#Like she is a brunette in canon yes but I was seeing her hair be basically orange brah

[faustdedominis]

Miss Carmen...

[chloe-petrichors]

cradling constellations // jace x reader

when rhaenyra brings her family to court to celebrate the king's fiftieth name day, there was but one thing on your mind: getting to see jace, the boy you'd loved in secret, once more.

whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. —emily brontë

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!aunt!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon-typical incest, canon-au (it's viserys' birthday party baby), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s) idiots in love, instant attraction/love at first (second) sight, childhood sweethearts (kinda?), soulmate vibes, love confessions, switching povs, smut (mdni !) including masturbation (m), p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), implied loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild marriage kink if that’s even a thing, body worship, dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, mild overstimulation, soft dom vibes, jace being a tits man. word count; 15k+ (oops) notes; me, obsessed with jace? more likely than u think. this whole fic spawned from the fact that i noticed jace's freckles on a gif and lost my gd mind. this was meant to be a quick smut fic. and then i took 11k+ words to get to the smut part. i'm sorry (i'm not). this is totally self-indulgent, soulmates, love at first sight kinda fluff-to-smut and i regret nothing. way too much time of writing this was me trawling through the asoiaf wiki pages to find details that are relevant for one whole sentence. why am i this way. valyrian is pulled straight from a translator i found online, pls let me know if you notice any errors! requests; are open !

the first time you laid eyes on jacaerys velaryon, you knew he was something special.

you had just been children, then, uncertain of each other due to the discontent between your families. but he had been kind to you, dark eyes warm, and it had been an easy thing to be kind in return. your brothers make it difficult, of course, as they seem to do with everything they get involved in. aegon had been the worst at first, spouting off the same vitriol your mother had always whispered into your ears, but aemond had not been far behind him.

after the events of laena’s funeral and the loss of aemond’s eye, the hostilities only grow and grow. helaena keeps herself apart from most of it by virtue of her typically distant manner, but your brothers insist on drawing you into the same arguments again and again. it's tedious, laborious, but they are your family.

jace and luke are too, of course, not that anyone else seems to want to admit it. for all that they are velaryon’s by name (and strong in heart, mayhaps, yes), they are your nephews. your brothers only seem interested in remembering this when it serves them, however — which is usually when they’re lording it over the dark-haired boys.

in truth, the velaryon’s are hardly innocent either. it seems like the two sets of boys bring out the absolute worse in each other without fail, and it’s usually left to you to try and be the voice of reason.

away from your brothers’ taunts, jace is like a different boy entirely. endlessly curious and ceaselessly kind, the brunette seems to always have time to talk and jape with you. your friendship grows surprisingly easy as children, and with early adulthood comes the bloom of a different kind of affection, too. you never say anything, knowing all too well that if your brothers catch even a whisper of your feelings that there will be no end of hells to pay.

it matters little, regardless. your mother will never tolerate a betrothal between the two of you and you know better than to even attempt to broach such a topic. it had been sheer miracle that she hadn’t tried marrying you off to aemond after securing aegon and helaena’s marriage, and you aren’t willing to tempt fate by giving her ideas now. so what if you spend countless nights dreaming of freckled skin and dark hair? it matters not in the scheme of things.

rhaenyra flees kings landing after daemon’s return to westeros, leaving you feeling strangely bereft without your nephews’ company. years go by with no contact from your sister’s family, and so you let your old daydreams fall to the wayside. there’s no use dwelling on what you can’t have, and no point bringing it up since even now just a mention of luke or jace is enough to inflame aemond’s temper.

and then, of course, the news comes that rhaenyra is returning to court for the king’s fiftieth name day. there are great feasts and celebrations planned in honour of your father, which you privately think silly considering it’s unlikely he would be well enough to attend half the festivities. still, there’s no denying your excitement at the idea of seeing jace again. he would be a man grown, now, his twentieth name day having passed only a few moons ago.

for once the majority of your family will be under one roof, and you are certain it will end in disaster — but you intend to enjoy it while you can.

going flying the morning of the velaryons arrival is perhaps not your smartest idea. 

your nerves wake you well before dawn. you feel as if you’re going to crawl out of your skin if you don’t do something, and you know your chances for flying will be limited with the celebrations expected to start tomorrow. so you decided to take the chance while you can, dressing quickly in your riding gear before creeping to the dragon pit well before any of your family wake.

silverwing likes it when you take her for unexpected flights, so she makes no complaint when you have the dragon keepers release her. you go through the motions of saddling her yourself, as you always do, taking the chance to reinforce the bond with your dragon.

silverwing hadn’t been your hatched dragon. the egg that you had slept beside as a babe had never hatched, just as aemond’s and helaena’s hadn’t. it had infuriated aemond when you were children, that jace and luke’s dragons hatched while he was left without. it had made him an easy target for the other boys; aegon had often led the others in riling him about his lack of dragon until he had claimed vhagar. you can admit now that the others had oft been cruel to him in their japing, and it had ended poorly for everyone involved.

your claiming of silverwing had been incredibly boring in comparison. she had found you, in truth, a year after aemond claimed vhagar. she’d been your great-grandmother the good queen alysanne’s dragon before your own, and had not taken a rider since the queen’s death. she’d flown from the dragonmont to find you, and you’ve been nigh on inseparable since. your mother despairs over it, hating how her often her ‘perfect daughter’ has shown up to court late with windswept hair and flushed cheeks.

but, to you, flying is freedom.

there’s nothing else like it in the world; the sensation of silverwing beneath you, the seven kingdoms at your fingertips, and only the sky above. your mother has never really let go of her fear of the dragons, and you can understand it in a way; she is no targaryen, and she’ll never know what it is to bond with a dragon, to have that presence so alien and yet so familiar nudging against the corners of your mind. any attempts to explain it to her are met with bemusement and wariness, and you’d long ago learned to stop bringing it up.

silverwing’s joy to fly merges into your own as you climb atop her, running a soothing hand over the gleaming silver spikes at her neck as you adjust the straps. her impatience thrums loudly through the bond as you settle yourself into the saddle, and you feel her heart beat through you like a second pulse as your own anticipation rises.

“ivestragī īlva sōvegon, ñuha raqiros! [let us fly, my friend!]”

she needs no further nudging than that, and with a delighted roar she launches into the air. your laughter is stolen by the wind as she beats her wings, propelling you higher and higher before sweeping over the towering peaks of the red keep. with a shouted instruction she banks sharply to the left, flying out over blackwater bay as the sun finally crests the horizon. the dark sea lights up with reds and golds beneath you, the sky gloriously blue above, and silverwing’s distinctive scales shine in the breaking dawn.

a glorious morning, you think, and as the two of you climb higher to the sky you feel all your nerves and excitement for anything but the flight leave you. this is what your mother will never understand; flying is an escape, yes, but not from your duties as she assumes it is. this is an escape from your worries, from the petty machinations of court. in the sky with your dragon, you need worry only about how chill the wind will be, or if aemond is out with vhagar, who’s a grumpy old beast at the best of times and silverwing is feeling mischievous.

you find peace, here, in the sky. this is what you were born for.

long minutes pass as you fly leisurely, circling over the bay and the keep and back again in ever widening circles. sometimes silverwing dives just to do so, plunging so close to the blackwater that you could reach out and skim your hand over the dark depths. you lose track of time as the two of you fly, contentment bleeding across the bond so completely you can’t even tell which one of you it’s coming from.

a dragon’s cry in the distance catches your attention, and silverwing pulls up from where she’d been ducking her head into the water to snatch fish. she propels you rapidly higher into the air, crying out in response as you break through the thin cloud cover. you expect to find aegon’s dragon; sunfyre is the only dragon silverwing likes, rather than tolerates, to be making such a noise in greeting.

but it’s an unfamiliar dragon that greets you, olive green scales shining with the damp from the high altitudes. your mind races as you struggle to place it, and it’s only when you catch sight of a head of dark curls astride the dragon that you realise who it is.

vermax.

and jacaerys.

your heart skips in your chest, silverwing’s unexpected excitement tangling with your own nerves as she swoops towards the much smaller dragon. it’s only her sheer happiness that stops you from panicking or shouting a command to halt in valyrian, and moments later you recall she’d have known vermax from her time on dragonstone.

she somersaults over and around vermax playfully, and you release an exhilarated laugh in response as you cling tightly to the saddle. you see only snatches of jace as your dragons fly complicated patterns around each other, but the quick flashes you do get find an easy smile on his face.

the dragons spend a long while flying together, racing and diving and spiralling to new heights. they move so quickly that you have no chance to try and greet jacaerys, can offer nothing more than quick smiles as you pass him. it gives you the time for your nerves to settle back down, time to reassure yourself that any childhood feelings are long faded and that you will be able to act perfectly composed when it is time to greet him.

eventually you realise your dragon is not going to land until you tell her too, and vermax is clearly just as willing to chase after the larger she-dragon for as long as she is willing to be chased.

“māzigon, silverwing. istiti tegun [come, silverwing. we must land],” you shout, laughing again when the dragon whines her displeasure. she listens regardless, soaring down in tightening circles with vermax following close on your tail. her landing in the dragon pit is far from smooth, but you’re well used to compensating for the jostling as she settles onto the ground once more.

you’re quick in freeing yourself from the saddle, murmuring warm thanks and praise to your dragon as you walk to the side of her great head to meet a single burning eye. “kirimvose, ñuha raqiros. kesi sōvegon arlī aderī [thank you, my friend. we will fly again soon],” you tell her, and she responds with a content grumble as she nudges her head gently against your chest in affection.

you leave the dragon keepers to return her to her cave, instead turning to watch as jace shares his own goodbyes with his dragon. you take the chance to look at him, properly look, and find yourself suddenly warring with self-consciousness and a burning in your chest.

despite the acrobatics of the dragons, he looks perfectly put together with his dark curls brushing his shoulders and a pleasing tan to his skin. you fear you must look a ruin, with your hair undoubtedly a mess and cheeks flushed from the cold bite of the wind. your breath is still a touch laboured from the exertion of the flight, while he looks perfectly composed in his fancy black and red doublet. you curse the old gods and the new that you’d picked out your old riding gear this morning — comfortable, yes, but certainly not ideal for greeting the heir to the heir and the man you’d once daydreamed about marrying.

you push the thoughts away with determined stubbornness, refusing to dwell on the warmth in your chest when jace finally turns to look at you. he’s grown, you note immediately, now standing at least a head taller than you. any traces of baby fat have left him, leaving behind a strong, square jaw and strong yet slim shoulders. his dark eyes are warm, though, and his smile friendly as he takes you in.

you dip instinctually into a curtsey, a perfectly respectable greeting ready on your lips, but you’re startled into straightening back to standing when jace laughs.

“come now, princess,” he says, fond and teasing he approaches you. he’s the only one who’s ever been able to make the title sound more like an endearment. “since when have we been ones for formality?”

it sets you at ease immediately, tension relaxing from your shoulders as you beam at him. “i suppose we never have been very good at that, have we?” you let your eyes skip over him again, something like relief settling in your bones at the sight of him. “it’s good to see you again, jace.”

“aye,” he returns, dark eyes sparkling. “it is good to see you, indeed.”

for a long moment he simply looks at you, and it makes that peculiar warmth in your chest blaze a little brighter. there’s something in his face that you’ve never seen there before — but then you think of course there is. you haven’t seen him in so long there’s probably all kinds of things about you him you no longer know. it aches, almost, to think it, but in a way he’s a stranger to you; a man with the kind eyes of the boy you’d loved in secret, once.

you clear your throat as you drop your eyes from his stare, glancing at the bustling keepers as they tend to your dragons instead as you cast about for something to say.

“are the rest of your family not flying in?” you query after a moment.

he shakes his head, dark curls swaying with the movement. “no, arrax and tyraxes are still too small to fly luke and joff for such a journey, and mother would rather stay with my brothers on the ship.”

you nod in acceptance, shifting slightly on the spot. “well then, let me be the first to welcome you back to king’s landing, my prince.” you take the formality out of your tone with a playful wink, and are gratified to see the way he chuckles at your antics.

“i had hoped you’d be the first i’d see.” he admits this casually, as if this doesn’t set your heart and mind racing. “i have missed you, aunt.”

you duck your head again to try and hide the smile spreading across your face. you tell yourself sternly to stop acting like some lovesick child, all the while that small flame continues to burn away inside of you. “and i you, nephew.” you glance up at him shyly from beneath your lashes, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, and you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement.

he’s the one to clear his throat, this time, stepping a half-pace away from you and gesturing for you to proceed him. “shall we head to the keep, then? my mother’s ship should have arrived by now and we wouldn’t want to miss the formal welcome.”

“as you say,” you agree, and the two of you set off.

you spend the long walk to the keep catching up on the long years between you. you’d expected the time apart to be like a gulf between you, a canyon that could not be crossed, but if anything it’s the opposite. it’s as if you’d last seen each other only hours ago. it should startle you, how simple it feels to fall into your old friendship, but you don’t have it in you to be surprised. that’s always been the thing with jace, after all — it’s easy. being around him, speaking to him, listening to his odd tangents. it all comes as natural to you as breathing, as if there’s a part of you that was just born knowing him.

he's dodging your questions as you finally arrive at the keep, having let slip something about an old secret from the days of your childhood that he’s never shared with you. it makes something flutter in your chest, the way he looks at you as he says it. the way he’s looked at you the whole time, in fact, has you having to bite back a smile. he looks at you as if he is looking at something precious, expression tender and fond and uncomplicated. it threatens to steal your breath again, and so you make an effort to try and act as unaffected as possible, because he cannot mean it in the way you think you might want him too.

“oh, but you simply must tell me!” you wheedle cheerfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. “you wouldn’t keep a secret from me, would you, my prince?”

you pout at him, fluttering your lashes in the way you usually do when trying to get your way with your brothers. jace swallows audibly at the sight, some emotion you can’t read flickering across his eyes as his gaze drops to your mouth and then lower again before returning to your eyes. something in his expression makes you flush, cheeks burning as your lips part slowly. a heat rises in you, unbidden, as he steps ever so slightly closer into your space. you’re overwhelmed with the smell of him; sea salt and dragon smoke and something almost woodsy underneath it, something entirely jace.

he murmurs your name so quietly you almost miss it over the sounds of courtyard. his hand twitches as if to reach for you as he ducks his head slightly, and you think if you lifted yours just so you’d be able to brush your lips over the strong line of his jaw. you realise suddenly how much you want to — how much you want to drag your tongue over his skin and taste.

oh.

oh.

you want him. that peculiar feeling that had been burning in your chest — you recognise the desire for what it is, now. the easy camaraderie that you’d fell into on the walk to the keep subsides in the wake of it, and abruptly all you can think of is what his mouth will feel like on your own. the palpable tension between you makes your hands tremble with the urge to touch, heart pounding so loudly in your ears it drowns out anything that isn’t him as the rest of the courtyard fades away.

you sway the barest inch closer, inhaling his scent deeply, and watch as jace’s nostrils flare in response. with a shaky breath you lift your chin, eyes dropping to his parted lips, and you bite your bottom lip as his tongue sweeps over his own.

