#(( help this is the first thing I wake up too ))

[darkcrowprincess]

@drangues

In a kinder world

*I had to write something for this! I had too!*

The summer of 1985 has been really good so far. The best summer ever! The reason? It's laying next to him on his bed, thinks Will Byers as he stares at a still asleep Mike Wheeler. Will laying his head on his arm on his side, watches as Mike sleeps peaceful. Hair messed up, and still in his pajamas. His soft breathing the only sound in the room. Will sometimes wonders if this is all a dream. For Will Byers, things did not stay this good. Especially this long. But it is. It is real!

He doesn't understand how exactly he got here. How a secret hidden kiss at middle school winter dance could lead to this. But he's so glad he's here. He's so glad he's here in this moment with Mike. They don't have a name for it yet. They're too afraid to label it or name whats between them yet. But Mike said it perfectly, "I'm here, I'm staying, and I'm not going anywhere Will."

He continues to softly watch Mike sleep, bits of morning light creeping into the room from the cracks in the curtains. He artistically notes how it highlights Mike's profile. He desperately wants to draw this moment, but doesn't dare move.

Eventually next door, he hears Nancy cursing and waking Johnathan through the thin walls. The sound of his sister's voice causes Mike to snort awake finally.

Sleep leaves Mike Wheeler, bringing a hand to rub gunk away from his eyes. "It's too early to get up Nancy," Mike groggily complains. Turning on his side on Will's bed, he stretches and blinks awake fully. That's when he notices Will's staring. He blushes at seeing those big hazel Bambi eyes first thing in the morning.

"Hi," Mike awkwardly says.

"Hi," Will says happily.

They keep staring at each other.

They're both quiet for a moment or two, enjoying each other's presence while they hear from next door Nancy and Johnathan's mad rush to get ready for work, and Nancy obviously having to sneak out through the window.

Will teases with a smile, showing he doesn't really mind,"You were suppose to sleep on the floor."

Mike laughs at this, awkwardness finally leaves him. He leans in close to nuzzle his nose against Will's. "I sleep better next to you."

"Really?" Will laughs, nuzzling his nose right back.

"Really," said Mike. They stay close together like that. This unnamable it between them, being theirs. For that one moment all is right in the world. Nothing, no monsters, no government, no upside down can hurt them.

"Boys, Breakfast!", Joyce Byers calls out, voice traveling throughout the Byers residence. Which finally gets a giggling Mike and Will to join the waking world as well and get out of bed too.

*****

Joyce laughs,"Wait Jonathan." Will from the table notices the exchange.

"What?" Jonathan asks in a rush to leave for work, stopping for his mother. He's butting up a white pressed shirt.

"Your face," Joyce leans in close and whipes the lipstick from his cheek. Obviously mama Byers knows who else spent the night.

Johnathan blushes at being caught, turns and fleas out the door in a hurry. Rushed goodbye last thing to be heard as the front door closes behind him.

Will scrunches up his nose in disgust, as he opens the bottle of syrup for his pancakes. "Gross," he says.

Joyce smiles and looks at the boys as she sits back down,"You don't think it's gross when Mike comes over."

The implication of that comparison, causes Will to look over at Mike, who's happily eating pancakes next to him. His cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk and his eyes closed in bliss. As if nothing in the world taste better than Joyce Byers pancakes. At the sound of his name he opens his eyes to look over at Joyce. Than at Will. Completely happy and unaware of the conversation going on around him. Will can't help but smile at him. Which causes his mother to laugh. Which of course causes Will to blush and make and embarrassed face.

Mike swallows than says,"What?" With an adorably confused look on his face.

Will blushes, and looks back down at his pancakes, not answering Mike. Though his reaction is certainly answer enough.

He can feel his mother smiling at the both of them. He doesn't allow himself to look back up, too shy in this moment. Underneath the table Will feels Mike's hand using his pinkie to tap his thigh. Will brings a hand down under as well to connect his pinkie finger with his. It's a quick squeeze. Something they made up when they were five to check in with each other.

A tap with a pinkie, "Are you ok."

Answering back with a pinkie pack and a squeeze, "Yes I am."

season 3 established byler except wills a hypocrite towards jonathan

[crunchystarz]

Leona pinning headcanons with a reader who follows him round pretty please!1!1>-<

Leona with a reader who follows him around

Pairing Leona Kingscholar x GN!reader

Word count: 758

Cw- Leona is a sad sad man/endearing, fluff, reader is not specified to be yuu, not proofread.

A/n: I got a lil carried away while writing so this is more of a ramble than headcanons 🦭 also for some reason my asks got wiped so for everyone who had an req earlier I'm sorry 😞!! They are still open !

Leona didn't know how to feel about you at first, truly you were a mystery to him. He couldn't figure out what your motives were. Seriously no one else came up to them.  They'd usually be too scared to even come up to him. And when they do they always want something from him.

It's always been that way so Leona honestly didn't care anymore he'd either just walk away or give them a glare that sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs.

But you? Sevens he didn't even know what to do with you. He couldn't figure out a single thing you could have possibly wanted from him. You're always following him around.

 At first he was annoyed. Everywhere he went your bubbly presence followed. You always asked him questions and he couldn't stand it. Seriously, he didn't know what to do with you.

He'd tell Ruggie to stay on the lookout for you but it never worked. He honestly believed he let it happen on purpose. At one point he tried to pay you to leave him alone.

You shocked him by shaking your head and telling him you just like being around him. No, you had to want something from him? He just grumbled and turned over and proceeded to try and go back to sleep.

He tried to ignore the way his heart beat increased slightly. He wasn't used to being…wanted.

Leona used to roll his eyes whenever you'd talk about him to others like you were friends. Now he just looks away as his tail flickered slightly in embarrassment. Ruggie would tease him about how you practically followed him around like some lost puppy, and tease him on how he stopped trying to push you away. 

“Don't tell me you've gone soft!”

He hasn't…he just got used to your presence. It's more odd if you stopped coming around. Totally not because he's become attached to you. Not because he's scared if he even pretends to push you away you'll actually leave.

Leona can't help but linger around you as well, the few times you're not following him around he's following you around. He doesn't make it obvious…unless there's someone else getting too much of your attention.

He'll admit it he does get jealous. He knows what being jealous feels like, but he's always been jealous of what people have and yeah sure he's been jealous of lack of attention as a child but this. This is different.

Leona would loom over you intimidating whoever was taking your attention from him, or head straight up you just to drag you away from them. 

He is in pure denial that he likes you…he's just fascinated by you and your nature. He likes whenever you chirpily talk to him while trying hard to keep up with his stride.

He won't admit to anyone that he feels disappointed whenever he wakes up from a nap and you haven't somehow found him. 

Leona isn't in love be just…wants to kiss that still smile off your face whenever you're ranting. He's not in love, he just wants all your attention. He's not in love, he just wants to drag you down with him while he sleeps. He is not in love, he just wants to call you his. Leona.is.not.in love.

(At least that's what he tells himself)

Leona eventually accepts the reality of his feelings when you two were sitting down at lunch and you told him about how someone had asked you out. He nearly choked on his food. He decided right then and  there that he'd tell you how he feels.

 However he didn't know why but telling you flat out was…hard? He'd just grumbled and continued eating. Ruggie chuckled to himself watching the way Leona's tail flickered in  aggravation.

From then he tries so hard to drop hints that he doesn't just tolerate you. You're not naive but sevens it was like you couldn't drop a single hint he gave you.

Leona  was so pathetic he just wanted you. Why couldn't you see that? Weren't the gifts not a sign? The fact that he once offered you to nap with him. Yeah he doesn't know what he's doing and even thinks about going to Ruggie but immediately back tracks.

The next time he sees you he just straight up grabs you by the shoulders.

“Herbivore, I like you.”

“I mean I sure hope you do, we're friends right?”

...

You're killing him. He hangs his head in defeat…maybe he should go to Ruggie.

Please help him.

MASTERLIST

[08crll]

🎨💐 246; GYEONG-SEOK HEADCANONS.

sfw & nsfw! <3

desc: 1.9k words. i NEED this man, i wish he was real. an angel loses its wings everytime this man gets written ooc 💔 so hopefully this one is in character.

sfw. gender-neutral!reader.

★ this man LOOOOVES cuddles. look at him. it doesn’t matter if you prefer being the big spoon or the Iittle spoon一he just wants to feel you close to him before he sleeps and when he wakes up.

★ he's probably a little touch starved too. but he would never say it, not because he doesn’t want to appear weak or anything, he just doesn’t want to scare you away.

★ if u were to ask him what his love language was, he’d say it was quality time or acts of service but, really, that’s only what be wants to provide that for his partner. what he really want is physical touchh:( and words of affirmation!!

★ crafty guy. he would make u cards, letters and those paper origami flowers. it doesn't even have to be on special occasions, sometimes you just come home from your work and he surprises you with a new paper craft he discovered. made out of anything he could recycle. be it a receipt, a paper bag, newspaper.

★ very touchy. but not in a bad way. always asking if you're okay with it.

★ this man probably gets all flushed and shy when you call him handsome.

call him your good looking boy and he already has that sweet smile you always loved to see. burying his face on your shoulder as you run your fingers through his hair.

“what’s with all your sweet words?” his voice muffled by your shirt. you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“can i not call you handsome?”

“aahh.. quit it,” he rolled his eyes, pushing you down the couch and peppering your face with kisses.

★ loves hugging you from behind, especially when you cook or you’re at the grocery store. you’d be looking at the list of things you needed to restock on while he pushed the cart not too far behind you.

was it powder or liquid detergent? you thought to yourself, pulling out the list from the back pocket of your pants. then, out of nowhere do you feel arms around your waist, warm hands settling on your hips. “where's our cart?” you murmured with a smile. gosh, you were just starting to freeze under the cold air conditioner of this damn store.

“its fine. ‘just right behind us,” gyeong-seok reassures you as he rests his chin on your shoulder. he really couldn’t care less if people stare. he wants them to see how much he loves you. “is this okay..?” he whispered, his breath tickling your jaw.

you just chuckle, not bothering to give him a verbal response. instead, you lean back into his touch. your back pressed against his chest. his lips curled into a sheepish smile, pulling his head up to place a soft kiss on that sensitive spot of your neck.

★ definitely has multiple drawings and doodles of you in his sketchpad. never shows you because he’s afraid you might think he’s being a bit much.

★ musician!reader & him? perfect pair. art recognises art! when he hears you playing your instrument in a different room, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and carefully walks to where you were to watch you do your stuff. if na-yeon is home, he’d definitely bring her with him.

★ always has his eyes on you even during times when he probably shouldn’t, like when the two of you are having a conversation with na-yeon’s teacher about how well she’s been doing in her classes. or when you were having dinner with your parents. you were explaining how you met him and he just admires you like he’s looking at you for the very first time.

★ adding onto the previous one, because of how often he just stares at you; you often mistook this as him spacing out and not listening but he actually was listening to every single word you said. your voice sounded like heaven to him, how could he not? when you ask him to recite what you just said, you were surprised to see how he got it right, word for word.

★ definitely the type to go out of his way to do something because he thinks you’d like it. during one of your library dates, he catches you picking up a book about poetry, complimenting the work inside and how beautiful people write when they’re in love. after that day, he definitely went home and wrote multiple poem drafts about you.

★ speaking of dates!! this man would be the type to apologise to you because he can’t take you to those fancy restaurants. you had to remind him multiple times that eating at fine dinings wasn’t really your thing anyway, that it made you self-conscious to be around such fancy people. he frowned, thinking you were just saying that so he’d stop apologising and you knew just how to cure that.

“you know.. i always did have a soft spot for library dates.”

his face lit up and ever since then, he never forgets to take you on your weekly library dates. it was a good place to unwind as well. killing one bird with two stones; spending quality time with you knowing that you actually enjoy being here, and being able to have some peace and quiet.

★ the protective and worried type!! always texting “are you home?” after dropping you off at your place. “are you tired? do you want to sleep?” as much as he’d love to text you up until the early morning even if it meant he had no sleep when he got to work tomorrow, he doesn’t want you to be sleep deprived.

★ i’ve seen other ppl say this and i just can’t get it out of my head; he’s probably insecure about himself whenever you introduce him to your friends and your family :(

when you invite him to attend a dinner party, telling him it was just a get together with some old friends from your hometown, he misheard you.

“you should definitely go! i know how much you miss your friends,” he beamed, giving you a thumbs up.

you furrowed your brows. “honey.. wait, no, i want you to come with me, yeah?”

he looks at you confused. you want to bring him with you? for what? he was never the type to be jealous of you attending events by yourself. maybe it was because he trusted you or maybe because he didn’t want to hold you back. he knew you to be too good for him. a single father, struggling to make ends meet and provide for his sickly daughter—it wouldn’t be much of a shock to him if you ghosted him out of nowhere or if you leave him for another person. please give this man some reassurance!!! :(

★ always wakes up before you in the morning. his fingers trailing across your face while he admires the way the sun shines behind you making it look like you were glowing. he really doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, but my god, did he consider himself the luckiest man alive for that reason.

★ loves it when you cup his face with both your hands. he’ll have the biggest and silliest smile on his face when you do so.

nsfw! gender-neutral & fem!reader.

★ a soft dom, but would gladly be submissive if you asked.

★ as we already know, he’s a very good listener, even in bed. he’s always listening to the way you moan, the sound of your whine, the pitch. does flicking his tongue feel good? he’d ask but he had a feeling that the sound of you already gave him the answer.

★ probably would prefer to be intimate in comfortable spaces. although he would never object if you offered to give him a quickie, each time he’d remind you of how you never needed to do this. that he’d take care of it himself.

“you don’t have to. it’ll go away. i can—”

“i want to. please?”

how could he say no to those eyes?

★ prioritizes your comfort above anything else, above his own. if you were in an awkward place, but you really needed to get off—needed him—he would hold your hand firmly. “i’ll take you home, come on,” he’d say as he pulls you next to him.

★ loooves having you ride him, but he worries that it’ll tire you out too much

★ when your face gets sweaty, hair clinging to your forehead with your mouth open, he makes sure to brush your hair back with his fingers. he wants to see your flushed and fucked out face clearly, wants to see if he’s doing good

★ always preps you beforehand. he can’t stand the thought of hurting you, even IF you’ve done it countless times before.

reaching for the zipper of his jeans as he gently swats your hand away. “i need to prep you first, honey..” he cooed, pulling your pants down. he knows how eager you are, but he needs to take care of you first.

★ the only times he wouldn’t prep you would probably be when he’d be the sub. you ordering him around, telling him what to do and what not to do

★ subtle touches doesn’t get him turned on right away (he’s more mature than that. he’s not a pervert) this probably also means that he’s a little oblivious to your advances, you’d have to tell him directly what you needed or wanted of him and watch as his eyes widen, looking around to see if na-yeon heard the two of you. “honey.. are you sure?”

★ there would be times when you’d show off your skin and instead of him getting aroused, he’d just be in awe of your beauty. i mean, he probably IS aroused but he just doesn’t go insane over it.

★ breeding kink, FOR SURE, but he always asks first.

“can i come in you, baby? please?”

“i’m so close.. ‘so close..”

“pleaseee...” paired by him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

★ doesn’t like BDSM. i mean, he’s a father now. also hates the thought of hurting you purposefully. he’d also probably never say it, but he doesn’t like getting degraded as well :( just give this man some praises, he’s already sad enough as is!

★ saw ppl saying he has a daddy kink and im just like nooooo 💔💔 he has a daughter that literally calls him daddy, why would he ever want you to call him that in the bedroom?

★ his rhythm would be slow and gentle, wanting to feel all of you and be with you in the moment. you would have to beg this man to go faster

★ the type to hold your hair back during blowjobs. he’d probably accidentally pull on it when you flick your tongue over his tip, but apologies would quickly come spilling out of his lips.

“‘m sorry.. sorry, honey.. i didn’t mean to.. fuck, that felt good..”

★ always reminding you of how beautiful you are while his cock is buried deep inside you.

“you’re so beautiful like this.. taking me in so well..”

“yes, that’s it.. c’mon.. you’re so pretty..”

★ he makes sure you come before he does, and when he does come (whether it’s in you or on you) he takes a minute afterwards to take a breath while you feel his cock still half-hard inside you.

“i love you so much.”

“you did so good f’me..”

★ aftercare king 🫡🫡

a/n: there are literally no fics of him (x reader) on ao3 so i have turned to tumblr bc tumblr RARELY disappoints when it comes to content for side characters 🙏

[alagaisia]

This is true, and it’s especially true for the people that I think most is us probably encounter in our own social circles and daily lives. But I don’t think it’s true for everybody. Remember how there was that stat showing a spike in google searches for “did Joe Biden drop out” on Election Day?

I think it’s sort of like how you can’t know what you can’t know. If you don’t know that you’re missing information, you can’t go looking to educate yourself on it. And while most of the time when people talk about ��living in a bubble” they tend to mean it in a bad faith, paradox of tolerance type of way, I’ve realized lately that it’s a concept that’s absolutely applicable in a lot of ways. Of course we make our assumptions about the world based on the very limited and biased sample size of people we interact with in our daily lives. You can’t talk about the benefits of being able to curate our dashes on tumblr and then say you think the people who interact with the same political posts as you make a representative sample of the American public.

I am someone who tries to be pretty aware of environmental issues in my personal habits. My family isn’t zero-waste, granola, organic everything, but we haven’t used a plastic shopping bag or water bottle since I was in first grade. As I start forming my own adult habits and thinking about having more control over my consumption, I’m identifying ways I could move towards more environmental consciousness. I know that I’m not doing the absolute most I could be doing, and that I think about this more than the people around me, but not by that much, right?

Except I work now for an organization that sends plays on things like proper sorting of recycling to teach elementary students two counties from where I live. The county pays us to bring these programs, because the residents are simply not recycling. I’ve gone along on one or two of the programs and seen kids ten and eleven years old participating in the interactive “help us sort the recycling” activity in the show who were terrible at it. Because it’s just not something their community thinks about. These aren’t rural areas, these aren’t devoid of civilization or waste management infrastructure, this is a suburb 45 minutes from the largest city in our state.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around it, too, but trump did not win because more people voted for him. He won because record numbers of people did not vote at all. And we can blame that on individual leftists becoming cynical and disillusioned, but something like a third of the country has never voted in any election. There are people who are and always have been disconnected from and disinterested in the government and electoral politics and anything happening in this country.

And it’s wrong! I’m not saying it isn’t. Each of us has a responsibility to our communities, and the civic responsibility of voting and being at least minimally informed on what’s happening in the country is a part of living in a fucking society. It’s disgraceful. But many of those non-voters didn’t consider all of the available information and then choose not to educate themselves and not to vote. It simply didn’t occur to them. Just like the kids I encountered who don’t know how to recycle, a lot of people have grown up in families and communities where electoral politics were somebody else’s business, or for any number of other reasons I can’t begin to guess at, something that just wasn’t a priority. I come from a very politically motivated family, and I’m sure most of you do too. I don’t know anybody who doesn’t vote. I don’t know why each of them didn’t. But there are millions of people who don’t.

These problems have been building since long before 2016, but at the very least that election should have been a wake up call for the democratic party on a national level. What we needed and still need is community and individual level action on a national scale to reach non-voters and educate them on political issues and why this shit does actually affect them and does actually matter. Democrats need to stop folding to random criticism on things like fracking and instead have some fucking backbone, stick to their morals, and work to get votes through education and changing people’s minds and convincing them that these values are worth voting for, rather than changing their policies every other week based on what they think might appease people who are not going to vote for them anyway without a concentrated effort for a societal change of mindset.

Yes, there’s lots of information available, and people do have a responsibility to use that. Obviously there are plenty of people like the ones OP alludes to who are shirking that responsibility due to apathy. But those of us who know all of that know it because we are part of communities that care about accessing and acting based on that information. There are people who don’t know and don’t care and to whom it would never occur to seek that information out, because in their community, it doesn’t matter. And those are the people who I think the democratic party does have a real responsibility to try harder to reach. Politicians also obviously live in a social bubble where everybody cares about politics. But somebody needs to look at the numbers and realize that that’s just not true for the country as a whole. And then they need to do something about it.

I STILL sometimes see people argue that Trump's victory is the fault of Democrats for not being good enough at messaging, and not making it clear enough to Americans all the good Biden was doing.

I knew. Lots of people I know knew. I don't have a secret line to the white house. I'm around average intelligence. I'm not excessively seeking out news, constantly getting news updates. And yet I knew. And so did many others. The information was there for you to get at any time. It found its way to me without my actively seeking it out. Kamala Harris cannot personally come to your house and slap the tiktok out of your hands. You have to take a crumb of responsibility here.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 10

Source for pic

Trouble 10

Word Count: 4546

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I feel like this story just keeps going from bad to worse! But bear with me, please! I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. Chapter 11 will be NSFW and will end with a cliffhanger, just a heads up!

Masterlist

Just in case people missed this, I can't stop raving about @laidenbreecatchall art for Zoro! Just look at him! *sigh* Okay, back to the story:

This can't be happening. It can't. It's all a bad dream, and you're bound to wake up soon, drenched in sweat and tears. It has to be a nightmare. 

Because the alternative is too terrifying. 

“Tremble for me, Kitten.” He purrs against your ear, his breath sickeningly hot, as the fingers he has wrapped around your neck squeeze with a gentleness you wouldn't associate with a psychopath. “I get so turned on by seeing you scared.”

Gross. Sick. Disturbing. 

Why does nobody come to your aid? The club is packed, doesn't anybody sense your distress? You try to move your head around in the vain hope of making eye contact with someone - anyone - but he just squeezes tighter. His chuckle is low, and somehow, you still hear it perfectly, even with the loud music thumping away in an infernal rhythm. 

“Nobody is coming to help you, Princess. To everybody else, we look like a couple.” The hand that's gripping your wrist, holding it tight against your waist, pushes further, and you feel him pressed against your back. “To everybody else, you look like you're mine.” 

He moves his lips, placing wet kisses along your neck as you sob softly. There's barely enough strength in you for more than that. You're terrified. Fight or flight instinct? How about frozen in fear? And what does he plan to do to you? Kidnap you? Abuse you? Kill you? 

You try to turn your head to the side to get a glimpse of who he is because you can't shake the feeling that you've heard this voice before. You know this man. But the movement only makes him squeeze your neck tighter, and the only thing you glimpse is a black beanie. 

“Not yet, Princess. You're not ready to see me yet.” He tuts softly and inhales your hair with a lewd groan. “Now… you know why I'm here, right? You misbehaved. You let the cop stay the night; you let the cop touch you; you let the cop kiss you.” He growls as he delivers the sentences, and his hand grips your wrist tighter. You're starting to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers as he seems to be cutting off your circulation. “I don't want to do this, Kitten, but I need to punish you. You need to learn.”

He sounds upset. Almost as if he's actually sorry he has to do this to you. 

“But first…” He removes his hand from your neck, but it's as though a phantom limb is still pressed against your throat. The power and terror he exerts over you are unthinkable and terrifying. Then, you feel a weight in your pocket, and he sighs against your ear. “Here's your phone back, Princess. I got it from our kitchen drawer.” Our? “You can't shut me out. You won't change your phone again. Got it?”

You stay still, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Your heart is thumping in such an insane rhythm that you wonder how you're not having a heart attack right now. 

“Do you understand?” His free hand climbs your nape and grips your hair. When he pulls, you gasp and nod stiffly. “Good girl.” Another purr makes your ear vibrate, and you tremble from the heat of his breath against your skin. 

His feverish touch travels from your nape to your neck, then to your clavicle, his nimble fingers gathering the fabric of your clothes as he exposes the flesh of your shoulder. Another involuntary shudder makes you tremble as you plead silently for one of your friends to come find you. 

“You will do as I say and stop indulging the cop. Sever the connection, Kitten, or I will. And you won't like it.” His lips hover over your shoulder, and the hand on your wrist keeps squeezing. The bite of the bracelet is harsh and unforgiving, making your blood run cold. 

“It would be the simplest thing. He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot…” The stalker's chuckle sounds unhinged. “Boo-hoo. Another cop killed in the line of duty. No one would blink an eye.” Your lower lip trembles, and your heart constricts. He’s capable of hurting Zoro. And if Zoro dies, it's your fault. “But you'd know why he died. Do you want that, Kitten?”

“D–don't hurt him.” You whisper, and it's unlikely he heard you over all the loud noise of the club. Even so, for you, it seems as if the music is coming from a faraway place. 

“That is entirely up to you.” He sighs, and you close your eyes. “Your punishment, Princess.” Then, his massive gloved hand covers your mouth as he sinks his teeth deep into your shoulder. You feel a sharp sting of pain traveling down your arm and back. Tears sting your eyes and your sobs drown in a muffled whine against his hand. The pain is blinding and hot, and you're pretty sure he's drawing blood. 

A stark realisation hits you just as he removes his teeth from your flesh, his tongue collecting droplets of blood as he eases the sting. 

He's marking you. 

“Mine.” He growls, and a tear rolls down your cheek. 

You feel helpless, violated, and terrified. 

“You won't disobey me anymore, Kitten. You won't misbehave anymore, and more importantly, you'll get rid of the cop.” His hand leaves your mouth as he fixes your clothes to cover up the bite mark. “Or I will. Don't forget it.”

His other hand releases your wrist, and you let out a ragged breath as your fingers twitch from lack of circulation. 

He's still pressing against you. 

“You're almost ready. We'll be so happy together, Kitten.” Your head slumps forward when he presses his lips against the back of it in a mockery of affection. “Don't disappoint me anymore.”

Then, just as swiftly as he approached you, he leaves. You turn quickly on the spot, trying to get a glimpse of your tormentor, but you only seem to catch a sliver of white. 

Was it hair? Clothes? The reflection of the lights? 

Or just your tears playing tricks on your mind? 

With trembling fingers and uneven breaths, you dislodge the bracelet that seemed to mould into your skin. The redness is daunting - it will bruise. Another whimper makes your lower lip tremble as you try to keep your wits about you. 

You need to calm down. You need to act like nothing happened. 

