell, Phoenix has been begging to meet you for months. But before you decide if you want to go through with this whole thing, you need to know what you’re getting into. It’s not fair for this to be sprung on you randomly a few months down the road.”

His words caused your anxiety to spike, as far as you knew there wasn’t anything he was going to tell you that would change the way you felt about him. You already knew he had a child he cared for, you knew about his job and after some late night research, you understood he couldn’t always be there. What else was there to tell? Your voice was barely a whisper when you replied, “Okay, tell me.”

He took a deep breath and adjusted his glasses before turning slightly so both of his eyes were on you. “You know Cassie isn’t technically my kid, she’s my niece.” You nodded in reply.

“I was only 17 when she was born and my older sister was, well she still is, a bit troubled. My mom thought she would get it together once Cassie was born, but I knew she wouldn’t. So I did whatever I could to help out.” Bob’s gaze left you and he turned his head to look at the water. “I fed her in the middle of the night, stayed up late rocking her when she was colic. But that only lasted a year, I enlisted right out of high school and shipped out shortly there after.”

You watched him closely, his jaw was clenched and his eyes were glossed over behind his glasses. When you moved closer and offered your hand he accepted it graciously before continuing, “I’ve tried to go home as much as I could, but this last visit, I just couldn’t let Cassie stay there anymore. So I took her to court and won custody.”

“Bob…” you said in a low voice, hoping he would look back your way. “None of that changes how I feel about you in a negative way, if anything it shows me how caring you are and how much love you have for her. I think it’s really brave what you did.”

Bob shook his head in protest, “It’s what anyone would have done.”

You leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder, “You’re doing a great job.”

The two of you stayed on the beach until long after the sun had set and the air had become chilly. You exchanged stories about your childhoods, dumb things you did in high school and what you wanted to be when you grew up versus where you had actually ended up. At one point Bob noticed you trying to hide a chill and without hesitation placed his jacket over your shoulders. You were surprised at how well the conversation flowed and how relaxed he made you, despite how nervous you had felt when he originally pulled up.

A little after midnight, Bob received no less than 6 text messages from Phoenix. They ranged from asking how it was going to asking if she should sleep on the couch tonight. He let out an embarrassed chuckle when he realized you caught a glimpse of what she had said. You reluctantly told him he should probably get back home before Cassie woke up and realized he was still out. He let out a deep sigh as he got up and offered his hand to help you up.

The drive home was a comfortable quiet, the only sounds in the truck were him humming quietly and the sound of the ocean from the coast. His hand held onto yours over the console and he rubbed circles into your thumb, occasionally glancing over at you. You gave him a soft smile each time.

At your house he once again ran around to your door to open it and you held onto his arm for the walk up to your porch. His face was illuminated by the warm glow of your porch light and you could see the slight green hue his eyes had. After a moment, he took half a step closer and his hand came up slowly to cup your cheek. You saw his eyes flick from your eyes to your lips and back up. You tilted your head up slightly, giving permission and he took the message, gently closing the gap between you. His lips were soft against yours and the slight stubble he had sent fire throughout you. His body was pressed against you when he pulled back slightly, his pupils were blown and his gaze darted between your eyes.

He leaned his head down to your neck, a new confidence present and in a low voice, he mumbled against your ear, “If I don’t leave now, Phoenix might just have to sleep on my couch.”

You let out a breathy laugh and put your hands on his chest, signaling him to lift his head and look at you, “I can’t have Phoenix hate me this soon… Good night, Bob.”

“Good night.” He replied before placing one more kiss against your lips and walking slowly back to his truck, your eyes on him the entire time. Apparently, that feeling of a new beginning you have on the first day of school can be there at the end of the year too.