“jace…”

“brother! there you are!”

luke’s voice startles you both back to reality as you spring apart. you hadn’t realised just how close you’d gotten, your chests almost brushing with every breath, until the gap between you widens. you drop your eyes to your feet, cheeks blazing with embarrassment as you realise how close you’d come to kissing him in an extremely public place. you chide yourself internally for forgetting yourself, and take another second to gather your composure before lifting your head with a smile.

“hello, nephew,” you greet luke warmly, doing your best to ignore the way jace’s eyes burns into the side of your face. “it is very good to see you again.”

“aunt!” luke fairly cheers, and you note how the youth still clings to his face. while certainly older than the last time you’d seen him, he still seems like a child to you. his limbs are long and gangly, in that awkward stage at the cusp of adulthood where he’s not quite grown into himself yet. he bounds closer, drawing you into a hug that you allow and return with a fond laugh.

“luke, honestly,” jace tuts, shaking his head as the two of you separate. “we’re at court, now. at least try to remember your manners.”

the younger boy winces. “ah, right, yes.” he sketches a quick but perfect bow your way. “it is a great honour to see you once more, princess.” he flashes a cheeky smile and a wink your way as he straightens out, and you press your hand to your mouth to smother a giggle at the exasperated look on jace’s face at his brother’s antics. he’s hardly one to talk, you think, considering how quickly he had dispensed with manners when greeting you.

in return, you dip into a practiced if impish curtsey. “it is a sincere pleasure to see you as well, prince lucerys.”

luke does giggle, then, as jace rolls his eyes so hard you think they’re at risk of falling out of his head. despite his dramatics, you spot the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he watches you jape with his brother.

“the queen is looking for you, dear aunt,” luke says after the greetings are done, and your amusement flees you as your stomach drops.

it’s only then you realise that with both luke and jace being here, you’ve certainly missed the official welcome of princess rhaenyra back to court. you wince at the thought of your mother’s ire, resigning yourself to a long lecture about your responsibilities and how dragon riding is ‘not one of them’. jace catches your expression, concern creasing his face as his brows furrow.

“alright?” he checks, and you do your best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“yes, i’m sure all will be well.” you hesitate a moment before offering a one-shouldered shrug, ignoring the voice in your head that sounds far too much like your mother telling you how unladylike such a motion is. “i expect my mother will be displeased with me for missing the official welcome, but the festivities will surely distract her quick enough.”

luke and jace both offer you a commiserating smile as the three of you head into the keep. you expect your mother will be waiting in her solar, which is on a close route to the guest suites set aside for the visiting royals, and so you walk with the velaryons as far as you can. when it comes time to part, jace lingers at the entry of the hall as luke continues down the corridor. his dark eyes are fixed to yours so intensely it steals your breath as you slow to a stop as well.

“i’ll see you at the feast,” he says quietly, capturing your hand in his much larger one and bringing it to his mouth. your breath hitches in your chest, eyes widening as he brushes his lips tenderly over your knuckles. your lips part in surprise, tingles racing up your arm from where his mouth makes contact with your skin. before you have chance to respond, jace dips into a sweeping bow and then bids you farewell, leaving you staring after him for a long moment.

well. if your mother doesn’t kill you, you think jace certainly will.

jace sinks into the hot water of the bath with a deep sigh of relief.

after meeting with his mother to explain why he’d been late to the formal greetings — or, rather, offer excuses as to why he’d been late, since he doesn’t think his mother will take well to the idea he was so busy enjoying himself flying with you that the thought of any formal welcome party left his mind entirely — he’d sought his chambers. the bath had been ready and waiting for him, tendrils of steam wafting from the clear water, and he’d wasted no time in shedding his clothes. he’s keen to wash the dragon stink from his skin before the feast, and he makes quick work of scrubbing his skin clean. when he’s done, he allows himself to relax against the metal of the tub, arms draped carelessly over the metal rim as he soaks.

king’s landing from dragonstone is not too long a journey on dragon back, but flying for such a stretch causes its own particular aches. vermax had enjoyed the chance to stretch his wings, at least, and had enjoyed the playful flight with silverwing even more.

he can admit to himself he’d enjoyed it, too, the sight of you astride your dragon lighting something within him. it’s been so long since he’d seen you, not since the aftermath of laena’s funeral, and he hadn’t been prepared for how the sight of you — breathless and flush and beaming at him — would make him feel. he’d almost managed to push back his boyhood adoration and childhood daydreams of marrying you one day with the years passing, but seeing you again brings it all rushing back and he feels as hopelessly enamoured with you now as he did as a child.

you’ve grown well, there’s no denying that. where childhood had left you sometimes awkward and gangly, you’ve become a woman grown now with all the curves and delights that come with it. he’d been embarrassed at how hard it had been to pull his gaze from you on the trip to the keep, but you’d not seemed to notice. too occupied with filling the air between you with light chatter, you’d been oblivious to the way his eyes had dragged over your form again and again.

you just — you’re so unlike anyone else he knows. he’d let himself forget how lovely you were, but there was no way to ignore it now. riding the high of your flight and genuinely happy to see him, you’d been like something out of a dream. your face had been as open to him as ever, plainly delighted to see him, and seeing you had eased some ache he’d become so used to he’d not even know it was there until he felt the lack of it.

he’s not some foolish child. he knows better than to think of things like love when his head must lie with his duty. but the thought remains regardless, lingering in the back of his mind that you would be as easy to love now as you had been when you were younger. it had been a childish love then, of course; innocent and sweet in the ways only children could be. but it had been there, unspoken and unacted upon, but no less real for it.

you’re not children anymore. it would be impossible to think otherwise with the way your riding gear had clung flatteringly to your chest and hips. your mouth looked so pretty stretched into a smile, a smile for him, and he thinks it’s a testament to his restraint that he’d not kissed you on the spot when you’d pouted so prettily up at him. he’d thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps you were going to kiss him with the way your eyes had darkened, how you’d gravitated into his space as if without intention.

heat pools in his stomach as he thinks about how the neckline of your riding dress had cut low enough to allow him a peak at your chest, heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. he wonders what your mouth would taste like, what noises you would make if he’d slid his tongue against your own. gods, he feels like a green boy seeing a woman for the first time — almost undone at just the thought of you. he won’t be able to get through the welcome feast like this, he thinks, so on edge with his lust for you burning him from the inside out.

it’s not even a conscious choice to curl his fingers around his cock, half-hard already as he thinks of you. jace’s head tips back against the rim of the bath, eyes drifting closed as a quiet gasp escapes him. the warm water eases his way as he strokes himself, and he lets himself imagine it’s your slick, instead.

he pictures you before him, pretends it’s your hand teasing at the skin at the head of his cock. your hands are so small, so dainty, he thinks you probably wouldn’t be able to wrap them all the way around him. he imagines they’re a little calloused — soft, mostly, but with the fingertips just rough enough from years spent riding and caring for your dragon. they’d drag so deliciously against his skin, and you’d take to the task with the same voracious enthusiasm you do with everything else. you’d watch him closely, pick up on the cues of his pleasure, and he’d unravel for you so quickly it’d be embarrassing if it was anyone else.

“fuck,” he hisses out, thumb dragging over the liquid leaking copiously from his tip. his head tips back even further, water dripping from his curls onto the stone floor as he chases his release. his imagining splinters into disconnected fantasies; you, on your knees with your mouth stretched around him, lashes damp with reflexive tears as your eyes fix on his. you, sprawled beneath him and writhing as he feasts on your cunt like a man starved. you, babbling in high valyrian as he sinks into the tight wet heat of you. you, clenching and shuddering around his cock as you come for him, blazing and beautiful. you, you, you.

his release hits him hard, a low groan tearing from his throat as his hips thrust up into his hand as he drags out those last few moments of pleasure. his panting breaths sound loud in the silence of his chambers, and jace is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he is alone. there is, of course, no trace of you.

he knows in that moment he has to have you. he cannot tolerate the thought of anyone else — not for himself, and certainly not for you. he wants you as his wife, his queen, the mother of his children. jace doesn’t care how he must do it — as long as you’re as willing as he is, he is going to make you his.

the feast has started by the time jace arrives.

his indulgence had cost him time, and then he’d spent longer than usual readying himself while trying to ignore the fact he was doing so only to impress you. by the time he makes it to the hall his family are already seated and the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune. his eyes seek you instantly, and he resists the urge to frown in disappointment as he sees you sat between helaena and aemond. he’d hoped to sit beside you and use this time to see if there was any hint of you returning his feelings. no matter — there would be time enough later. if he has his way, there’ll be all the time in the world.

you look beautiful, he notes. you’re dressed in your usual deep green, the gown cut flatteringly for your shape. your face is animated and happy as you chat to aemond, and though he finds the idea of anyone enjoying that grumpy prick’s presence bizarre, he enjoys the sight of you so at ease.  

as he approaches the head table and the empty seat between his mother and luke, your eyes linger on him. he’s gratified by the way you light up when you spot him, offering him a warm smile in welcome for all that you’re quickly entangled into a conversation with your sister. it eases some of the sting at finding you unavailable, and he’s helpless but to smile back at you even when your gaze slides back to helaena.

luke eyes him strangely as he settles into his seat but says nothing as jace reaches for a goblet of wine. his mother greets him absently, entangled as she is in conversation with the king, and he takes the moment to glance out at the hall.

it’s a relatively small feast. large enough to not cause offence to the heir to the throne, but not so grand as to detract from the festivities planned for the next fortnight. he recognises a few faces in the crowd, people from different houses from across the kingdoms. the king’s birthday celebrations are no small affair, and he spots representatives from all the great houses as well as some of the more minor ones.

it makes him want to slump in his seat, for all that he keeps his posture straight. he knows the next few weeks will be full of politicking and double speak, and it grates. as the heir to the heir, jace knows it’s partially his responsibility to ensure their alliances still stand while seeking out any news one that might present themselves. he has no doubt that some of the lords in this crowd will have brought their daughters, planning to parade them in front of him and his brothers in hopes they might pick one as their betrothed.

his lack of betrothal has been a point of contention for many of the court, he knows. most had assumed he would be betrothed to his stepsister baela, and he’d thought the same for years. it was only when his mother had confided that baela had no interest in being queen and, in fact, was so strongly opposed to the idea that she swore to fly to essos and never be seen again if they tried marrying her to him that he realised just why such a betrothal had never been announced.

it had left him free, in a way, to pursue his own desires; without a betrothal attached to him he’d shed any guilt about seeking company at the pleasure houses. but, in turn, it had left him open to the machinations of the other houses who all sought to have their blood on the iron throne. it’s incredibly tedious, but he knows he must grin and bear it for the sake of his mother and his house.

the food arrives then, and he busies himself with the meal and talking to his siblings. his grandsire makes a speech welcoming his daughter and her family home, and jace notes the sour faces of alicent’s sons. they keep their tongues, at least, which shows a maturity from them he truthfully hadn’t expected. perhaps they’ve grown just as you have, he thinks, but dismisses the thought when aemond catches his eye and only sneers in response to jace’s tentative smile.

he's often wondered at the conflict between the two sides of the family. the animosity now he can pinpoint, of course; aemond losing his eye. but there had been years before that of tense, standoffish behaviour interspersed with camaraderie when everyone seemed to forget they weren’t meant to be friends. he remembers playing pranks with aegon while luke trailed after them, and he remembers sitting with helaena while she perused the dirt for bugs.

he remembers you, most of all. kind and fearless and smart, you’d enamoured him from the moment he was old enough to recognise girls were different to boys in interesting ways. even before then you’d been fast friends, something in your similarly mischievous behaviour drawing you into each other’s orbit. he’s always been drawn to you, he thinks, to the uncomplicated joy you took in your life. there was so much to be miserable about, so much duty on all your shoulders, but you always found something to smile over. your unfailing optimism would no doubt be irritating to some, but to him it has always been one of his favourite things about you.

his gaze, predictably, shifts to you. he startles to find you looking at him already. you flush immediately as your eyes lock, presumably embarrassed at being caught, and he enjoys the colour it brings to your cheeks. you don’t drop his stare, though, not until helaena says something to draw your attention back to her once again. he catches sight of a private little quirk of your lips as your head turns, and something like satisfaction settles in his chest as he hides his own smile in his goblet.

perhaps this feast won’t be as tedious as he’d feared.

“are you enjoying the festivities, princess?”

jace’s voice pulls you from where you’ve been staring into your wine as if it holds all the secrets of the world. you’ve lost count of how many goblets you’ve had, chattering away with your siblings before aegon had started to become cruel in his inebriation and you’d all opted to split apart through the hall. you glance up to find the velaryon prince standing before you, hands perched loosely on the hilt of his sword. he looks unfairly handsome, you think, with his tumble of curls and well-fitted doublet, and something about the slight smirk on his face makes you think he knows it.

“i am enjoying them well enough,” you allow, flicking your gaze from his to look out at the dance floor. aemond is dancing with helaena, aegon far too deep into his cups to bother thinking of his wife. your mother is as tense as she has been since you’d found her earlier; her stepdaughter’s arrival to court has set her incredibly on edge, and the lecture she’d given you earlier had certainly been one of her worst. and your father is oblivious to it all, simply too pleased at the presence of his favoured daughter to care about the way the rest of his family are fracturing apart.

he's not been a good father to you, the king. he’s called you and helaena rhaenyra more than once over the years, and even when his eyes are you on you, you never feel like it’s you he sees. your mother had tried to soothe the ache of his absence, of his blatant favour for a woman who was not here, but as the years stretched on even she had seemed to fade further and further away from you all. for so long it’s just been the four of you, clinging to each other and tearing each other apart in equal measure. you’ve oft thought that daeron is the luckiest of you, able to thrive at the hightower and away from the mess of your family.

you pause at the maudlin turn of your thoughts, peering contemplatively into your wine again before offering jace a slightly sheepish smile. “i… fear i may have indulged in too much wine,” you admit, startling a laugh from the darkhaired prince.

it’s aegon’s fault, you decide; before he’d gotten belligerently drunk he’d been so cheerful, seemingly pleased to have the pressure of being the eldest targaryen child in court off of his shoulders. in his cheer he had plied you with wine, laughing and japing with an arm over your shoulder as you reminisced on simpler times of your childhood. happy to see him so, you’d not resisted, but now you find yourself regretting those choices as your thoughts tumble sluggishly through your mind.

jace shakes his head fondly at you, reaching out to carefully steal your goblet away. his fingers brush against yours as he does so, the barest of touches and yet enough to set your heart racing as you blink slowly up at him. he sips from your wine deliberately, amber eyes darkening as he holds your stare, and your lips part with an unsteady breath. something about him drinking your wine from your cup has your stomach fluttering pleasantly.

gods, i want him.

the thought is enough to startle you, heat suffusing your cheeks as you avert your gaze. jace doesn’t, though, and you can feel the weight of his stare on you like a tangible thing. it makes your skin prickle with warmth, and you lurch a touch unsteadily to your feet before you can say anything silly like ‘kiss me, please’.