Zoro will be here any second now, and the stalker's threats were very clear. He'll hurt Zoro. He'll get rid of him if you don't push him away - whatever that might mean, so your plan to tell Zoro everything just went out the window. 

You need to keep him safe. At all costs. 

“Miss, your drinks are ready.”

A gasp leaves your lips, and you nod at the bartender. You’re still massaging your wrist, trying to alleviate some of the redness, but it's not disappearing. It's just getting worse. 

The way your heart is beating out of sync is a testament to how scared you still are. You need to compose yourself. New plan: take the drinks to the table and immediately excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Then maybe you can leave, claiming to be sick. You can't disguise the bruising on your wrist, though. Thank heavens the bite on your shoulder is hidden. 

With a steadying nod, you pick up the tray of beverages and make your way to the booth. 

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

It's simple. You can do it. And then you can work out a plan. Maybe you can make an anonymous tip to the police about your stalker. Would that work? Or beg Ichiji again for protection? Even if you have to grovel? Maybe ask your father where he stores his rifle and take matters into your own hands?

You try to ignore the fact that just the stalker’s presence left you frozen in fear. It's highly unlikely you can fight for yourself. Who are you trying to kid? 

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

You repeat the words like a mantra, but as soon as you set the tray on the table, you feel a touch on your waist, making you immediately flinch and hide your arm behind your back. 

“Hey, Troublemaker.”

“Zoro!” The moment your eyes fall on his, all your resolve crumbles. He can help you, you know he can. 

“Get rid of the cop… Or I will.”

“He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot.”

No. You can't tell him anything. 

Not yet, at least. Not before you have a foolproof plan to protect him. Can his captain help? Surely he can. You just need time to think this through. You need to shake away the fear and think with a cool head. 

“Are you alright?” Zoro's eye scans your face. It's most likely still red. Your eyes still feel watery, and you're sure he's picking up on those signs. Zoro's hand still lingers on your waist, so you shuffle away from him and force a smile, your arm tucked behind your back. 

“Yes, Zoro. I'm fine. Did everything work out with the bomb threat?” You step away from him and distribute the drinks with just one hand, your jaw clenching with the fakest smile you've ever produced. 

“Not really, it was a freaking mess.” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Most of the time, these things are fake. Someone wants attention and pulls one of these, thinking it's funny. This time, it was a real threat.”

A small gasp leaves your lips as you lock eyes with Zoro again. A real bomb? But… Does that mean it wasn't the stalker who planted it? Or does it mean it was him, and he's just showing you again how seriously he can play? 

How easily can he hurt Zoro?

“Another cop killed in the line of duty.”

“Shit.” You exclaim, and Zoro nods while reaching for a beer from the tray. After a sip, his expression softens, and he reaches for your waist again. 

“Come here. We can talk later - we need to talk later - but for now… just come here.” 

Your heart thumps louder than the music, and you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. He's still watching. 

“It would be the simplest thing…”

You take a step back to avoid Zoro's touch, your smile faltering as you try your hardest to keep a neutral expression. 

“Trouble?” Zoro reaches again, and it's like your chest is exploding as you avoid his touch once more. “You're running again.”

The faintest flicker of pain darkens Zoro's gaze, and you bite your lower lip just to keep it from trembling. 

“I'm not… I… I have to go to the bathroom.” And before he says something else, you rush towards the dimly lit corridor that leads to the bathrooms, but before you can take refuge inside, you hear Zoro call your name. 

He’s following you. 

You pretend that you don't hear him and press on, hastening your step. 

“Wait!” He calls you again, and you raise your hand to push the door open, unshed tears are already pricking the back of your eyes. Would it be simpler to just tell him everything and hope for the best? 

“You'd know why he died.”

You can't tell him. 

“Trouble, stop!” Zoro nearly growls, his hand wrapping around your injured wrist in an effort to stop you. Instant pain shoots up your arm as you let out a hiss and a grunt. Stopping and turning towards him with a pained expression on your face, you almost let out a sob. 

Zoro releases you instantly, his hands shooting up in a defeated position while his brows scrunch, searching your face for any clue as to why you reacted like this. 

“I barely touched you.” Then it happens fast, and you don't have time to react. 

Zoro's eye lowers as his gaze settles on your bruised wrist. You see it widen, his pupil dilating as realisation washes over him. 

“What the fuck?” The music seems farther away in the bathroom corridor, yet it still vibrates low, making your chest thump in the same rhythm as the electronic tempo, but the buzzing in your ears doesn't come from the loud noise. 

You've been caught. 

“Who the fuck did this to you?” Zoro takes a menacing step forward, and you can physically feel the way the air shifts. You have no time to react when he grabs your arm again - avoiding the bruised area - and inspects it, revulsion and fury contorting his expression. “Tell me, Trouble. Now.” Zoro's tone brooks no arguments. He sounds deadly serious. No. He just sounds deadly. 

“I–” You take a deep exhale and try to release your arm from Zoro's grasp, but it doesn't budge. His eye jumps from your face to your arm like he can't stand the sight of the bruise, but can't stand to look away either. “It's nothing, Zo!” You force a laugh, and it sounds fake and high-pitched. “I bumped into someone earlier and almost fell. The guy grabbed my wrist to keep me from falling, and the bracelet dug into my skin.” Another fake laugh. “You know how clumsy I am.”

That was believable. You think. 

Zoro's jaw clenches and unclenches, and he snaps his neck, rotating his head as he also takes a deep exhale, a gesture meant to calm himself down. 

“Lie to me one more time, Trouble…” 

“I'm not–”

“You are! That's not an accidental bruise! Stop trying to fucking gaslight me. What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck do I have to kill?”

Shit. Fuck. Shit. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“You're being dramatic, Zoro, it really is nothing, I–” 

“You stop showing up, you look like a ghost, you don't eat, you're scared, jumpy, you run from me and avoid my touch. Yet yesterday, you clung to me as if I was your lifeline.” Zoro takes another step forward, and now he's almost flush with you. 

Safety. He's safety. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“And now this? Let me in. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

You can't. 

“Zo…”

“There you guys are! Come on! We're going to sing happy birthday to Nami before Luffy raids the fridge and eats the cake by himself.” Usopp says, without really realising he’s intruded on a private conversation, but you couldn't be more thankful to him. 

You take the opportunity while Zoro's distracted to actually run away from him, confirming his earlier affirmation that you're running and not caring one bit. 

He can hate you all he wants. He can even be hurt with you. 

You just can't bear it if he actually ends up hurt. 

Or worse. 

Dead. 

-*-

The thumping music stopped just for Nami. The DJ got the birthday melody playing, and the whole club is celebrating your friend's birthday, even the ones that don't know her. 

You can't stop a small smile from spreading on your lips: everybody loves Nami. 

You somehow managed to lose Zoro amongst the hordes of people - he's big and bulky, so that gives him more trouble to manoeuvre around the crowd - and as soon as Nami blows out the candles, just after she and Vivi share a sweet kiss, you hug her and make up a quick excuse to leave the party early. 

Then you flee the club without another thought. Not even caring if you don't have a ride home or if you didn't say goodbye to your friends. 

You just need to get away from Zoro and his questioning. 

The slight night chill and the difference in temperature make you shiver, though another buzz from your phone assures you the tremble comes from something other than the cold. 

Yet, before you take two steps, his voice makes you stop. 

“Stop running from us.” It’s Zoro. “Stop running from me.” He sounds exasperated and conflicted. 

Your shoulders slump forward as you inhale deeply. He's relentless, and he will get to the bottom of this if he keeps pushing. And you can't allow that. 

Even if it will destroy you. 

“Tell me what's wrong, Trouble.” You turn to face him, and your knees wobble. Zoro's eye is full of anguish. He runs a hand through his hair and paces forward - everything in his posture is desperate. “I don't know what else to do to help you. I've tried being tough, I've tried giving you space, I'm trying to be understanding… Trouble… meet me in the middle. Please.”

You can't do this. You can't. He looks so broken, so helpless. And this could be easily remedied if you just told him what's going on. 

But you can't. Because you know the Stalker will kill Zoro. And you can't bear that. You'd rather be scared and trapped for the rest of your life than risk Zoro's. 

Zoro sees you struggling and takes full advantage of it, trying to sway you by cupping your face as he forces you to look at him. 

“Let me in.” He pleads with a whisper. 

Closing your eyes, you open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your voice was stolen. The lump in your throat grows, and so does the pain in your chest. 

There's no other way. 

“You got it all wrong, Zoro.” Your voice sounds foreign and affected. Still, you now focus your gaze on Zoro's scar. Not his eye, you can't bear that. “I'm not interested. I never was.”

Zoro's hands twitch slightly as his brow furrows, but you barely give him time to process your words before you deliver more pain. 

“You just can't take a hint, can you? I'm trying to get away from you, but you keep pushing. I don't care for you like that, Zoro.”

You have to close your eyes to keep away the moisture and to prevent acknowledging Zoro's pain.

“Gosh, stop being clingy and needy. Leave me alone. That's all. I'm fine, I just need you to give me space.”

Zoro's hands part with your face torturously slow. You don't look him in the eye anymore, clenching your fists to prevent them from shivering violently. 

But you stand your ground. 

You need to push Zoro away. He needs to be safe. Even if your heart is shattering. 

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

He stopped touching you, but he didn't back away. And as your eyes raise to meet his, you can see steely determination where before was only despair. 

“You heard me: Bull. Shit.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

Fuck. 

“I'm dead serious, Zoro. This was fun and all, but I'm done. Leave me alone.”

You turn on your heel, trapping a sob behind clenched teeth and fighting back tears. 

“Is this how you want to play? I can see what you're trying to do, Trouble, and it's bullshit.”

Bzzzz. 

You shouldn't read it. 

Yet you do. 

Unknown: Try harder, Kitten, or I'll make him go away permanently. 

“I’m not playing at anything. You don't matter.” The words leave your lips in the form of a whisper, but they linger in the air as if they were poisonous gas. Your insides twist and turn, and you feel nauseous. 

“Say that again, Trouble.” You barely hear him, not only because of all the ringing in your ears, but also because his hurt is drowning the words. 

Bzzzz.

No, no, no. You can't. 

Bzzzz. 

You have to. 

“I said–”

“Turn around and say it to my face.”

A sob claws its way up your throat, and you swallow it back down. You need to keep it together for now. 

With a slow turn, you face Zoro's disbelief, willing your heart to slow down, trying to keep your own emotions at bay before you collapse in tears. 

“You don't matter.” You repeat the words, and the way Zoro's face turns from disbelief to pain is immediate and heartbreaking. “I was just having fun, but I didn't expect you to become so obsessed with me.”

You aimed to hurt, and it worked. 

Zoro takes a step back as his eye faces the ground. The way his chest rises up and down with heavy gasps almost brings out the tears you're trying so hard to suppress. 

“Goodbye.”

You turn and hasten your step, wanting to get away from him as fast as you can. 

“Fine.” Your steps waver for a second when you hear Zoro’s voice, before you return to your uneven stride. “Fine! I'll back off. But I know you're lying to me.”

He doesn't say anything else, and you don't want to acknowledge the pain you heard in his voice. The pain you caused. Because your own pain is unbearable and immense. 

And now you've pushed away the one person who would help and protect you unconditionally. 

Bzzzz. 

Unknown: That's my good girl. The punishment worked. You're almost ready. 

-*-

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Zoro grits his teeth as his eye follows your shrinking form, watching it disappear into the dark horizon. Every freaking instinct tells him to follow you, but you've just pushed him away with everything you've got. 

‘You don't matter.’

“Fuck!”

“Hey! What's going on?” Usopp places his hand on Zoro's shoulder, and he sighs, running a desperate hand through his hair. 

“Nothing.” Then Zoro spots Kaya buttoning her jacket. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, I'm taking Kaya home, we have an early day tomorrow.” Usopp looks around and spots your disappearing form. “Where's she going?”

“What did you do?” Kaya interjects, hands already placed on her hips with a menacing scowl to back up her tiny, aggressive stance. Usopp’s brow raises at his girlfriend, and then he mimics her stance, his gaze also demanding answers Zoro doesn't really want to give. Zoro grits his teeth again, trapping a growl against them. He's so pissed, he can't even think straight. 

“I didn't do anything!” He answers, exasperated. “Fuck! Usopp, can you give her a ride home? She just fucking left.”

Usopp nods, and Kaya jogs a little, trying to catch up with you before you gain more distance from them. So Zoro starts walking towards the club again before you come back, wanting to avoid another confrontation. 

“Thanks.” He pats Usopp’s back and goes inside to say goodbye to his friends and grab his stuff. 

This shit’s not over. You may think you've pushed him away with your performance, but all you did was reel him in more. Zoro had his suspicions, but now he's sure. 

Someone is messing with you. And though his brain is telling him that someone is connected to Lucci and the store clerk, his heart is trying to push that possibility away. Because that fucker is dangerous, and Zoro's hoping against all hope that he didn't set his eyes on you. 

Or Zoro’s going to have to murder someone. 

Zoro's jaw keeps clenching as he drives towards the station. Even though he has the night off, he can't stay still. He's going to present his suspicions to Captain Mihawk and then forge a plan to protect you. Even if he has to drag your ass to the station and lock you in a cell. 

He'll fucking do it. 

Anything to keep you safe. 

You're not going to spend another fucking day terrified of something you won't even tell him about. 

‘You don't matter.”

Like shit, he doesn't. You can lie to him all you want. 

He'll never give up on you. 

-*-

It's barely after midnight when Usopp and Kaya drop you off at home. They have to get up early in the morning, so they couldn't party  late, and you told them you weren’t feeling very well. 

Neither of them pressed because they could clearly see the tears you were trying so hard to fight back. And you're sure they both know that you're crying because of Zoro, seeing as it was him who told them to give you a ride. 

They just don't know that you were the asshole who brought the pain to both of you. 

As Usopp’s car disappears down the driveway, you bolt the lock on the front door and place a chair against the doorknob, knowing deep down that it won't keep the stalker away, but still aiming for a sense of safety you know you won't achieve. 

You do the same to your room, discard your club clothes, and finally look in the mirror to see the mark he left there. Your eyes widen as your trembling fingers run over the bruise: you can clearly identify the teeth marks, there's still caked blood around the wound and it's already turning a dark bruise colour.

You choke back sobs as you disinfect the wound and dress in your pyjamas. Outside, the weather seems to match your mood as you start to hear the gentle pitter-patter of the soft rain against the window. 

You feel drained and exhausted. You were, once again, pushed into a corner. Never have you felt so trapped, helpless, and lonely. All the earlier fight, the will to try and find ways to get out of this predicament, left your body along with the hurtful words you delivered to Zoro.

‘You don’t matter.’

Gosh… he’s everything! But if it takes breaking you both apart just to save him, then you’ll do it over and over again.

Tomorrow is another day, and maybe after some serious consideration, you’ll know what to do.

As you curl up in your bed, trying to stay awake, but already knowing you'll succumb to exhaustion after having cried your heart out, you glance at your buzzing phone before closing your eyes. 

Unknown: Such a good Kitten. My beautiful Princess. My love. Sleep. I'll watch over you. 

-*-

You wake up with a jolt, feeling that something is amiss. You look around, your eyes darting to every shadow and every corner because your room feels wrong. Yet, you find everything in the same place. The shadows are still, and the room is quiet. 

Your heart thrums against your chest, and you take a deep breath to try and calm down. It must've been a nightmare. 

Patting your nightstand, you grab your phone. 01:15. It's still so early. Why did you wake up so suddenly?

And then you notice it. At first, it's just a red blur standing in your nightstand, but then, as you focus your wet eyes, they widen in fear, and you clasp your hand over your mouth. 

There's a single red rose in the nightstand. He's been in your room. 

He was near you. 

A sob disturbs the quietness of the night, and almost immediately, it gets drowned out by a loud thunderclap. And then, you see something else. 

Trembling fingers reach out, and you grab the small paper: it's a photo. And when your eyes adjust to the image and your brain processes it, you stay frozen in place, your breath held in suspension as more tears flood your eyes. 

It’s a polaroid of you sleeping. Your brows are furrowed, and your cheek is wet, but what steals your breath is the huge, veiny, tanned hand that's gripping your hair in possession. The word ‘mine’ is scribbled in red across the picture in a distinct claim. 

He was in your house. 

He was in your room. 

He touched you. 

And you didn't even notice.

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall

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AND FOR ONCE, YOU LET GO OF YOUR FEARS AND YOUR GHOSTS — dick grayson

hurt/comfort, slight angst (he's okay in the end), love confession, big steps in a relationship. when dick grayson stumbles through his girlfriend's window in the early hours of the morning, she's there to patch him up and listen to all that troubles him.

It’s some time after four in the morning when Dick Grayson finally steps through the window into your apartment. He shouldn’t be here. It’s not fair on you. He knows it’s not, but he can’t help himself. 

He’s silent as he moves across your living room floor, still silent as he opens your bedroom door. He hates that he has to be here. He hates even more the fact that you left your living room window open a crack so he could come in. He’s closed it now, locked it and made sure all the security measures he’d installed for you were in place how they should be. 

He doesn’t want to wake you, doesn’t want to disturb you as you look so peaceful in the comfort of sleep. He doesn’t even need to touch you. Well, he does. But he won’t. Not if it’ll wake you up. 

He just needs to see you. Needs to know you’re safe, alive, breathing, content. He needs to sit in the comfort of the sound of your breathing, the smell of everything that’s so unequivocally you. The detergent on fresh sheets, your shampoo, shower gel, the remnants of your perfume lingering. Even the underlying scent of your worn shoes that just barely creeps through everything else. 

He knows where not to step. Where floor creaks and where there’s little things hellbent on stabbing him in the foot. Not that they’d do a good job through the suit, but he won’t risk it. 

But through all his manoeuvring, he bends just slightly too far the wrong way, and he’s hissing in pain. 

You stir, and hum. He thinks for a moment that maybe it’s okay. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he hasn’t woken you up and ruined your sleep because he’s an idiot. 

But he’s wrong. “Dick?” You mumble. “You there?” 

He winces. Not at the annoying pain in his side, but because now you’re awake. It’s nearly 5:00 AM and you’re awake because he didn’t think. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay, honey, go back to sleep.” 

“What time is it?” 

He looks at the clock on your nightstand. The numbers on it glow faintly, almost accusatory. Oh, he knows. 

“4:47,” he replies. “I’m sorry for waking you, baby.” 

You push yourself up, eyes opening properly and taking in the sight of him. Your eyes are soft as you evaluate him, the redness of his cheek as a bruise begins to form, the cut above his eyebrow, the faint glow of the lenses of his mask, which he has yet to take off. “Dick-” 

“Don’t worry about me, baby. I’m okay.” 

You shake your head. “Come here.” 

“’m dirty. You just washed your sheets.” 

“I don’t care.” You stand from the bed, patting it. “Sit. Wait while I get the first aid kit.” 

He gives in, sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting for your return. It’s not a long wait, but every second without you feels like agony. It’s worse than anything that happened tonight. 

When you return, you sink onto the bed next to him, setting the kit down next to you. “Let me see those pretty eyes,” you whisper, lifting the mask from him. His beautiful blue eyes meet yours, and it hurts to see the sadness in them. 

You dab at the cut above his eyebrow with an alcohol-dipped cotton pad. You know that nights like these, he needs time before he can open up about it. So you treat the cut on his brow, the bruise on his cheek. Then you begin pushing his suit down his shoulders and torso. 

“If you wanted me out of my clothes that badly, all you had to do was ask,” he jokes, but it lacks the same tone he usually has. Dick flirts with you all the time. Even now that you’ve been together for almost a year. And he still holds the same charm that he did when you first met, when he first realised his feelings and decided he was going to ‘make a move’. But tonight, he doesn’t hold the same charm or humour in his voice. 

“Dick…” you murmur. He’d spent far too long being valued by Gotham’s social elite and their tabloids only for his looks. He was gorgeous, there was no denying that, he was the most wonderful person you’d ever laid eyes upon. But he was far too used to being a performer, even through his worst times, laying on the charm thick as possible when he had to attend a gala that fell during some of the bad days. 

You get the suit down to his waist, where you let it rest as you evaluate the bruises, cuts and scrapes on his chest and abdomen. 

You begin cleaning a cut on his chest, wondering whether or not it’ll need stitches. “What happened?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing.” At your expression, he sighs. “I just- my head wasn’t in it.” 

“Then where was your head?” You ask, threading the needle. “Hm? Tell me what’s going on, Dick.” 

“I just… don’t know if I’m enough,” he whispers. 

Your expression turns softer still. “What? Dick, of course you are. You’re more than enough. If you ask me, you’re more than most of this city deserves.” He sniffs, still trying to hold in the tears. “Do you want me to numb it before I start the stitches?” 

He shakes his head. “No. No, I can take it. It’s okay.” 

You begin to sew the cut shut, back and forth, back and forth. It’s muscle memory by now, the number of times you’d stitched him up after a rough night. Never like this, though. Usually, even when he’d taken worse beatings, he could still crack jokes easily and he’d still lay on that Dick Grayson charm. Not tonight. 

When you’re done, you lean down, placing soft kisses along the edge. You cover over a graze on his side, the one he’d irritated earlier that had led to you waking up. 

“I’m sorry for waking you,” he says, voice heavy with regret and despair. 

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay. It’s not. You have work.” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t. I’m taking the day off. Want to spend time with you.” 

“You don’t have to do that. You shouldn’t. I’m not worth it.” 

“You’re more than worth it, honey. Besides, I’ve had it booked since last week, so I can’t just take it back.” You reach up with one hand to cup his face, tilting his head to look at you. His eyes are filled with tears. “Oh, Dick, sweetheart.” 

He breaks then. The tears spill over, and he collapses into your hold, your arms wrapping around him. He smells of blood, sweat, dirt, and smoke, but you don’t care one bit. You’ll hold him forever if that’s what he needs. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He lets out a sob. “I’m sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, my love,” you assure him. “I promise you, that you’re more than enough. Do you trust me?” He nods. “Then trust that I’m telling you the truth.” 

“Sometimes, it feels like I’m falling and I won’t ever stop.” 

“I know, honey. But I’m here to catch you. I’ll always be here. You do so much for this city, for your team, your family, me. You work so hard, honey, and I know that it’s difficult. And I know you don’t feel like it’s enough sometimes but it is. You’re so good, Dick. You bring hope, safety, happiness. I know it’s a lot of responsibility, but you shoulder it so well. I just wish you didn’t feel like you had to take on everything. Sometimes you need a break, and that’s okay.” 

“But who else protects Bludhaven?” 

“That’s the problem, Dick. You take care of this all by yourself.” 

“Bruce protected Gotham by himself.” 

“Bruce hadn’t been Batman for nearly as long before you came along. Besides, he’s had help for years now. You handle Bludhaven, you still help in Gotham, you run the Titans. Hell, you help the Justice League from time to time. Even Bruce has bad times too. Even Batman struggles with his responsibilities. Both of you have yourselves convinced that you have to take on all this responsibility and pressure because if you don’t, you’re not worthy of love. But even with all that, neither of you think you’re enough. And I love you for your heroism and your courage and your goodness. I really do, but you need days off. You need time to just be Dick Grayson. Not Nightwing, not the Wayne heir, not the socialite the tabloids love. Just Dick. The same one who I fell for.” 

He stops sniffling for a few seconds, just breathing irregularly. “You love me?” He whispers then, breaking the silence. He pulls back, your arms falling loosely to his sides. You hadn’t realised you’d said it. 

“Yes,” you whisper back. “Yeah, I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he says, hands cupping your face. “So much.” 

You smile, and it’s the first time tonight that he’s smiled and it’s felt genuine. He kisses you, softly, lovingly, every inch of his soul poured into you. It’s such a simple kiss. Neither of you dare deepen it - you both know it’s not the time. It’s just ordinary, small, wet with his tears, but it’s the most wonderful, caring action. 

“Do you want something to drink?” You ask, pulling away from him. 

“No.” 

“How about a bath? Or a shower?” 

“No, I just want to hold you.” 

You smile softly, nodding. “Let me find something for you to wear. It’s colder tonight.” You stand, moving around your room to find any of his clothes that he’s left behind. You think you might’ve run out of clean things of his in his allocated drawer. “It’s getting really difficult, working with only one drawer of your clothes.” 

“Especially when you use my shirts to sleep in,” he comments. 

“True.” You hum as you find a pair of his sweatpants, folding them over your arm. 

“Maybe it would be easier if we just lived together,” he says. 

You turn to him, now holding one of your baby tees, mistaken for a shirt of his. The words “I’m too sexy for this shirt” stare at him, standing out against the white cotton. “Do you mean it?” You ask. 

“I do. I want us to live together. I love seeing our shoes next to each other when we stay together. I love seeing your things at my place. I love cooking together. I want to stay up late talking to you. I want to dance in the kitchen in the middle of the night. I want to come home to you.” 

You smile, practically attacking him with the way you hug him. “I want all of that too.” You kiss his cheeks, then his forehead, then peck him on the lips before you roll off the bed to look for a t-shirt. You throw the items at him when you’ve found them. 

When he’s changed, the two of you lay in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. And you look up at him while the first hints of the sunrise filter through the crack in the curtains. 

You look up at him, and he meets your eyes, a loving smile on his face. “I love you, Dick Grayson. And I can’t stand to see you destroy yourself.” 

“I love you too. I’ll stay together for you.” 

[animasola86]

LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH4

After agreeing to become their little girl, you are woken up by Mommy, who has special plans to ease you into your first day of your new life.

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. Explicit sexual content. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Pet names. Dom/sub undertones. Shared shower. Nudity. Vaginal fingering/assisted masturbation. “Self” care/makeover/waxing. Angst/humiliation. Hurt/comfort. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 8k 🔷️ READ ON AO3

A/N: This chapter is a direct continuation of Chapter 2 and keeps focusing on Reader's new life as the Little Girl of Mommy and Daddy. All following chapters (unless stated otherwise) will follow the past-timeline and show how Reader ended up like she did in chapters 1 and 3. (For more info on Reader, check out the Notes in Chapter 1.) ❗ Please read THIS if you're confused about the tags I listed this under!

Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5

Several months earlier

You woke up after that first night, completely knocked out and overwhelmed, to someone gently shaking you, lips pressing to your pillow-wrinkled cheek, a soft voice cooing for you to wake up. Mommy was there, and while your first instinct was to groan and turn back around and ask for five more minutes, not quite realizing where you were, she basically dragged you out of bed and into the bathroom.

While she certainly meant well, you felt very uncomfortable as she helped you out of the clothes you slept in and into the shower. You wanted to protest, against the fact that you were naked in front of a stranger, and also, didn't you just shower last night? With your mind still hazy with sleep, you wondered if rich people did it like this, showering every night and every morning, possibly several times a day? They definitely didn't have to worry about too much water consumption, apparently. But then the strangest thing happened: the woman you were supposed to call Mommy stripped down as well and stepped in after you, and your muddled mind was silenced immediately.

You were so surprised and more than taken aback by it that you just stood there, with your back to her, not even daring to take another look at her beautiful body. She was a bit taller than you and had all the right curves in all the right places, perfect skin, not a single hair anywhere on her body, except for her long black locks that she wore in a messy bun atop her head, and when she stepped behind you, her hands found your shoulders before she wrapped your unruly tresses around her fingers and brought them up in the same fashion, then slipped a hair tie over the mess to keep it in place.

Then she leaned past you (her perfect breasts pressing against your shoulder blades) and turned the shower on, and while you expected to be hit by either ice cold or scorching hot water, the temperature was perfect right away. That alone was a luxury you'd never experienced before. She angled the shower head to spray down below your chin to keep your head and hair dry.

You were still just standing there, baffled and embarrassed to be this close to such a gorgeous woman (though your main concern was how you felt like a literal child whose Mommy had to help them showering, but you figured that was part of her wanting to take care of you). As you woke up more and more, you became more and more aware and self-conscious of your neglected body. For months, self-care hadn't been an option for you, too much hassle, and for what? But now you wished you could have prepared yourself for this experience in some way, shaved maybe? Made yourself more presentable?

The question remained: what did this woman see in you to treat you like this?

Your anxiety spiked when you felt her soap-covered hands on your body, first on your arms, then she went straight to your breasts, cupping them, squeezing them lightly, rubbing the suds into your skin. You froze, holding your breath, clenching your hands into fists. It was such an intimate gesture, you weren't ready for it. A little sob escaped you, and you felt her pausing, before she leaned closer again, pressing her body against your backside.

“Are you okay, honey?” she asked directly into your ear, her velvety voice causing you to shiver deeply. “You gotta tell me if you don't like what I do, okay? This is for you. If you don't want it, I'll stop.”

You took a shuddering breath. “N-no,” you urged out. “I... I mean... it's okay... it's just... all so new...”

Her laugh echoed through the steam-filled room. “Never been touched by a woman before, sweet girl?”

“N-never had somebody... take care of me like this...” you whispered breathlessly, the thick air and her closeness making you dizzy.

You felt her lips on your cheek, the touch lingering as she spoke softly: “You better get used to this. We have so much love and care to give, you have no idea.”

It could have sounded like a threat, but you closed your eyes and nodded, leaning against her when she continued the gentle groping of your boobs. She chuckled again, bringing her lips down to your shoulder. Her hands moved lower eventually, rubbing over your stomach and down your hips, and you still couldn't move, you just endured (or silently enjoyed it?), but when you could feel her stepping around you, one of her hands slipping down your front while the other curved around your rear, you flinched badly.

Your feet squeaked on the tiled floor, and you almost lost your footing, but instead of getting away from her, she grabbed you a little harder, her hands on your waist, pulling you back, gently but firmly. Your chest was rising and falling faster, your heart nearly exploding behind your ribs. She shushed you, kissing along your neck as she returned her hands where she initially wanted to bring them.

“It's okay, sweetheart, let Mommy see, yes?” she cooed into your ear, and you stiffened, inhaling deeply and holding your breath as her hand brushed down your tense belly and directly between your legs.

You felt so embarrassed. You were not as spotless as she was, some would say natural, and while you let everything grow because you couldn't care about it anymore in the months of your slow downfall, you wished you could go back to not caring now. But you cared, you didn't want this woman to touch you in places nobody had touched in a very long time, yourself included, at least not this intimately.

You tried to squirm away, but she grabbed your ass in response, holding you in place. You let out a quiet yelp. “It's alright,” she said calmly, her lips back at your ear, the touch scorching hot. “I will not hurt you. I will not judge you. You are a beautiful girl, sweetheart, and nothing will ever hide that.” As she spoke, she started rubbing her fingers along your slit, a gentle touch, just a caress, every stroke of her hand accentuated by more soothing words. “You deserve to be loved, my sweet thing. Loved and touched and pampered. Do not be shy, do not be embarrassed. There's no need. You are beautiful. So beautiful...”

Her voice lulled you, made you relax into her ministrations, and as she finished her soothing pep talk, her fingers dipped between your labia, a little gasp escaped you, your lips parting, and before you knew it, she had caught it by pressing her mouth to yours, kissing you softly as she rubbed her fingertip slowly up and down until it prodded your entrance, and while her tongue pushed into your mouth, her digit pushed into your clenching cunt.

Your moan was swallowed by her own little inhale. Her other hand slid up your back until her palm was pressed to your neck, holding you steady as she continued to kiss and finger you, and all you could do was melt into her caresses, meeting her tongue with your own, gliding your lips against hers, even grinding your hips into her hand. Your head was spinning, breathless and overwhelmed as you were, and the more she touched you, the less vulnerable you felt.

The way she moved her fingers (she seemed to have added another one) inside you, slow and careful, pressing as deep as her knuckles allowed, fingernails scraping gently along your tight walls, it all felt very good very quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut, your breaths rasping out of you, new air barely able to reach your lungs as she kept plunging her tongue into your mouth. You felt like floating, surrounded by warm water and even warmer steam, pressed against a soft body, her hand closing around your nape, and all those touches sent more tingles down your spine, shivers and shudders, that all gathered low in your stomach, and lower, making your clit throb.

And it was when she suddenly pressed her thumb against that sensitive bundle of nerves that you yelped against her mouth, eyes flying open, a strange assortment of white and black spots dancing at the edge of your vision. Your legs trembled badly the more she rubbed at your clit, her fingers still plunging in and out, a little curl to them now, hitting different spots deep inside you. You stared at her, or tried to, she looked blurry, and you tried to blink your eyes back into focus, but instead a loud moan was ripped from your throat when she moved her fingers and her thumb in a clawing motion, pressing directly against your clit and g-spot.

You shook, your limbs twitching, and your hands found her waist for support as you gasped for air like a fish out of water, your eyes rolling back, your head reeling, and for a moment you felt as if you'd left your own body, floating away, without a care in the world...

You came back when she pulled her fingers out and kept caressing your sensitive labia, and every brush against your hood gave you another deep shudder. You clung to her, your forehead resting on her shoulder, your breaths labored and raw, your heart thundering in your chest. She rubbed your back with her free hand, soothing you with words you couldn't understand. The first that did make it through the cotton in your head, dug themselves deep into your soul:

“Good girl.”

A smile appeared on your trembling lips, the praise like an additional caress down your spine. You found yourself hugging the woman you barely knew and somehow trusted a lot more now, your arms snaking around her waist as you pressed yourself into her. She embraced you gently, holding you as the water sprayed against your shoulder. You felt her lips on your forehead, her exhale warm against your skin.

The rest of the shower was a blur. She kept washing you, rubbing her hands over your warm skin, and she even nudged you to touch her as well, which was yet another overwhelming experience as you weighed her big breasts in your small hands.

She continued to be gentle and patient with you, giving you time when you needed it, but also pushed you a little to get you out of your old habits. As embarrassing as it should have been, it was also refreshing and comforting to know that even if you might fall back into your dark hole whenever new and old doubts would resurface, Mommy was there to pull you back out.

By the time you were out of the shower and wrapped in a large, fluffy towel, a knock sounded on the door. You froze, but the other woman just huffed a sigh and walked to open it, still as naked as before, no shame whatsoever. Your eyes widened when you saw the tall man appearing in the door frame, his eyes first grazing the woman before they wandered to you. He smiled softly.

“Good morning,” Daddy said, his smile widening when he saw you blushing deeply, pulling the towel tighter around your body. He looked back at Mommy then, raising an eyebrow. “You beat me to it, huh?” he mused.

The woman laughed, nudging his bearded chin with her index finger. “Gotta be faster, old man,” she teased with a soft laugh.

You watched the two silently, frozen to the spot, acutely aware of just wearing a towel, your exposed skin warming up badly as your eyes wandered from Mommy's naked backside to Daddy's tall frame behind her. He wasn't wearing a suit today, but a tight shirt and formfitting sweatpants, and his hair was tousled, cheeks a little flushed. Had he been running? Probably, with a body like that –

“How are you feeling today, darling?” he addressed you, ripping you from your thoughts. Your face heated up even more.

“Really good,” you whispered shyly, chewing on your bottom lip as you met his gaze.

“I'm glad,” he replied, tilting his head slightly, his eyes crinkling.

“And she'll feel even better today. I'm taking her to the salon,” Mommy interrupted the moment by pressing a hand to Daddy's chest. “You can have her tomorrow.”

He sighed, bringing his gaze back to the woman in front of him. “Don't do anything she doesn't want to do, okay?” he told her quietly. “Don't scare her away on her first day...”

She laughed, turning back to you. Your heart skipped a beat. “Don't worry, we already established our bond, didn't we, honey?”

You lowered your eyes, your blush spreading all over your shoulders. “Yes, Mommy,” you whispered. It still felt a little weird to call her that, but seeing her reaction to it made up for the awkwardness. She mewled softly and turned around fully, extending her arms until she could pull you into a tight hug.

“My sweet girl,” she cooed, kissing your hairline. You leaned against her warm body, meeting Daddy's curious gaze over her shoulder.

“You'll be okay,” he told you with a gentle smile. “But remember: you can say no, we will not force you to do anything you don't feel comfortable with. Won't we?” he added pointedly, making Mommy turn her head to him. She gave him a smirk and a wink, and he sighed.

She let go of you then, taking a step back to him. “Go take your own shower now,” she told him, poking his chest. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her a little closer, eyeing her darkly.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he whispered.

“Make me,” she replied with a chuckle.

You watched them with growing curiosity, still wondering what kind of relationship these two actually had. For a moment they just stared at each other, before Mommy leaned up on her toes and pressed her full lips against his.

“Let us have our Girls Day, okay, papito?”

“Fine,” he said with an exhale, his other hand moving along her bare shoulders up to her nape before he grabbed the messy bun on top of her head and pulled her back a little. “But I mean it: I still want to recognize her later.”

Her turn to sigh. “Of course, don't worry,” she replied, putting her hand on his cheek, giving it a soft pat. “Unless she wants a complete makeover. This is about her,” she added, turning her head back to you. “Isn't it, sweet thing?”

You blushed when the attention was back on you.

“We'll do whatever makes you happy, okay, honey?”

“Okay,” you mouthed a little breathlessly. Your eyes wandered between the two adults (the longer you stood watching them, the smaller and younger you felt, no matter the fact that you were technically an adult yourself). You weren't used to all this attention, but it grew on you. It made you feel warm and seen (even if you'd prefer to wear more clothes while being looked at).

Daddy let go of Mommy then, taking a half-step into the bathroom. “Can I get a hug before I leave you in Mommy's care, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, extending a hand towards you.

Your body's immediate reaction was a sudden jerk, a clear indication that you wanted to sink into his strong arms and never emerge from them again, but your mind was still a little timid, and then there was Mommy, stepping between you and the tall man.

“Get away, you're all gross and sweaty. I just cleaned her!” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

He lowered his hand slowly, his eyes still on you. There was a darkness within them, a strange look that made your stomach twist in a weird way, warm and tense, like a throb, a clench, an itch. “I... I don't mind,” you heard yourself stammering. Before you knew it, you took a step forward, your bare feet padding on the tiles, and when his smile widened, you extended a hand to put it onto his big palm. At the same time as he pulled you closer, you heard Mommy sighing. She stepped away, and you hoped she wouldn't be too mad, but you couldn't resist him – and the urge growing inside your own body.

He wrapped his big arms around your shoulders, and you found yourself pressed to his chest. It was warm, his scent filling your nostrils, filling your head, a mixture of body wash and sweat, a masculine smell that made you dizzy, but in a good way. You carefully snaked your arms around his waist and held onto him, closing your eyes for a moment.

“My sweet girl,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Have a good time today, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you murmured into him.

He squeezed you a little more at that, his inhale loud and almost surprised. As he embraced you, you suddenly felt another presence behind you. Mommy's arms joined yours in encircling the tall man as she pressed herself into you. His arms loosened, leaving you, pulling her closer against your back. You gasped a little as they hugged you tightly, and you would have never expected to feel this comfortable in a Mommy-and-Daddy-sandwich.

It was certainly strange to go from nobody caring about you, to having these two people taking such an interest in you. And they weren't lying. They had a lot of love and care to give, you could feel it in the way they held you and spoke to you. And you'd only met them yesterday! How was this possible?

But you didn't want to question it, you just wanted to melt into their warmth and strength, enjoy the moment, neither look back nor ahead. It felt good. Good enough to bring tears into your eyes. A little sob escaped you, and you buried your face firmer into Daddy's chest. Mommy let go first, and before you knew it, Daddy's hands were on your shoulders, leaning you back a little.

Looking up, you realized your vision was blurry. As you tried to blink your eyes into focus, you felt his fingers wiping at your wet cheeks, a concerned look on his handsome face.

“I... I'm fine,” you murmured quickly, sniffling quietly. “These are... happy tears...”

His relieved exhale hit your forehead before he leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. Meeting his gaze, you couldn't help it, you turned your head a little bit and used his closeness to brush your lips fully against his. His hands held you still for a moment, the kiss, if you could call it that, a lingering press, before he leaned back with a deep sigh.

“Sorry, darling, today's Mommy's day,” he whispered, giving you a wink. “We can expand on this tomorrow, okay?” As his fingers curled around your ear, his thumb rubbed over your bottom lip. “Trust me, I can't wait...”

You gave him a shy smile, your face properly burning now. He eventually let go of you fully and stepped back. Mommy put her hands on your shoulders. “See you later, Daddy,” she cooed.

“Bye, ladies, have fun,” he said with a little wave, his eyes fixed on you.

“Bye, Daddy,” you whispered, watching how his eyes sparkled when he winked at you, before he turned around and left the room.

You were still buzzing, basically floating, so when Mommy told you to wash your face and brush your teeth and use the toilet, you did as she told you, ignoring how degrading this should have felt, being told to do the most basic things, things a person your age should be able to do on her own. But it also felt good, having someone push you to do so, and she didn't sound condescending or mocking, but caring and sweet now that you were alone again.

Once you were all ready for the day, you stood, still in your towel, in the middle of the room (your room) while she pulled out various clothes, watching you as she did so, assessing your build and size, and in the end she chose a pair of pink panties for you and a matching bra that was a little loose but she assured you to buy better fitting things for you soon. You wondered then who all those clothes belonged to, they looked too girly to have been hers, and the wide array of different sizes also made you curious.

She looked at you as she held a knee-length pink dress to your chest. “We bought these for our old subs,” she said nonchalantly as if reading your mind. “I told you we've been looking for the right girl for a while. And we tried, tested a few, but none of them would really fit our needs, you know? You, however,” she added, putting the dress down to place her hands on your shoulders as she looked down at you with a soft smile, “you are what we're looking for. I can already tell. You belong here, and soon we'll fill this closet with your own things, and only yours, okay?”

You stared at her, your throat tight. Knowing that other girls had spent their time in this room, with these people, with your Mommy and Daddy, made you feel strangely small and insignificant. Like one of many. And you wondered when they would realize that you might not fit their needs either so they could move to the next girl. But you still hoped beyond hope that what she said was true. “So... so you won't... send me away again?”

“Oh, sweet thing, of course not, unless you want to leave, but I really hope you'll stay with us. We can give you anything you need, and you'd make us so happy too!” She pulled you against her bare chest (she still hadn't bothered putting on any clothes and you really envied her confidence), her arms tight around your shoulders as you gingerly hugged her back, feeling the soft slope of her spine under your clammy palms.

She kissed your forehead and let go again, smiling down at you. You felt the need to reassure her. “I'll... stay, I want to stay,” you whispered, biting your lip as a little smile played around the corner of your mouth.

Her hands found your face. “I'm glad,” she breathed, her lips brushing against yours, and then she really kissed you, a hard press, a confident lick against the seam of your mouth before you indulged her and kissed her back, timidly moving your tongue and lips against hers. “You taste so sweet,” she muttered, sighing deeply as she moved her lips down your jaw to your neck, giving your pulse a little suck that made you flinch a little. “I can't wait to taste more of you...”

Her words sent another deep shudder down your spine that ultimately gathered right in your throbbing clit. You had no idea what it was about this woman, about this whole situation, but anything she did to you, any touch, any word, made you feel like you never felt before. It was all warm and cozy, but it could turn hot and overwhelming in the blink of an eye. You slipped from feeling comfortable to completely aroused, back and forth, and it should be weird, but it wasn't. It felt right.

Mommy gave you another press of her lips to your neck before she leaned away, letting go of you to pick up the pink dress. “Alright, let's get ready for our Girls Day, shall we?” she said happily, shoving the dress into your hands. “Get dressed, I'll do the same, and I'll meet you here soon, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you whispered, enduring/savoring another tight hug and a squeal from her, before she did what she told you and left the room, as naked as she was, her hips swaying as she went.

Later, you sat next to her in the back of the car again. She had put on a dark blue blouse and wide-legged pants, the pointy tips of her high heels poking out from the wide hem as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her seat, her hand on your thigh as she smiled at you. You smiled back shyly, feeling rather small next to her, in your soft pink dress, your magenta tights and those white little sneakers she gave you.

You had never cared much about being girly or wearing bright colors before, but it felt okay when somebody else told you to do so. The way she looked at you, so proud and happy, made it all worth it, even if you didn't quite feel like yourself anymore. But that was the point of this, wasn't it? To get you out of your old habits and show you something new, a new side of yourself. It could only get better from here, right?

Well.

Before it got better, it got a lot worse when you found yourself in a small room with a woman telling you to strip for her. Mommy was there too, but the stranger made you feel very uncomfortable. You were in one of those beauty salons you'd never seen the inside of. The woman seemed nice enough, or rather passive more likely, because it was her job to groom and take care of other people and she probably saw many different kinds of women each day, but you couldn't shake the feeling of a deep-rooted shame as you pulled your dress over your head, exposing yourself, feeling vulnerable and embarrassed and very insecure to show this stranger your neglected body.

Mommy helped you, her eager hands pulling down your tights (and panties) in one swift move, and you gasped and squirmed, trying to cover yourself, but she shushed you quietly. “It's okay, no need to be shy. I'm right here, you can do this.” You inhaled sharply, trying to focus on her as you stepped out of your tights, watching her put your clothes onto a nearby chair before she snaked her hands around your torso and unclasped your bra, adding it to the pile.

“Sit down please,” the other woman told you. When you looked at her, you noticed her almost bored looking gaze, as if she indeed did this several times a day. Nevertheless, you didn't, never had done this before, and when you scooted up on the reclined chair covered in a soft towel, you felt close to tears.

Clamping your thighs together, you put your hands on your breasts (wondering why you had to expose them in the first place when this was about trimming your body hair), when you felt Mommy's hands on yours as she leaned over you from behind. “Relax, baby girl,” she told you, turning her head to kiss your cheek. “Just relax. Lean back, close your eyes, and let the nice lady do her job, okay?”

And you tried. She kept her hands on your chest to ground you, giving your boobs gentle squeezes whenever you flinched or winced or squirmed as the nice lady began working on you. She started on your legs, and while you thought she might shave them as you would have done, she waxed them, and it felt strange when she applied the warm wax, but even worse when she suddenly ripped the sheets she pressed down onto your leg away again, causing you to squeak and almost kick her in the face.

Mommy kept close to you, hugging you, soothing you, her fingers drawing distracting circles around your nipples. You turned your head to her, your face flushed, watching her soft smile, the twinkle in her eyes, and somehow you made it through the torture of having your legs waxed. But then you felt a nudge against your thigh.

Looking back to the woman, you noticed her adding something to the chair you were resting on. Some sort of stirrups, and you realized you'd have to spread your legs and put them on there, because she –

– was about to wax your sex next. Oh dear God.

A whimper escaped you, your thighs pressing even tighter together, and you looked back at Mommy, pleading with her. She shook her head and caressed your cheek. “It's okay, honey, it won't hurt for long.” But it will hurt, you wanted to tell her, your eyes widening. “You're a big girl, aren't you? You can take it.”

And somehow her well-meant words made you feel even worse. Shame flooded your entire body, your blush spreading down to your chest. Your legs were still burning and irritated, the skin tight, and to imagine the same procedure between your thighs? But being treated like a little girl in front of this stranger gave you a weird boost of confidence, reverse-psychology-style. Because you were not a little girl, you were a grown ass woman, you should be able to deal with this! Clenching your jaw, you inhaled deeply, looking up at the ceiling as you lifted your legs and put them into the contraptions of the chair.

You forced yourself to ignore the cold breeze against your pussy lips, the way the woman stepped closer, the way her gloved fingers applied the wax over the coarse hairs of your mound. Your own hands clamped down on the edge of the seat, your breaths labored as you waited for the inevitable pain to shoot through your body. But when it came, you still jerked, a scream escaping your tight throat that was quickly silenced as you felt Mommy's hands on your face, making you look at her.

You felt tears burning in your eyes, the throbbing pain between your legs only part of the sudden waterworks. Her gaze was stern and hard, and you couldn't look away. You kept chewing on your bottom lip, wondering if you'd disappointed her by being so squeamish about this. If she'd change her mind about you being the perfect one. As the first tear rolled down your cheek, her gaze softened, her thumb tracing the path it took to your jaw.

She leaned in then, pressing her lips against your forehead, while another jolt of pain ripped through you as more of your hair was pulled out. You flinched, but you also forced yourself not to scream again. You did bite your tongue and tasted blood, but you didn't want to show her how much you suffered. She had brought you here, probably spent quite a sum to give you this treatment (and you were in dire need of it too, even if you couldn't really handle the pain and shame it brought with it), and you knew you should be grateful. And you were, you would be, afterwards, when the pain was gone and your skin smooth again, but right now all you could do was cry quietly and endure.

You felt dizzy by the end of it, barely able to move your limbs. So you let the woman arrange you how she needed you, noticing that Mommy had shifted behind the chair, looking down at you, holding your hands above your head as your arms were being lifted, more wax came down and more pain throbbed through you, your armpits burning like they'd never done before. Through bleary eyes you watched her, squeezing her hands back, feeling lightheaded and disoriented.

And then it was over, finally. Someone pulled you off the chair and onto trembling legs, Mommy helped you get dressed again. Your skin was warm and tight, but as smooth as it had ever been. The shame of the procedure was just a little flame in the back of your mind now, somehow you felt too numb to care anymore.

Once you were in your tights and dress again, you were guided into another room, onto another chair, and while Mommy sat down on a stool next to you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, you felt a new pair of hands on your head, fingers loosening the messy bun on top before slipping through the wild strands. You inhaled deeply and leaned into the chair, letting them do their thing. It hurt when they brushed through the unruly mess that was your hair, it hurt when they plugged your eyebrows into shape, it hurt and stung and the shame flared up from time to time, but you tried to focus on Mommy and her beautiful face, as she watched you closely, never not paying attention to you.

That might have been the weirdest thing. The way she always watched you, so attentively. Nobody had ever looked at you like this, not even your own mother, who had always been busy with other things, your siblings, one of her husbands, her phone, the TV, anything else, while you tried to tell her about that drawing you made in preschool that day. You remember that you eventually gave up telling her anything, and the older you got, the more you distanced yourself from her, because it wasn't worth it anymore. She just didn't seem to care, and she did a very bad job at hiding it also.

But this woman, the one you met yesterday, looked at you with so much care in her pretty eyes, held your hand between hers, warm and gentle but firm, showing you she was there. She cared, she barely knew you, but she cared, and it brought another tear into your eye that you quickly wiped with your free hand, before giving her a brave smile as your head was jerked back a little again. And because she cared, you cared too, you wanted to show her that you were indeed a big girl, that this didn't hurt, that it wasn't uncomfortable, that you could endure.

This was for your own good anyway (even if it felt like torture). She was trying to make you your own person again, bring you back into the world that had spat you out so ruthlessly.

Eventually, you relaxed into whatever was happening around you. Your eyes fluttered closed, your hand gave hers the occasional squeeze, and you just lay there, thinking about your new life, thinking back to the tall man waiting his turn back home (your home... what a twist), and you wondered how he would spend the day with you. Would he do Dad-things with you? Take you to some sports event? Watch TV with you? Go fishing, maybe? You realized you had no idea what a father would even do with his kid, because neither your biological father nor any of your various step-fathers had ever shown any interest in you.

Then again, maybe you shouldn't focus on the Dad-things, but the Daddy-things. Because quite frankly, you didn't want this man to be your father, you wanted him to be there for you, hold you and kiss you, be something more to you, you wanted to sit on his lap again, lean against him, feel his warmth and strength, and his hands all over you...

A little gasp escaped you as you felt your core clenching around nothing, a little throb, then a little drip into your underwear. It had been a long while since you were attracted to anyone in any way, and somehow, after just a few moments with that man you knew practically nothing about, you felt your heart beating faster just thinking about him. But when you opened your eyes, coming back from your mind to notice the woman still holding your hand, you realized it wasn't just him.

You also liked her, the way she touched you, kissed you, how confident she was, how she made you feel both small and comfortable at the same time. You had never questioned your sexuality, never really considered yourself one or the other or anything else for that matter (you had a boyfriend in high school, and girlfriends you'd play around with, but it was never as intense and eye-opening as whatever you were experiencing right now).

It was all new and exciting, and knowing you had the attention of a beautiful woman and a handsome man was just mind-boggling to you. It felt like a dream, and not even the throbbing pain still coursing through your body seemed to be able to wake you up from it.