#LOVETHIS #SO CUTE SKDJKDMSISHD

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bbylovell · 2 years ago

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Hello!!! Since your fics did this to me, I have a truly unhinged request. Can we get one where Daemon is forced to marry a Hightower (Alicent's sister or someone) after his 'divorce' from Rhea Royce and while Daemon is his usual 'pretend like that marriage never happened' stage, going about ignoring her and fucking whores instead, thinking this wife is probably as boring and meek as Alicent and won't say anything. But, surprise! This one's a complete nutcase and turns out she had long since wanted to marry Daemon (I mean look at the man, reader's me) and now that she has him so close, she won't let him ignore her or escape. He HAS to fall in love with her. So one night, while he's drunk she tries him to their bed and when he wakes up, gets a Valyrian dagger and carves her name upon his chest, telling him something like "See, now I'm so deep into you, you cannot pretend I'm not here." And surprise! Masochist unhinged Daemon actually does fall in love with her. I mean, how can he not! Name carving?! Beautiful! So fucking hot! They fuck (him still tied but she rides him GOOD, like they made her for him only.) And once done, she untied him and then HE carves his name on her back. Because she too wants him so deep engraved into her skin.

Please let me have this!!! Pleasee!!!!!!!

Made For You

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader

Summary: You grew up in not one, but two shadows, your older sister's and your sister's best friend's. People often mistook your silence for docility, and perhaps to an extent you were, but in truth, you inherited all the desperation, the eagerness, and the nefariousness of from your family.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, yandere!reader, mentions/depictions of violence (blood, gore?, murder), smut (dubcon?, fingering, bdsm themes, masochism, knife play [but they injure each other 💀], marking, scratching, vaginal penetration, degradation kink, breeding kink, binding kink, choking], just general dark/grotty themes, typos, etc.

A/N: ok very much MINORS DNI hello im calling 911 this is crazy and i love it HAHAHAHH update i am very confused if i love it lol HsaL:FHASHFAF. i had a little problem with believing daemon would marry a hightower 💀 so i had to add a part explaining that to convince myself. anyway. i hope you enjoy. idk what happened to be honest. im just glad i got this over with. Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @sloanexx

My compulsive habit of chewing my lip had made me addicted to the taste of blood. And though I was heading to the library, the same one I did every single day, my heart was pounding because I knew today would be different. I knew today the prince would be here.

The moment I walked in, I headed straight for the bookshelf that held the only tomes I knew Daemon read. I sucked the iron off my swollen lip and released a sigh as I began to go through the books.

I snort in a sharp breath when I hear a voice to my side. I turn left and find him, short sliver hair spilling down his forehead, a faint line between his brows, and a slight curve in his lips. He had spoken to me in High Valyrian.

I bring my hands to the side. I pull at the inside of my bottom lip. He watches me, awaiting a correct response to his words.

"Iskan..." I start slowly, "kesīr naejot jurnegon rȳ se tembyr."

I'm here to look at the books.

My stomach flutters when he chuckles.

"Very good," he says, standing straight, walking over to me, "though it's Iksan," he adds, reaching out for a book. He opens it but keeps his eyes on me and repeats, "Iksan."

"Iksan," I mutter, looking down at his book.

He closes the book and mindlessly puts it back, "good," he leans on the shelf, "now once more. All together."

I dart my eyes up to him and lick my lips, "Iksan kesīr naejot jurnegon rȳ se tembyr."

He chuckle, reaching out for my hair, "had you not inherited the ghastly color of your father's locks, you'd have me fooled to be of my blood."

My breathing heavies.

He laughs, muttering words in his mother tongue too quick for me to understand.

When he pulls his hand away, I am eager to say something that will elicit the same response, "I am glad I amuse you, my prince Daemon."

Daemon hums and turns about, "you are eager to please me so. How could I not?

I follow after him as he makes his way back to his chair. I spot the heap of books on his side as he sits down.

"Would you like me to take those back, your grace?"

Daemon turns from me to the books on his side then tilts his head, "I don't suppose you are trying to get a job as a librarian."

My eyes widen at his words, "no, I am not."

He straightens in his spot and crosses his legs, "then tell me, will you make no attempt to escape from your hundred year old prospect?"

I grip my skirt.

Daemon raises his brows along with the corner of his lips.

"You know of this?" I mutter softly.

"Your cunt of a father spoke of it to Viserys in the morn," he pouts in thought, "he spewed some crap about the old man from wherever the fuck being enchanted by you when you met him two nights before at the banquet."

I clear my throat, "Lord Sheperding was... quite eager to speak to my father about my prospects."