“i think i should retire to my chambers before i make a drunken fool of myself,” you announce, fingers smoothing over the green velvet of your dress.

“i’ll escort you,” jace returns, tone leaving no room for argument.

he sets aside the wine and offers you his arm, quirking an eyebrow as if in challenge. you hesitate for barely a second, taking a steadying breath, before looping your arm through his and allowing him to lead you through the crowd towards the open doors. the woodsy smell of him you’d noticed before is clearer, now, and you take another deep breath of the scent. it calms your nerves and yet inflames your desire, and your fingers tighten infinitesimally against his bicep.

you stop at the doors of the feasting chamber for long enough to let ser erryk know that you’re retiring for the evening, leaving it to him to pass the message on to your mother, and then you and jace are alone in the halls of the keep.

of course, you’re not truly alone. guards litter the corridors and even at this late hour servants bustle along, busy with their chores. but in the quiet of the keep as jace leads you to your rooms, you can almost imagine yourself alone with him. the thought threatens to overwhelm you, mad fantasies of him tugging you into a dark alcove to devour you flashing through your mind, and you scold yourself internally.

you’re really very cross with aegon. he and his wine have left you in this state, too far into your cups to keep control of your dangerous wonderings. if only he had not kept calling for more of that gods-be-damned arbor gold, you’d have been able to keep your wits about you. you’d wanted to dance at the feast, too, mayhaps even with jacaerys but at the very least with your brothers. instead, you’re being led back to your rooms like a child who’s had their first taste of wine with dinner and let it go to their head.

jace’s presence helps your intoxication little. seeing him again, touching him, smelling him — it’s all too much when all your defences are down like this. you feel like a girl again, staring breathlessly after him and so full of certainty that you love him, and it’s just— ridiculous. you’ve spent mere hours in his presence and you’re like some lovelorn idiot with no thought in your mind beyond being as close to him as is possible. it’s foolish, reckless, absurd. but it’s there, regardless, unfurling in your chest with a lovely kind of agony.

you keep quiet on the walk, too afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll beg him to have his way with you or, worse, confess your re-blooming infatuation for him, and jace seems content enough to walk in silence for a while. eventually, though, he speaks.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you drunk before,” he observes, tone light.

you glance at him sidelong, pursing your lips at the teasing smirk curling on his mouth. “it’s aegon’s doing,” you tell him solemnly. “my brother is something of an expert on the subject of wines, and his tolerance is… much higher than mine own.”

jace snorts. “aye, i had noticed.”

you lapse into silence, again, only now you find yourself stealing glances at him. he really is very pretty, you think, though in quite a masculine way. something about the sharp line of his jaw and the curl of his eyelashes keeps drawing your attention, and you suspect you are not being subtle with your admiration in your inebriated state. as you walk by an open window moonlight floods into the hall, sending jace’s profile into sharp relief, and your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his smooth skin. something about the pattern makes you think of the stars, and you realise too late that your quick glances have turned to a lingering stare.

“is there something on my face, princess?”

jace’s mockingly innocent words draw your eyes to his. he’s smirking down at you, eyes dancing with amusement, and your cheeks flush. gods, you don’t think you’ve blushed so much in moons compared to the mere hours you’ve spent in his company. the things this man is doing to you — it is unconscionable. you don’t know how much more of this you can take before your resolve breaks.

“i apologise, my prince,” your respond after a beat, teeth biting at your lip. “i did not mean to… i was leagues away.”

his eyes darken, mischief fleeing them in favour of flickers of something else as they linger on your mouth, and that damnable heat in your stomach blazes. you want desperately to surge forward and kiss him, or for him to take you in his hands and kiss you. you just want, and ache, and burn. and it’s too much, far too much for your wine-addled brain to process, but you know if anyone was to happen upon you in this corridor, starting at him with your mouth parted and your breaths shuddering through your lungs, there will be consequences.

“we should— we are almost at my chambers.” your words are stumbling, loud in the sudden quiet that had descended over the pair of you, and jace startles a little, eyes darting away from yours as your stomach plummets. gods, what are you doing? staring at him in such a way? he must think you a simple-minded fool, gaping at him for the sake of a few freckles. you step away from him, rubbing your arm as you turn your eyes to stare intently at your feet instead. “i can make it the rest of the way from here. you should return to the feast.”

jace is quiet for a long moment and you peek up at him to see him watching you with an indecipherable expression for a charged breath before nodding slowly and taking a step away.

“as you wish,” he murmurs, ducking his head in a simple bow. “sweet dreams, princess.”

you stutter out your own farewell, half-convinced you’ll be dreaming of nothing but his hands and his mouth this night, before turning and all but fleeing down the hall.

oh, yes. jacaerys is certainly going to be the death of you.

jace spends the next few days at court so entangled in his responsibilities he feels he barely sets eyes upon you.

he and his mother are roped into starting the celebrations in the absence of the king himself. his grandsire’s health is failing, of that there is no doubt, and after enjoying himself a touch too heartily at the welcome feast he requires a few days to recover. he thinks perhaps that’s why these festivities are so important; it’s unlikely the king will make it to his five and fiftieth name day, and almost certainly not his sixtieth. it leaves him with… complicated feelings.

when his grandsire dies, he will no longer be the heir to the heir, but the heir to the iron throne itself. it’s a daunting thought; for all that his mother has seen him well prepared to sit his throne one day, it feels such an impossible task. he doesn’t understand how he’s ever supposed to be ready for such a thing.

the thought rises, unbidden, that it would be easier with you by his side. with your kind heart but sharp mind, you’d make a fine queen. he finds himself daydreaming of it still and scolding himself all the while for acting the green boy, and yet unable to stop. it’s as if his every thought leads back to you in some way or another — he sees a flower and wonders if you’d like the smell of it, or sees a dress and thinks of how much lovelier it would look on you. at night he indulges in more sensual wonderings, and he swears he’s not felt the urge to touch himself so much since he was a boy of five and ten just starting to discover the pleasures the touch of another can bring.

for all that you’d appeared to reject him the night of the welcome feast, he finds himself certain you desire him just as he does you. in fact, he fancies it’s that very desire that had led to you fleeing his company and avoiding him in the days after.

because you are avoiding him.

yes, he is busy with the festivities and you are perhaps equally so. but he does not think it’s busyness that drives you to seek conversation with absolutely anyone else when he looks for your company, and it is not busyness that has you clinging to aemond’s side so fiercely either. you know he won’t approach you when you’re with your brother, knowing how it hurts you to see them trade barbs and knowing himself well enough to know he will not be able to bite back his rancour if aemond says a word about his father.

jace is not an idiot. he knows what people say about him, the words they barely bother to whisper behind their hands about who his true sire is. he has complicated feelings about that, too, but it all boils down to one simple thing: he is his mother’s son. she is heir to the king, and he is her heir. for him, that’s all that can matter.

he knows it’s all that matters to you, too. for all that your brothers had spit bastard at him for as long as he can remember, you’ve never done so. you’ve never looked at him differently for the rumours of his birth, and it’s just one thing among many he treasures about you.

perhaps it’s foolish, to cling to these childhood feelings so tightly, but he cannot let the idea of the two of you together go. he knows luke has noticed how he stares after you in longing, since his brother has never been shy about teasing him relentlessly. he thinks his mother has noticed, too, from the few carefully inane comments she’s made about betrothals and duty. 

he supposes an argument could be made for the fact that with the years without contact between you, he doesn’t really know you anymore, not as he once did, but he doesn’t feel it matters. he can learn anything new about you and will in fact do so joyfully, but the important things? the things that speak to who you are at your core? jace has always known those, has always felt connected to you in a way he never has with another, and he loves you now just as he did as a boy. 

it would be easier in a way if he felt sure you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. at least then he could try and move on from them, put to bed his endless wonderings of you. but for as often as he turns his head to look at you, he finds you looking away from your own watching of him. the few, brief interactions he has with you over the next few days feel loaded, the desire and affection between you a palpable thing, and he’s tiring of pretending there’s nothing there anymore.

he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t miss you.

so, at the halfway point of the celebrations when there’s another, larger feast held with plenty of chances for dancing and sneaking away into dark corners, he makes it a point to keep an eye on you. the moment he spots you, finally alone, he beelines for you. your attention is on your necklace, readjusting the pendant that rests on your chest, and he cannot help but let his gaze linger on the swell of your breasts as he approaches. he’s found himself staring at your chest more often than is wholly appropriate over the last few days, but then he knows his own weaknesses when it comes to a woman’s form.

“p-prince jacaerys,” you greet weakly when you look up from your necklace, hands smoothing over the skirts of your dress. your eyes dart about the room as if seeking a rescue from someone, and he tries not to feel how such a response to his presence stings. “how are you enjoying the feast?”

“well enough,” he returns, echoing the words you’d spoke to him days ago. gods, has it only been days since that conversation? it feels like an age, and he has felt more distant from you in these passing moments than he is in your years apart.

“that is… good.” your fingers twist around each other, teeth catching on your bottom lip, and he has to swallow back the sudden rush of desire to be the one nipping at the pouting flesh.

“would you do me the honour of a dance, princess?”

his request startles you, eyes widening as your fingers drop back to your side in surprise. he thinks for a wild moment that you’ll say no, make some excuse to remove yourself from him, and he feels himself bracing for the rejection. but you hesitate, searching his face, and whatever you find there seems to soften something in you as you nod.

“of course.” you offer him your hand, an unsure smile on your face.

he takes it with relief, trying not to react at the sensation of your hand in his own. he was right in thinking your hands are smooth, but as he leads you to the dance floor and your fingers slide over his palm he feels the drag of callouses as he’d expected. it pulls him back into that heated imagining of before for a moment, and he has to shake his head slightly to keep himself from losing his wits.

you stay quiet as he guides you into position, dainty hand resting on his shoulder as he places his own at your hip. he leads you through the first few steps in quiet, too, taking the moment to enjoy having you in his arms, having you close. but he realises after a silent minute that you’re obviously not going to say anything, and even as he looks beseechingly at you appear to avoid meeting his eyes.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he speaks lowly, watching you carefully as you stare purposefully at the bridge of his nose instead of his eyes.

your eyes flicker away and back and then away again, fingers tightening around his own as he leads you through the steps of the dance effortlessly. “aye,” you admit quietly. “i have been.”

“why?” he doesn’t mean to sound so desperate nor so accusing, but the quiet hurt that your absence has caused him surges forth before jace can stop it.

you finally meet his gaze, eyes helpless and wanting and aching, and his stomach twists at the sight of your conflicted expression.

“i— jace, i can’t.” your voice cracks with the weight of your emotion and without thinking he pulls you closer, arm wrapping tight around your waist to provide you some semblance of comfort. “i can’t. not here, please.”

wordlessly he alters the steps of the dance, drawing you with precision through the crowd of dancers until you come to one of the balconies. it’s blessedly empty of anyone else, and as soon as you realise it some tension seems to shake loose of you.

you step out of his grip slowly, almost reluctantly, and walk to the railing, palms splaying on the stone. he joins you after the barest hesitation, drinking you in as you stare out at the courtyard and beyond. he notices how tightly you grip the banister, colour leeching from you knuckles with the strength of your grip, and almost without thinking jace rests his hand beside your own, pinkie fingers brushing. the touch seems to release something in you and he hears how your breath shudders before you speak.

“i embarrassed myself on the night of the welcome feast,” you confess miserably. “i drank too much, and the way that i behaved— staring at you in that way— it was not becoming behaviour of a princess, nor of a, a friend. i did not wish to make you uncomfortable again, so i thought it best i keep my distance from you.”

he blinks in surprise. “uncomfortable?” the mere idea of such a thing is maddening. he recalls the sight of you before him, lips parted and oh so kissable as you’d stared at him with such intention it had set him ablaze. how in the name of the gods can you think he found such a thing uncomfortable? “princess, i can assure you, the only feeling i took from your admiration is delight.”

your head snaps around, eyes finally meeting his own again, and he shakes his head in bemusement at the sight of your desperate hope. “truly? you do not jest?”

he resists the urge to chuckle, knowing you’ll take any kind of laughter, no matter how well meaning, poorly. instead he reaches for you, grasps your hands in his own and tries not to bask in the way you lean into him as he steps recklessly into your space. he feels your trembling breaths puff against his jaw as he ducks his head to stare intently into your eyes, and if he were a weaker man jace thinks he’d be on his knees in prostration for you in that very moment.

“surely you must know how i feel for you?” he murmurs, tracking the way the flush in your cheeks travels down your neck and onto your chest with greedy eyes. “how desperately i adore you?”

“jacaerys—.” you huff, shaking your head in denial for all that with every breath you take you sway ever closer to him. “we hardly know each other anymore. i won’t deny there is, is a yearning between us, mayhaps, but you cannot claim to adore me when you know me not. it’s been years since—"

“—do you think time matters?” he talks over you, strong in his conviction that you and he share a bond that transcends time or distance or duty. “that any distance between us could change what i know in my bones? i loved you before i had a name for it. i loved you when we were children and, yes, i love you again now. mayhaps i don’t know your favourite sweet or if you prefer to watch the sun rise or set, but i know you. i know who you are, princess, for all that i might no longer know the rest of it. i know your good heart, your quick mind and i know that i love you.” he hesitates, drinks in the dawning, open wonder on your face, and then adds, “and i think you might love me just the same.”

you sigh out his name sweetly, fingers tangling with his own as he squeezes your hands tenderly. you tilt your chin towards him as your eyes flutter shut. his nose slides against your own as you turn just so to the side, and your mouth is so close. he could kiss you, right now, and he knows that you would not pull away. but he’s too aware of the noise of the feast, the crowd of people that at any moment could find you in a compromising position.

he wants you, gods does he want you, but he will not ruin your reputation, will not sully your virtue for the sake of a stolen kiss on a balcony when he desires no less than forever with you.

“i will not push you,” he murmurs against your lips, breathing the air right from your lungs as he presses his forehead to yours for just a moment. “if you do not want this — if you do not return my feelings — i won’t push you nor pursue you. i hold too great a respect for you for that.” he cradles your jaw, thumb dragging at the corner of your mouth, and he glories in the way you shudder at his touch. with an unsteady breath he separates himself from you, hands clenching into fists at his side in an effort not to immediately reach for you again.