At the end of it all, you sat in the car again, next to Mommy, who still held your hand. After getting a new haircut (only a little trim), she'd taken you to the nail salon, and together you chose a subtle pink for your nails. They remained short and natural, but it felt so much better knowing they added to the overall transformation of your once neglected body. You did feel like a new person, a new girl, a young woman, ready to begin a new chapter of her life.

The trunk of the car was full of bags, filled with dresses and skirts, blouses and shirts, sweaters and cardigans, socks and tights and a variety of shoes, all of it girly, elegant, but also comfortable and chic, a whole closet full of things that only fit you. Buying underwear was another ordeal with Mommy, but in the end she found you beautiful pieces, ranging from cute and modest to really extravagant and barely covering anything.

And you felt good seeing yourself in them, confident despite all those areas you didn't particularly like – because apparently there was underwear that didn't have to be too loose or too tight, like the ones you'd bought before, the cheap ones. These new ones hugged your body like a second skin, accentuated the good parts and hid the bad ones, making you feel so much better about yourself.

During your shopping trip, Mommy bought you lunch and later a milkshake, walking with her hand around yours. While she did most of the talking, small talk mostly that you appreciated very much, you felt more and more at ease with her. Yesterday she'd been a stranger, and now, she was your Mommy, someone who took care of you, who laughed with you, who made you feel comfortable.

When the car returned to the mansion, the adventures of the day weighed you down more than you thought. You were tired, still a little sore from the waxing, but overall you were happier than you'd been in ages. Mommy helped you out of the car and pulled you towards the entrance door, while the driver started carrying all those bags into the house. In the kitchen, you were met by a delicious smell, and a large frame that made your heart beat faster.

“You've returned,” Daddy greeted you (looking so incredibly handsome in a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up over his strong forearms), putting down a dish towel before he approached you. Mommy let go of your hand and gave you a gentle nudge that you didn't really need, because in the next second you had fallen against the tall man's chest, your arms tight around his waist. “Aww, did you miss Daddy, baby girl?” he cooed, embracing you just as tightly.

You mumbled your confirmation against him, closing your eyes as you just leaned into him, no longer wondering why it felt so easy to be this close to these people. It just felt right. The way they looked at you, treated you, paid attention to you, all the trouble they went through for you. It was special, and you embraced it by embracing them, knowing how easy it was to please them with just a few words and a few simple displays of affection.

Eventually, he leaned you back by holding your shoulders, his eyes wandering over your flushed face and your bouncy new hair. His fingers stroked along your tresses, twirling the ends playfully. “Looks really good on you,” he told you, and you smiled shyly. “You're even more beautiful now, sweet girl,” he added quietly as he bent down to press his lips against your cheek.

You squirmed away with a soft giggle when he nuzzled your jaw, his hands roaming down your body to tease at your ribs. You fell into a full-on laughing fit when he continued tickling you, digging his fingers into your sides, while his teeth grazed along your pulse, your own hands grasping helplessly at his forearms.

“What a sweet sound,” he breathed against you before he stopped and grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly until his arms rested just beneath your rear, holding you up. You put your hands on his shoulders, looking down at him with your cheeks aflame and tears burning in your eyes, still smiling at him. “My sweet little pumpkin.”

You scrunched your nose at the nickname, making him grin even wider at you.

“Can I call you pumpkin, sweet girl?” he asked quietly, shifting you on his arms.

You considered it, wondering how he even got to calling you that, but then couldn't find a reason for him not to call you so. It did sound rather nice. “You can call me anything you want, Daddy,” you whispered breathlessly, your heart beating even faster.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip. He turned you both around then and sat you down on the counter, leaning on his arms as he caged you in. His face was inches away from yours, his hot breath ghosting your lips. You watched him with growing anticipation, that tension in your stomach intensifying with every rapid heartbeat. He leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, his eyes boring into your own, so intense, so hungry, and he tilted his head, your lips parted in preparation –

“So what's for dinner?” cut Mommy's voice through your special moment.

Daddy closed his eyes and leaned back slowly, exhaling loudly. You watched him, still holding your breath, your hands curled tight around the edge of the counter, your knees pressed together so hard your legs were trembling. He brushed his hands over your thighs, fingers teasing between them only for a second before he was gone, stepping away to the other side of the kitchen island, while Mommy took his place in front of you.

You saw them exchanging a long gaze, something dark glinting in Mommy's eyes. Her hands found your knees, and without looking at you, she forced them apart with a strength you hadn't expected from her. Gasping softly, you stared at her, and when her hands disappeared under the skirt of your dress, you stiffened. She looked back at you then, her eyes as intense as Daddy's had been.

“Girls Day isn't over yet, sweetheart,” she whispered, tilting her head before she leaned closer, brushing her full lips against yours. Her fingers moved around your rear before they slipped under the waistband of your tights. Your heart skipped several beats as she started pulling them down, and you squirmed on the counter, struggling between allowing her the motion and fighting it.

“You should give her a break,” sounded Daddy's voice from behind her, and when you looked past her as she lowered her head with a deep sigh, you saw concern and something else in his dark eyes.

“Don't tell me what to do,” Mommy whispered quietly, slowly turning around enough to look at him. Her hands were still halfway down your tights, her body wedged between your spread legs.

He stared at her, narrowing his eyes. “It's her first day, babe,” he said, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

She gritted her teeth, looking away until her suddenly cold eyes found yours. Your breath hitched in your throat. “But Mommy's hungry,” she muttered, licking her upper lip. You swallowed thickly, watching the exchange with bated breath, not quite understanding what was going on.

“Have dinner then,” he replied from behind her. “Greta made ravioli.”

Slowly, she slipped her hands from inside your tights and grabbed the waistband, shifting you back into them with a jerk. You gasped softly, scooting back on the counter. Then she gripped your chin and made you look at her. “Fine,” she said quietly. “Let's have dinner. I'll have you for dessert then, hm, sweet cheeks?”

She pulled you closer to her and smashed her lips against yours, inhaling deeply before leaning back again, letting go of you abruptly and stepping away, her heels clicking over the hardwood floor. And you sat there, on the counter, with your lips parted and trembling, confusion washing over you as you followed her with wide eyes.

Daddy extended a hand to you and, once you grabbed it hesitantly, helped you off the counter. Still holding your hand, he bent down to whisper softly: “Don't mind her, she gets cranky when she's hungry.” He winked at you then, squeezing your fingers.

You blinked up at him in even bigger confusion, but eventually you let it slide and let him pull you through the kitchen and into the dining room.

“By the way, I haven't asked before, so I told our chef to make something vegan. Do you eat meat, pumpkin? Do you have any allergies?” Daddy asked quietly as he pulled out a chair and motioned you to sit down.

“I, uh, I do, eat meat, I mean. And no allergies I know of,” you replied with a stammer, your legs still shaking a little.

“Good, that's perfect,” he mused and walked around you, sitting down at the head of the long table, while Mommy sat across from you, studying her nails.

Between you was a large plate covered by one of those fancy metal hoods, and when Daddy lifted it, a heavenly smell distracted you from the strange tension around you. There were three different types of handmade ravioli, big ones, not those tiny ones you'd eat straight out of the can, they looked so fancy and professional and delicious of all things, and when you listened to his explanation of which was which, you couldn't decide which one to choose, so you took one of each, earning you a little laugh from Daddy.

“That's a good appetite,” he praised, taking one for himself before he held out the prongs to Mommy. She turned her head to him, her eyes narrowed, and when she closed her fingers around his, you could see her knuckles blanching.

“Shopping makes hungry, you know?” she said pointedly, snatching the prongs out of his grip to put two ravioli onto her own plate.

He just sighed and lifted his fork. “Well, dig in, and again, welcome to your new home, pumpkin,” he added with a nod towards you.

You smiled shyly, nodding back. “Thank you,” you mumbled timidly, before you inhaled deeply, looking over the table to Mommy who seemed to poke at her food with quite the disinterest. “Really, thank you for everything, Mommy,” you said a little louder. “I had a great time today.”

She looked up then, her hard gaze softening immediately. Her hand reached across the table to brush against yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Me too, cariño,” she whispered, a small smile grazing her lips.

Seeing her relax again made your heart beat a little faster.

“Aren't you two the sweetest,” Daddy mused, his fork halfway up to his mouth. “Eat up now before it gets cold.”

Mommy pulled her hand away and focused back on her plate, ignoring Daddy's comment. You looked at him, feeling your cheeks burning up when he gave you another wink, before you turned back to your food as well.

Your mind was reeling from all the impressions of this single day. It was still something of a blur, a dreamlike experience, and occasionally a few doubts would poke through the cotton in your head, making you wonder when you'd wake up again. But you didn't. It seemed real enough. A real dinner, with real food, and real people. People who watched you, who offered you more, who reached out to scrape sauce off your cheek.

It had been twenty-four hours, and yet it felt as if you'd known these people way longer. The way they cared for you made it all so much easier. It was a dream, but a dream come true. And somehow you knew that there was a lot more on the horizon.

Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5

End notes: Probably should have mentioned it earlier, but the whole waxing/makeover scene is only to show how Reader's depression made it impossible for her to take care of herself, it's not to shame anyone choosing to have body hair, because that is of course a choice. Please do not take offense in Mommy's ideals, she just wants to make Reader feel pretty in her own, slightly controlling way (that could be considered a bit dubcon if you squint, but really, Reader just isn't in a state of mind where she knows what she wants yet, so this is all some good-natured nudging).

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: You are back in Daddy's arms, and he has his own special plans for you...

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

[mrslaflour]

ᙏ̤̫ GRAPE PARTY — ROUND TWO! kai says it’s the last round, but we know that’s a lie.

pairing — huening kai x reader

warnings — noncon, dark overall, continuation of the first grape party, overall fucked up you know that, height different, tbh maybe it’s because i’m judging my own shit but this to me looks bad because i never planned on making a part 2 but everybody wanted one and my blogs been being weird idfk i hope it fits your standards though

summary — you wake up in that bedroom. a bedroom that carried a lot of fucked up memories not just from you, but probably at least ten other girls. you wished you hadn’t woke up. they all seem to be gone except one. he was the nicest, so whatever. you ask to go home now, they got what they wanted after all. but poor you, he wasn’t finished just yet :(

it felt surreal to be laying here. surreal to even be breathing. hours of literal hell and you still lay in this sweaty, cum stained bed. how many times have they cleaned these sheets? the worst part is that you were still in this room, his room, and not home. not laid out in the middle of the school naked for a janitor to find you and not laid out in the middle of the street ready for some stranger to use you the same way they did. how did they get the others before you home? just push them out the house? you’d run home naked if it meant you’d get out of this place. but you still feel hands on you. a thumb rubbing circles into your hip, a hand on your stomach, and a head just barley in the crook of your neck.

“i had a lot of fun last night.”

kai. kai was still here laying right beside you. his voice vibrates your neck. if you were going to get stuck with any of them, you were glad it was him. but you didn’t particularly want to be stuck with him either. he treated all of this too normal and it was scary.

“i told the others i’d be the one to get you home so we could get more time together.”

you feel his smile against your neck.

“i, ah, we, wanted to keep you here longer. but the cheer team saw us go up after you when you went to the bathroom and…it’s just a whole thing.”

he pauses.

“if we got caught we’d probably never get a chance to feel you again. but if we send you on your way we’ll see each other in school, the streets, you know.”

“why are you still talking to me..?”

the circling in your hip pauses. as if he’s thinking of what to say.

“why wouldn’t i want to speak to you?”

“because i don’t want to speak,”

“i could help with that.”

after all the dirty talk and things they’ve done tonight, you knew damn well what he meant and immediately shook your head no. you don’t have the strength to cry anymore but oh do you want to. all you wanna do is go home and fall face first in your bed and sob your eyes out. you hear your phone ringing and lift your head to see it on the night stand next to you. it’s your friends caller ID. you frown and reach an arm out to grab the phone but he pulls your hand to his chest.

“do you feel my heartbeat? you’re the best i’ve ever had.”

you just stare at the phone as the ringing goes off for the last few times before it’s hangs up automatically. you immediately get spammed with a million text notifications (which you can only assume are from her). you hear kai sigh before he drops your hand and gets up, you finally felt like you could breathe a little.

“you know she’s been calling you non-stop this whole morning? i don’t know how you’re just now noticing.”

he grabs the phone before opening the bathroom door and throwing it in there.

“we probably have limited time together before she drives over here or whatever and i don’t have yeonjuns charm to cover me…”

he frowns at that. you didn’t know what his other teammates were doing. you didn’t have school today so they probably went out to fuck some other girl on the street.

you’re sitting up now. you lean over the side of the bed and see your clothing littered everywhere. a cut up shirt and pants tossed across the room. panties poking out from under the bed and your bra laying right in front of your face. you pick it up while he’s not looking and quickly clasp it on so you can at least get a little bit of coverage. when he turns back around he just looks down at your boobs and gives you a light smile before sitting on the bed criss cross right in front of you.

“i loved how they felt you know? pushed up against my chest as i took my time with you. they were so soft.”

you look around before looking him in the eyes trying to signal to him that you were uncomfortable, but he just looked like a lovesick puppy.

“i want this not to just be a one time thing, yknow. i wanna wake up to you in my arms everyday. i want you to be mine..”

he sort of mumbled the last part but you heard him loud and clear, and hell no. not in a million years. maybe before all of this. he was tall, hot, but also cute! easy and fun to talk to, a football player, rich even! the absolute package. but uhm, nowhere in that package did it mention that he was a rapist…? and no you’re not gonna just — no!

“i don’t want anything to do with you.”

his face drops a little. as if you actually had hurt him. he looks down at his lap before you can see his face lift up a little and it looks like he has a thought.

“were they mean to you?”

what? he was there, he would know. and although kai was probably as nice as a rapist could be, he was just as disgusting. you just stare at him like he’s crazy.

“you liked me the most, right? i made you feel good. i know you didn’t want me to stop. you didn’t want soobin to take his turn, just wanted me to stay inside of you.”

it’s quiet and uncomfortably silent before he places his hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch. he then forcefully, but gently pushes you onto the bed.

“please don’t — you all said i was going home today…”

he just strokes your cheek with one hand before he starts kissing you all over your face and moving down to your neck. sucking slowly, taking his time, thus leaving deep purple hickeys. you had just realized he never took the bra off again. you just feel his finger trace the outline of the bra before he lifts his face from your neck.

“i think the bra makes them look cuter,”

he pauses with a smile.

“your turn.”

he leans forward and puts his neck near your mouth. you know what he wants you to do but you don’t want to give into his sick fantasy. you shake your head no.

“please? if you do i promise i won’t make your mouth do other things despite how much i want you to…”

you quickly suck the air through your teeth and take a deep breath before you start going as slow as possible sucking on his neck. you didn’t know weather to go super fast or super slow. super fast would make you seem as if you were happy to be getting him off, so happy that you were just rushing through, but going slow would make it seem like you wanted to be sensual and loving to him, but ultimately you went with going slow. your eyes closed trying to imagine time was going by faster and faster and you were driving closer and closer to your house. kais hand is stroking through your hair and his finger is running through your collarbone.

“the others are gonna wonder how i got you to do this. how i got you to mark me up all over my neck. it’s because you just love me so much, right?”

you shook your head no. you didn’t want to satisfy his sick fantasy. he just did a light click with his tongue and moved lower down your body, running his hands on your stomach before rubbing his thumbs in circles on your hips. your hips were all purple from the hard grips they had made on you the night before. you flinched slightly, they hurt badly. kai looked up and gave a pouty lip to you. you couldn’t tell if it was sincere or mocking. it may not have been mocking, but it certainly was not sincere. he leaned in and kissed the bruises that marked your hips before his lips got lower, and lower, and lower, and lower, and—

you quickly push his head away, clearly catching him off guard as he went back far pretty significantly. you push yourself back up and crawl to the other side of the bed before attempting to run to the door. obviously that was going to do nothing, but it didn’t hurt to try. he quickly stops you before you even get close to the door and he pulls your back into his stomach. the sweat on both his stomach and your back making you both become one. he wraps his arms around yours, glueing your arms to your side. he places his head into the crook of your neck, having to lean down quite a bit due to the scary height difference.

“why would you try to run knowing that i’d get you?”

you feel his lips pout against your neck. but you quickly realize, ‘i have a mouth’. you should have been screamed by now. there’s no loud music to distract the neigbors, they would hear you loud and clear by now. so you scream. loud. you get about two seconds of screaming out before he slams his palm over your mouth.

“why must you be so difficult?”

he shakes his head.

“i just want to show you how well i can treat you, is that so much to ask? it’s not even bad for you, it’s not like i’m hurting you, i’m just making you feel good..”

he sounds genuinely disappointed and upset. he easily lifts you up and puts you back onto the bed before holding your right hand and letting the other hand just lay there trying to push him away unsuccessfully.

“i can make you feel great baby, you know that. but maybe soobin made you forget. that’s okay, i’ll show you again hun.”

he brings your left hand to a halt by holding it with the hand that was once on your mouth, leaving you perfectly capable of screaming again, which you took full advantage of. he was going to stop you but he quickly realized that it was fine. you’d tire yourself out and most people were at work anyways. yeah, he’d still get his time with you. he moves his head down low once again and starts marking up the inside of your thighs and kissing all over you pussy and moving himself lower down to start fucking you with his tongue. you quickly try to lift yourself up to push him away, but you realize it’s quite hard to lift your chest up while your arms are pinned straight down to your sides. he squeezes your hands tighter and rubs circles into the palms of your hands while he continues to kiss and suck on your clit. you start to cry and beg him to stop and he just lifts his head back up to kiss your forehead before he moves back down to your pussy.

“shhh, just relax and let me take care of you. let’s focus all on you right now, let me make you feel good.”

what was so terrible about kai compared to the others was that he was loving. he had both yours and his pleasure in mind. he cared about weather you were in pain or not. with the others, it was easier to ignore it all and not give them any satisfaction and to piss them off by being dry but with kai? it was impossible. deep down you wished this wasn’t the situation that you two were in because had it been different circumstances, maybe you’d enjoy this and maybe you’d actually be with kai. you’re knocked out of your thoughts however by the continuous feeling of his tongue flicking your clit, determined to make you cum. you didn’t want to. you couldn’t. but you’d already been so abused and so much more sensitive from the events that took place only a couple of hours ago that you just couldn’t help it when you came. and when he kept going despite that, you start to squirm more in his grip, completely afraid.

“you can give me one more, right? just one more pretty girl, ‘promise.”

he was a liar. one more became two more and three more became four more. you hadn’t even noticed that he stopped as you’d just decided to block everything out. it wasn’t until he lets go of your wrists and towers himself over you, pulling down his pants that you snap your head back up to face him. you try to plead using your eyes, whispering small pleases and sorrys, but he just strokes your cheek and frowns at you.

“i’m sorry.”

you still. he’s sorry? you didn’t expect that. but was he really? he just dropped his pants down to his knees and was messing with his dick still, about to line it up with your entrance. he wasn’t fucking sorry.

“no you’re not. if you were sorry you’d stop now.”

your voice comes out all cracked out and hoarse from the screaming you had just done and the screaming you’d done that night before. you expected your voice would go completely missing soon. he just stares down at your entrance, as if contemplating continuing but he finally speaks.

“that’s not true. i just know how good i can make you feel. how good that we are for each other. and now that we’re alone, i can really show you.”

he presses himself inside of you and you just lay there. you couldn’t fight back anymore, you didn’t wanna try to. he couldn’t keep you here forever, he’d have to let you leave soon, so you weren’t worried about that. but as his thrusts continue for longer and longer and you start feeling yourself clenching around him tighter and tighter and you can see his smile growing, you have to look the other way and throw a hand over your mouth as you cry. you’d cried a lot the night before and a little this morning, but you were sobbing now. you couldn’t help it. he doesn’t stop though besides slowing down his movements a little, but he just moves your hand away from your mouth as he presses a kiss into you and holds you there while he finishes. he had finished first, but he was willing to overstimulate himself so that you could cum too, and when you knew that’s what he was waiting for, you just stopped fighting how your body felt and let your orgasm wash over you as your legs shake. he pulls out of you before pulling his boxers up. his pants were still down to his knees but he just laid next to you and pulled you against his chest.

“just ten more minutes of us just laying here, okay? and then we can go back to your house.”

you almost let that fly over your head. we. we. we? wait, we? no no no. he wasn’t going home with you! no, you couldn’t be trapped in this hell, you couldn’t be trapped next to him. you have to bite your lip back and scrunch your eyes shut and just nod. you didn’t wanna know what would happen if you disagreed, and you didn’t want to know what would happen once you went back to school, and you really didn’t wanna know what would happen when you’d go back home with him.

@blessedbymoon @straykidsviolet @lxsunshine @midnightathenaeum @beebrightness @hanhani29 @cassieaestheticsstuff @jastheepic @lickingan0rchid @alm0ndr4 @lailols @barbara-228

[heliosunny]

Hi, I enjoy reading your stories! For the request, can I please have yandere Robin x reader?

MYSTERY PLANT

Yandere!Robin x Reader

You never expected much from a simple sapling. The tiny Robin Pear tree had been left abandoned near a market stall, its leaves trembling in the wind as if pleading for someone to take it home. You had always been good at nurturing fragile things, so taking it in felt natural.

Days passed, then weeks. The tree flourished under your care, its thin branches stretching toward the sun, leaves unfurling in vibrant green. Then, one evening, beneath a moonlit sky, something impossible happened.

A petal drifted down from the tree's blossoms, shimmering as it landed in your palm. A sweet voice whispered through the room.

"You’ve taken such good care of me… Now, let me return the favor."

The branches trembled, then split apart with a shudder. A gust of wind filled the room, carrying a floral scent that made your head spin. And then, from the heart of the tree, she emerged.

She was breathtaking. Ethereal liliac-silver hair cascaded down her waist, curling slightly at the ends, a halo-like ornament resting atop her head. Pale wings, resembling those of a celestial songbird. Her teal eyes, brimming with warmth, met yours, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile.

"Robin." The name left your lips instinctively, as if you'd always known her.

Her smile widened. "Yes, and you, Y/n… you are mine."

From the moment she arrived, Robin has been following you around. She hummed melodies as she watched you sleep, brushed her fingers through your hair when she thought you wouldn’t notice.

"I bloomed for you" she whispered one evening, her arms wrapping around you in an embrace "You wouldn’t abandon me, would you?"

At first, you weren’t sure how to adjust. But she made it easy. Despite her otherworldly presence, she was warm, affectionate, and endlessly kind—to everyone.

In the marketplace, she became a sensation overnight. With a gentle smile and a soothing presence, she helped merchants arrange their goods, guided lost children back to their parents, and sang in the town square, her voice drawing in crowds like a spell.

"Miss Robin, your voice is truly a gift!" one elderly woman praised.

"A gift meant to be shared" Robin replied, bowing gracefully.

And share she did. Her singing eased tensions, made quarrels dissolve into laughter, and even though she didn’t say it outright—influenced dreams. She once mentioned it casually, over breakfast, as if it wasn’t an insanely terrifying ability.

"I see glimpses of their dreams sometimes" she admitted, twirling a spoon in her tea. "A little adjustment here, a comforting presence there… it helps people wake up happier."

You nearly choked. "Wait—you’re controlling dreams?!"

Robin giggled, tilting her head. "Control? No, no, of course not. That sounds so… forceful. I simply guide."

"You have nightmares sometimes, don’t you?" she asked, voice softer. "I could make them go away."

You hesitated. The idea of her wandering into your mind while you slept should have been unsettling. But… when she smiled at you like that, when her voice curled around your ears like a lullaby, it became harder and harder to think of anything other than her.

The incident happened at the market.

A local vendor, a kind, older man who sold fresh fruit, was being harassed by a group of thugs. They knocked over crates, laughing as apples and pears rolled across the dirt.

"Pay up, old man. Don’t think we forgot your debt."

Robin was too far away, speaking with a group of women who had begged for one more song. So you did what any decent person would do.

You stepped in.

"Hey! Leave him alone!"

The leader sneered. "Oh? And what are you gonna do about it?"

You weren’t exactly intimidating, but you held your ground. "Just walk away."

For a second, it seemed like they might. Then, one of them used a knife aimed towards you. You felt blood on your arm. The fruit vendor shouted in alarm.

But then—

A melody cut through the chaos.

"Oh dear," Robin’s voice floated through the air, lilting and amused. "It seems I’ve come at the perfect time."

The thugs froze. Their eyes glazed over as the sound of her song wrapped around them like vines, twisting through their minds, rooting itself deep into their thoughts.

You watched in stunned silence as their expressions slackened. The one who had cut you dropped his knife, eyes unfocused, lips trembling like he was on the verge of tears.

Robin stepped between you and them.

"Now," she purred, tilting her head, "I could tell you to leave, but where would the fun be in that?"

The melody shifted.

The men shuddered.

Without another word, they turned and ran.

"What…?" You blinked at their retreating figures, confused. "How did you—?"

"Are you alright?" Robin cut in as she turned to you. Her gaze flickered to your injured arm, tears are about to fall from her eyes.

"That was reckless of you..." she murmured, stepping closer.

You gave a sheepish laugh, wincing as you pressed a hand to your wound. "I just… I couldn’t stand by and do nothing."

"You’re too kind for your own good."

Her other hand cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek in a slow motion.

"You should leave these things to me," she whispered. "I’ll always keep you safe."

You smiled at her, relieved. "Thanks, Robin. I don’t know what you did, but… I’m glad you were here."

"Of course. I’ll always be here."

By the time you returned home, the sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, painting the sky in dusky purples and oranges. The weight of the day clung to your limbs, but somehow, having Robin beside you made everything feel lighter.

"You’re still bleeding, you know" she murmured, glancing at your arm as you stepped inside.

"I’ll clean it up in a bit" you reassured her.

Robin frowned, but didn’t push further. Instead, she turned toward the bathroom, stretching her arms above her head. "Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to freshen up."

You chuckled, watching as she disappeared behind the door.

The sound of water filled the quiet house as Robin bathed. You took the time to bandage your wound, then unpacked the things you had bought earlier—some vegetables, spices, and a small box of decorative hairpins. You had grabbed them on a whim, thinking they’d suit her.