Daemon bounces his foot up and down. He grips the armrest, "so tell me," he stands and marches over, catching my face in his hands, craning my head up, "did the cretin that fucked you into your mother ask you to come here and seduce me like he did your bitch sister?"

My throat constricts in panic, "I-"

He pushes me back until my I was pressed between him and the side of the bookshelf. His hands come around my neck, "don't you dare fucking lie to me."

I gulp at the fact he was not putting pressure in his grip. My stomach flurries. I shake my head frantically, "my father would rather kill me than ever allow me to yours."

"But that is what you want," he blurts, beginning to tighten his hold on me, "what you have wanted for long, no?"

My heart hammers in my chest. My hands dart to his sides. I moan out, "yes."

Daemon leans close to me, "then I will give you what you want." He releases my neck and begins to pull up my skirt, "but if I find your father pleased by our union, I will make sure your death is more painful than that bronze bitch's."

I let out an involuntary whine but then bite my lip tightly when I feel Daemon's hands make their way to my inner thigh.

"Oh you filthy girl," he moans, "you don't seem to need my fingers at all with how worked up you've gotten yourself."

I cover my mouth when I feel his fingers brush over my burning core.

Daemon pulls away and rip my fingers off. He tuts me and flips me over, shoving my chest against the shelf, "this will only work if you're loud enough for someone to hear."

And someone very much did hear. As swiftly as Daemon had made me come undone by the shelves of library, the news came to my father of the disgrace I had done to my maidenhood, to our name, to him. So when he came to me, he chastised me and left physical evidence of his sore displeasure and then he came to the king demanding justice.

Upon seeing the state of me, King Viserys called for his brother, and Queen Alicent offered me comfort. Daemon came with haughtiness and scorn. My father and my sister eyed him dirtily. Upon seeing the mark on my cheek, the only mark on my body that he had not left, Daemon looked to the enraged king and agreed to the demand of taking responsibility of his actions.

So with a violet cheek hidden behind makeup, reddish marks on my neck hidden behind a high collar, a swollen eye, and bitten lips, I was wed to the prince.

I was now his princess, his wife.

Yet a month later, I was just a stranger that lived in his house that inconvenienced him. Why just this morning, he came from his chambers where he would bring his whores to fuck them, then came into our shared chambers to sleep, knowing I'd be gone and awake by now.

I watched him from the mirror as he walked across the room.

I stopped brushing my hair by the time Daemon jumped into our bed. I release a breath, "tired, my love?"

"Dorea kept me up all night," he chuckles, "filthy girl."

I cringe at the nickname. He had called me that when he made me his wife. That was my nickname, mine.

I turn over to look at him. He was curled up under the blankets, embracing a pillow. I stand from the chair in front of my vanity, "there is a banquet we must attend in the afternoon."

"Go by yourself," he mutters.

I clench my jaw and walk over to him, "the bastard lord, as you affectionately call will be there."

Daemon, who had his eyes closed, furrows his brows, "which one?"

"The one who called you a tyrant in the making."

He chuckles, rolling over on his chest. He begins to curse in High Valyrian.

I reach our bed and sit by the side, looking at him, wanting so badly to brush back his hair, to snuggle next to him, to make love to him, to cage him in me. I press my hands on the bed. I purse my lips before I whisper, "would you like for me to handle him?"

Daemon does not respond nor move.

"I will do anything for you... I can kill him for you if that is what you want."

When I move to stand, my groom speaks, "kill him then."

He turns to his face to the other side of the bed, I watch as he rubs his cheek on the pillows. He mutters idly, "bring me his head."

"And then you'll let me have you to myself?"

He laughs, "whatever you want."

But he betrayed me still. He couldn't fucking wait to get his cock wet.

I came to him that night with the lord's severed head. He was in his other chamber room, with a whore I have not seen before. And she had been going ah-ah-ah in pleasure as he straddled my prince, but then she made the mistake of turning over her shoulder. She ripped out an ear-piercing shriek upon seeing my figure, drenched in red, both hands clutching things of horror.

She fled the room promptly after seeing me, screeching loudly. Daemon however, was reeling at the sudden loss of contact. It became apparent to me that he was drunk, possibly out of his mind.