“but if you decide you want me as i want you, that you love me as ardently as i you, then my chambers will be unguarded and unlocked for you.” he sketches a bow, heart thundering in his chest as you stare at him in wordless shock. “i hope to see you later tonight, my princess.”

you have no chance to respond before jace leaves you standing on the balcony.

he leaves you with your mind swirling, one thought after another coming so quickly you have no hope in processing them. you’re glad to be outside, at least, the cool breeze helping soothe the heat that blazes through your veins as you press your hand over your racing heart. you don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do. all you can think about is jace, earnest and honest and in love with you.

he’s in love with you (!).

it’s too quick. too much time has passed with too little contact. in the years since he left court you’ve grown into new people, people who for all intents and purposes are strangers to each other. the lust is there, there’s no point in denying that with how your body warms at the smallest glance from him. and that old familiarity that blossomed as friendship as children and now into easy companionship as adults, that remains as it always has. and mayhaps you’ve thought to yourself, in the dark quiet of the night, that you’ll surely love him once more. that to know him any better at all is to love him again, because how can you know him and not love him?

but there’s been years and leagues between you for so long. time and distance have their ways of changing a heart, and he might say it doesn’t matter but it does. it does.

only it doesn’t, not at all, because giddiness is bubbling up in you so sudden that you cannot fight it, a helpless laugh escaping you as you press your hand over your mouth in unabashed amazement. your brave prince, plunging headfirst into the long-unspoken feelings between you. it incites you to act, drives you back into the hall where you catch aegon for long enough to tell him you’re retiring for the night before escaping into the quiet corridors.

you feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest, nerves and excitement and awe twisting together inside of you until you feel like you might vibrate out of your own skin. the walk to jace’s chambers is a haze, and in the morning you expect you’ll panic, wonder if anyone saw you walking so shamelessly towards the prince’s rooms. but now, in this moment, all you can think of is how fervently you want him, how guilelessly you love him.

the knock on his door — unguarded, as he had promised — echoes loudly in the silent corridor. you can hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as you wait for him to answer, and when he finally does he takes your breath away.

he’s shed his doublet and sword belt, standing in only his breeches and a billowing off-white tunic. the ties are loose on his neck and you’re entranced by the peek of tanned skin there, the freckles you can see disappearing beneath the shirt. he says your name, once, and your eyes snap back to him in time to see the relief and wonder coalesce into smouldering fire.

he curls his fingers around your wrist, thumb swiping over the delicate skin in a way that makes you shiver, and he uses the hold to wordlessly tug you into his chambers. you step into the space, eyes darting from the large bed to the roaring fire and back to the bed again as he locks the doors behind you.

you are finally, blissfully, alone.

you feel his presence behind you, heat and woodsmoke radiating from him as you turn to face him. something in your chest loosens at the blatant awe in his amber eyes, like liquid gold in the light of the flames, and before you can pause to think you’re speaking, your feelings escaping you in a flood.

“i shouldn’t be here,” you say shamelessly. “i know my being here is—. i shouldn’t be here. but i couldn’t not be, jace, not when you left without giving me a chance to tell you how i feel. because, gods, of course i feel for you. it’s unreasonable, insensible— there’s so much about each other we just don’t know anymore.” you shake your head, smiling at him wide and helpless and hopelessly, hopelessly in love with him. “but despite all the rationality in the world, all the good sense — despite knowing the trouble this is sure to bring us — i am completely and utterly in love with you, jacaerys velaryon.”

he kisses you, then, surges into your space and cups your cheeks and slots his mouth so sweetly against yours. you gasp into his lips as he kisses you deliberate, slow and tender in a way that makes your chest ache. your arms loop around his neck, pulling him as close as you can as his own arms wrap around your waist. your noses bump and your teeth clash in your eagerness and it’s still glorious, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever experienced because it’s him.

it’s always been him.

you part after a few minutes, remaining close together as he runs his hand through your hair before cradling your face once more. “tell me again,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing your breath.

“i love you,” you say, smiling so wide it makes your cheeks ache. “i love you, i love you, i lo—”

he kisses you again, a quick press of his mouth against your this time, and then he’s laughing softly as his golden eyes shine down at you. “i have loved you forever,” he tells you, indulgent and affectionate as his thumb traces over your cheek. “i will love you forever, my princess.”

he draws you closer still, holds you tightly against him but far enough that he can drink you in, and for long moments you simply bask in the presence of each other, of this slow unfurling of happiness in your heart. this close to him, you can once again see the freckles dotted across his face. without even thinking of it your hand rises, and with butterfly-gentle fingers you trace a path over the constellations mapped on sun-kissed skin. jace sighs softly with your touch, dark lashes fluttering closed as his lips part.

“iksā s��r gevie [you are so beautiful],” you murmur, slipping into high valyrian in the quiet of his chambers.

he exhales shakily, breath hitching in his chest as your fingers brush gently over his eyelids, the slope of his nose, the furrow of his brow. you want to remember him like this forever – bathed in the soft firelight, trembling beneath your tender touch, wholly and entirely yours.

“ñuha dārilaros [my princess],” he breathes, and hearing him speak possessively of you in your mother tongue ignites something within you so suddenly you cannot fight it.

arousal roars to life, deep in your belly, and you are helpless but to do anything but lean forward and press your lips to his once more. jace meets you just as greedily, hands gripping tightly to the flesh of your hips as he hauls you closer until your chests press together. your hand moves from his face to fist in his hair, tugging at his curls until he whines against your lips. he kisses you deep and open mouthed and filthy, tongue sliding against yours so deliciously that you can feel heat pulse between your legs.

one of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling until your head is tilted back. he trails hot, wet kisses along your neck and you hiss at the sensation, pressing his head closer to your skin. you feel him smirk against you before he mouths at your pulse point, teeth nipping just enough to send a thrill of pain and pleasure through you.

“jace,” you moan, grinding against him shamelessly as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you want him so fiercely it makes you reckless, makes you insatiable as the hand not buried in his curls drags down his back to grip at his ass. he groans against you, your name spilling from his lips so deep and husky that you want to do whatever you can to make him say it like that again and again and again.

“this is— we shouldn’t,” he says into your skin. he pushes at the shoulder of your dress to expose more of your bare skin to his greedy eyes, lips trailing the path his fingers have taken. “we should wait until we—. if anyone knew of this—”

“—no one will know,” you assure him, fingers flexing into the taut skin of his ass to drive him closer to you.

“i don’t want to, to besmirch your honour.” even as he speaks he’s dragging his tongue against your collarbone, chasing a bead of sweat down to the swell of your chest.

“fuck my honour,” you burst out, and your language has him moaning. you hitch your leg around his waist and his hand drops instantly to grip you at the knee, pulling you just so until the hard length of him is grinding deliciously against your core. you can’t think, can’t breathe, for wanting him. his touch and his scent and his taste consumes you, inflames you, and you care for nothing but the feel of him against you.

he pulls away from your chest, mouth swollen and pupils blown as he pants hotly. he presses his forehead to yours, squeezing your hip to still you as you shamelessly try to rub yourself against him. “this will bring ruin to you if it gets out, do you understand? it would break me to be the cause of such a thing.”

his desperation makes you hesitate, something about the fierce tone breaking into the haze of lust that consumes you. you take a moment to look at him, and you know with certainty that if you ask him to stop right this second he will.

but you don’t want him to stop. you’ve never wanted anything less.

“jace.” you cup his cheek, thumb dragging over his bottom lip as you force him to keep your gaze. “i know the risks of this as well as anyone.” you lean in closer, your nose sliding against his before you tilt your head to pepper soft, deliberate kisses along his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “i love you.” he sighs softly in pleasure before turning his head to capture your mouth again, and this kiss is a softer, slower thing.

when you break apart, you stare deeply into his eyes, making sure he can see the truth of your words. the heat in his amber eyes threatens to splinter you to pieces as you swallow thickly, almost overwhelmed once more with your desire for him.

“i am yours, jacaerys velaryon,” you say steadily. “no matter what happens from here— i belong to you.”

it’s like a dam breaks in him. his hands are suddenly everywhere as his mouth devours yours relentlessly, leaving you gasping and arching into his touch. he backs you towards his bed as his hands fist in your skirts, bunching the material up to your hips. he breaks from your mouth long enough to tug your dress over your head, leaving you in your thin small clothes, and despite the sweltering heat of the room your nipples harden beneath the sheer material.

“look at you, pretty thing,” he says reverentially, the weight of his heated gaze tangible as he stares at your heaving chest. “is this all for me?”

“yes,” you hiss, head tilting back as he trails kisses down the column of your throat. “all for you, jace. only ever for you.”

he groans at your words, deft fingers making quick work of the complicated stays of the brassiere, and when the material falls from you he stares for a long moment as if transfixed by the sight of your bare breasts. it makes you smug, knowing that those times you’ve caught his eyes lingering on your chest haven’t just been in your imagination.

“you are perfect,” he murmurs worshipfully, large hand cupping the side of your breast tenderly. “such a perfect girl for me.”

his thumb sweeps over your nipple, featherlight at first before returning more firmly when you sigh and lean into his touch. his other hand grips your hip once more, pulling you close to him as he lavishes more attention on your neck. he nips and kisses his way down your throat, your shoulder, the swell of your breast until he’s hunched slightly in front of you, sucking bruises into the tender skin of your chest.

“jacaerys, please.” you know not what you’re pleading for, only that you need something, and it’s as if he can read your mind as his mouth closes over your nipple. his hand, now free, gropes at your other breast as his tongue swirls tight circles around your nipple and your head tips back with a moan. it’s somehow enough and yet not, your hips bucking aimlessly as heat and slick pools between your legs, and you crave.

“more, please,” you beg shamelessly.

jace drops to the floor in response and the sight of him on his knees for you has your head spinning. he presses open mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your abdomen, bites gently at your hip as his hands slide steadily up your legs. you tremble beneath his careful ministrations, and he murmurs wordless assurances into your sweat-slick skin.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your smalls, dragging them agonisingly slowly down your legs until you can step out of them. standing completely bare before him you expect to find yourself shy, but the way jace looks at you rapturously has liquid heat licking through your veins instead.

he leaves lingering kisses on your thigh and down your leg, and when his mouth brushes over the tender skin at the back of your knee you feel them buckle. he huffs a gentle laugh against you, warm hands cradling your waist as he urges you to sit back on the bed. you do so unsteadily, planting your hands against the soft feather mattress and watching him with intent ardour.

he nudges your legs apart and settles between them, his shoulders spreading you wide around him and you release a soft breath as his thumbs rub soothing circles into your thighs. “let me take care of you, my princess,” he pleads, eyes wide and soft and beseeching as he gazes up at you. you nod hesitantly, not wholly sure what he intends, but then his eyes finally drop to your core and darken so quickly it makes your mouth dry.

“gods, look at you.” he drags a finger through your folds and your head cants back, a whine escaping you at the touch. “you’re so wet for me, love. so gorgeous.” he brings his finger to his mouth, licking it clean of your slick and it has your mouth dropping open because he’s obscene, you think. he’s glorious.

“you taste so good,” he says, his voice so rough with arousal it makes you shiver. “wanna taste more of you.”

with no more warning that that, he licks a deliberate strip along your slit before circling his tongue over your clit. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in the dark curls as he feasts on you. his name falls from your lips over and over again like a prayer as he laps at your core, tongue pressing deliciously inside you. you grind wantonly against his mouth, panting as he laves at your cunt.

your pleasure climbs sharply, rising so high you’re helpless to resist the way your stomach tightens. as if sensing your approaching high jace shifts his focus to your pulsing clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the bundle of nerves.

“jace, gods, feels so good,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his curls to press his head impossibly closer. “please don’t stop, ‘m so close—”

he sucks harshly on your pearl, ever so carefully dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh, and you fall to pieces as that tightly wound ball in your stomach snaps. he coaxes you through the trembling release, gentling his attention on you to drag out your pleasure until you’re squirming away from him in sensitivity. when he pulls away from your core his face is shining with your slick and the sight makes you feel feral. you bend to reach him and he presses up to meet you, kissing you hot and messy as you drink the taste of yourself from his mouth.

“you did so well for me, my princess,” he pants into your mouth as he crowds you onto the bed and the praise blooms hot in your chest. “need you to be good for me a little longer, okay? need to prepare you.”

you whimper, capturing his mouth in another sloppy kiss and nipping thoughtlessly at his lips as he settles between your legs. you can feel the heavy length of him against your hip, kept from you by his breeches, and you’re suddenly insensible with desire to see more of his skin. you tug wordlessly at the hem of his tunic, pulling it free from his trousers, and with a huff of fond amusement he separates from you to pull it over his head and toss it aside.

you drink in the exposed planes of his chest, leaning up to drag your tongue from freckle to freckle along his collarbone, and jace groans out your name in response. you follow the map of constellations down his chest, pressing kisses and gentle bites to the skin until you come to one of his nipples. hesitantly you flick your tongue out, curl it around the puckered skin just as jace had done to you earlier.

“fuck,” he hisses, fingers clenching in the sheets as his arms tremble with the strain of keeping himself steady above you.

emboldened by his response you lavish the pebbled bud with attention, switching to the other when the fancy takes you, until jace is shuddering with desire and pushing your shoulders back into the bed. he swallows your protests with a flurry of kisses as his fingers trail down your chest, your abdomen until he reaches the heat between your legs. he presses a finger against you again and you arch into the touch, tossing your head back into the pillows.

“i want you so badly,” he confesses in a whisper as he sucks another bruise into your neck.

“yes,” you respond senselessly, hips bucking up to meet the slow stroke of his finger. “want you, jace, please.”

“i need to prepare you first, love,” he tells you again and you whine in displeasure. “i don’t wish to hurt you, so i need to get you ready for me.”

you’ve heard that it can hurt, what happens in bed between a man and a woman. you can’t comprehend the idea with how good you feel right now, how good he’s made you feel already, but you nod in acquiescence at jace’s stubborn expression and he beams down at you.

“that’s my good girl,” he utters affectionately, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

the finger that’s been sliding leisurely against you shifts, pressing inside with a familiar stretch. you’ve touched yourself before, explored what pleasure you can draw from your own body in the late of the night. you don’t know if it’s different because it’s the angle or just because it’s jace, but the feeling of his finger pumping into you is so much better than anything you’ve managed with your own clumsy digits and you moan with the pleasure of it.

“you’re so tight,” he says in amazement, burning gold eyes staring down at you worshipfully. “can’t wait to be inside you, my princess.”

you moan at his filthy words, hips bucking into his touch as he presses a second finger into you. this one pinches more, makes it almost uncomfortable until jace starts to rub slow circles over your clit with his thumb. any discomfort melts into liquid pleasure as he mouths at your neck once more, fingers crooking inside of you just so until stars burst behind your eyes.