By the time she emerged, steam curling from behind her, Robin looked more ethereal than ever. A towel was draped around her shoulders, her damp silver-blue hair cascading down in loose strands.

"Come here" you gestured, patting the seat in front of you.

Robin raised a brow but complied, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "What are you up to?"

"Your hair. It’s still wet." You reached for a cloth, gently running it through her locks, soaking up the moisture.

At first, she said nothing, only closed her eyes, letting you take care of her. The room was silent except for the soft sound of the towel brushing against her hair. You moved with careful fingers, untangling knots, smoothing out each strand.

"You’re so gentle" she murmured.

You huffed a laugh. "Is that surprising?"

"No. Just… nice."

When her hair was dry, you reached for the brush and slowly ran it through the silken strands, watching the way the light caught in them.

"You have really pretty hair, Robin."

Robin’s eyes fluttered open, tilting her head slightly to glance at you. "You think so?"

"Mhm." You set the brush down, reaching for the box of hairpins. "I, uh… got you these earlier. Thought they’d look nice on you."

Robin blinked in surprise as you opened the box, revealing delicate pins shaped like tiny birds and flowers. For a moment, she simply stared at them, then she let out a soft laughter.

"You’re too sweet, Y/n" she hummed, tilting her head. "Go on, then. Decorate me as you please."

You rolled your eyes at her playful tone but got to work. Carefully, you gathered sections of her hair, twisting them into an elegant half-up style, securing them with the pins. When you were done, you sat back, admiring your work.

"Beautiful."

Robin turned to you, smiling. "Why, thank you."

After taking care of her hair, you moved to the kitchen, determined to cook something nice for her. Robin sat nearby, watching with quiet amusement as you chopped ingredients and stirred the pot.

"You don’t have to do all this for me, you know" she mused, resting her chin on her palm.

"I want to," you replied simply. "You’re always helping others. Let me take care of you for once."

Dinner was warm, filling, and cozy. You ate together, sharing small stories and laughter between bites. But the real fun came afterward.

Robin had been humming absentmindedly, some melody she had sung in the market earlier, when you decided—for some reason—that you wanted to return the favor.

"I should sing for you too" you declared.

Robin perked up immediately, teal eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh? Please, go on. I’d love to hear it."

You hesitated. Bad idea.

But it was too late. Robin was already watching, waiting, anticipation clear on her face.

So, you took a deep breath and started singing.

And—it was bad.

Off-key. Wobbly. Nowhere near the enchanting, ethereal quality of Robin’s voice. But you kept going, determined.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Robin burst into laughter.

"Oh, Y/n.." she gasped between giggles, clutching her stomach. "That was… truly something."

"Hey!" You huffed, throwing a napkin at her.

She caught it easily. "Don’t pout, don’t pout. It was adorable."

Despite her teasing, Robin’s laughter was light, happy. And as embarrassing as it was, you couldn’t help but feel warmth spread through your chest at the sound.

As the night stretched on, the two of you stayed like that—talking, laughing, simply existing in each other’s presence.

Morning came. You stretched with a yawn, blinking sleepily as the scent of fresh flowers filled the air. Robin had already woken before you—unsurprising, given her boundless energy.

"Good morning, Y/n" her voice drifted in softly from the other room.

You followed the sound, finding her standing by the small greenhouse extension you had built—just a tiny, sunlit space where you kept the plants you’d been tending for years.

Robin looked ethereal, dressed in soft pastels, her hair still pinned up the way you had styled it the night before. A teacup rested in her delicate hands as she gazed at the plants.

"You take such good care of them"

You chuckled, stepping beside her. "Of course. I’ve had them for a while. Some of these I even grew from seedlings."

Robin’s teal eyes flickered toward you, a small smile gracing her lips. "I see… so they are very dear to you."

"Well, yeah." You knelt down, checking the soil of a small potted rosemary plant. "It’s rewarding, watching them grow. But I guess you’d understand that better than anyone."

Robin hummed, sipping her tea. "Yes… though, unlike them, I can love you back."

You blinked, glancing up at her.

Robin smiled, serene and elegant as always, tilting her head slightly. "Plants do not think. They do not feel. They merely exist, waiting for your touch, your care. But me…"

"I can cherish you properly."

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "They’re just plants, Robin. I don’t love them like I love people."

Robin exhaled, her smile deepening as she reached out and plucked a small petal from one of the flowers. She twirled it between her fingers, watching it spin before it fluttered to the floor.

"Good" she whispered, almost to herself.

The rest of the day passed in quiet, domestic bliss. Robin helped you prepare lunch, her hands moving with practiced grace as she plated the dishes with an elegance that made even simple meals look like fine dining. She never ate much, but she always insisted on tasting anything you made.

"If you’ve prepared it, then it must be worth savoring" she would say, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

Afterward, you found yourself lying on the couch, exhausted from the morning’s errands. Robin sat beside you, fingers combing gently through your hair.

"You should rest more" she murmured, her voice a delicate melody. "It’s no wonder you sleep so deeply."

"Mhm… guess I’m just used to staying busy" you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

"Then allow me to lull you."

The familiar hum of her voice. It wrapped around you like silk, smooth and sweet, threading through your consciousness, urging you into the embrace of sleep. You barely resisted. Robin continued stroking your hair, her touch light, careful.

"That’s right," she whispered, almost inaudible. "Just stay close to me. Only me."

You didn’t hear it. You had already slipped into dreams.

That evening, as you stepped back into the greenhouse to water the plants, something felt… off.

A few of the smaller plants were gone.

Not withered. Not rotting. Simply… missing, as if they had never been there at all. The soil remained undisturbed, no signs of pests or animals. The pots that once held their stems sat empty, eerily clean.

"Robin?" you called.

She stepped in behind you, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "Yes?"

You gestured toward the empty pots. "Did you move some of the plants?"

Robin tilted her head, eyes wide with soft curiosity.

"Oh? Were they important?"

"It’s fine. Maybe I forgot I repotted them or something."

Robin smiled, reaching up to adjust one of the hairpins you had given her.

"Yes," she murmured, "perhaps that’s it."

The moment passed. The warmth returned.

And yet, as you continued through the night, laughing with her, cooking for her, letting her tease you over your terrible singing…

The missing plants lingered in the back of your mind.

Like something unseen, waiting in the dark.

That night, you saw her in your dream, you assumed it was simply coincidence.

You stood in a vast garden bathed in moonlight, flowers blooming in unfamiliar yet impossibly beautiful shapes. The air was thick with a gentle fragrance. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of a melody drifted through the stillness.

She stood under a tree heavy with pale blossoms, her hair cascading down while the same hairpins you had gifted her glinting faintly in the glow.

"Oh," she smiled softly, folding her hands in front of her. "You’re here."

Her voice was as delicate as the night breeze, carrying a warmth that made your chest feel light.

"Robin?" you asked, blinking. "Why are you…?"

"It seems your mind has called for me."

"I don’t remember—"

"It does not matter. We are here now, and that is enough, is it not?"

Something about the way she said it made you nod, despite the lingering confusion.

She reached out then, brushing her fingers along your wrist. "You are tired. Let me grant you peace, my dear."

And before you could say anything else, the world melted into warmth.

You awoke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, heart pounding faintly in your chest. The dream had been so vivid. You could still feel the cool night air, the scent of flowers, the softness of Robin’s voice lingering at the edge of your senses.

"Good morning"

Robin was there, standing by the open window, bathed in morning light. She turned to you with a soft smile, as if she had been waiting for you to wake.

"You seemed to sleep quite deeply," she mused, approaching with measured grace. "I do hope you found rest."

You sat up, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yeah… I had a strange dream."

Robin tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her teal eyes. "Oh? Do tell."

You hesitated. The memory of the dream was still fresh, yet the more you thought about it, the more distant it seemed—like mist slipping through your fingers.

"It was just… a garden," you muttered. "And you were there."

"How lovely," she murmured. "Perhaps your heart simply longs for me, even in sleep."

She said it so lightly, so effortlessly, that you almost didn’t catch the weight of her words.

You laughed, brushing it off. "You make it sound so dramatic."

Robin chuckled, shaking her head. "I merely speak the truth."

"Regardless," she continued, "I am pleased. You should always rest knowing I am near."

The day passed with a familiar rhythm. Robin accompanied you to the market again, her presence as radiant as ever. She spoke with people kindly, helped an elderly woman carry her wares, and even hummed a tune that made a crying child calm almost instantly.

You watched as stall owners greeted her with warmth, their expressions softening the moment she smiled. It was as if she brought ease wherever she went—like a breeze that smoothed out the rough edges of the world.

But when you glanced at her, you noticed the way her gaze lingered on you.

Not just fond. Something darker.

"Is something the matter?"

You shook your head. "No. Just… watching."

Robin’s lips curled slightly.

"Then please," she murmured, "watch only me."

[aemondapologistfrfr]

I See You As You Are - Pt 7

aemond x f!reader 

Series Masterlist

Summary: The first couple of weeks and months following Aelors birth Aemond becomes more protective than you thought possible. You practically have to beg him to sleep. He reluctantly starts to accept the help people are offering the both of you. Life slowly starts to go back to normal as you both fall more in love with Aelor.

Warnings: 18+ soft family moments that made me want to crash out!, aegon appearance again, overprotective aemond, oral(f), fingering, p in v, breeding kink

Authors Note: i will forever spread my sibling agenda sry – idk why this took me so long to write just so many ideas all at once i guess 😵‍💫  but i love this series and im not abandoning her i just get too attached sometimes and don’t want to see it end - also don’t want to rush the writing of this bc i love it too much - me over explaining myself to no one but myself! n e ways enjoy i love u and i love this chap and story

Word Count: 8k 

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It’s been a little over a week since you brought Aelor into this world and Aemond is positive he only sleeps when.. Maybe when he blinks. He needs to be aware of everything that moves inside your shared chambers. If you breathe too heavily he’s next to you. If Aelor coughs he’s hovering over the crib. You look up at his bloodshot eye with pursed lips as he escorts you back to bed. 

“I don’t want you out of bed.” Aemond presses his lips to yours and helps you lay back into your well of pillows. 

“And when pray tell, will me and Aelor be taken off of bed rest, maester Aemond?” he flares his nostrils and pulls your blanket up your body. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever let you two out of these chambers.” his tone is teasing but you both know how truthful his words are. 

“Husband.” you look up at him. 

“Hush.” he shakes his head. “There is nothing you two need outside of these chambers.” you clear your throat. 

“Come lay with me.” you pat his side of the bed. He slowly crawls into the bed and you both turn and look at each other. “Tell me what you’re scared of.” your words soft.

“He’s so little and you’re still so fragile.” you narrow your eyes at him. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want either of you taken from me. Whether it be a misstep on stairs or a sickness. I won’t allow it.” he shakes his head. “I won’t. I can’t. I’ll die without you and our son. I will. I can-

“Aemond,” you cup his cheek. “We are right here. Healthy and safe.” you nod your head. “One more week.” you press your lips to his. 

“One more week?” he mumbles against your lips. 

“You have one more week to prepare to take Aelor and me on a walk throughout the gardens.” you pull back. 

“I’m sorry I’m overbearing.” he whispers. 

“There is no reason to apologize.” you brush his hair back. “Could I make one more request?” he nods, starting to get up. “Lay back down.” you chuckle. “Please go to sleep. I know you haven’t been.” you wipe your thumb under his eye. 

“Do you promise that you’ll both still be here when I wake?” he whispers, pulling you closer to him and curling against you. 

“Yes, Aemond. We will both be right here.” you smooth his hair back as he lets his eye close and finally begin to rest. 

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You wake up and groan as Aemonds side of the bed is empty. You feel for any warmth but it’s cold and you roll over and look at the ceiling. Pushing the blankets off, you get up and walk over to Aelor’s crib and find him curled up next to the egg with his little fingers reaching out towards it. You brush his wisps of hair back before walking over to the table where you’re sure there’s a letter waiting for you. 

~

Wife and my little son,

Please - for my sanity - do not leave these chambers until I return. I won’t be long, I just went to collect some things. 

I’ve promised you a walk today - which I still plan to deliver. 

I thought we could go to the library and we could read as a family. - Yes, I know you said the gardens.

Tonight is the full moon and I had hoped we might wish upon it as a family. - We’d have to go out a little earlier than normal. 

My wish for the moon: Please don’t let my wife hate me for not letting her and Aelor out of our chambers. 

~

You smile and walk the letter over to the side table and place it with your growing collection. You begin to dress for the day and a warmth settles over you when you hear Aelor start to coo. You quickly finish dressing and go scoop him out of his crib, placing kisses across his face. You carry him over to your chaise and curl up with him watching him smile and grab at your fingers. 

You could stay like this all day, with the exception of having Aemond at your side, curled up with your son enjoying the silence and the song of the breeze through the windows. Though you can’t help but smile at the thought of being able to show your perfect son off. You rise with him and bring him over to the wardrobe to dress him for the day. You hear the door open and close before you hear the familiar steps.

“I half expected you both to be gone.” you can see relief wash through him from that not being the case.

“We would never dream of leaving you.” you walk over to him and he places his lips on your forehead before offering the same to Aelor. “And to address your letter we would never hate you, Aemond. We’re content here, with you.” you nod and he reaches down to press his lips to yours.

“How are you both?” you watch as he scans over the both of you.

“We’re very excited for you to take us to the library.” you smile up at him. “And to see his very first full moon.” you smile as Aemond brushes Aelors hair back. 

“May I?” he holds his arms out and your eyes snap up to him.

“Aemond, of course.” you help place Aelor into his arms. 

“He’s so perfect.” he whispers, looking down at him. 

“Even if he threw up on you this morning?” he smiles and waves you off. 

“Your mother is wrong.” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t even call it a spit up.” he traces his finger along his chin. 

“Mm, is that why you changed your jerkin?” you hum walking back to the wardrobe to pick out clothing for Aelor. 

Your heart swells as you hear Aemond silently coo and talk to Aelor and you push around different fabrics. You were secretly happy Aelor ruined his jerkin because you can finally have them match. You chew your lip pulling out the dark green fabric and basking in its softness. You hold it up and look over it smiling at his little buttons.

“It seems as if your mother is going to have us match today.” Aemond chuckles as he spots the green fabric in your hands. 

“You two will look so handsome.” you coo. 

“I thought we agreed that all three of us have to match?” he raises his brow walking over to you with Aelor. “Something about an early grave?” you purse your lips pretending to be lost in thought. 

“I don’t recall.” you shake your head. You lift off Aelor’s current outfit and begin to pull the green over his head. “Oh my Gods,” you look up at Aemond. “Hold him next to you.” you nod quickly. 

“Like this?” he cradles Aelor in one arm and you bring both of your hands to your cheeks. 

“Aemond.” you softly coo. “You both look so handsome.” you push your bottom lip out. “My distinguished little gentlemen.” you walk over to them. “My sweet boys.” you smooth Aelor’s hair before cupping Aemonds cheek. 

“Are you done?” your eyes snap up to him and you can see a hint of a smile. 

“Nowhere near done.” you shake your head. “Let me just adjust some things.” you smile up at him quickly.

You start to adjust Aemonds hair and straighten out his jerkin. Aelor softly fusses when you smooth out his hair more. You move Aemonds arm to have Aelor more centered and push down his outfit from his neck. Aemond watches you with a small smile as you move them about as you please. You finally stand back and admire them both. 

“May we escort you to the library?” he holds out Aelor’s arm to you and your heart melts. 

“I would love nothing more.” you tickle Aelor’s neck before grabbing onto Aemonds other arm. 

Aemond helps escort you down the stairs of your chambers and the second you step out into the hall you stop and look around to see if anything has changed. You have the same guard and the same tapestries adorn the walls all the way down the hall. There's a small buzz of people in the Keep at this early hour and you smile to finally be a part of it once more. You turn and brush Aelors cheek with your fingers before you take Aemonds arm.

The walk to the library is full of whispers to Aelor of his different surroundings. Aemond has kept a calculating eye on everything going on around the three of you. If someone walks too close he’s silently moving you to the otherside of the hall. You chuckle knowing what he’s doing and you pause and look up at him. 

“Don’t you think people will want to see the new prince?” you raise your brow at him.

“We’re going on a walk to the library not a parade through the city.” he says louder than needed as he looks around at prying eyes. “If we stop for one person we will soon have a line.” you know he's right enough in the matter.

“Then let us go hideaway in the library.” you smile up at him, patting his arm.

He continues to lead you through the halls and when the massive wooden doors come into view a smile spreads across your face. Aemond pulls open the door for you and motions for you to walk towards his section. You watch as servants start to have tea prepared for you and light a couple of candles. You take your normal seat and open your arms for Aemond to place Aelor into.

Aemond pulls your book down from a shelf and takes his seat. When he turns his gaze to the both of you he’s glad he’s sitting because he’s sure his knees would give out. His wife and son, sitting in his chair, in his section. He brings the book to his lap and opens it in search of the last chapter you both left off on. You lean further back in the chair as Aemonds soft voice greets your ears. You begin to rub Aelors back as he starts to curl into your chest with heavy eyes.

“Do you think I’m boring him?” Aemond looks to you with a worried expression.

“No.” you shake your head once. “I think your voice is very soothing. Comforting. He probably feels safe and at ease.” you look down and see Aelor asleep on your chest.

“Should I keep going?” he whispers.

“I would like that and I think Aelor would too.” you nod with a smile.

Aemond continues on with the story in somehow an even softer voice than the one he started with. He pauses after every chapter and asks if you want him to keep going. Aelor eventually wakes and fusses until you place him in Aemonds arms. Aemond brings the book back to his lap and watches as Aelor spreads his hand across the current page. You watch them with a warm expression as Aemond attempts to continue reading. After the next chapter he closes the book and sets it back on the table to give his full attention to Aelor.

“Do you think he’ll enjoy reading as much as we do?” Aemond watches as Aelor grabs at his rings.

“If we keep this up I’m sure he will. Soon he’ll have his own section in the library.” you chuckle. 

“Maybe you’ll take over my section.” Aemond whispers down to your son.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with Aemond reading to the two of you in short spurts. It only took three times of asking if he could walk you three around the Keep until he agreed on the condition that he can turn everyone away who asks to speak with the three of you. He holds you closely and once he sees your eyes start to droop he insists that the three of you return to your chambers for a nap and you had no complaints with that idea.

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The sun has barely passed the horizon and Aemond is trying to herd you and Aelor to the door with whispers that it’s almost Aelor’s bedtime and you should be fast asleep too. You bat his hands away which are immediately back on your waist as you start your descent down the stairs. 

“Aemond, I know how to walk.” you sigh. 

“I would prefer to carry you both.” you turn your head and he stops you on the stairs. “If you don’t pay attention I will.” his tone not joking.You turn your head back and start moving once more. Once you make it to the bottom of the stairs you stop. “What’s wrong?” he steps in front of you. 

“I figured you wouldn’t want me to touch the door. It might be too strenuous.” you purse your lips. 

“You’re right.” you watch his lips twitch up and you flare your nostrils as he turns to reach for the door handle. 

“Aemond Targaryen.” you hiss and his eye snaps back to yours. 

“Yes?” he wraps his hands around your waist. 

“I’m not going to break.” you huff. 

“I’m aware.” he presses his lips to yours in hopes of removing the soft scowl. “Can I not just dote on you? Is it not my job to do everything for you?” he pulls back. 

“There’s a difference between doting and overbearing.” you hum and step past him to open the door and walk through. 

“I’m sorry.” he makes his way to your side quickly. “Please don’t be mad at me.” he whispers and you stop once more. “Please, I’m sorry.” his heart starts to beat faster at the thought of upsetting you. 

“I’m not mad at you.” you look up at him. “Now give me a kiss, offer me your arm, and take us to the gardens to look upon the moon.” you wait expectantly and you watch as a smile spreads across his face.

He presses his lips to yours before placing them on Aelors forehead and holding out his arm for you. He bites his tongue when you start down the main stairs and takes a step closer to you. You glance at him and he is already staring at you, calculating your every step. 

“How are you feeling?” he whispers once the three of you make it to the main hall. 

“Like I’m going to ask the full moon for you to relax.” you turn to him. 

“Do you still love me?” he searches your eyes. 

“My Gods Aemond of course.” you press your hand to his chest. “I love you more than life itself.” you cup his cheek. “I might love you even more if you take us out to the gardens as promised.” you smile up at him. 

“You’re sure you still love me?” he steps closer to you. 

“I’m sure.” your reach up and bring his lips to yours. 

He starts to escort you once again through the main hall and you sigh in relief at the soft breeze that greets you once the three of you make it outside. You smile as you enter the gardens and adjust Aelor so he can look at all of the life growing around you. Aemond stays glued to your side and an arm hovering around you as you walk Aelor up to different flowers. 

“This was the first place your father took me when we met.” Aemond’s heart skips at your words. “We’ve been coming here ever since.” you whisper carrying him deeper into the gardens. “Tonight is very special.” you turn to Aemond as you enter the small courtyard. 

“It’s the full moon.” Aemond leans down and smooths Aelor’s wayward strands. “If you make a wish upon it when it’s full it’ll come true. I’ll make sure of it.” you smile watching Aemond softly talk to him. 

“What your father didn’t tell you is that he’s actually the moon.” Aemonds eye snaps up to you. “He makes sure we have anything and everything we wish for.” you nod. “We’ll wish for you for the next couple of years but soon you’ll be able to do it on your own with us and you can teach your siblings.” your smile widens. “We can make wishes as a family.” you look up to Aemond and see that his eye is glossy. 

“You want to have more?” he whispers. 

“You didn’t think I’d be content with just one?” you tilt your head. 

“How many do you want?” he steps closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“At least two more.” you nod. 

“And at most?” he tilts his head. 

“Four more?” he nods his head quickly. 

“Yes, I would like that.” he rubs circles into your sides sending warmth throughout your body.. “It’s always up to you. I’ll be content with any number of children.” he lets his mind wander to your chambers filled with children running around and giggling. “A family.” 

“Let’s make our wishes before you start crying.” you cup his face. 

“I’m not crying.” he purses his lips. 

“Mhm.” you nod, wiping your thumb under his eye collecting the tear. “I love you so very much.” you whisper up at him. 

“It sounds as if you might cry now.” he watches your cheeks flush. “And I love you more.” he presses his lips to your forehead. “Look up to the moon so I can get you both back into bed.” he tilts your head up to the sky. 

You let your eyes close and Aemond does the same, never letting his hands leave your sides. He smiles when he feels Aelor grab onto his arm and he cracks his eye open and looks down at him. He watches as his face spreads with a smile and he reaches up to Aemond. You open your eyes when you feel Aemond start to scoop Aelor out of your arms. 

“My wish was to hold him and to offer you a dance.” he holds out his free hand. 

“Let us dance on our balcony while he sleeps.” you offer him a warm smile. 

“I would like that.” he nods. “What did you wish for tonight, my beautiful wife?” he hums, pulling you closer. 

“I had wished for us to dance.” you chew your lip. “And for you to let me kiss you until I fall asleep as I once used to do.” 

“Then let me keep you waiting no longer.” he offers you his arm. 

You curl into his side as he leads you three back to your chambers. Aelor quickly falls asleep in his crib allowing Aemond to whisk you out to the balcony. His hands are on your waist instantly as he begins to sway the both of you across the stone. As the breeze begins to cool you a bit too much and Aemond scoops you up and brings you back inside. 

“This is how I would prefer to take you around the Keep.” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours. “Now let me go get your sleep dress so I can give you your kisses.” he sets you on the bed, letting his lips linger on yours longer than necessary.

“Or might you just stay here for a little while?” you mumble against his lips. “Please?” you hold him closer and sigh when he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You try to pull him onto the bed with you and he starts to chuckle. 

“This is more than just kisses.” he kisses down to your neck. 

“Please.” you whisper. “Aemond please,” you whine.

“Let’s get you ready for bed.” he smiles as you shudder when he licks up your neck. “I can tell you’re going to fall asleep soon.” he lifts up and chuckles as you try to pull him back. 

You watch him with a pout as he walks over to your wardrobe and pulls out a night dress for you. He stops to check on Aelor before walking back over to you on the bed. He bites his lip looking and you lidded eyes as you fight to stay awake. He helps you undress and brings your wandering hands to his mouth to place kisses against each finger. 

“Go to bed and I’ll kiss you as much as you want when you wake up.” he pulls the covers up to your chin. 

“I’ll stay awake.” you whine. 

“Your eyes are shutting before me.” he smiles. 

“No.” you shake your head and curl against him as he gets into bed. 

“One more kiss.” he nods and you reach up and bring his lips to yours. 

“One more.” you mumble against him. 

“Rest.” he hums and kisses your forehead.

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Over the past couple of weeks Aemond has slowly relaxed and gone back to a regular sleeping schedule. Aelor is happy and healthy, though this doesn’t stop Aemond from darting to his side when he makes a noise. He’s hesitant to think about the egg, let alone even look at it for too long. He wants it to hatch so badly but maybe that’s why it’s not. 

Maybe since he didn’t have an egg his son's egg will never hatch. It could all be his fault. He could be the reason Aelor grows up like him. Picked on and-

“Aemond.” you grab onto his arm. “Staring at the egg isn’t going to make it hatch.” your words soft. 

“Do you think it’s my fault it hasn’t hatched?” he continues to stare down at the colored egg. 

“Not at all. You’ve been quite the doting mother hen to that egg.” he turns to you with a squinted eye. “I joke.” you cup his cheek. “I believe it’s up to the Gods if his egg will hatch. It will be no one’s ‘fault’ if it does not. You are doing everything right.” you look into his eye and nod. 

“So I should keep doting upon the egg?” the corners of his mouth shift up. 

“I had hoped you might dote upon me?” you tilt your head. “I would just like some kisses.” you nibble on your lip. “For now.” he chuckles. 

“I could indulge you in a kiss or two.” he hums, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. 

The moment his lips touch yours it’s as if all of his worry and doubt drift away. He’s never felt more wanted than when you cling against him trying to be as close as possible. How quickly you open your mouth and invite him in eagerly. The small noises you make when he squeezes into your sides and- He’s pulling off of you and turning back to the crib. 