I walked over to him, beholding his naked form, his wet erection. I raise one hand, the one holding the severed head. I frown deeply, "your prize, husband."

I throw it to him.

Daemon, instinctively swats as he evades it. The lord's head rolls on the floor. He groans and pushes himself up on his elbows. He looks at me and narrows his eyes, slowly speaking my name, as though he was only recognizing it was me now.

I begin to shudder. I begin to shake in rage. I clench my jaw and my fists. I grab my skirt and lunge at him, pinning him down beneath me, raising my other hand, still clad with the weapon I used to slay the man with. I press it to his throat, screaming as tears fogged my eyes, "I HATE YOU."

Daemon clutches my arms and pushes me back, not before I manage to nick his skin and make red gush down the side of his throat.

I feel like he is pushed into a semblance of sobriety after this, and yet in my rage, I still managed to subdue him in his still very much intoxicated state.

We struggle against each other, but the only important thing to know is that my fury managed to best him. Now here we were. I was straddling his lip and he was tied to the bed, hissing at the feel of my cold blade on his chest.

Daemon was wide eyed and very much sober with the pain at this point.

"It's so nice of you not to scream and call for help, prince husband," I mutter as I etch my initials on to his left pec, "your pride will be the death of you, you know. Be glad I have no intention to kill you even now."

"Mad cunt," he spits in anger.

"You told me I could have you to myself!" I scream, body trembling in rage, "now I must mark you so your whores know who you belong to."

He huffs, shifting his hips beneath me. I repel him and force him still.

Daemon growls as I toss my blade on to the bedside table and lean and lick the blood on his skin. His blood tastes so much better than mine. I moan at the iron and shift from how I was straddled atop him. My skirt bunches up by his midriff as I suckle on his flesh and nipped at his skin with my teeth

He strains against the bounds I managed to put on his wrists and releases a moan.

I lift my head at the sound of it and breathe hotly against him, "wicked dragon," I sit up then slap him across the face, "you're not meant to enjoy this," I rub his cheek down to his chest, "not really. This is meant to satisfy me."

Daemon looks at me, frazzled by the hit.

"You've been nothing but spiteful even though I've been nothing but obedient, prince husband," I mutter, leaning into him, digging my nails into his chest, "and you insult me so greatly by wasting your precious seed on whores who could not bear you any heirs."

I prop myself up on his chest. Daemon pants at the rocking movement of my hips. I scowl at him as I gather my skirt up until my skin was bate against his. I whimper at the feel of his still hardened member pulsing beneath my own pulse. I recall the whore he was with just moments ago, and how her slick was glistening on his manhood. I feel ire and jealousy burn through me.

"Is it not painfully obvious to you that I can be your whore, your grace?!" I bark through tears as I grab his hair and pull his head up.

Daemon grunts, "fucking bitch."

I desperately retort, "I'll be your fucking bitch, Daemon. I want to be your fucking bitch, your slut, your plaything, your executioner, your bride, your darling. Everything, whatever you want from me, I can become it."

I release his hair, making his head fall down. He looks up at me as I lift myself up and grab his veiny girth, aligning him into my core and burying him deep with me.

"Fuck," he huffs.

I whimper at his reaction, licking my lips as I do so, "I want to hurt you so badly, Daemon, but I love you so much that I'll make you feel good while do it however."

I begin to bounce on top of him while I dig my thumb into his fresh wound and choke him with my other hand.

Daemon begins to exclaim in his mother tongue, gripping tightly on the bounds on his wrists.

I groan and lick the blood off my thumb as I fuck myself on him. I move up and down on his hard erection, mind going wild with the fantasies I've thought of him long before we were even wed. When he begins to let out a strangled sound, I release the pressure on his throat and lean on his chest as it heaves up and down.

"Don't wanna see you with anyone else, Daemon," I mutter as I quicken my pace a notch and begin to feel my stomach tighten, "I'll kill your whores cause I can't kill you. Never you, my love."

Daemon groans as he catches his breath, "faster."