“fuck, jacaerys—”

he shushes you softly even as his eyes gleam with smug pride. he picks up the pace, now, fucking you with his fingers as your pleasure starts to climb once more. just when you start to feel like you can’t take it anymore he slides a third finger in, the stetch burning deliciously this time, and you come apart on his fingers with a strangled moan of his name. he doesn’t relent this time, though, even when you writhe helplessly beneath him; he just chases another release for you without giving you a chance to recover, and the thrill rises so quickly it almost makes it a little hard to breathe.

“just one more,” he soothes as you whine, pressing delicate kisses to the corner of your mouth as he drives his fingers into you relentlessly. “you’re doing so well. just one more for me.”

your third climax hits you so hard your back bows up from the bed, mouth parting in a silent cry of pleasure as jace coaxes you through it before pulling his fingers from you. you ache at the loss, mewling your displeasure as your cunt clenches around nothing. he breathes a laugh at your impatience, kissing you so sweetly in such contrast to the delicious heat between you that it almost makes you weep.

with shaking hands you reach for the ties of his breaches, fumbling with the laces while he kisses you languidly. you make a triumphant little noise when you finally untie them and he smiles at you, adoring and soft and yet somehow feverishly aroused as you push the leather trousers down his hips. he helps you the rest of the way, kicking them off before returning to hover over you.

your hands brush his abdomen as you reach for him, fingers curling gently around the hard line of his cock, and he realises a shuddering breath in response. he watches you intently as you stare at his arousal, fascinated by the way your fingers barely close around the thick girth of him. he’s going to fill you so well, you realise, and you bite your lip as your core clenches again. the tip of him is leaking fluid, and you drag your hand up his cock to swipe your thumb over the head.

jace moans at the movement, so you do it again and again, watching in inflamed curiosity at the way his stomach contracts as he thrusts into your hand, the wet noise of it making you flush down to your toes as desire sparks in your core. his hand covers your own abruptly, stopping your exploration, and you pout up at him as he fixes you with a blazing stare.

“if you keep doing that, i’m not going to last,” he says, voice shaking with the weight of his desire.

“fine.”

you huff, pretending at annoyance even as you eagerly lie back and spread your legs for him. you fix him with an expectant look, raising an eyebrow, and he chuckles fondly as he settles himself between your legs once more. you’re not expecting the velvet heat of him dragging against you and you gasp at the sensation, grinding against him as he thrusts shallowly against you.

“are you ready for me, love?” he checks, cradling your face in his hands as his thumb rubs over your jaw.

you turn to press a kiss against his palm, near overwhelmed with your love and affection for this man. “yes,” you say simply, and it’s all the permission he needs as he ducks down to kiss you unhurriedly.

his head catches at your opening on the next thrust, and with the slightest shift of your hips he’s pressing inside of you. the stretch of him burns, pinches, but just as he did with his fingers, he worms his hand between your bodies to drag circles over your clit. you do your best to relax, keeping your eyes fixed on his golden stare as he slides into you, agonisingly slow.

the whole while he keeps up a litany of praise, calling you good and precious and perfect as sweat beads along his forehead. when he’s finally fully sheathed inside you he stills his movements, kisses you hard and wanting as he thumbs at your pearl, and when you’re ready you tilt your hips. the stretch of him burns, still, but in a way that sets your skin alight as you cling to his shoulders.

he moans your name like a prayer, drawing away from you until the tip of his cock catches at your entrance once more, and this time when he sinks back in your eyes roll back into your head. he feels so good, stretching and filling you so completely that you’ve no room to think, to breathe, to do anything but take it as he thrusts into you. he buries his head in your neck, resting on his forearms as he plunges into you again and again and again, and between your own choked breaths and the sounds of skin against skin, you hear him muttering in high valyrian.

“sīr sȳz syt nyke, sīr ȳrda, sīr lōz. vēttan syt nyke. ñuha dārilaros, mirre ñuhon [so good for me, so tight, so wet. made for me. my princess, all mine].”

it drives you wild, his voice and his words and hearing him speak in valyrian combined with the exquisite torture of the slow drag of his cock inside you. it’s too much, not enough, and leaves you with nothing but the need to feel as much of him as you possibly can. your hands drag up and down his back, fingernails leaving raised red lines in their wake as you seek to be as close to him as you can bear.

“more, jace, gods, please, i need—”

he cuts you off with a hard thrust, your breath punching out of your lungs as he starts to drive into you harder and faster. it’s so good, so fucking good, but still not quite enough and you whine, seeking something you’re not sure you know how to verbalise.

“whatever you need, love. i’ll give you whatever you need.”

understanding your need even when you don’t, jacaerys rears up, grips your legs and presses your knees to your chest before bearing down on you. like this he reaches so deep it hurts in the most unbearably, searingly pleasurable way. and it’s perfect, exactly what you needed, feeling him so far inside you that it soothes you and ignites you and makes you ache all at once.

“y’feel so good,” you manage to slur out, head lolling as you lose yourself to the feel of him taking you apart so expertly. “so— fuck— so deep. so good, jace, so good.”

jace groans your name, pounding into you so hard and so deep that it’s unconscionable, has your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips buck up to meet him recklessly. your peak approaches again, searing heat blazing through you as you inch closer to another climax, and all you can do is whine and moan as he fills you over and over again. he starts to lose the thread of his rhythm as you clench around him, valyrian and common tongue mixing senselessly as praise spills from his lips.

“avy jorrāelan [i love you] my perfect girl, gūrogon nyke sīr sȳrī [take me so well], can’t get enough of you, hells, i love you, ao sagon ñuhon [you’re mine], my love, my princess, my queen, ñuha ābrazȳrys [my wife].”

you come so hard you see stars, walls pulsing around jace’s cock as he curses. he thrusts sloppily into you, chasing his own release and dragging out your own as you keen, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. he finds completion with a drawn out noise, seed spilling hot and thick inside of you as he lazily pumps his hips two, three more times before collapsing on top of you.

you press absent kisses to his temple, brushing back the sweat-soaked curls from where they’ve matted on his forehead as he shudders against you. you feel lethargic, body aching in the sweetest of ways as you fight to catch your breath. eventually the heavy weight of jace on top of you becomes uncomfortable and you squirm beneath him in protest. with a sigh he slides himself free of you, rolling over onto his back and wrapping an arm around you to pull you with him so that you sprawl over his chest.

you bury your smile into his neck, satisfaction settling bone-deep as his hand runs up and down your back idly. for long moments the two of simply lie together in the quiet, the only sound the rustling of the sheets and the crackle of the dying fire.

“i’ll speak to my mother and the king on the morrow,” he says into the quiet and you raise your head to look at him. he looks serious, amber eyes contemplative as he peers down at you. “i’ll not let another night pass without you as my betrothed.” he smiles at you then, a little crooked as his eyes crinkle, and without thought you reach up to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“i love you,” you say, eyes shining with mischief. “ñuha valzȳrys [my husband].”

jace swallows your laugh with another kiss, doing a poor job of hiding his own amusement as his smile presses to yours, and as the candles burn down you let all of your worries and doubts fade.

you love him. he loves you.

there’s nothing else that matters.

[bumblesimagines]

Grateful You're Mine

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Princess Helaena finally weds the man she's been engaged to since they were children. She finds married life to be more than she expected.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, arranged marriage trope, fluff, they match each other's freaks and social levels, canon divergent/au since the twins aren't Aegons, literally nothing else just short and sweet