“He probably just moved.” you whine trying to tug him back. 

“It’s happening.” he shakes his head. “There’s a crack. It’s moving. What do we do? Do we take Aelor out? I need-“ he cuts himself off, not ready to say that name after the words ‘I need,’ and looks between you and Aelor. “I’ll be right back.” he’s thudding down the stairs, leaving you to look after him with wide eyes. 

Aemond doesn’t care about the early hour. He just prays he’s sober enough to help. He doesn’t hesitate at the guard as he pushes himself into his brother's chambers. He walks over to his bed and shakes his shoulder. Aegon pushes his hand away and Aemond yanks him harder. 

“Get up.” Aemond hisses. “If you want to be a family, get up. The egg is hatching and I don’t know what to do.” the words taste foreign on his tongue and he watches Aegon's eyes snap open. 

“Alright.” Aegon nods. “Let’s go.” he rises from the bed and so do Aemonds eyebrows. 

“Put something on. My wife and child are there.” he strides over to Aegon's wardrobe. “Quickly.” he snaps, tossing trousers and a tunic. He pulls Aegon out of his chambers and down the hall once he’s clothed. 

“My Gods, slow down.” Aegon groans. “And get me some water.” he looks up at the stairs to your chambers with tired eyes before he starts his climb. 

“You will have nothing if you don’t help.” you hear Aemonds curt tone as he and Aegon make it to the landing. “Did anything happen?” Aemond is back at your side. “Do we take him out of the crib?” he turns back to Aegon. 

“First we relax and tell me where the water is.” Aegon looks around. 

“No.” Aemond shakes his head. “Come check on the egg and my son first.” he glares at Aegon. 

“Aemond, it's just water.” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Aelor is fine.” you nod up at him. 

“Alright.” Aegon groans and walks over to the crib. “What a handsome boy. You did well, brother.” he grins across the crib at Aemond.

“What of the egg?” Aemond presses looking down at Aelor and the egg.

“It’s hatching.” Aegon nods. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

“Should we leave him with the egg?” Aemond looks over to him.

“Yes.” he nods. “Was that enough to merit me a cup of water?” Aegon blinks at Aemond expectantly.

“I suppose.” Aemond nods his head to the table holding the water pitcher and Aegon is next to it shortly after. “So what happens now?” he brings his attention back to Aelor and the cracking egg. 

“You see when an egg cracks, brother,” Aegon walks over to him. “Something usually comes out.” Aemond flares his nostrils at Aegon's tone. 

“I’m aware.” he says through his teeth. You hold on to his arm tighter hoping it’ll offer him some comfort. “Should we call for the keepers?” his tone a fraction smoother. 

“I figured you already called for them.” Aegon raises his brow, sipping on the water. “So you came to me first?” he smiles. “Do not look at me like that. I’ll go call for them.” he waves Aemond off and walks back down the stairs. 

Aemond’s mind is racing as he keeps his eye on the crib. He refuses to believe an actual dragon is hatching mere feet from him. His little son's very own dragon. You look up at Aemond and see his slightly flushed cheeks and reach up to cup his face and slowly turn him towards you. 

“What’s wrong?” you take in his glossy eye. 

“I’m just so happy for our son. For Aelor. He gets his own dragon. His very own.” his voice barely audible. “There’s soon to be too many people here for me to be this emotional.” he shakes his head and you wipe under his eye. 

“Might I have a hug?” you whisper and Aemond grabs your hand from his face and pulls you against him. “I would still like to have my other kisses later.” you whisper and you feel his small chuckle in his chest, thankful for your distracting words.

“I could provide those for you.” he whispers and starts to pull back. 

“The keepers will be here shortly.” Aegon announces as he makes it to the stop of the stairs once more. “Might you both pick different chambers? I already tire of these stairs.” Aegon groans, going to refill his cup of water once more.

“All the more to keep them. If they’ll deter you from barging in then I think they’re perfect.” you look up at Aemond as if you’re telling him to be nice. 

“Maybe you’ll change your mind when you have more children.” Aegon waves him off. “The offer is always there.” his words are followed by a quick knock and the voice of the keepers coming up the stairs.

“Congratulations, my Prince.” the keeper looks to Aemond before walking over to the crib. “A healthy boy. No wonder his egg is hatching already.” the man muses. 

“Should we have taken him out of the crib? Is there something more I should be doing? Would you like some water?” Aemond rapid fires questions at the keeper.

“He is perfectly fine in the crib. There is nothing for us to do besides wait. Though looking at the egg.. Ten minutes maybe.. Maybe more..” the man shrugs and Aemond nods before turning back to you.

“What did he say?” you look up at him. “I also think you sound so very elegant when you speak in that tongue.” you whisper and watch a small flush spread across his cheeks.

“The egg will hatch soon. We just have to wait now.” he turns his attention back down to Aelor and watches as you reach in and smooth his hair.

“Does the dragon stay here with us?” you look up at him. “Am I now raising our boy and his dragon?” your mind races on how you would even go about doing that. 

“Not necessarily.” Aegon comes to Aemonds side. “Of course it’s so tiny now so it’ll spend more time with Aelor here to help strengthen their bond. When it grows and my Gods do they grow fast, it’ll be housed in the pits that you can visit.. If Aemond releases you from these chambers.” he lets out a small giggle. 

“Aegon.” Aemond warns.

“Relax brother,.” Aegon sighs. “The keepers will tell you everything.” he looks up at him.

The three of you watch the egg slowly crack more and you hear Aemond’s inhale as Aelor slowly wakes. His eye widens when Aegon's hand enters the crib and pinches his little cheeks. Aelor lets out a small coo and turns his head towards the egg. You watch with wide eyes as he grabs onto the crack and you feel Aemond stiffen. Aegon grabs onto Aemonds arm and whispers lowly.

“Let him. He’s safe. There are plenty of people here who know what they’re doing.” Aemond looks down at Aegon and where his hand is placed on his arm.

“And you’re one of the people who know what you’re doing?” Aemond scoffs.

“You did come get me first.” he chuckles. 

As Aemond goes to retort there's a more prominent cracking sound. The keepers slowly walk over and soon the crib is surrounded by watching eyes. You grab onto Aemonds arm and lean closer into his side. A short shriek is heard followed by another crack. You watch as Aelor grabs at the egg and pulls a piece of its shell off. You gasp when you see an eye before it disappears once more. 

“Are you nervous?” Aegon whispers.

“Be quiet.” Aemond hisses.

“So you are.” Aemond turns his head and Aegon bites his lips to stifle his laughter. “I’ll be quiet. Don’t kick me out.” he nods back to the egg. 

You and Aemond inhale at the same time when Aelor pushes his little hand into the growing hole. When he pulls it out you see a small tail wrapped around his wrist before it slips back into the egg. You watch as Aelor pushes his hand into the egg once more, slowly scooting towards it. He pulls another piece of the egg off and your eyes widen as the dragon is now blinking up at everyone. Aelor grabs the dragon and brings it to his side. 

“He has a dragon.” Aemond whispers. 

“He does.” Aegon grins. 

“His very own.” you look up at Aemond and squeeze his arm, knowing how emotional this is for him. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond is stepping forward when the keeper grabs for the dragon.

“We must examine him.” the man nods and scoops the dragon out of the crib.

“Will you bathe him as well?” Aemond looks at the mess starting to spread across Aelor’s linens. 

“Of course.” the man nods and turns to the other keepers before walking to the bathing chambers. 

“They’re cleaning the dragon so we can change Aelor’s sheets.” he turns to you. “Let’s go find him a fresh set.” he holds onto your arm as if it’s his lifeline. 

“Then I suppose it’s just me and you left.” Aegon chuckles and scoops Aelor out of the crib. 

Aemond glances at Aegon and Aelor before deciding Aegon probably knows what he’s doing in that sense too. He shakes his head, not quite ready to accept all of Aegon’s help. Aemond helps you pick out a clean pair of sheets and walks back over to the crib to strip it. You grab a change of clothing for Aelor and hand it to Aegon who smiles up at you from the chaise. 

The next couple minutes in your chambers consists of everyone cleaning and preparing to bring Aelor and his dragon back together. Aegon stands once he has Aelor changed and brings him over to the crib. Aemond takes Aelor from his hands and nods once at Aegon who is well aware that is the only thanks he’ll receive. The keepers come back over and place the small dragon in the crib and nod at Aemond to do the same with Aelor. 

“How is the dragon?” Aemond looks across to the keeper.

“He is well.” Aemond smiles. “We will leave you. Someone will return to care for the dragon and remain down the hall to offer the three of you reprieve until he is no longer fit for the Keep. They will help feed him and help instruct you on anything you should need. Your brother also knows a great deal and could offer you his wisdom.” Aemond chokes back a laugh at Aegons ‘wisdom’ and wonders if he’s ever seen it. 

“Thank you.” Aemond nods at the man.

The keeper nods at you and Aegon as well before taking one last look in the crib with a smile spread across his face. The keepers wave before they leave the three of you to look down at the crib. Aegon looks between Aemond and you and smiles before walking over to the table holding the water once more. 

“I will leave you three. I’ll have them house the keeper close by and I’ll have your guard tell you where. Should you both need anything else don’t hesitate to ask. All I ask is a nicer wake up and maybe some water before I’m dragged out of my chambers.” he raises his cup of water before starting towards the stairs. 

“Wait,” Aemond calls out. “Thank you,” he nods when Aegon turns. “Brother.” Aemond groans at the smile that spreads across Aegon's face. 

“Would you like a hug baby brother?” Aemond scoffs. 

“No. Leave us.” Aemond waves him off.

“One day.” Aegon calls over his shoulder as he starts down the stairs. 

You watch as Aemond stares down into Aelors crib with a furrowed brow. He inhales when your hand enters the crib to brush back Aelors hair. You then bring your delicate touch to the dragon's head and he slowly blinks his eyes open. He lets out a small purr before curling back up with your son. 

“I know nothing of raising a dragon.” you turn and whisper up at Aemond.

“You know some from our readings.” he hums. 

“Mm, shall I start to work towards becoming a dragon keeper?” you purse your lips. 

“My wife, you’re perfect at everything so if that is what your heart desires then I have the utmost faith in you.” he pulls you against him. “But the keeper will remain down the hall and if it’s too much we can always just bring the dragon to Aegon and he’ll deal with it.” he brushes your hair back. 

“Speaking of Aegon..” you look up at him with a raised brow. “I see that your relationship with him is improving.” you don’t want to pry but it warms your heart seeing them hopefully start to mend bridges.

“We’ll see.” Aemond starts to lead you back to the bed. “For now I would like to finish offering you the kisses you asked for while our son sleeps with his dragon.” he can’t help the grin on his face at that statement.

“Maybe soon we can have my handmaidens keep Aelor overnight.” he steps back and looks at you with a raised brow.

“Why?” he presses his lips to yours once.

“So I might enjoy my husband for the night.” you pull his lips back down to yours. “I miss you.” you whine against his lips. 

“I rarely leave your side.” he chuckles, helping you lay back on the bed. “And when I do it’s under an hour.” he starts to crawl over you.

“Must I tell you what I miss?” you pout, pulling him down to you.

“Yes.” he whispers against your lips. “Tell me.” he kisses down to your neck enjoying your small breaths. 

“You haven’t filled me in almost two months now.” you whine softly as he starts to suck on your neck. 

“You’re still fragile.” he lets his teeth graze against your skin.

“I’m not.” you grab onto the back of his jerkin. “Please.” you whisper.

“Ask me again in a couple of weeks.” he kisses back up to your pursed lips.

“I won’t break.” you furrow your brows.

“No, but you deserve one. You just brought our child into this world.” he presses his lips to yours.

“Let me bring us another.” it’s taking all of his restraint not to take you at your breathy words.

“Two weeks.” he grabs your wandering hands and places them at your side. “It’ll just be like the lead up to our wedding.” he presses his lips all over your face. “Now let me go check on our son and his dragon before you take advantage of me in my emotional state.” he starts to detach from you.

He chuckles at your soft string of curses as you try to pull him back to you. You rise from the bed and smooth your skirts before returning to his side once more. Your son is curled up with his dragon and looks like a perfect little prince. 

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You’ve been trying to get Aemonds attention for the past two weeks now but he has resisted all of your advances. The amount of sheer slips you’ve had your handmaidens bring in makes it seem like you’re running a pleasure house. You’ve even gone so far as to sleep naked and he simply covers you with the covers and curls into your side. 

Tonight officially marks the two week mark he set. Gods know why he’s making you wait, you’re ready to combust at the thought of him. Aelor is with your handmaidens for the night and his dragon is with the keepers. Your chambers are clean and there are candles spread throughout offering a warm light. You pace around looking for something to do until you hear the door open. You sprint over to your chaise and spread the sheer silk around your body. 

“Mm, what is the occasion?” Aemond is fully aware that it is exactly two weeks since he told you to wait. 

“Aemond,” you whine. “I’m begging at this point.” you go to get on your knees. 

“No, no.” he shakes his head with a smile. “That’s my spot.” he sinks to his knees before you. “I have also been counting down the days, my insatiable wife.” he presses his lips up one of your calves. “Aelor is with your handmaidens for the entire night?” he looks up at you with a dark eye.

“Yes.” you nod quickly.

“Mm,” he continues to kiss up to your thigh, smiling at how you tremble. “And what is it that you want to do tonight?” he looks up at your already heaving chest. 

“Aemond please,” you spread your legs before him, not caring anymore. “Please,” you groan as he starts to kiss your other calf, enjoying your breathy begging. 

He kisses up to your thigh once more and pulls back softly chuckling at your whine. You look down at him with a soft pout until you feel him starting to push your slip up further. He can see you center glistening in the candle light and looks back up to your pleading eyes. He looks across your body and nods knowing you won’t be getting any type of sleep tonight. 

“You are so very beautiful.” you let out a small whimper at his words. Your nails dig into the plush chaise as he licks up your center. He groans at your sweetness and grabs onto your hips to pull you closer. “Please let me know if it’s too much or if it doesn’t feel right.” he looks up at you. 

“Please just-“ you let out a soft cry as he buries his head between your thighs once more. “Yes,” you gasp as his tongue swirls around your bud. 

He rubs circles into your hips as he continues to lap at you listening to your sounds. You slowly roll your hips against his face and he quickens his movements pulling a gasp from you. He groans as he moves his tongue down to your core and finds your pooling wetness. He moves back up to your bud and encases it and sees your stomach flex. 

“Aemond.” you whine, grabbing onto one of his arms. “I’m- I, please,” soft pleas continue to fall from your mouth as he moves his tongue faster. With another cry of his name you fall apart on his face. “Oh,” you jolt as he starts to move his tongue even faster. 

Aemond can’t get enough of your sounds, it’s been far too long. Gods and your taste and the way you’re gripping onto his arm is spurring him on even more. He moves his other arm and circles one of his fingers around your entrance before slowly dipping it inside. Your broken whimpers are all he needs to hear before he starts pumping into you. 

He looks up at you and sees that your slip has shifted and he groans looking at your breasts. Your eyes are squeezed shut, focusing on the pleasure he’s offering you. When he pushes another finger into you, your pleasure begins to build rapidly. You start arching off the chaise when he pushes his fingers into you faster. He smiles as he laps at you and he hears your wetness coating his fingers. 

“Aem, I’m, please yes.” you squeak and pulse around his fingers. 

“Was that good?” he slowly slips his fingers out and sits back, slipping them into his mouth. “You taste very good.” you whimper at his words.

“Take off your clothes. I need you.” you reach for him but he’s already grabbed onto the hem of your slip and is pulling it over your head. 

“Are these still sensitive?” he whispers as he brushes his fingers against your nipples. Your small whimpers tell him everything he needs to know. He rolls the peaks between his fingers and watches you squeeze your legs shut. 

“Aemond please,” you grip his wrists. 

He chuckles and wraps his arms around you and lifts you to carry you to the bed. You pull at his clothes desperately and whine when he lays you back on the bed. You go to stand but stop when you find him removing his layers. At each reveal of his skin you spread your legs wider. Once he’s bare he crawls into bed with you and presses his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around him and pull him as close as you can. 

“Fill me.” you plead into his mouth. “Please,” you wrap your legs around his waist. “Fill me, I need it.” Aemond chuckles but lines up at your entrance nonetheless. 

He slowly pushes in and watches your face relax as small moans pour from your mouth. He presses his forehead against yours as he gets lost in your warmth and feel. When he settles within you he brings his lips to yours and slowly starts to rock his hips. You’re squeezing around him tightly and he’s trying to focus on kissing you to truly enjoy the feeling. 

“Move.” you jerk your hips. “Please.” your breath catches as he snaps his hips. 

“Hush.” he presses his lips to yours once more. “Let me just relish in the feel of you, my perfect wife.” he murmurs and kisses down to your neck. “I probably don’t even have to move to make you come undone.” he smirks against your skin as he brings his thumb down to your bud. 

“Yes,” you dig your nails into his back. He nibbles at your neck as he continues to swirl his thumb around your aching bud. “Please,” you hold him tighter. 

“I can feel how close you are.” he whispers into your neck, starting to roll his hips into yours. “Come for me and I’ll start moving.” he stills his hips once more and you let out a strained whimper. Your body is humming with pleasure as you moan out his name repeatedly. 

“Aemond I’m-“ you gasp as your pleasure slams through you. 

“Just like that.” Aemond lifts his head up and starts to pump into you. “You’re so perfect.” he presses his lips to yours. “Already wanting to be swollen with our child again.” his pace quickens at his words. 

“Yes.” you pant trying to nod your head. “Please let me.” you whine feeling your legs start to tremble from pleasure. 

“I’ll keep you filled with children as long as you please.” after every snap of his hips he rolls them into you after. 

“Thank you.” the two words slightly pleasure slurred as he continues with his pace. “Tha- mm-

“Fuck,” he groans as you pulse around him causing his pleasure to slam through him. 

You sigh with a smile as you feel his warmth spread throughout you. He presses his lips to yours as you both slowly rock against each other not quite ready to separate. You both stay sealed together until you both pull back with swollen lips, softly panting. He pulls out of you and watches a small frown form on your face. 

“We’re not done.” he kisses your lips. “I just need some water.” he chuckles before getting out of bed. “Would you like anything?” he glances over his shoulder watching you still spread out in the bed. 

“To be filled again.” he tilts his head back and laughs at your words. 

“In a moment.” he hums and slows his stride enjoying your whining filling your chambers. 

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masterlist  ⏾ wips  ⏾  taglist

sorry this took me so long sometimes i get stuck on scenes and forget i can skip around the chapter and finish other scenes 🫠 

im prob going to continue my sibling agenda and next chap is going to be a time skip of prob like 3yrs UGH i just want these babies up and talking !!! dad aemond is going to send me to my grave so be patient w me plss

also feeling emo so i love u all who love this story with me and if you have any cute little family and/or dad scenes you want me to try and bring to light lmk and ill sneak it in 👉🏻👈🏻  ok ily bye 

i see u as u are taglist: @readerselegance @sinistersnakey @thebirdandthebee

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething @naty-sunshine

[onceinamillionposter]

Yandere!L&D band headcannons

a/n : i literally just felt silly so I mean why not

Lead Vocalists : Rafayel

Drums: Sylus

Guitarist : Zayne

Guitarist : Xavier

Lead rapper : Caleb

With you as the manager !

Right off the bat, it was hell. You got hired from your last gig because your last managing job didn’t quite work out with a whole money laundering scheme being run behind the scenes and you having no idea, you were broke to say the least.

That was before you got that DM, the old manager of the L&D boys is retiring , and apparently you would be a good fit- although your face was all over the news. You practically jumped to the opportunity, signing your life away as you knew it.

You got situated slowly, being introduced to the members - Caleb and you hit it right off the bat , as well as Xavier and Rafayel but Zayne and Sylus were quite distant.

You learnt about them, Caleb would often pick on the others , Rafayel would be trouble just for the fun of it , Zayne was busy reading books and sketching new designs for the band and Sylus was often talking to two twins? You never pried and he never told. Xavier would always be asleep on the common room couch but would wake up when you were desperate for things done.

You had gotten used to the routine, managing accounts would have Rafayel sitting scrolling on his phone in your office often asking ,”Do your eyes not get tired looking at the screen? Why don’t we just go out!” Often you were able to get him to stop bothering you but sometimes he would drag you out regardless making it a bit too intimate.

When it was spring cleaning day , you and Zayne often bonded in silence, sometimes you asked the him about his interests, learning he’s a fan of medicine and drawing anatomy which garnered your attention so you would discuss about what you knew.

Sylus and you would work out at the gym, turning into a competition sometimes. He would help you box and you would show him pilates which he never (openly) struggled with. Sometimes you guys would go on morning runs - very early runs just so people don’t get the wrong idea.

Caleb, and you would bond over board games - monopoly, uno, hell even chess! Anything to keep the day moving. Also investing in the newest consoles (he has the bank of a billionaire he just wanted to tease) , and surprising you with them became normal. Just dance was an interesting time!

And finally Xavier, you and him watched movies and shows together and it was so fun - for you - often enough Xavier just fell asleep but when he woke up, you would cook together or at least try. He burnt more than cooked but that way okay, cause in the end the cupcakes were edible- sure they weren’t the best but they were consumable (when you look past the dark crust)!

You usually had to help them get things set up, stages, events and outfits. Everytime the tailor came in you figured that you would be sitting in a different room but for some reason or the other, everyone - minus Zayne - found a reason for you to be taking their measurements. Shirtless , might I add.

Rafayel claimed the tailor was incompetent - as if a novice like yourself would be any better , Caleb said that the tailor kept scratching at him - you took a peak at the nails and they were the dullest acrylic’s you had ever seen , Xavier said they made him uncomfortable but they had a squeaky clean record last time you checked and Sylus - ever honest - simply said “I hate them.” (you had to make them sign a non disclosure agreement after all of this)

One way or another you slowly were apart of their daily routines. But then the stranger things came, the weird lack of dating claims, back before you became manager there was tons of women that were accused of being with them but suddenly it was quiet. Too quiet, and then the first leak of you came with you and Sylus in an uncomfortably ,weirdly, intimate position. Slowly the media turned heads, it was strange it had been awhile since they had been in. any romantic spectacles and the media love drama.

Another time was Rafayel holding your hand and you holding his plushies he won at the arcade, him dragging you to the next stand. At the time it was anything but romantic but now it looked like a common date? To say the media blew up was a surprise, you had to practically beg Rafayel to make a video clarifying it was just getting him new stuff for his room.

Again a stupid photo really, Caleb holding your clip board so high you had to get on your tippy toes, it was backstage so you had to guess it was the people backstage who were working that took that awfully blurry photo- a pain it was really.

You and Zayne- to your surprise- also got a photo! Hooray! You took him out to satisfy his sweet tooth, he insisted he couldn’t work without it - (he just wanted you to himself) - maybe it was the setting? It being a kitty cafe but you know what - you still don’t know but it garnered attention , another tweet to the main profile for the boys.

But the worst, Xavier resting his head on your shoulder after a long day at the studio. He was so close, too close for you to even make an excuse at the time. But either way the criticism rolled in,

“L&D boys pass around,” “Manager managing all 5 boys”, “Common whore?” It frustrated you so deeply you wished to quit the job as much as you were payed , deciding it wasn’t worth it. But you didn’t know , they weren’t giving you up like that. Not when they slowly loved you, not yet.

[mapis-putellas]

so u want alexia angst you got it. The request: Alexia and y/n are a couple and have been together for two years. They are a very happy couple. But lately Alexia noticed that y/n is different. Like they go out alone etc. One day Alexia heard y/n ask will you marry me to someone, but it is not Alexia. Alexia is very angry and disappointed with y/n thinking y/n is cheating on her. Since that day Alexia has been ignoring y/n, giving silent treatment. Y/n does not know what she did wrong. Even the team is on Alexia's side. No one even bothered to talk to y/n. Y/n has been sleeping on the couch because Alexia asks her to. They still live together they just do things separately : they drive to training separately, they eat separately etc... One night y/n is very hungry but there is nothing to eat at home, so y/n decided to go out to buy something. Y/n even ask Alexia if she wants to follow her, but Alexia says no. So, y/n go out alone. Y/n stops by a convenience store to buy something. There are not a lot of people in that area but there is a family with kids in the store. When y/n look at the family, she imagines her future with Alexia. Suddenly, y/n is brought back to reality by a loud scream. It turns out the store is being robbed. The robbers are armed with a knife and gun. Y/n try to stay calm in order not to irritate the robbers. Suddenly, one of the robbers got angry and aimed the gun at one of the kids. Y/n cannot let that happen so she protect the kid with her body and end up getting shot 3 times, in her lower back, center back and shoulder. Once the robbers realized what happened they flee the scene. The kid’s family then thank y/n and keep pressure on her wounds and tell her to stay awake. But just before the help arrives y/n lose consciousness. She flatlines and they need to revive her. Just make it angsty like too many complication, huge blood lost etc. she is brought to the hospital and into surgery. She makes it out but, in a coma, but still critical with a low chance of waking up. Meanwhile when Alexia wakes up the next morning, it feels weird when she does not see y/n in the house. Alexia thought that y/n already went to training, so she proceeds as usual. Once in training she does not see y/n anywhere. She asks around but no one knows where y/n is. During their break, some of the teammates are watching news about a convenience store robbery. The news says that a woman in her late 20’s is critically wounded after protecting a child. The media does not disclose the name of the victim. Alexia also watches the news with them and is suddenly reminded of y/n. Alexia does not have a lot of time to think when she is suddenly called by Pere. Alexia feels something is wrong, very wrong. Pere told Alexia what happened to y/n and they went to the hospital. On their journey to the hospital, Alexia calls y/n’s family to tell them what happened. Y/n is in a coma and all of them are visiting her when suddenly y/n’s sister says something that shatters Alexia’s heart. She says that y/n was planning to propose to Alexia and already brought the ring. Turns out the conversation that Alexia heard is just y/n practicing with someone for the day of the proposal. Y/n’s sister then handed over the ring to Alexia and Alexia just cried. All of them left Alexia alone in the room to give her some privacy time. Alexia talks to y/n and then Alexia says she wants to marry y/n. Here comes the angstier part heheheh, once Alexia says that y/n condition worsens as if she is just waiting for an answer from Alexia before she lets go. Y/n then flatlines and the need to resuscitate her. Whether y/n is alive or not by the end I will leave it to you. I don’t mind a sad ending hahaha. Any way sorry for the long request, I just want to give as much detail as possible. I hope the story will be as long and as angsty as possible.hahhaha. Hope you don’t mind. Happy writing. Can’t wait. Sorry for the grammar mistakes. English is not my first language.