I whine at his command and eagerly give onto him, adjusting myself atop him and allowing myself to plop up and down him at a quicker and rougher tempo. I feel my insides flutter at the sound of his moans. I scratch his chest up and down with my nails and look down at his face, mouth ajar, eyes shut, neck straining.

"I was made for you, husband," I mutter, biting my lower lip as I feel my core tighten and my climax build, "was made to be your confidant, your right hand, your bride, your baby maker."

He groans, "is that right, come slut?" He lifts his head up, "you want to bear my children so badly you tied me up to fuck yourself on me?"

I whine and nod my head, "yes," I muffle out, "s'all I think about. Wanna be good to you. Wanna give you everything. Wanna give you sons and daughters."

Daemon replies in High Valyrian. I vaguely recognize it as compliment and a curse.

I begin to lose my breath as I ride him more desperately than ever.

"Then take what you want from me and come on my cock, come slut."

I nod my head and clench around him, "yes, Daemon, yes, yes, yes-"

I feel my body begin to burn and flare at my ministrations. I fuck him eagerly and begin to feel grow manic with every thrash and every grunt.

Daemon huffs and rips at his bounds, "you better not disappoint me, my Hightower bitch."

"No, husband," I grunt,

"You better take me good."

"Yes! Gonna be so good to you, so good."

I hear him say something after, but I don't have time to make sense of it as I feel myself tighten then shatter all over him. I cry out his name in pleasure, and as I ride out the pleasure as much as I can. Only then do I realize that Daemon was thrusting into me as well. It is twice as evident as I begin to slow my pace.

And then my toes curl and my nails dig into his skin when his heat shoots into me. It makes my flesh quake and intensifies my undoing.

I scream out his name. He calls me dirty ones. I bask in our union and slowly come down from my high. Slowly making sure he was just as spent as I was like a dutiful wife.

What remains is a mess. I am a mess of short breath, sweat, and blood as I slowly sink down and fall onto Daemon's chest. I whimper against him, dazed by it all, but completely and utterly satisfied with myself.

I lap at his wound, soothing myself as I enjoy the remaining stretch inside me, the fullness and warmth planted in my belly.

I knit my brows when I feel hands come around my form.

"Take off your clothes."

I lift my head out and look at Daemon's face, his eyes blown and his lips parted. I push myself up, "how did you get o-"

I whimper when he chuckles, my tenderness sensitive to vibrations if his body. His hands run up my back, to the ties on my dress. His fingers begin to tug and he undo them, "you cannot seriously believe to have overpowered me, little girl."

Before my pulse could even calm, it's racing all over again when Daemon easily flips us over and begins pushing my skirt up, "your knots are shite. I'll teach you how to properly tie a victim up."

He arduously rips my dress off my body overhead, up until I was as naked as he was beneath him. He looks down at my bareness and grips my thighs, roughly ripping his nails in a downward motion, making me reach out to him as I whine.

Daemon grunts before he chuckles, "I can feel you clench around me, dirty whore."

I squeak when he pushes forward and reaches out for something. He places my blade between my breasts then adjusts my legs around him as he pushes himself up on one arm. He then grabs the blade and eyes me darkly as he presses the steel on my skin. I slap my hand on my mouth when he begins cut into my abdomen. He looks down at his work as my tighten my legs around him, holding back my sounds as he did.

"Don't be selfish, slut," he mutters, "I own your womb. I ought to mark it now."

Daemon's eyes flick up to me as I scream into my hand and screw my teary eyes shut.

I silently sob at the sting of the blade and try to control my cries until he finishes. I begin to heave when I hear the sound of something being dropped to the floor.

I whimper and open my eyes when I feel Daemon sigh as he sinks back down onto me, face coming to the side of my own. He pushes my hands off my face in order to press our chests together. I lean into his shoulder and suckle at his skin to soothe myself.

"Shhhh," he kisses my cheek, "I'll make you feel better, my bride. Make sure to fill you up until you're full with my seed, okay?"

I nod my head and wrap my arms around him.

"Olvie sȳz," he mutters, "good little slut for me."

#shitting and crying and throwing up omg i’m—#THAT WAS— AHHHHHHHHH BRRRRRRRRRRRR #SO HOT SKNDIDMSKA

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