Crazy we hardly got to see the pleasant and happy girl she was described as 😔 WFMF coming soon!! just thought i'd give some other characters attention for once

~~~

As consciousness seeped into her body, the sweet smell of flowers filled her nose, powerful yet not overwhelming enough to irritate her. It took her brain a few moments to catch up and remind her that she no longer resided within the dreary walls of the Red Keep, but instead in her new home in Highgarden. She rubbed at her eyes with her knuckles gently and pushed herself into a sitting position, her eyes sweeping around the room before settling on the empty spot in the bed beside her. 

"Good morrow, Princess Helaena," Her handmaiden, Maecy, greeted with a friendly smile as she set down a tray with food to break her fast and herbal tea to warm her body. 

"Good morrow," She responded sleepily, slipping her legs free from underneath the blankets and wriggling her feet into the slippers beside the bed. "Has Lord (Y/N) gone somewhere?" 

Her handmaiden smiled knowingly, her slender fingers picking up one of the brushes set on the vanity. "I cannot say, My Princess. I am afraid I have been sworn to secrecy for the time being." 

Helaena's head cocked to the side but she nonetheless nodded silently and stood up, shuffling across the room to retrieve a slice of honeyed bread. She sat down on the comfortable chair and began eating, savoring each bite and licking her fingers clean as Maecy began delicately brushing her hair, untangling knots and smoothing the frizz out with oils. Once finished with her breakfast, Helaena stood up and blinked owlishly at Maecy when the brunette remained rooted in her spot instead of gathering the clothes she'd be wearing for the day.

Before she could question her, the doors parted and Helaena turned around, a smile immediately gracing her features upon seeing her new husband enter. (Y/N) returned it and walked forward, a servant following with a box in her hands as the doors shut firmly behind them. Helaena eyed the box curiously, her brows furrowing questioningly at him. 

"Do you recall that drawing you really liked of the beetle?" He asked her, leaning down to pluck a leftover grape from her plate and plop it into his mouth. Helaena gave a slow nod and he brightened, peering over his shoulder to nod to the servant. "I had a gift made for you."

Helaena watched as Maecy and the servant worked together to take the lid off before she gaped at the sight of a pretty soft blue dress with white accents. They lifted it from the box to showcase its full beauty, and her heart leaped in her chest at the lovely white design of a stag beetle threaded into the bosom area of the dress with small white flowers around it. She pressed her fingers to her lips, her pale lilac eyes widening as she fully absorbed the beauty of the dress. 

(Y/N) watched her, fingers fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt. "Do you like it?" He questioned somewhat nervously only for the nerves to fade at the sound of Helaena's giddy giggle. She nodded and leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips that made his skin warm. 

Eagerly, Helaena allowed Maecy and the servant to help her dress, the two women giggling softly under their breaths at the way Lord (Y/N) turned around despite the two having wed the week prior. When they finished, Helaena studied her reflection in the mirror, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip at the wave of excitement and giddy rushing through her veins. The compliments and coos from the women were swiftly overshadowed by the way her husband's eyes lit up at the sight of her. 

"It is truly lovely," Helaena spoke softly, clutching the skirt to walk better as she strode forward before releasing it to take his hands into hers. He smiled again, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands soothingly, just as he had done under the table during their wedding celebrations when the music and loud chatter had become overwhelming for her. "Thank you." 

"Mother thought the fabrics would have been better in green but I've always thought you looked lovelier in blue." (Y/N) told her and she felt her own skin warm, a breathy and shy laugh escaping past her lips. He released one of her hands to brush back one of her silver strands, his eyes softened and filled with genuine warmth. 

After witnessing the loveless marriage between her parents and the chaotic marriage between Aegon and his Lannister wife, Helaena grew to fear her own wedding would be a miserable one. Her marriage to (Y/N) had been arranged by her grandsire after her mother dismissed the idea of her marrying her own brother and rejected her older half-sister's proposal to wed her to one of her sons, although he remained a stranger for many years until the Tyrells expressed their desires to see their heir with children of his own. 

She'd been nervous that day, and her mother's own anxiety hardly helped her own, but when (Y/N) stood before her with a pink hydrangea in hand and his eyes averted to focus on the floor beneath them, she realized she had little to fear. When they'd been left to wander the garden with a handmaiden trailing behind them, the awkward air faded with ease once she began speaking of her beloved crickets and the small creatures she found most interesting and he told her of the flowers that attracted certain creatures. A spark had seemingly ignited, one fueled the night of their wedding day when he offered to lie to their parents when she'd grown too nervous to consummate the marriage. 

"Oh," (Y/N) brightened once more. "You must see the garden at this time of year, Helaena. There's butterflies in every corner." 

And so they took a stroll through the garden, taking in the floral scents in the air and the vibrant rows of flowers with butterflies, other winged insects, and even a few hummingbirds bouncing from flower to flower.

Her mother had been right when she told her a girl of her disposition would do well within the peaceful walls of Highgarden; everything about Highgarden felt calming. The Red Keep had a tense air to it with its gloomy weather and near-suffocating residents but those who resided in Highgarden appeared more carefree and happy. Helaena enjoyed it, enjoyed being in a place where she received smiles instead of judgemental glances. 

Unlike in the Keep where time passed agonizingly slowly with little to nothing new happening, Highgarden always seemed to be bursting with life and music. Helaena found herself passing time with her husband in the garden, her hands focused on beginning an embroidery of a pretty butterfly she spotted whilst (Y/N) drew a flower with his chalk on paper. Things were silent between them yet merely spending time beside him satisfied her, allowing her to work with a small smile on her face. 

When they finished with their respective pieces, they returned inside and ate lunch in the quiet of their bedchambers. Helaena watched the servants scoop up the plates and take them away, cleaning the table and curtsying before swiftly leaving the room and leaving her to turn to look at (Y/N). His head remained tilted toward the balcony overlooking the large maze, his eyes distant but expression content. 

"Husband," Helaena roused him, bringing him back to the present. She licked a crumb off the owner of her lips and straightened up in her seat, casting Maecy a glance. "What do you think of having children?" 

"Babes are loud and messy." (Y/N) responded, leaning back into his chair and swirling around the last of his tea before bringing it to his lips. "It would be... nice to have some, though. I think it would please Mother to have grandchildren and Father would surely dote on them." 

"I'd like to have some soon," Helaena revealed. She'd always been told she'd make a lovely mother. "A boy and two girls, I think, would be nice. Mother claims Hightowers oft' have many boys, though." 

"We can have as many as you desire."

Children, Helaena came to learn, were rather interesting little creatures that brought forth such wonder and intense feelings out of her. Helaena simply couldn't get enough of watching her newest little one sleep cradled in her arms, her rosy cheeks more apparent from the complexion she'd inherited from her mother. Daenys gave a small yawn and squeezed her eyes before parting them to reveal the violet beneath. 

"Someone has finally awoken," Helaena murmured, tilting her head to look at her husband. He held a book in his hands, one about different flowers documented across Westeros, with their sleepy twins nestled between his arms. She reached out to run her fingers through Jaehaerys (H/C) hair, unable to bite back the smile when he nuzzled further into his father's chest. 

Carefully, (Y/N) set the book aside and scooped Jaehaerys up to settle him at his mother's side before he took Daenys into his arms, eyes crinkling with joy when she cooed at the sight of him. "I hear your nieces and nephews may give Queen Alicent some gray hairs." He chuckled. "It is no wonder why she visits as often as she does." 

"Maelor and his siblings have inherited much from their parents, I suppose. A lioness in gold forced to live in the cold will always have her claws out... and Aegon's never been... easy." Helaena spoke, her arm sliding around her only boy and the future heir to Highgarden. The look (Y/N) sent her way made her chuckle, lightly shrugging her shoulders. "I am certain he is a good father even if he may not be.. an adequate husband."

"If you say so." (Y/N) murmured, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against Daenys just to hear her burst with giggles. Her dozing sister parted her eyes at the sound and eagerly moved closer, eyes wide with adoration as she took in her new sibling again. Her father sweetly stroked the back of her head, tilting his arm so she'd have a better look at Daenys. "Though, he is as good of an uncle as Prince Aemond. He has already sent the finest jewels for Daenys."

"It's not so bad being married to a Targaryen, then?" Helaena asked teasingly, leaning toward him to rest her chin upon his shoulder. 

(Y/N) huffed a small laugh and kissed the side of her head. "Yes, it's not so bad. It's lovely, if anything, dearest." 

[www-loser-org]

Tulips and a Broken Clock

Pairing: Post-Scratch!Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Bookstore-Owner!Reader

MDNI 17/18+ ONLY

SMUT WARNING

A/N: Unfortunately, English is my first language, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! No use of y/n. This was inspired by a post prison Spencer fic called Hourglass by @nereidprinc3ss , it was so good and I loved the premise of it, so I decided to attempt my own.

Content Warnings: 17/18+ ONLY, MDNI, semi-canon Hotch, smitten!Hotch, time skips, not physically descriptive reader, physically descriptive Hotch, 1st person reader, protected sex, interchangeable use of cock and dick, oral sex (fem! receiving), missionary, fluff, angst, smut, use of pet names (darling, honey, baby, sir, counselor, captain, etc.), dirty talk, female is vocal, Hotch isn’t (not surprising), tit sucking, clit play, mention of real life events (COVID), I DO NOT OWN ANY CRIMINAL MINDS CHARACTERS, hair pulling (male receiving), scratching (no mentions of Scratch/Peter Lewis), “I need to know you’re real” sex, OC side characters (Mrs. Johnson), mentions of Before I Let Go by Kennedy Ryan, let me know if there’s more

Word Count: 5,375 words

The clock was ticking by very slowly today. Too slow. I kept eyeballing it as I anxiously waited for the seconds to pass by, silently wishing it would go by faster. It was just another day at the cozy bookshop I had opened a little over 2 years ago. The smell of vintage, used, and new books blended together in harmony with the mix of my lavender essence I had at the front. A few customers roamed amongst the shelves, skimming their fingers along the edges and quiet voices humming in the air. It was a slow day, by any means, but it was even slower as I waited impatiently for the clock to start my wonderful date night. I tapped against the book I was reading and watched as the seconds clock ticked by. Is it getting slower? I should have the mechanic check it out. But that’s so expensive, I can just do i-

“Are you okay there, sugarplum?” The customer asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I shook a little, but smiled nonetheless. “Yes, Mrs. Johnson. I’m just a little distracted today.” I replied, scanning her books. 

“What’s got your mind warped, sugar?” She asks, taking out her wallet.

“Well,” I started, bagging her order and tapping on the screen. “I have a date tonight.”

“Oooo, is it that attractive, serious, brunette man? He’s been looking at you with sparkles in his eyes.” She said.

I nodded, cheekily smiling. “Yes, we had gone out on a few dates over the past 4 months and I really like him.”

She chuckled. “That’s good, sugarplum. Have fun tonight, and be safe.” She warned, pointing an accusatory finger at me as she grabbed her bag and walked out. I giggled and waved at her. “I will, goodnight Mrs. Johnson!” 

I looked back at the clock and not even 5 minutes went by, the hour hand remaining on the 5. I sighed and pulled out my book again, attempting to continue my reading as the remaining customers wandered and filed out. Purchasing or window shopping. 

One by one, chapter by chapter, it soon became 6:30 and I was able to close for the night. I counted out the change and the register and placed them in the safe, putting in the code to ensure its safety. It was then I heard the bell go off in the store. I got up quickly and reached for the bat behind the door. “We’re closed!” I shouted into the store, my hand twisting the bat nervously. I stepped out and closed the door to the office, placing the bat in both my hands. Stupid! You should’ve just hid and called the police! I scolded myself. I walked out slowly, crouching slightly in case the intruder could see me. 

“It’s just me.” I suddenly heard from my right side. I swung the bat towards my intruder before hearing a yelp. “Aaron?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know we agreed on 7:30, but I was off earlier than expected and came over immediately.” He explained as I turned on the lights, revealing him in his work attire and holding a bouquet of tulips. Pink tulips. Aaron had fallen and was now laying in between the back reading chairs. He held out the tulips for me to take. I breathed the sweet scent of them and sighed, smiling sweetly at him before holding a hand down to him. He took it and I pulled him up. He stood up quickly and so close to me, I could feel his breath on my nose. I smiled and looked up into his eyes. “Hi.” I whispered.

“Hi.” He whispered back. He smiled and I stole a glance at his lips. He noticed and glanced at mine. Slowly, he leaned in, closing most of the gap between us until his were brushing mine, teasing mine. I decided to minimize the distance and close the gap, kissing him fully. The kiss was soft and sweet, slow enough to stop the world. I closed my eyes, heaven taking over my senses. I let go of his hand and reached to cup his jaw and his grazed my other hand that held the roses. The kiss stole our breath away as we’d break apart for a few seconds and return to the kisses. Heaven blessed this world as we continued to kiss each other in the back reading area of the store. 

Soon his hands caressed my waist as he gently pushed me back. I opened my eyes and pouted teasingly. “Don’t you have to get dressed?” Aaron asked.

I giggled lightly. “You’re right, I do. Give me 20 minutes. You can come up if you’d like. My place is just above the store if you wanna wash up and wait.”

He nodded and followed me upstairs. I led him into the living room, nodding my head as I told him to sit. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a clear vase for the flowers. I felt a presence behind me as he grabbed the vase with one hand. “I got this, it’s okay. Go get ready, don’t worry, we’re still early.” I smiled and kissed his cheek before briskly walking towards my bedroom. 

***

We were walking towards the restaurant doors, hand in hand, smiling at each other. Aaron had a reservation at 8 for the place. I was decked out in a white dress with white shoes, opposite of his dark suit and red tie. Aaron told the hostess his name and she then led us to our table. Aaron had let go of my hand briefly to pull out my chair. “And they say chivalry is dead.” I teased as I sat down, pulling my chair in slightly. 

“Well honey, I keep the chivalry's heart pumping.” He smiled before sitting down in his seat, pulling out his menu as I pulled out mine.

We spent hours there, just talking, laughing, and smiling overall. My heart fluttered at every little thing Aaron had done. From asking the waiter for a refill for my water to asking me little questions about my shop. Whether it be the workload, the stock of books, or even the customer shenanigans, I understood that he cared. I also discussed my past life, parts I never really discussed with anyone else, how I never kept in contact with my parents because their dreams for me were different from mine, how my fiance died in a car crash, how hard it was to start up another small business bookshop, etc. We also discussed some of his old cases. They were brutal, not brutal enough for nightmares, but enough to scare me a little. He had told me about his late ex-wife, Haley, and his son Jack, who was with the babysitter tonight. He spoke highly of her, mentioning how though they divorced, she had always understood his job and odd hours. He stated how she had aggressive opinions against it, but it was understandable given the circumstances and the effects on the relationship. I reached out for his hand and grasped it softly, hoping to comfort him. He explained that his job is what got her killed, how a serial killer named George Foyet had shot and killed Haley. He also talked about Jack and how tough it was to raise him with his job and how much help Jessica, Haley’s sister, had helped out when watching Jack when Aaron had a case. I nodded in understanding, allowing him to continue his stories throughout the night. 

Later that night, he walked me home. He held an arm around my waist as we slowly walked the path to my home. I adorned his black trench jacket and his tie was loosened. We shared whispers of little things that had happened today, swapping little stories with each other as the wind brushed around us. 

Once we reached the front door of the store, we stopped. I looked at him and turned to fully face him. “You can say no, but do you wanna head up with me?” I asked hesitantly with hopeful eyes. 

He eyed upstairs before closing his eyes, groaning quietly. “I would love to, honey. But I forgot that the babysitter doesn’t do nights.”

I nodded, slightly disappointed. “It’s alright. I understand. Besides, we had that other time a few weeks ago.”

He chuckled before pulling me in close, kissing my forehead. “I’m really sorry, sweetheart. I promise, I’ll make it up to you next week. I’ll push Jack to have a sleepover or something.” He looked into my eyes, guilt glossing over the surface. “I’ll think of something, I swear.”

I smiled before leaning more into him. “I know you will, Hotchner. You always do.” I kissed him. And then I kissed him again. And then I leaned in for another kiss, brushing his lips with mine. He laughed lightly at the trick and held my jaw in his hands before leaning in and kissing me slowly, closing his eyes. I closed mine as I grabbed his torso and pulled him closer to me.

We eventually let go and breathed in the fresh air. “Good night, darling.” Aaron whispered, letting go.

“Good night, Captain.” I replied, unlocking and opening the door. Once I entered, I immediately went upstairs before realizing that I still had his jacket. I placed it on the coat rack and took a picture of it, sending it to Aaron. You forget something? I texted him. 

He replied, Keep it, save it for our next date.

I smiled before replying, Ok ;). My heart buzzed as I thought of all the possibilities of our next date. I was so excited. I think I like him a little more than I thought. 

***

The next date never came. In fact, there were only a few texts exchanged before Aaron completely ghosted me. A 44 year old man with PTSD and a 11 year old son ghosted me. I scoff at the fact less than I cry over the fact. I thought we were going somewhere with this. I thought we were lovers at that point. I guess I was wrong. I was still managing my bookshop, as usual. From 9 am to 8 pm, customers came and went, buying books, selling books, etc. The pandemic made it hard for the store to survive. I reopened the store as soon as it was allowed, following all the regulations and rules in hopes that I could sell more books and keep the store on its feet. However, during the pandemic, my late grandmother had caught COVID and had died, leaving me an inheritance that kept the store alive and thriving. That and the coffee bar I had installed along with the 9 am to 6 pm barista, who gets paid separately and pays rent on the space.