This is perfect and definitely something I want to do justice so it might be awhile before it’s up. Thank you so much <3

[pushspacetocontinue]

Travis couldn't help but look curious as he poked at the paw with his finger. Spending some time in prison had made him decide that it was better to appreciate things now that he could, even if others might think him silly for it.

"Still really cool," Travis said, before he blinked and chuckled at the boop he got, "Or should I say cold."

"And definitely cuter than shadow tentacles," Bill said with a small grin.

"Something tells me you'll all get the chance sooner rather than later," Antonio said, "And I'm looking forward to that."

He always enjoyed getting the chance to show off after all, and now he had more to show off with.

"Thank you, Rook," Antonio said, "You are right there, and we will get through this."

And even if there wasn't this situation where being divided would lead to disaster, it was just nice to be part of this found family either way. But then he, Travis and Bill laughed a little bit at being called the Honk Legion.

"Good one, Lucien," Bill said.

Antonio's head then snapped towards Ratchet when he realised the gadget user was waking up again.

"Up you get, Christopher," Antonio said.

"Wow, you could definitely give my gym buddies some inspiration as well," Travis said, as Willow lifted him like he was nothing, "Yeah, good idea. They say too many cooks spoil the soup after all, or however our brother Lewis would say it."

"You've had a break," Antonio said, "And we've got more things to ask you about, or well, take from you now. Yes, join us. We always could do with more members."

Especially now that Antonio was going to act in a play himself, it was even more fitting.

Russell had opted to share the other two protein bars he had gotten with the Twins now that no one else was around. He had figured they might be a bit hungry. Just as he had gotten them out and had been about to hand them over, he felt some relief when he saw Travis coming back first.

Leofric had taken to sipping at a bottle of coconut water while munching on a bacon maple dog cookie. He had also broken a little bit off of it to share with Smokey. On a counter in front of him was one of his many grimoires as he read over it.

"I think you like being high up here, don't you?" he asked the kitten.

SImon had also fallen into a silence as he kept typing out more things.

"Hey, Timmy and Tommy," Travis said, as casually as ever as he strolled over, "Hope you behaved yourselves while you were. We got a few more things to ask you."

Erica's tail flickered with anticipation as Travis reached out. It was rare to find people past the age of twelve who were willing to humor her antics. She stretched the paw a bit when she felt the poke.

"They're a bit cold, but that's how shadows are." she explained, then reached out to give Travis a boop.

"Let's hope the chance will present itself, then. I would like to see some of your new tricks for myself." Lucien replied.

"So do I." Willow added.

"What happened is in the past now." Rook replied, placing her other hand on Antonio's shoulder, "We can do this only if we're getting along. You guys do that and I'll deal with the rest. We can only be strong together."

"We're the Honk Legion."

"Fuck you, Lucien." Still, Rook couldn't help a smile at the joke.

Willow watched the two of them silently, then turned to look at Ratchet when he let out a rather pathetic whimper. "Speaking of clowns."

She made her way over and lifted Rachet up by the back of his clothes like he weighted nothing. "We can resume our interview."

"Come on– Give a guy a break!"

"Quiet."

"Right, I guess we should split." Rook said then, "We figure out how to sabotage that stuff while Travis can try to woo those big guys into telling us some more of their secrets."

"And I will join the theater club." Lucien added. His content expression had already shifted to his usual focused look. He was ready to give his contribute now that he finally had the chance to.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

NAUSICA I LOVE SO FREAKING MUCH YOUR WORK

i have a idea for a smutty fanfic with james hetfield 🥳

idk if someone already asked you this but anyways.

I just had the idea of ​​a fanfic of James who is married to reader and they have Cali (James's first daughter) newborn and reader's mother spends almost every day at her house with her granddaughter and those things, and because of those things they have not been able to have sex for months. But one night when his daughter and reader's mother are sleeping they have sex. It may sound strange but since James hasn't fucked for months, he goes a little hard, rough and very vocal with reader and makes everyone else wake up?

thank you so much!

Thank you so much for loving my stories. I'm so sorry if I'm posting this now. I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: mauture themes, sexual themes, strong language

_________________________

Interrupted desire

The house was finally silent. After months of exhaustion, between taking care of our newborn daughter, Cali, and my mother practically moving in to "help," James and I hadn't had a moment alone. Every night, we were either too tired or interrupted, and with my mother always around, privacy was nonexistent. Intimacy had become a distant memory.

But tonight? Tonight was different.

Cali was fast asleep in her bassinet, her tiny breaths even and peaceful. My mother had passed out in the guest room after an entire day of fussing over her granddaughter. For the first time in what felt like forever, there were no interruptions. No baby cries, no unannounced visits—just me, James, and a tension that had been simmering for months.

I barely had time to process it when James's hands were on me, his lips finding mine in a desperate kiss. His touch was rough, needy, and I felt my stomach tighten with anticipation. Months. It had been months since we had touched each other like this, and judging by the way James was gripping me, I wasn’t the only one feeling the ache of longing.

"Fuck, Y/N... you have no idea how much I've missed this," he growled against my skin, his voice thick with need. His hands slid under my shirt, rough fingers dancing over my skin, making me shiver.

I gasped as he lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against the mattress with a hunger that made my body burn. He wasn't holding back tonight. There was no slow build-up, no gentle teasing. Just raw, unfiltered need.

"James—" I barely got his name out before he was on me, his mouth trailing down my neck, teeth grazing my skin as he bit down, sucking marks onto my flesh. His body pressed against mine in a way that made me dizzy. The bed creaked beneath us as he moved, his groans mixing with my gasps.

He was rough. Desperate. Months of frustration poured into every movement. His hands gripped my hips tightly, keeping me right where he wanted me. He flipped me onto my stomach, his fingers pressing bruises into my skin as he yanked my hips back against him.

"You're mine, Y/N. Fuck, I’ve needed you so bad," he rasped, voice raw and wrecked.

The way he was panting, groaning, muttering curses under his breath—he wasn’t holding back, and neither was I. My fingers clawed at the sheets, trying to muffle my own moans, but it was impossible. The headboard hit the wall with a rhythmic thud, and the bedframe creaked louder than I remembered.

Too loud.

James didn’t seem to care. If anything, it only fueled him. His grip on my waist tightened, his thrusts growing even more relentless. He tangled a hand in my hair, tugging my head back as his teeth scraped against my shoulder. "Take it, baby. Fuck, you feel so good."

And then—

"What the hell?!"

The voice sliced through the air like a bucket of ice water.

James froze. My heart nearly stopped.

We turned in sync toward the door, where my mother stood, wide-eyed and horrified. In the crib, Cali stirred, letting out a tiny, confused wail.

James let out a long, frustrated groan and buried his face in the crook of my neck. "God damn it."

Heat flooded my face as I scrambled to grab the covers, my mind racing for an explanation—any explanation—but what could I even say?

Before I could come up with anything, my mother sighed dramatically. "For god's sake, at least have the decency to put a pillow behind the damn headboard next time!"

Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and marched down the hall, muttering under her breath about "young people and their hormones."

As soon as she disappeared, silence hung in the air for a long moment before James let out a breathy chuckle. "Oops."

I swatted at his chest, laughing despite myself. "Oops?! That’s all you have to say?"

James smirked, nuzzling into my neck. "What else can I say? Next time, I’ll try to keep it quieter."

James collapsed on top of me, breathless and defeated. "We finally get a moment and this happens."

I let out a helpless laugh, still reeling. "Well... at least now she knows we’re still married."

He groaned again, rolling off me, arms wrapping around my waist as he pulled me close. "We’re trying this again tomorrow. No interruptions."

"If we survive the embarrassment," I teased.

I rolled my eyes, but the truth was, I couldn’t wait for next time.

And honestly? It really was worth it.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 26 Chapter 26 | fortune's veil⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

After waking from the dreamlike encounter with Aphrodite, you found yourself lying in your own bed, the early morning light filtering through the curtains casting a soft glow across your room.

The surreal experience left you dazed, a mix of confusion and awe swirling within you as you tried to reconcile the goddess' revelations about the lifted curse and its implications for your life.

The warmth of the dream still clung to your skin like a fading perfume, making the mundane reality of your room seem oddly disconnected.

As you sat up, the echoes of Aphrodite's voice seemed to linger in the air, a constant reminder that while the curse was lifted, the capricious nature of the gods remained a powerful force, one that could shift the course of your life in ways you could scarcely imagine.

Unfortunately, you couldn't linger on such thoughts for long. Duty called, and you had responsibilities that wouldn't wait, even for divine revelations. As you finished getting dressed and made your way through the palace, performing your morning duties, you found yourself more observant, more aware of the subtle shifts in the behavior of those around you.

Were they just being polite, or did they sense something different about you now?

It wasn't until midday, as you were lost in thought while polishing the silver in the dining hall, that you were caught off guard by a familiar presence bounding toward you. Callias' grin was wide as he made his way through the bustling corridor, his face lighting up as he dodged around other servants and nearly tripped over a lounging dog in his haste.

As Callias made his way to you, his first words were tinged with surprise. "How come you're still in your servant's attire?" His brows were raised, a playful yet incredulous look painting his features, face still flushed from his sprint.

You blinked, confused by his question. "What do you mean?"

Rolling his eyes, Callias huffed, his impatience evident. "Were you even paying attention to the king's announcement at the feast last night? He declared that today would be the Cultural Exchange Festival between Ithaca, Athena's domain, and Bronte, Ares' domain. Everyone's supposed to dress in the styles of either place to celebrate the unity!"

At the mention of the feast, a flush crept up your cheeks, your mind involuntarily recalling the incident with Telemachus—how close he had been, the intensity in his eyes. But just as quickly as the warmth appeared, it tapered off, overshadowed by the realization of why it had happened, the manipulation by Eros, and Aphrodite's subsequent revelation in your dream.

You shook off the memory, focusing back on Callias, who was now watching you with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "I... I guess I missed that part," you admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed. "It was a hectic night."

"Well, you better hurry up and change then," Callias said, his tone lightening, trying to ease the mood. "You can't miss out on all the fun. Plus, there's a ship docked this morning from a distant land, and they've brought things from far-off lands that you wouldn't believe!"

His excitement was infectious, and despite the lingering thoughts of divine interventions and cursed legacies, you found yourself nodding along, caught up in his enthusiasm. "Alright, lead the way then. Just let me put this away and I'll find something more fitting to wear."

Callias grinned, satisfied with your response, and bounced on his heels. "Great! Meet me at the festival; I'll be lingering near the front. Don't take too long!"

Watching him dart off, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and amusement at his ability to pull you out of your reverie and back into the present. With a more immediate concern now at hand, you hurried back to your quarters, your steps quickening with the prospect of the festival and what wonders it might hold, pushing the complexities of gods and curses to the back of your mind for just a little longer.

.☆.      .✩.          .☆.

You arrived at the festival already in full swing, the grounds buzzing with a vibrant blend of Ithaca and Bronte's cultures. The air was rich with the smells of roasted meats and freshly baked breads, mingling with the sweet scents of pastries and spiced wines that vendors shouted about from their stalls. Children darted through the crowd, their laughter rising above the murmur of conversations and the occasional burst of music from a corner where musicians played.

For the occasion, you had chosen to wear a simple yet vibrant outfit reflecting both cultures. Your skirt was a deep ocean blue, and tied to your head was a forest green scarf, symbolizing the waters surrounding Ithaca and its lush landscapes of land.

Today, you also decided to wear your golden laurel crown, feeling it was fitting for the day's significance. It sat atop your head, catching the sunlight and casting small glimmers onto the path ahead, a subtle reminder of your recent acknowledgment by the gods.

The decorations around you showcased the unity and contrasts of the two cultures. Stands were draped in rich blues and greens, interspersed with bold touches of yellow and red, symbolizing the mingling of wisdom and valor, peace and conflict. Banners fluttered in the breeze, displaying symbols of olive branches and swords crossed in harmony.

As you made your way through the festival, absorbing the lively atmosphere, you suddenly heard your name. Turning toward the sound, you saw Callias making his way toward you with an excited grin, dodging past other festival-goers with a nimble grace that reflected his light spirits. His friends followed, laughing and chatting amongst themselves, clearly caught up in the festive spirit.

"Look who finally decided to join us!" Callias exclaimed as he reached you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I was beginning to think you'd miss all the fun."

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "What's got you in such a rush?"

Callias' grin widened as he gestured broadly to the scene around you. "How can you not be excited? It's not every day we get to see such a blend of Athena's calm and Ares' passion all in one place!"

His excitement was contagious, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be fully drawn into the joy of the festival, the earlier weight of divine secrets momentarily lightened by the simple pleasure of the celebration.

The rest of the group finally caught up, each one of them wearing bright smiles that mirrored the festive spirit in the air. "Took you long enough," Callias teased as they approached, his tone light and jovial.

Kieran laughed, rolling his eyes. "We would've been here sooner if Lysandra hadn't insisted on rescuing that runaway scarf from a tree," he said, nodding towards Lysandra who was adjusting a beautifully intricate scarf back around her neck.

"Oh, stop it. It's my favorite scarf, and you know it," Lysandra retorted with a playful swat at Kieran's arm. She then turned to you, her eyes brightening as she noticed your attire. "Oh, I love how you're embracing the festival theme with that crown. It suits you beautifully," she complimented, stepping closer to get a better look.

You felt a flush of warmth at her words, your hand subconsciously reaching up to touch the golden laurel crown. "Thank you," you replied, a bashful smile playing on your lips. You straightened up, cleared your throat, and looked around at the group, eager to dive into the festival's offerings. "So, where to first?"

Surprisingly, it was Asta who stepped forward with a wide grin, her energy almost palpable. "There's this one stall you absolutely have to try," she began, her voice filled with excitement as she grabbed your hand and started pulling you along. "They've got these amazing Brontean pastries I think you'll love!"

Feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect of exploring the festival with people your age, you allowed yourself to be led by Asta, her enthusiasm infectious. You cast a half-joking, half-helpless look over your shoulder at Callias, Kieran, and Lysandra, hearing Kieran snort in amusement. "Oh, get ready guys—Asta's going to ramble her ear off about every dish she has to try."

The group's laughter mingled with the music and chatter around you, the sounds of the festival enveloping you in a tapestry of joy and camaraderie.

As Asta pulled you along, weaving through the bustling festival, the next hour unfolded like a colorful tapestry of sights, sounds, and scents.

The festival grounds were alive with energy, each corner bursting with the vibrant traditions of both Ithaca and Bronte. Stalls lined up one after another, each adorned with banners flaunting deep ocean blues and forest greens of Athena's domain, contrasted sharply by the bold yellows and fiery reds representing Ares' territory.

The visual blend of colors not only marked the festival grounds but also symbolized the union of two distinct cultures under a banner of temporary peace and celebration.

You passed by games of skill and chance that drew lively crowds—children and adults alike shouting in excitement. Ithacan games focused more on strategy and skill, like archery contests where participants needed a keen eye and a steady hand. In contrast, Brontean games seemed to revel in strength and endurance, featuring competitions like hammer throws and tug-of-war, which showcased the brute force for which Ares' followers were renowned.

The food stalls were an adventure in themselves.

You sampled dishes that were a fusion of both kingdoms' flavors, but it was a particular pastry that caught your attention, thanks to Asta's insistence. Called "Ambrosia's Delight," this pastry was a deceptive treat—golden and dusted with a shimmering sugar that suggested a saccharine taste. However, upon biting into it, the unexpected bitterness mingled with a subtle sweetness, revealing a complexity that mirrored the delicacy's cultural significance in Bronte.

Apparently, it was a revered treat, enjoyed especially during festivals, symbolizing that even the most heavenly things can have a bitter truth beneath their golden exterior; a very Bronte lesson, considering Ares' patronage and their warrior mindset.

Amidst the laughter and cheers, you found yourself fully immersed in the festival's lively atmosphere, each new stall offering a small window into the traditions that shaped the daily lives of both Ithacan and Brontean citizens.

Asta, ever enthusiastic, narrated anecdotes about each game and dish, bringing them to life with her vibrant descriptions and personal tales. Her stories painted a picture of Bronte's rugged landscapes and the resilient spirit of its people, making you appreciate the depth of her homeland's culture even more.

Just then, Kieran, ever eager to explore more, pointed towards a nearby stall. "Look! They're starting a puppet show over there," he announced, his eyes lighting up as he gestured towards a small crowd gathering a few feet away.

Callias, still grinning from his earlier teasing, leaned in with an exaggerated smirk. "A puppet show, Kieran? What are you, five? Next, you'll be asking for—Oh," His words died in his throat as his gaze landed on someone passing out candy to the children. "They're giving out free samples of Warrior's Ember?"

Kieran barely had time to process Callias' sudden shift before Callias lunged forward, practically shoving past him. "Hey! Watch it!" Kieran yelped, stumbling as he tried to keep up.

"You watch it!" Callias shot back, his usual grace momentarily forgotten as he tripped over Kieran's foot in his rush to get to the glistening treats wrapped in parchment.

The two crashed into each other, a flailing mess of limbs and fabric, before nearly toppling to the ground. Kieran let out a dramatic "oof!" as he scrambled to stay upright, gripping Callias' sleeve for balance.

Callias, undeterred, used Kieran as leverage to push himself forward, regaining his footing before bolting toward the stall. "Out of my way, I'm getting one first!"

"You are not!" Kieran huffed, recovering quickly before chasing after him, both of them shoving and stumbling in a ridiculous race toward the vendor.

Lysandra let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking her head as she watched the two nearly tackle each other over candy. "Men," she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms before turning toward the puppet show. "I'll go ahead and save us a seat. No point in waiting for them to finish embarrassing themselves."

Asta snorted but nodded. "Good idea."

With that, Lysandra strode off with the air of someone who had witnessed this nonsense too many times before, leaving the boys to their fate.

By the time you and Asta arrived at the puppet show, it was just kicking off. Lysandra had managed to save you both seats, and you slipped into them just as the first puppet appeared.

You glanced over and saw Callias and Kieran a few feet ahead. They were surrounded by a cluster of children, all of whom were watching the show with rapt attention while munching on the colorful candy Callias had been so excited about.

You couldn't help but snort softly at the sight—Callias seemed just as enthralled as the kids, his eyes wide, a piece of candy halfway to his mouth as he stared at the unfolding drama.

You turned your attention to the show, where a vibrant display of craftsmanship was evident in the detailed puppet figures that danced and twirled under the skilled manipulation of the puppeteers. The puppet show was a vibrant tableau of color and movement, drawing you into a world woven from threads of Brontean mythology and lore.

The story unfolded through a series of ornately dressed puppets, each character vividly brought to life by the skilled hands of the puppeteers behind the scenes.

The main character was a Brontean hero, a figure of might and ambition, dressed in a costume that shimmered with hints of dark green and gold, reflecting the militaristic and ambitious nature of his homeland. His armor was intricately designed, each plate carefully crafted to catch the light with every movement, casting tiny reflections across the awed faces of the audience.

As the play began, the hero was introduced in a dramatic fashion. The puppeteers manipulated him to stand tall and proud on the makeshift stage, a wooden sword held high, his voice—projected by a hidden actor—booming across the open space.

"Behold, I am Calix, chosen by Ares, to lead and conquer, to carve my destiny with the edge of my blade!" the puppet declared, his voice echoing with a mix of pride and foreboding.

The story that unfolded was one of epic battles and cunning strategies. Calix, the puppet hero, faced a series of challenges, each more daunting than the last, involving treacherous enemies and mythical beasts. His journey was not just one of physical combat but also of intellectual warfare, as he sought to outmaneuver his rivals and secure his place in the annals of Brontean legends.

You watched, fascinated, as Calix navigated through political intrigue and battlefield prowess, his ambitions growing with each victory. The puppets representing his enemies were equally impressive, adorned in darker hues, their faces carved to express the malice and desperation of those threatened by Calix's rise.

At one point, the tension on the stage reached a peak when Calix faced his greatest enemy—a rival warrior king who had been his friend in their youth. The scene was charged with emotional conflict, the dialogue poignant.

"Why do you climb so high, Calix, only to find yourself alone at the summit?" the rival king asked, his puppet's face twisted in a mix of anger and sorrow.

Calix responded with a steely gaze, his voice unwavering. "It is better to reign in solitude than to kneel in crowded submission."

You found yourself leaning over to whisper to Lysandra, seeking more context. "Is this a famous story in Bronte?" you asked, your voice low amid the rapt silence of the surrounding crowd.

Lysandra nodded, her eyes not leaving the stage. "Yes, it's the tale of Calix the Ambitious, a hero who teaches us both the power of relentless ambition and the isolation it can bring. It's celebrated but also serves as a cautionary tale for those wise enough to heed it."

The play concluded with Calix achieving his ultimate goal, ascending to the highest throne, but at the cost of his personal connections. The final scene showed him alone on his throne, the cheers of his army echoing hollowly in the distance as he looked out over a vast, empty battlefield.

As the puppets took their final positions and the puppeteers bowed to the applause of the crowd, you sat back, the story's moral lingering in your mind. The spectacle had been thrilling, but the underlying message was a somber reflection on the price of unchecked ambition.

The crowd around you erupted into applause, their cheers a mixture of admiration for the puppeteers' skill and contemplation of the tale's deeper meanings. You clapped along, your thoughts still intertwined with the hero's lonely victory as the group prepared to move on to the next attraction, the weight of the story adding a thoughtful note to the festival's festive atmosphere.

As you and your friends wandered through the festival, each stall and display seemed to offer a new facet of Bronte's culture to explore. The air was thick with the scents of spiced meats and sweet pastries, each stand adorned with vibrant banners that reflected the kingdom's love for bold colors and grand statements.

Here, the influence of Ares, the god of war, was evident in the displays of armor and weapons, not just as tools of conflict but as art forms to be admired. Each piece told a story of battles won and the glory of individual valor.

Callias and his friends pointed out various items, sharing bits of Bronte's history with you. "In Bronte, strength and cunning are more than just traits," Callias explained as you passed a display of intricately carved swords. "They're virtues, celebrated and honed from a young age. It's about rising through the ranks, proving your worth in every aspect of life."

Lysandra chimed in, her voice tinged with a mixture of pride and caution. "But that ambition often comes with a cost. It can drive people to greatness, or to acts of ruthless determination. It's admired, yes, but feared too."

The group's conversation gave you deeper insight into the dual nature of Bronte's values—admirable yet intimidating, a culture where power was both a goal and a gauge of one's worth. This realization made the tales of their heroes, like the puppet show's Calix, resonate more deeply. They were not just stories of adventure; they were reflections of Bronte'very soul.

After a while, the group stopped by a water stand, quenching their thirst and taking a brief respite from the midday sun. The festival air buzzed with life—laughter, chatter, the distant echo of music—but as you wiped the back of your hand against your damp forehead, your gaze drifted past the stalls, catching on something... peculiar.

A stand stood slightly apart from the others, nestled in the shadow of a faded, canvas tent. Unlike the bright Brontean and Ithacan booths—draped in banners, gold accents, and vibrant tapestries—this one was plain, almost rickety, with wooden posts that looked as if they had weathered far too many storms. The cloth of the tent, a once-rich shade now dulled by time and dust, stretched overhead, providing a pool of shade that contrasted sharply with the glaring midday light.

A rickety wooden chair sat in front of the stand, slightly off-center, its legs uneven against the dirt-packed ground, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze, creaking softly, though no one sat in it. Yet.

Unlike the other stalls, which called to passersby with boisterous vendors and enticing displays, this one seemed to exist in its own quiet space—an oddity among the grandeur, tucked away yet deliberately placed, as if waiting for the right kind of customer to notice it.

You would have walked right past it if Callias hadn't paused, squinting at the signage that promised insights from the "Mystic Seer of the East." "Hey, Kieran," Callias called out, his tone playful yet curious, "isn't that from the cargo ship that docked this morning? The one with all the unusual crates?"

Kieran hummed thoughtfully, peering at the stand with renewed interest. "Yeah, I think it is. I saw them setting it up early today. Didn't think much of it then, but..." His voice trailed off as he eyed the colorful drapes and the strange, mystical symbols that decorated the booth.

The allure of the unknown was too much to resist. Intrigued, you all approached the stand, drawn by the promise of a different kind of knowledge, perhaps even a glimpse into futures unseen. The psychic's booth, with its mysterious air and out-of-place appearance, offered a break from the cultural exhibitions, a dip into the intriguing world of the mystical and unexplained.

Stepping closer, you felt a mix of excitement and a hint of apprehension—the unknown always carried a thrill, but with it, a shadow of risk. What secrets might the seer reveal, and were you truly prepared to hear them?

Surprisingly, it was Asta who first broke the group's hesitation. "Let's check it out," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief. Her suggestion was met with a round of nodding heads, and together you moved closer to the peculiar stand.

As you approached, a soft jingle echoed from within the tent, like wind chimes stirred by a gentle breeze. Then, with a flourish of colorful fabric, a veiled woman stepped from behind the curtains. She was an enigmatic figure, draped in layers of flowing garments that whispered with every movement, adorned with tiny bells and jangles that tinkled melodiously around her wrists and ankles. Her face was obscured by a sheer veil, and her hands—visible as she gestured to you—were intricately tattooed with symbols and patterns that spiraled across her skin, adding to her mystique.

Positioning herself behind the stand, she began to shuffle a deck of cards with a practiced ease, the cards flipping and dancing between her decorated fingers. "Welcome," she intoned, her voice smooth and slightly accented, "I am Eione, keeper of secrets and seer of futures." Her eyes, the only part of her face visible through the veil, sparkled with a challenge as she continued, "Step forward and receive your future, if you dare."