The tulips from my last date with Aaron sit on the desk, wilted and dried out. I kept them there out of hope, no matter how many times my friends had told me to get rid of them and no matter how many dates I went on, no one could compare to Aaron. It’s silly and stupid, that after 8 years of him disappearing, I still had hope he would come back for his jacket. But he didn’t. And so the tulips were one of the good memories I had with Aaron. 

Sighing, I looked at the clock and saw that it had not moved since noon. I checked the time on my computer and saw that time had sufficiently passed. It was 6:52 and I knew I had to get ready to close. Looking around, I saw the only person left was Mrs. Johnson in the back reading area. I smiled before getting up and tapping her shoulder lightly. “Mrs. Johnson, it’s almost closing time. Would you like me to ring you up?”

“Oh, yes please, sugarplum. Just the one, please.” She replied, holding out one book, Before I Let Go by Kennedy Ryan as I helped her up.

“Good book?” I ask, walking up to the register and ringing her up.

“Oh, it’s great! Reminds me of my husband, Richard, and I,” She smiled fondly. “Falling back in love after thinking we fell out of it.”

“That’s sweet, Mrs. Johnson. I’ll have to check it out myself.” I smiled back.

She nodded, glancing at the flowers. “Don’t lose hope, dear.”

I solemnly smiled. “Good night, Mrs. Johnson.”

She nodded in reply and walked out of the store. I followed behind her and started to pull in the outside coffee tables and chairs, wiping them down as I brought them in. I locked the door, making sure the door didn’t budge. I wiped down all the shelves and the register area, placing the cleaning items under the desk. I glanced up and saw the clock. Snapping my fingers, I pulled out a drawer in the register desk and grabbed a couple batteries along with a screwdriver. I grabbed a ladder and opened it out. Stepping up the ladder, I grabbed the clock off the screw in the wall. I stepped back down the ladder when I heard a knock at the door. Stopping my movements, I placed the clock down on a nearby shelf before walking out into the main area. Looking through the glass, my breath stopped. His back was turned to me, but I knew it was him. Aaron Hotchner.

He was holding white tulips and anxiously looking around. I walked closer to the door, my eyes trained on him and his stature. He turned around and our eyes met. Slowly, I walked over to the door. My hands shook as I slowly pressed the handle bar of the door. I pushed the door open and looked back up at him. His eyes stared back into mine. He looked different. More rugged features on his face. He had grown out his beard and was more fit in. He was wearing much more casual wear, no suits. He was wearing an open blue button down with a white shirt and jeans, sneaker clad. I slowly reached a hand up to his face before cupping his cheek. He leaned in a little to my hand. I gasped quietly before caressing more of his face. His eyes were glazed with tears, reflecting mine. “You’re really here.” I confirmed, tears slowly falling from my eyes. 

“Yes. And I’m so sorry.” He replied, sincerity in his voice.

I shook my head. “Shut up.” I grabbed both sides of his face and pulled him in for a kiss. I closed my eyes as he reciprocated immediately. He wrapped his arms around my waist, careful for the flowers. This gave me the opportunity to pull him closer to me, wrapping my hands around his neck. His beard tickled my chin and tears flavored the kiss. I pulled away with my head still against his, a quiet sob wracking my throat. “You’re really here.” I said again, more breathily than the first time. My eyes were still closed because I feared that if I opened them, he would be gone again. “I’m really here.” He confirmed, as if he had heard my thoughts. I laughed lightly before opening my eyes. He was already looking at me, quiet tears flowing down his face. I kissed him again, much softer than the first time. 

I kicked out my foot and pushed the door more open while pulling him inside by his neck. As I pulled him inside, the kisses got more desperate as we swerved towards my cash desk. Aaron placed his hands on either side of the desk, placing the flowers down on the counter. I pulled him closer, molding our bodies as close as possible, grinding against his clothed dick. His hands gripped the desk counter, knuckles turning white at my movement. He groaned into my mouth, which sent shivers down my back. He pulled away first, both of us gasping for breath. “Wait.” He said and I paused, opening my eyes and looking at his. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

I placed my hand against his mouth. “Aaron, I’m positive. You’re alive and I hate you for that and I want to understand why. But right now, I need you to fuck me like you promised. I need to know you’re still here and you won’t leave again.”

He shook his head, eyes running crazy. He removed my hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“And Jack?”

He chuckled, reminiscence in his eyes. “Jack is almost 19 years old and in college. I’m pretty sure we’re fine.”

“Okay, just double checking.” I confirmed. He tapped my hips. I immediately understood and jumped, him catching me. I placed a hand around his shoulder and patted his chest with the other. “Why don’t we take this to my room.” I said.

“Absolutely.” He replied. He then walked as quickly as possible towards the office door, opening and closing it while still holding me. He walked us up the stairs and put me down once we reached the living room. I grabbed his face and pulled him towards mine, heavy breaths mingling with one another. I pulled him in for another hot kiss before my hands moved to push the button down off “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” He replied, desperately, allowing the garment to fall onto the ground. He fiddled with the hem of my own shirt, teasing my skin. “Is this okay?” He asked, raising a brow.

“God, yes.” I replied, lifting my arms. He removed the shirt and pulled me into him by my hips. His lips sought mine out and I followed the suit, kissing him deeper. I kicked off my shoes and he did his. I pulled him by his neck into my bedroom, the door pushing open with our force. I let go of his lips and gasped for air, falling back into my queen bed. I pushed myself all the way up to my pillows, curling my finger to tease him towards me, smiling cheekily. He followed me up, lips kissing up my skin from my jean clad hips. My hands sought his hair as I basked in the heat of his lips. He reached my bra and pulled it down enough to reveal my nipples. They hardened at the cold air and at his movements. He kissed each one teasingly. I watched him with bated breath. His eyes bore back into mine as he proceeded to take my right nipple in his mouth, sucking sweetly and swirling his tongue. I moaned at the contact, grabbing his hair. He continued his mantra of sensuality, taking moments between suckling and swirling his tongue. His right hand twisted and flicked my other nipple. The movements alone had me moaning at the contact and pulling him closer into me. He switched to the opposite side, making sure to give the second nipple just as much attention as the first. I let out another moan at the switch, leaning my head back and shutting my eyes. He continued this mantra as much as he did the first one until both nipples were perked and red from the attention. His trail of kisses reached my neck as he sucked bruising kisses on my neck. His lips reached mine and he pressed deep, hot kisses on my lips. He teased his tongue, prodding at my lips and I opened my mouth. His tongue and taste invaded my senses, he tasted of cinnamon vanilla as I explored more, fighting him for dominance. He won, as usual, taking over all my senses, smell, taste, touch, you name it, he owned it. 

His fingers tapped the waistband of my jeans. He let go of my swollen lips with a gasp. “Is this okay?”

“Please.” I whispered.

“Huh? I didn’t hear that darling. You need to speak up for me, darling girl.” Aaron teased

“Please, Aaron.” I pleaded louder, lifting my hips to meet his. 

He chuckled. “So impatient.” He kissed my jaw. “So needy.” He kissed my neck, trailing his kisses back down until they reached my belt. His fingers fiddled with the buckle, opening the belt. His fingers unbuttoned my pants and he pulled the zipper down, easily pulling the pants down. I lifted my hips off the bed to give him more access to pull the jeans off. After he pulled my pants off, I reached around my back and unclasped my bra, throwing it off to the side. Aaron positioned himself right in front of my entrance, licking his lips as if he were starved. He looked up at my eyes from his position. “May I?” He asked gently against my pussy, ever the gentleman. 

I nodded. “Yes, please, Aaron.” I pleaded. 

He obeyed, chuckling slightly. He pulled down my panties and groaned when he saw how wet I had gotten. He looked completely enamored with my pussy, watching how it glistened and clenched, waiting for him. I felt him breathing at the entrance and felt my walls clench around nothing. I made a small noise from my throat. “Please sir, I need you.”

Aaron’s eyes lit up and he smirked. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I got you.” His tongue reached out and licked a big stripe against my pussy. I gasped at the sudden contact but lifted my hips nonetheless. He wrapped his (big, beefy) arms around my thighs and grounded my body against my bed. He pulled my lower half towards his mouth, licking his way into my entrance. I moaned and gasped at the feeling, allowing him in. His tongue licked stripes on and inside my pussy, varying in patterns and paces. He moved one hand from my thigh and prodded one finger inside. I felt it slide in and moaned at the contact, leaning my head back and shutting my eyes. His finger pumped in and out in a slow rhythm as he licked stripes up and down my labia. 

After a few more pumps, Aaron added another finger inside my entrance. He moved his tongue up from its position and swirled it around my clit. I gasped at the sudden change and grabbed his hair, pulling slightly. He groaned a little and it sent vibrations up my body, letting moans fall out my mouth like a river. His mouth switched from swirling to sucking my clit. His fingers pumped in and out of my pussy. One of my hands was down grabbing his hair, pulling him closer to my pussy. My other hand was under my pillow, grasping the sheets of it and twisting. He sped up his fingers, pumping them in and out of me faster. I gasped at the change and moaned. His tongue swirled my clit until his thumb replaced it, circling it slowly. His fingers sped up as well as his thumb and it made me gasp, my thighs threatening to close in. “Oh shit, Aaron.” I moaned out.

“That’s it, darling. Say my name.” He replied, continuing his movements at the same pace. “Aaron, Aaron, Aaron.” I repeated, like a chorus, my moans and gasps making up the verse. His fingers were quickly working me up, closer and closer. “Oh my god, Aaron. Don’t stop.” I gasped out. He started leaving kisses over my thighs, stopping every few kisses to suck hickies into my thighs. “Please, don’t -fuck, don’t stop!” I pleaded, moving both hands to grip his hair, pulling slightly. The overwhelming pleasure of everything, his thumb, his fingers, his kisses, it all hit me as that knot twisted tighter in my stomach. “Oh fuck, I’m about to cum!” I let out, gasping and moaning, unable to stop myself. His fingers kept the pace but went harder and harder, making me gasp even more than before. “Oh fuck Aaron, I’m about to-” I was cut off when the knot broke in my stomach and I came with a moan. Aaron reached his head down, licking up every droplet like a man starved. His fingers continued to slowly fuck me through my orgasm, drawing it out until the first load was gone. I moved both of my hands to my forehead, catching my breath.

After he had finished, he brought himself back up to my face. “Breathe, darling. It’s okay.” He said. He kissed me softly on my cheeks and nose. I brushed my fingers through his hair and brought it to the back of his neck. I pulled him back to my lips and kissed him desperately. I moved my other hand down his chest and fiddled with the hem of his white shirt. He immediately understood, sitting up and taking it off. I moved my hands to his belt buckle and tried to get it off. He grabbed my hands and placed them above my head. “I know that you’re impatient, baby, but I gave you what you want-”

“Please Aaron, I want more.” I reply, lifting my hips to grind towards his. 

“First of all, it’s sir. Second of all, it’s going to be sir for the rest of tonight, or you’re not gonna cum. If you want anything, you ask. Are we clear?” He responded in a demanding tone.

“Yes, counselor.” I tested, smile spreading, testing him. He turned his head to the side curiously, smiling curving in his features. He chuckled, “I’ll allow it.”

Slowly, he let go of my wrists and sat back on his knees. I pulled my elbows up, positioning myself towards him. He unclasped his belt and pulled down his pants, leaving him in his white boxer briefs. I sat up and slowly reached for his cock, feeling out how hard he was. Aaron wrapped a hand around my wrist and pulled it away slowly. “No, not tonight,” He laid me back down and I wriggled to get more comfortable. He grabbed the spare pillow from beside me and tapped my hips. I obeyed and raised them. “Tonight’s all about you, my darling.” Aaron put the pillow under my hips and stripped himself of his boxer briefs. His dick was leaking with precum, the red tip begging for attention. I stared with my mouth agape. He was 6.5 inches and I knew I was in trouble. I had forgotten how big he was, 8 years time will do that to a person. He reached behind and pulled a condom from his pants pocket. He opened the package, pinched the tip of the rubber and rolled it down his cock. He looked at my face and caught me staring. Aaron chuckled and it caught my attention, changing my line of sight to look at his eyes. “Have you not been taken care of, baby? I’m sorry, I’m here now.” He said, teasing my pussy with his tip. I gasped at the contact, looking down at him holding his cock and where our bodies met. He hissed slightly. “God, you’re so wet.”

“Please sir.” I pleaded.

“Please what?”

“Please stop teasing.” I whined, slowly reaching a hand down to his dick. I reached down and gathered some slick from my pussy and rubbed it on Aaron’s dick, pumping it a couple times. He hissed again before fully grabbing his dick and slowly entered my pussy. I gasped at the stretch, not used to it like I was and closed my eyes, concentrating on relaxing. He leaned down and kissed my neck softly. “Just let me know honey. When you want me to move.” He whispered. 

Once he fully entered me, I moaned at the contact, taking time to adjust. Eventually, I whispered a small yes and Aaron started to thrust back and forth into me. I moaned at the contact as he groaned. Slowly he thrusted in and out of my pussy, taking one of my hands on his and placing it above my head. I moaned out at his thrusts as they hit my pussy deep and hard. Aaron grunted as he thrusted, the sexy sound spilling from his lips as he kissed my neck. I took my free hand and wrapped it around his neck and down his back, softly clawing at it as he moved. “Faster.” I whispered.

“What was that?” He asked in a teasing tone, hitting harder, causing me to yelp in surprise. 

“Please sir, faster.” I gasped out. He obeyed, moving his hips faster and harder, hitting that sweet spot. A high pitched moan left my lips as I clawed his back, my legs wrapped around his waist. He suckled more hickies into my skin, moving his hips faster. “Oh god, sir.” I called out, gasping at the pace of his thrusts. “Yeah? How do you feel, honey?” He teased. 

“So. Fucking. Good.” I replied in a gaspy, whiny tone. He moved my hand to his hair and moved his lips down towards my boobs, suckling more hickies down the trail. He latched his mouth around one of my nipples. His hips moved faster, the veins of his dick rutting pleasure through my walls. His tip continued to hit my spongy sweet spot, causing me to silently scream. My hand tightened on his hair, not pushing or pulling him anywhere, just tightening which caused him to groan. My other hand dug my nails into his shoulder blade, scratching and grabbing onto anything to ground me in my heavenly state. Serieses of “oh fuck” spilled out of my lips like a chorus. Our sweaty bodies are moving with the shaking of the bed.

I decided to open my eyes and look down at Aaron. His eyes were focused on my boobs before he looked up into my eyes, switching nipples. The multitude of sensations were overwhelming, but not enough to get me where I needed to be. That knot in my stomach was so close to breaking. I leaned my head back and squeezed my eyes shut, mouth forming an “o”. “Harder, please sir.” I called out, scratching his head. He obeyed, snapping his hips into me, fast and hard, causing me to gasp and throw my head to the side. I continued my series of “fucks” and moans as he continued to fuck me into oblivion. I squeezed around his cock, getting closer and closer. He got the message, reaching a hand down and swirled his thumb around my clit. “I know baby, you’re so close.”

“God, yes.” I replied, gasping at the contact, arching my back some more. 

“I am too, come on baby.” He groaned out. My moans staggered with his thrusts. His fingers. His mouth. His voice. His words. His dick. It all hit me as the knot tightened even more. “Oh fuck, sir, I’m about t- oh god.” I cried out, rutting my hips to match his pace. 

“That’s it honey, let go, I got you.” He said and I did. I let go and came at that. He grunted and came as well, the condom filling up inside me. 

We both took deep breaths and I whined as he pulled out of me. We were both breathing heavily and Aaron got up from the bed. He walked towards the bathroom and threw away the condom. He closed the door and I heard the sound of him using the restroom. I reached a hand out, vision blurry and searching for him. I needed his touch. My fingers twitched for him, gasping his name out. He came back out with a damp towel and a cup of water. He handed me the cup of water and went down to my legs and pussy, gently wiping away the juices and cum from the sheets and my body. I sat up after he was finished and drank the water greedily as he removed the pillow from under my back. He used the remnants of the damp towel to wipe down my sweaty body. He threw the towel in the laundry basket before getting up again. I grabbed his wrist quickly and looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Please don’t leave again.” I pleaded, tears forming in my eyes. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, firmly with his hand on the back of my head. I closed my eyes at the contact and the tears fell down my face. I felt him pull his lips back and wipe the tears from my face. I opened my eyes and looked at him. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.” He confirmed. 

Aaron walked around the bed to the other side and got under the covers, motioning me to join him. I got under the covers and wrapped my arms around his torso, leaning my head on his chest. He placed his chin on the top of my head as I drifted off to sleep.

***

I woke up to my alarm and an empty bed. Blearily, I got up and grabbed a shirt off the floor and pulled on the panties, too. Aaron! I thought to myself, waking me up quickly. Putting on my slippers quickly, I headed out into the common area. Hope had faded as I didn’t see him. Panicking, I quickly thought if it was a dream and reached for the counter. Tears pricked my eyes as the lonely presence loomed over me. That was until I heard a muffled clank and a quiet “shit!” from downstairs. I gasped before turning towards the stairs.

I headed down them and opened the door to find Aaron on the ladder, positioning the clock on the nail in the wall. As if he sensed my presence, he turned towards me and smiled. “Good morning, I got us breakfast and coffee. Made it the way you like it.” He said, climbing down the ladder. I saw the food and drinks at the register desk as well as the white tulips in a vase with water, right next to the dried tulips. I walked towards the desk and Aaron appeared behind me. He kissed my cheek. He licked his lips before concern crossed his features, turning me to face him. “Are you okay?” He asked. 

I smiled and nodded. “I am now.”

He smiled back and hugged me tightly, swaying slightly as we drank in each other's presence.

A/N: Hehe, it's finally done and I honestly love it, let me know what you guys think and if I should start a taglist on this or something.

Buy me a ko-fi if you enjoyed it. I also do commissions! Likes and reblogs are also helpful!