The group exchanged hesitant glances, the air thick with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Then, with a shrug and a grin that bordered on reckless, Kieran stepped forward. Flipping a rickety chair around, he sat down backwards on it, resting his arms over the backrest, and smiled charmingly at Eione. "Hit me with your best shot," he said, his demeanor casual but his eyes alight with intrigue.

Eione paused, her hands stilling over the deck. She studied Kieran for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if measuring his boldness. Then, with a mysterious smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, she drew a card and placed it on the table before him, face up.

The card depicted two figures standing beneath a radiant sun, their hands almost touching, a choice lingering between them. Behind them, a mountain loomed, and above, an angel watched, as if guiding their fate.

"Ah," she said, her voice carrying a note of amusement, "the Lovers Return. It seems an old flame may rekindle for you, young man."

Kieran raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and skepticism crossing his features. You noticed him shift slightly, straightening in his chair as he leaned forward to get a better look at the card. The hint of a smile played at the edges of his mouth before he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head with a dismissive snort. "Can't wait to see that drama unfold," he said, his tone light but with a curious undertone that betrayed his interest.

He stood up from his chair, brushing off his trousers as he gestured grandly to the others, encouraging someone else to take a turn. Lysandra started to move forward, but Eione raised a hand, stopping her with a soft but firm, "Wait."

Turning her gaze between Lysandra and Asta, Eione's expression grew thoughtful, her eyes narrowing slightly as if reading something unseen in the air around them. "Both of you, come forward together," she instructed, her voice carrying a note of certainty. "Your futures are deeply intertwined."

The two women exchanged a look, a mixture of excitement and nervousness passing between them before they stepped up to the table as one. Eione shuffled the deck again, her fingers dancing expertly over the cards before she drew two and placed them side by side.

The first card a brilliant sun shining over a child on horseback in a filed of blooming sunflowers, its rays stretching across a clear blue sky—symbolic of happiness and new beginnings. The second card showed a regal woman seated on a lush throne, surrounded by wheat fields and blooming flowers, in a gown adorned with pomegranates representing growth and the deepening of bonds.

"Joy and growth await you both," Eione declared, her voice soft yet resonant in the quiet that had settled around the booth. "Your paths are woven together, reinforcing each other's strength and bringing light to shared endeavors."

Lysandra and Asta looked at each other, smiles slowly spreading across their faces as they absorbed the seer's words. The connection between them, always palpable to those who knew them well, seemed to solidify with the turn of the cards, their hands reaching out to clasp each other's in silent acknowledgment of their shared future.

After Lysandra and Asta had their futures read, their smiles seemed to brighten the space around them. Lysandra, still caught in the high of the moment, turned over her shoulder and called out to Callias, "Your turn, huh?" But he just shook his head, a playful smirk spreading across his face as he declined. "I think I know enough of my future for one day," he said, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

With Callias opting out, Eione's gaze shifted toward you. The intensity of her look made you pause as she asked, "And what about you? Would you like to see what the future holds?" Her voice was smooth, inviting yet somehow imposing.

You hesitated, the weight of the recent revelations about divine influences making you uncertain. But curiosity, and perhaps a desire for some control over the unknown, nudged you forward. You nodded, taking a deep breath, and walked over to sit across from her.

As you settled into the rickety chair, Eione studied you for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to peer into your very soul. She began shuffling the cards, her movements precise and deliberate. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, as if she were seeing something beyond the physical space of the festival. You couldn't help of bein in awe, noticing how her lips moved in silent whispers, adding to the mystique of her craft. 

Then, unexpectedly, her hand faltered.

The cards slipped from her grasp, scattering across the table. Five of them landed face up, splayed in a haphazard arrangement. You leaned forward, your heart pounding as you took in the images on the cards. You weren't sure what they meant, but each of them were richly illustrated, the symbols vivid and ominous.

As you absorbed the powerful imagery, Eione let out a soft, almost imperceptible gasp. Her eyes, previously glazed over as if she were in a trance, sharpened suddenly as they landed on you. Coming out of her daze, her voice grew soft yet carried a weight that drew your ears closer. "I notice the mark of Apollo's favor," she said, her gaze intensifying as she gestured subtly toward you. "It's like a barrier of protection over your fate."

She leaned forward, her hands hovering over the cards as if to gather them but then paused, offering to explain their meanings. "You have much ahead of you," she said, her finger tracing the air above each card as if to underline their importance.

Just as Eione opened her mouth to delve deeper into the explanation, the distant sound of trumpets and the loud announcement of the tournament beginning cut through the atmosphere. The woman sighed, a flicker of frustration crossing her features at the interruption.

With a resigned smile, she quickly listed off the meanings of each card, her words concise but laden with significance. "The Hanged Man calls you to let go and view things from a new perspective, The High Priestess urges you to trust your intuition, The Tower warns of necessary upheaval, The Wheel of Fortune reminds you that life is a cycle of ups and downs, and Judgment... Judgment is a calling to rise and rebirth."

Her eyes met yours once more, lingering with something unreadable. "May you find your answers in these," she murmured, her voice laced with quiet knowing, as if she already understood what was coming.

Then, with a graceful rise from her seat, Eione collected the cards with a sweep of her hands, the images disappearing into the deck with an almost magical fluidity. She nodded to you politely before turning and walking back inside her tent, the curtains closing softly behind her.

Left with a mind swirling with the cryptic messages of the tarot and the enigmatic advice of the fortune teller, you sat for a moment, collecting your thoughts. The festival around you buzzed with excitement and noise, but for a brief moment, you were anchored in a sea of introspection, pondering the path laid out before you by the cards.

Callias broke the heavy silence with his characteristic levity. "Is that the kind of mythical shit that happens when I'm not around?" He tutted playfully, shaking his head. "I'm going to have to really stick around if I'm trying to see a god."

Lysandra, Asta, and Kieran reacted with a mix of surprise and concern. "Damn, that was kind of eerie," Lysandra murmured, her eyes wide as she glanced at the tent Eione had disappeared into.

"Did y'all feel that? That was... cryptic," Kieran added, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily.

Asta, noticing your subdued mood, changed the subject to lighten the atmosphere. "Uh, so, are you excited about the tournament?" she asked, her voice bright with curiosity.

You blinked, taken aback. "What tournament?" The question slipped out before you could catch it.

Callias let out an exaggerated sigh and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, helping you up from your seat. "Poor thing, nothing really gets into that head but music, huh?" he teased, leading you away from the fortune teller's stand. "Didn't you hear? They announced a jousting tournament between the two kingdoms."

The group erupted into laughter at his playful jab, and you couldn't help but smile, playfully punching Callias' arm. "You could have just told me instead of making fun," you chided, though the warmth in your voice betrayed your amusement.

"What's the fun in that?" His laughter rang out as he steered the group toward the tournament grounds, the earlier tension dissipating into the festive air filled with anticipation for the upcoming event. The contrast between the mystical encounter and the lively festival atmosphere felt stark, yet somehow fitting as you all moved together towards the new diversion, the promise of excitement drawing you back into the present moment.

A/N: double update!?! ka0chowwwww. but fr, i got a great explanation for leaving you guys for a bit... somehow, I recently lost some of my notes for upcoming chapters and had to re-write the ending from memory... i was trynna be a show-off to my sis show her how long i had the damn thing (since like when epic first caught my eye around 2021 and i was just writing lil headcanons)  and ended up pressing delete part 😭😭😭 the way my heart dropped to my ass was truly an experience. anywho good news, while re-writing it, i got inspired while smoking for a new fic that will be happening immediately after this one, and y'all i'm so hyped frr, might just drop the first chapter to show you guys soon. other than that, hope you guys have been taking care of yourselves, i know real life has been tough for a lot of us lately, but dont give up, we still got shit to do ❤️❤️ we got this babes, see you

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[improbable-outset]

📂 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐭

↳ 📄 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

↳ 📄 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

Jayce Talis x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.9k

𝐂𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐖: established relationship, found family, child neglect, adoption,

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You bring home an abandoned baby from the Undercity, and Jayce helps you raise her, only to later uncover the tragic past she carries.

‘Please take care of her. I can’t keep her anymore’

The words on the crumpled note hadn’t left your mind since you found it, and now as Jayce read them, you watched his reaction carefully.

The first time you saw those words, standing in the alleyway with the cold biting at your skin and the baby tucked in the box, they filled you with an indescribable feeling. A sinking weight on your chest, a quiet fury.

Her mother hasn’t left any extra blankets. No food. No keepsakes.

Only two sentences, scrawled in rushed, panicked handwriting— like she couldn’t get away fast enough.

Now, watching Jayce’s reaction with fresh eyes, you saw how heavily the words weighed on him. His brows furrowed, his fingers gripping the edge of the paper like he was trying to make sense of something beyond senseless.

“What’s with that look?” you asked.

Jayce exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is… a lot. All of it.”

His gaze moved over the room, taking in the sight of the baby still sleeping beside you on the bed, the bottles on the nightstand, the new makeshift changing station you’d set up overnight.

You didn’t miss the surprise look in his face when he first noticed all the baby supplies the night before— the realisation set in that this wasn’t some impulsive decision.

“I wanted to show you the note when you got home yesterday.”

Jayce's eyes flicked to yours, his tone betraying his exhaustion and confusion. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because we were already arguing.” You shifted your weight, glancing toward the baby. Her chest rising and falling peacefully. “I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Jayce looked down at the note again, his jaw tightening. “I see…”

Silence settled between you both. Heavy and full of uncertainty.

It has been a long night, and neither of you have gotten much sleep. You were exhausted, not just from the baby waking every few hours, but from the weight of everything on your shoulders.

Jayce had tossed and turned besides you, restless and lost in thoughts he hadn’t spoken out loud. And now, reading the note, things didn’t feel any clearer. If anything, they felt even more complicated.

Jayce leaned back against the pillows, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. Once, you would’ve taken in the moment to admire him like this— soft and unguarded in the morning light. But not today. Not when you were both too drained to appreciate the small, familiar things.

“I can’t believe she was still alive in that box.” His voice is quieter now. “God knows how long she was out there, waiting for someone to find her.”

There was something different in his tone, something that made your stomach clench. A shift from last night’s argument. Less resistance, more contemplation.

The gears were still turning in his head, still trying to make sense of it all. But you’ve already made peace with your decision.

Your arms tightened around yourself. “She was lucky I got there in time.”

“Yeah.” Jayce paused and let out a slow breath. “And now… you don’t want to send her back out there.”

Your fingers curled slightly. “I won’t send her back out there.”

Jayce’s brows pull together, conflict in his expression. “I don’t want that either, but—”

“Jayce.” You turned to face him fully. The look on his face told you he already knew where this conversation was heading— but that didn’t mean he was ready for it. “I’m not asking you to help me raise her. I won’t force you into this. But please—don’t ask me to give her up to an orphanage.”

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing slightly.

“I…” his eyes flickered towards the baby, impossibly small, curled up in her swaddle.

“Look at her.” Your voice softened. “She’s so fragile.”

Something shifted in Jayce’s expression.

“I’m looking…” he murmured. His shoulders sagged slightly, the tension in his frame easing a little. “We’ll figure something out.”

You studied his face, searching for doubts, for any more resistance. It was still there, but it was tangled with something else that you couldn’t name

Something softer.

You stepped closer. “Do you want to hold her?”

Jayce hesitated, his gaze flickered between you and the baby. You could see the conflict in his eyes— the weight of uncertainty consuming him. But underneath it, there was something else that you couldn't decipher.

Letting out a shaky breath, he finally answered. “…yeah.”

Settling on the bed, he waited for you to place the baby in his arms. His movements were stiff, uncertain, but still careful— like he was aware how fragile she was. You guided him, adjusted his arms and made sure he supported her head properly.

The baby looked so tiny against him, barely filling the space between his broadhands. Watching him like this— cautious, focused, gentle in a way you’ve never seen before— made your heart thud a little harder in your chest. Something you hadn’t felt in a while.

For a moment, a quiet awe settled on his expression as he stared at her. Then, the baby stirred in his arms, letting out soft whimpers. You recognised the signs immediately.

“She’s getting hungry,” you murmured.

Jayce looked up at you, hesitancy flickered in his eyes. “I don’t know…I’ve never done this before.”

“I’ll show you.”

Without waiting for the baby's cries to escalate, you headed to the kitchen. The last two days had changed something in you— sharpened your instincts you never knew you had. Every fuss, every tiny shift, you feel like you could sense it before it fully happened.

As you prepared the bottle, you realised how fluid your movements were compared to the first time. You’ve done this so many times in just two days, and it was already becoming second nature.

This has been a learning experience for you. And even if you never wanted to pressure Jayce into helping, a part of you wished he would.

When the bottle was finally ready, you quickly checked the temperature, then rushed back to the bedroom.

“Here you go! Breakfast,” you handed the bottle to Jayce.

His hand trembled as he took it from you, fingered brushing against yours lightly. He exhaled sharply, steadying himself before glancing down at the baby.

She was starting to fuss in his arms, so you adjusted his grip, guiding him. “Tilt it a little more.. and be patient. She’ll latch on when she’s ready.”

Jayce brought the bottle’s nipple to the baby’s mouth, but she turned her head away, letting out soft, dissatisfied noises.

He frowned. “She’s not—”

“She will,” you assured him. “Give her a second.”

After a few tries, she finally latched onto the bottle, her small mouth sucking eagerly at the milk.

The room lapsed into a silence, saved for the soft sounds of her drinking, the quiet suckling, the faint rhythm of the milk flowing through the bottle's nipple.

Jayce held back a smile as he watched her, his gaze following the way her tiny feet moved back and forth as if in response to the milk filling her mouth.

You could see his confidence growing with each passing moment. The way his shoulders loosened slightly, the crease in his brows easing a little.

There was something about watching your lover— the person that you had devoted the rest of your life to— feeding a small, helpless life, a child who depended on you for everything. Seeing them nurture something so fragile, sustaining them.

It was intimate in a way you hadn’t expected.

And now, Jayce was in that position. Cradling her, bottle in hand. You started to understand.

You understood why he had looked at you the way he did last night. Almost like something disarmed in him after your heated conversation.

He gazed back at you, catching you staring. “What?”

You shook your head softly, a small smile on your lips. “Nothing. Just…you’re a natural.”

He managed a chuckle at that, a sound deep and familiar that rumbled in your chest.

“You think so?” he asked, a sense of pride and hesitation in his voice. You could tell your words had an effect on him, even if his grip on the bottle was a little shaky.

“Yeah. She already seems to trust you.”

“I don’t know about that,” he murmured, but you saw the way his expression softened as he looked down at her. But just as quickly, a slight dread crossed his face.

“I don’t know the first thing about taking care of babies” he admitted, as if his confession carried some weight “How am I supposed to…give her everything she needs.”

You knew that feeling too well. The helplessness, the doubt.

You had felt it that night you found her— when you first picked her up from the box, her cries were sharp and desperate against your chest. The fear of not knowing what to do. Of not being good enough for her.

But Jayce had you to guide him.

When you first held her, you had no one. No voice to reassure you, no steady hands to show you the way. Just you and this tiny fragile life depending on someone— depending on you— to keep her alive.

Just like Jayce, your hands had trembled when you held her. At first, instincts had kicked in before your brain even caught up. You had pulled her close, shielding her from the cold, desperate to keep her warm.

And then the realisation settled in like cold water down your back.

The panic had clawed onto you, but somehow, you managed to push through it. You had to force yourself to think logically, one step at a time.

Bring her inside. Get her warm.

And after that, everything else had escalated.

“Jayce, you’re not alone in this, remember? I’m caring for her too,” you reminded him gently. “I’ve done this alone while you were gone. But now that we have each other, we can share the workload.”

“Yeah, but what if I mess up? She’s so…small.”

Jayce’s confidence from before was starting to falter. And then, something about his words caught your attention. Not the way he said it but the words he chose.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You mess up? Not we?”

Jayce stilled. His fingers twitched slightly on the blanket wrapped around the baby, his brows furrowing only realising what he said.

“Was that how it came out, or…” you pressed gently. “Were you thinking about raising her too?”

“I don’t know…maybe,” he trailed off, thumb rubbing absently over the fabric of the blanket. Finally, after a pause— “Yeah.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I don't know…” he said, his voice soft and sincere as he tried to search for the right words. “Maybe…maybe it's because I can't imagine letting anyone else do this. She feels...right, in my arms. Like she was meant to be here, with me…”

As his decision finally solidified, the baby finished off the last ounce of milk. Her sucking turned sluggish. You watched as her eyes fluttered, her belly now full. A little dribble of milk slipped down her chin.

Jayce lowered the empty bottle and slowly pulled it away before handing it back to you.

“Now you have to burp her,” you said.

“Burp her?”

“Yeah, to get any trapped air out of her belly.” You smiled, trying to disarm his nerves. “Sit her on your lap and lean her forward a little.”

Jayce repositioned the baby carefully, propping her against his lap. His hands— so much larger than her small frame— hovered awkwardly as he looked back at you for reassurance.

You guided him, showing him how to support her head and chest with one hand, making sure her head stayed stable.

“Now, pat her back gently.” you instructed, demonstrating the motion.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he placed his broad palm against her back. The first few pats were hesitant and too soft to do anything.

“A little firmer than that,” you encouraged.

He frowned. “What if I burp her too hard?”

“What?”

“What if I go too hard and I…you know…hurt her—”

Before he could spiral any further, his words were cut off and the baby let out several soft burps in quick succession. The tiny sounds were barely more than puffs of air, but she let out a content sigh afterwards.

“Did that count?” Jayce asked.

“Yeah, that counts.”

You laughed at his cautious determination, a warmth spreading through your chest as you watched him care for this new life now in your home.

“I guess…I didn’t do too badly,” he laughed softly.

You sniffed the air dramatically. “I smell something.”

“Smell something?” Jayce arched his brow. “What—”

“Is that…a newfound paternal instinct?” you teased, your lips growing to a grin when you saw the look of surprise and mild horror on his face.

Jayce blinked, caught completely off guard by your comment.

“What? No— I just…” his stammered before the baby let out a few grunts. Her face scrunched up right as a strong odour hit you both at full force

“Oh no, that’s her,” Jayce recoiled.

You burst out laughing at his expression, barely able to get the words out. “How could such a small thing produce something that smells this foul?”

Jayce held the baby at arms length, trying desperately to keep the baby’s contents from shifting. You could practically see the realisation dawn on him— the horror that you might ask him to change her. His eyes flickered back to yours, pleading.

“Here, let me. You can watch and learn,”

Relief washed over his face as he handed her off to you, though he was still grimacing at the lingering smell.

“Pass me the changing mat?” you asked, pointing towards a cabinet. Jayce found it quickly and passed it to you, his movements careful.

The smell only intensified as you set up the changing area— a station with neatly stacked diapers and wipes.

You gently unwrapped her swaddle, “P U, girl.”

Jayce stood besides you despite the olfactory assault, his eyes tracking every move you made, clearly trying to commit it to memory.

You made sure your touch was gentle as you unbuttoned her baby grow. But the second the cool air hit her skin, the baby let out a wail of protest. Her arms flailing, we face scrunching up in clear distress and clearly unhappy with being taken out of her warm swaddle.

“I know, sweetie, I know . It’ll be quick, I promise,” you cooed softly.

She continued to cry and flail, seemingly unconvinced by your words. Her small fists waved in the air, her cries sharp and insistent, as if protesting the injustice of it all.

The sound of her wails filled the room, mingled with the scent of her soiled diaper. The first time you changed her, the sheer volume of her cries had twisted something deep in your chest.

It was heartbreaking— cleaning her up while she was screaming, her small form trembling against the cold.

You could only imagine what it must be like— to go from the warmth and security of the womb of the harshness of the world, to suddenly being exposed when all she wanted was to be wrapped up and safe.

Even now, after doing it for two days, it still tugged at you. But you’d learn to push past the ache, knowing that it was only a momentary distress.

You lifted her lower body, cleaning her up before slipping on a fresh diaper and buttoning up her baby grow. The moment you wrapped her up in her swaddle again, her cries softened, then quietened to lingering sniffles until she was content.

It still fascinated you how quickly she went from a distressed bundle of tears to a calm, sleepy weight in your arms. She nuzzled against your chest, her body warmer through the layers of fabric.

Jayce watched the entire process, his expression unreadable. But as you held her close, something in his gaze softened.

He sat down in a nearby chair, eyes still glued to you and then baby, quiet and thoughtful.

“Do you really want kids?” he asked suddenly, tone soft and contemplative.

The question made you stammer, your face grew warm as you fumbled for a response.

“Are you really asking that now?” you asked. The situation alone should’ve answered enough.

Jayce chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I’m not being very tactful, huh?” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but quickly faded. “I just…watching you, seeing how effortlessly you handle everything got me thinking.”

When you first got together, the topic of children had barely scratched the surface. Not because it was something you avoided or didn’t want. It just never felt like the right time.

Even after moving in together, you hadn’t revisited the conversation. But if you were being honest, the thought had crossed your mind more than once.

You’d imagined it before— having a child to cherish as your own, watching Jayce step into the role of a loving father. He was always fiercely protective, naturally warm, the kind of man who gave his whole heart to the people he loved.

And now, seeing him with the baby in his arms just moments ago, it was hard not to picture it.

“I do,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to the little one nestling against your chest. “And she’s the closest I have to that right now .”

A silver of doubt crept into your mind— was this really meant for you? Were you making the right choice? But you pushed it back.

“I know…it probably sounds selfish,” you murmured.

Jayce shook his head immediately. “It doesn’t sound selfish. It sounds human.”

The room stilled for a moment before you spoke again.

“We still haven’t got a name for her yet.”

He blinked. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We’ve just been calling her the baby this whole time.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

Jayce exhaled, shaking his head. “I wasn’t exactly preparing baby names.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “Fair point. What kind of names do you like? Anything specific in mind?”

“I don’t know…something that reflects her. Her bravery. The fact that she was lost and found. Or…new beginnings.”

“Brave…lost and found…new beginnings,” you echoed, mulling it over. “There are names like Faith, Trust, maybe even Hevan…”

Jayce brows furrowed, thinking deeply for a moment before his face lit up.

“Actually, I think I just thought of one.” He glanced at the baby and then back at you. “What about…Hope?”

Your lips parted slightly, the name processing in your head.

“She gives us hope that we’ll be good parents,” Jayce continued. “And she’s bringing new beginnings into our lives. Plus…it’s a nice name to boot.”

“Hope…” You repeated it softly, testing how it felt on your tongue. It was simple but strong, carrying the weight of new beginnings. And Jayce was right— it suited her. She had given you both something to hold onto, a hope for the future.

Jayce nodded, a smile growing on his lips “That’s a perfect name for her, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. I guess that’ll be her name from now on. Our little Hope.”

“I think she’ll have the Talis name,” Jayce added, his pride swelling in his voice as he rose from his seat. He reached out and brushed a gentle finger over her cheek. “Hope Talis.”

“Speaking of Talis…how are you gonna explain this to your mother?”

Jayce visibly winced at the mention of his mother. His shoulders tensed. “Right….good question.”

You knew that Jayce and his mother, Ximena Talis, had a close-knit bond, especially after his father’s passing. She had raised him alone, molding him into the man he was today. But she was also practical— someone who thought ahead rather than letting emotions dictate decisions.

And suddenly deciding to raise an abandoned baby, without a concrete plan or any real preparation, was a lot for any parent to process. That wasn’t something she wasn’t going to take lightly.

It wasn’t that you were expecting her to outright disapprove— Ximena wasn’t the type to reject something out of prejudice. But naturally you did expect her to ask questions. To make sure her son had thought this through.

And then, there was you.

You weren’t oblivious to the difference between you and Jayce. While Jayce was born into Piltover’s upper echelon, raised with opportunities laid before him, you had to fight every scrap of stability you had, growing up in the Undercity, where survival overweighed ambition and dreams.

Ximena never outright opposed your relationship, especially coming from a humble background. But there had always been a certain hesitation in her approval. A subtle caution— not out of cruelty or elitism. But as a mother, she wanted what was best for her son.

And after a few days of having Hope in your arms, you understood that instinct more than ever.

You suspected she worried about the world you came from. When it could mean for Jayce. For his future. And now, here you were, deciding to raise a child together. A child with no name, no past and no certainty about what the future held.

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “She’s going to grill me, isn’t she?”

“Oh absolutely,” you said with a teasing grin. “But let’s not worry about that now.”

Laying Hope back onto the bed, you turned back to Jayce, slipping your hand around his arm. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

~

The afternoon rolled in, and Jayce had to leave, leaving you alone with Hope again. You weren’t too worried— after all, you’ve spent two days caring for her alone before he even knew she existed.

As you held Hope in your arms, you couldn’t help but notice the way she kept sniffling and whimpering, little noises of discomfort that tugged at your heart. You weren’t sure if she was just fussy or something was actually wrong. Maybe the cold air from when she was abandoned had gotten to her.

You checked her forehead— no fever. You adjusted her swaddle, making sure she was warm but not too warm, yet she still squirmed restlessly. Her hands clenched and unclenched, her breaths coming soft, uneven puffs.

Maybe she was coming down with something. That would make sense. A little congestion, a little discomfort— babies get colds all the time.

You thought about steaming up the bathroom and sitting with her in the warm air. Would that be safe for a newborn? You hesitated. You knew the basics— feeding her, changing her, keeping her comfortable— but this was something else.

Instead, you turned on the heating and sat with her in the bedroom, holding her close and letting the warmth of your body soothe her. Her whimpers quieted, but every so often, she sniffled again and her nose scrunched up.

The uneasy feeling didn’t go away. Should you tell Jayce? Would that be overreacting? You didn’t want to worry him, not if it was something as simple as a cold.

Maybe you were just overthinking. That was normal for new parents, right?

You pressed a gentle kiss on Hope’s forehead, stroking a soothing hand down her back. Whatever this was, she just needed comfort. As long as she was with you, she was safe.

I always update this series on ao3 first. So if you want early access to the next chapter, you can find it here