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[bethecliche]

my love mine all mine l vincent renzi x f!original character

summary: after seeing her for the first time, he just fell (deeply) in love word count: 3.7k content: female reader (no description of genitalia), mention of sex, mention of stretch marks, description of hair and eye color (but not texture or skin color), french laws and locations being misinterpreted, use of tv shows and books I didn't watch or read, non canon note: english is not my first langague! I wrote this in portuguese and then translated to english myself, there's a chance you'll find an error or something. I'm sorry sorry! I highly recommend you to listen to the song while reading.

you can check the aesthetic references for this oneshot here but take note that none of the people actual faces on this reflects on the character identity that I wrote, so don't base all of the details on the references for the characters in story.

The first time he noticed her, she was sitting on one of the wooden benches outside the courtrooms. She seemed nervous, shaking her legs and glancing restlessly between the watch on her wrist and the clock on the hallway wall, as if it made much difference. Regardless of her worried expression and furrowed brow, Vincent felt that he had never seen such an attractive woman in his life. From her brown hair to her brown boots, looked like she stepped out of one of those '70s fashion advertisements he'd seen in vintage magazines as a kid. He didn't had time to notice much more than that, as he crossed the hallway and headed to his session. At the end of the day, of course, she was no longer there.

What seemed to have been one of those street crushes that you see when crossing an avenue and never think about again, stayed in Vincent's head for a few days. Every time he passed by the corridor, he waited to see if the brunette would be there. He tried to guess what she was doing there that day and whether there was a possibility of bumping into her again, a question to which the universe answered “yes”.

Two weeks later, this time leaving work, he looked down buttoning his blue coat, distracted in his thoughts when he noticed the same brown boots a few steps in front of him. The stranger held a cigarette between her fingers and had her arms pressed against her body. Although it was snowing lightly, it was extremely cold for an autumn day. Her look was different, probably due to the weather, with a coat with a puffed collar and puffed sleeves, once again looking like she belonged to a previous decade. The wind ruffled her hair a little and the moonlight illuminated her posture, a scene Vincent believed could have come from a movie.

All his past relationships were comfortable. Someone he knew in high school, someone he knew in college, someone who was introduced by friends or someone his friends encouraged him to talk during an outing. He didn't consider himself an introvert, but he never needed to pursue someone who was interested. Things just happened for him. It wasn't his comfort zone just to approach a stranger like that, much less at the door of his work, but something that day said it was the right thing to do.

He took a cigarette out of his pocket and approached the girl asking to borrow a lighter. His sudden plan only went so far.

As soon as she turned to face him, she gave a friendly and inviting smile, taking the object out of her pocket and activating the flame in front of his face. Vincent stood still, staring into her eyes throughout the action, mesmerized by her and her sparkling brown eyes.

“Will I ever meet a lawyer who doesn’t smoke?” She asked as she extinguished the flame, placing the lighter and her free hand back in her pocket. Too cold to let it out.

His response took a few agonizing seconds, as his mind was far away and still lost in her gaze. He composed himself, running a hand through his hair and looking away.

“The day this happens, let me know. I want to be there.” Vincent laughed awkwardly, causing the girl to laugh as well. At that moment, he felt that he wanted to provoke more of this reaction, he wanted to see more of her smile and so the conversation flowed.

His first question was how she guessed he was a lawyer and not a passerby to which she replied, "You stand like a lawyer." He shared how being a lawyer was boring and tedious, but it did have its dramatic moments in court when she asked if the career was challenging like its portrait on TV. He also discovered that she was there to pay a car ticket caused by her younger brother, hence the great nervousness when he first saw her a few weeks ago.

“When my parents told me that my 20th birthday present was a baby brother, I already felt within myself that I would be the best sister in the world. That I would try to make his life as easy as possible. 18 years later, he asks to borrow my car to visit his girlfriend - which I don't hesitate to do, after all I support young love. And the little shit-head makes sure on parking in front of a fire hydrant.” The girl blew smoke to her right side, not taking her eyes off him. “Would you be my lawyer if I try to choke him?”

Vincent could only laugh at her spontaneity, easy way of talking about life and easy way of making conversation.

“Just threaten him, it will be an easier case for me to win.”

They talked about Metz and how her family decided to move to Paris when she was a teenager because they knew the city needed more beautiful people, a fact Vincent agreed with. In order not to dismiss him, in a very charming way, she praised his Parisian accent and said that such a comment did not apply to him and only God knows how Vincent felt inside after that.

The two shared their tastes, such as reading romances and watching Dix pour cent every night before bed. It was as if they knew each other much more than the 1 hour they spent together under the snow. They shared maybe two more cigarettes before realizing it was getting a little too late to chat like that on the street.

He doesn't even know how he got out of that situation alive and managed to get home with her number.

Their first date was at a local cinema on a Friday night for a re-showing of Buffet Froid, a film Anne had never seen.

He didn't remember the last time he felt butterflies in his stomach, although it was guaranteed that nothing could compare to this time. As he got ready and tried to match his best t-shirts with his beige pants (which he eventually changed out of, finding them too tacky), Vincent remained nervous thinking that she might not show up or that this would be the first and last time they would meet in this circumstance.

In the end, all the “first time” flutter went out the window when he saw her smiling and waving on the other side of the street, already with the tickets in her hand. “I'm glad you came.” She said, holding his arm as they walked through the door of the establishment.

“I wouldn't miss it.” he replied.

The two took watching films very seriously, so it was only during the ending credits, after a lot of laughter, small comments and bumping hands on the popcorn bucket, that the two kissed.

He felt the softness of her skin on his hand and her sweet scent of perfume, in addition, of course, to the hot and saccharine kiss. It was slow, serene, just as they both wanted, being able to feel each other in that moment. It was also Anne's desire to slowly run her fingers through his hair and she didn't hesitate to take advantage of the opportunity.

After throwing their trash away, the two walked out of the cinema, now closer to each other, hand in hand. The weather wasn't as cold as when they first met and they were free to enjoy the warmth of their bodies without so many layers covering them.

“For a great 70's mind, you never having watched Buffet Froid is an insult.” He pointed at her with his free hand, wanting to tease her.

Anne rolled her eyes. Even though she liked the film, she didn't want to give a taste. “Obviously you would like action movies like that. It suits you.”

“I’ll make you like it too.” He stated, trying to imply that he wanted them to meet again, to which she responded by kissing his cheek and saying, “Next time, let's watch a romcom.”

Once, twice, three, four and a few more times, all being unusual dates. Sometimes she would call during his workday and say she would pick him up for an adventure. She drove aimlessly, just the two of them talking about their days and observing the city lights. These were Vincent's favorite “dates”, as they all ended with the two of them making out like two teenagers parked in the driveway of his apartment.

The more he got to know about her, the more he wanted to constantly be a part of her life. Anne owned a clothing store downtown, something he never tired of saying was the “most suitable job her”. On the last date they had, she took him to the closed store and put on a fashion montage for him, with improvised note cards on paper left on the counter and all. But she knew that the judge had been bought when he only gave her 10s. She also took the opportunity to get Vincent to do the same, putting him once again out of his comfort zone to find out that bell bottom jeans don't really suit him.

They even got to watch a car race - something that not even Anne had done, she had just decided that it was an experience they needed to have. They both entended up hating it, but the important thing was that the company was great.

That was one of the nights Anne slept at his house.

They ate some junk food from the fridge and watched a silly but captivating show on TV while they chatted more. When she realized she could sleep at any moment, Anne got up to brush her teeth and change her clothes, putting on her uniform for whenever she was there: a Vincent t-shirt.

Vincent found it charming how she captivated his gaze regardless of what she was doing. He loved her unique and sophisticated style, but he also loved seeing her like this, casually wearing his clothes, in his home, as if she were his. And lastly, he loved seeing her with nothing on.

Every detail of her body, her birthmarks on her shoulder and that one next to her beautiful eyes or her stretch marks on her back, everything about her seemed to have been chosen down to the millimeter. When they made love, his hands went everywhere, trying to reach as much of her as he could, to feel the warmth she exuded.

And the best way to love her was by looking into her eyes, admiring her beauty, running his lips up and down her body, being grateful for the privileged position it was to be able to love her.

Mornings were like nights, with him waking up earlier and being able, once again, to admire the woman beside her.

“You are even more beautiful in the morning.”

The two walked through the streets of Paris, both tipsy, looking for an available taxi in the dead of night. With their relationship now more established and their schedules aligned, they made it a challenge to come up with these unusual date only once a month so it wouldn't lose its fun. Today had been the day to go to the opera and due to their lack of sobriety, they didn't seem to have left anywhere other than the shabbiest bar on the corner.

The event was boring as fuck and they left halfway through to drink somewhere more enjoyable. They found an open bar showing a PSG versus Marseille match. Neither of them supported the teams or understood about football rules, but this seemed like a new opportunity for them to have another different experience that day.

One laughter after another, some passionate kisses between drinks and the two were celebrating PSG's victory at the bar with some strangers whom they befriended.

“My mother wants to meet you. My brother too. I said I might have a lawyer for the next time he's up to no good. Do you think it’s too early?”

When drunk, Anne tended to speak fast and slurred, but Vincent understood perfectly. He smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the tip of her nose. “I will love meeting your family.”

They never actually asked each other to go steady, but it was clear that they already belonged to each other at that point.

Vincent was on his cell phone writing a text to his mother about the shopping list for Christmas dinner and their desire to participate in decorating the tree (Anne's request to spend more time with her mother-in-law) while his girlfriend was lying on his lap reading his copy of Around the World in 80 Days (and she was loving it, for sure).

It was a lazy day for both of them at Vincent's place. A year into their relationship, the two of them loved sharing these moments together doing different activities.

“She said she misses you a lot and looks forward to seeing you on Christmas, but that you're banned from being near the kitchen when it is time to prepare desserts. Everything you touch that’s sweet ends up burning for some reason.”

Her smile, excited by her mother-in-law's affection, turned into a face indignant at the rule she imposed. "What?" She looked up from the book and pulled Vincent's hand to check if the message was real and it was. “This is so unfair!”

“Sorry, Anne, you’re just really bad at this.”

She lightly pushed his arm and pretended to be uncomfortable, although she knew it was true and wasn't really upset. Before she could return to her book, Vincent placed his cell phone on the table and began talking.

“One more thing, huh,” he cleared his throat, “I made one more space on the rack for you. I don't want certain clothes to get wrinkled in the drawer. I’ll make room in one more drawer too.”

Anne put the book aside and knelt on the sofa, facing her boyfriend. “Won’t it bother you? I already have space in my bedroom drawer, bathroom… In fact, there are a lot of my things scattered around the house. I don’t want to impose my space here.”

This was a subject that she had also been waiting to comment on for some time. By working her own hours at the store and having an employee to take her place wherever needed, Anne had a more flexible schedule than Vincent and it was easier to stay at his house, helping to keep everything on track and cooking for both of them. He would arrive just before dinner time and they could enjoy together without rushing to do the chores.

Because of this, the few clothes she wore just to sleep there became a drawer full, her makeup in the bathroom sink and her shoes near the door.

The gray-haired man hugged her around the waist, kissing her forehead and assuring her of his action. “You are not imposing anything, mon chéri. I want you to use this space. I want to have more and more of you here.”

For him, having her scent permeate the rooms was a gift wrapped in the best bow. Knowing that every day he would come home to see her welcoming smile and welcome kiss was the biggest work incentive.

“It feels like my home.” She whined.

“It’s your home. Our home.” He insisted.

In his favorite action, he cupped her face and looked warmly into her eyes, admiring her features trying to associate with what he was trying to say. They both smiled at each other realizing where the topic was going.

“Are you…”

“I want you to move in with me.”

The beautiful smile that filled his heart appeared on her face and Vincent, who was sure of her choice, but a little afraid of her accepting it, smiled too at her positive reaction.

In conclusion, he ended up needing to make more closet space for her countless boots, but he was happy that she could call the space her own (and she looks great in those boots, he would never complain about making room for them).

The snack table was almost empty and that made Anne happy. She might not be good at desserts, but her food was always praised and she almost never had leftovers when she cooked for her friends.

“This sandwich is delicious, aunt Anne!” Daniel stated, taking another one from the table and sitting on the sofa next to her. “Can I take some home?”

“Of course you can! There’s more stored in the kitchen, I’ll put it on the side for you to take.” She continued, now coming closer to whisper. “You can give Snoop a bite, I won’t tell your mom.”

“Hey, I’m watching you two!” Sandra said towards the back of the sofa, pointing at the two jokingly. She was talking to Vincent leaning against the wall in the hallway, looking anxious.

There was approximately 10 people spread throughout the room at this gathering. The couple chose to host a celebration for the launch of Sandra's new book, a dear friend of both, and tried to make room for everyone present. She was very delighted with the honor, although unaccustomed to the positive attention she was receiving.

Even though they weren't glued to each other at the party, Anne and Vincent always stopped for a moment to exchange a kiss and ask if everything was okay. He, even more so, couldn't stop admiring his girlfriend from afar. Parties like this always made him happy to be able to share the love he had for her and also show others that this was his girl.

It was around 6pm that they said their goodbyes and thanked their friends for being there. After closing the door, Anne took a deep breath and leaned against it with Vincent kissing her neck and hugging her waist.

“Had fun today?” He asked against her neck, kissing slowly until he reached her face. Hugging him back, she just nodded yes, pulling him into a longing and passionate kiss.

Vincent pressed his body against hers and tightened his grip, placing his free hand against the wall for support. Everything was going well, until Vincent suddenly stopped, as if he couldn't give in to temptation yet.

He also took a deep breath, with a shy smile as he looked at her.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, still leaning against the door and resting her hands on his shoulder.

"What?" He retorted.

“During the party, you kept looking at me like that, with those heart-eyes, that fool in love face of yours. And now you're doing it again. It seems... different.”

Vincent laughed awkwardly, as if he was unprepared to respond that quickly. “In my defense, I always look like a fool in love when I’m with you.”

Before anything else, Vincent took a red velvet box out of his pocket and opened it, showing a silver ring made especially for her. With the hand that was on her waist, he slipped into her hand and intertwined their fingers.

“Kneeling isn’t your style, nor are long speeches in front of our friends, but I can’t just leave the ring in your hand without saying anything. The day I saw you for the first time, I was intrigued. The second time, that feeling I had of needing to talk to you urgently, of not letting the opportunity pass, I think, somehow, I knew we were going to get to this moment right now. By the third time - I was already in love. Head over heels, worshiping the ground you pass, heart-eyes, whatever you want to call it. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel those butterflies in my stomach before seeing you, that I don't feel the eager to be by your side. If you do me the honor of marrying me, I can promise that you will have a man who wakes up in love with you every day. Forever.”

Anne's eyes were already full of tears as soon as she saw the box and she couldn't help but shed them when she heard the proposal.

The last 4 years of their lives were instinctive, passionate, in a way she never thought she would experience. All her last lovers didn't last long, they couldn't handle her personality or couldn't love her right, so she was left with no hope that it would change. But Vincent's speech was something that she not only believed, she felt. Every day, she felt his love, his affection and his care. Wave of action speaks louder than words and she trusted her man.

There was no other answer than yes.

The same word was repeated by the two of them at the registry office a few months later. The idea was never a big party, it didn't suit either of their personalities, but Anne always wanted a dress and a veil, so they were both there, in their wedding clothes just before lunch time in the registry office next to Vincent's work place.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

With that sentence, the two shared a classic wedding kiss, with Vincent holding her around the waist and Anne throwing her leg up. They could live that moment over and over again, but they needed to go out for a little celebration party with their friends before they left for their honeymoon (and Anne was more than eager to have her friends around so she could toss the bouquet).

Outside, in another snowy day, Anne reached through the car window and took a black bag from the glove compartment, handing it to her now husband.

“What is it?” He held on, swinging by the loop to feel the weight so he could find out what it could be.

“It's your wedding gift.” She cheerfully replied.

He stole one more kiss from his wife before opening the bag, already imagining what could be inside.

“It has our initials and today’s date on it,” she pointed to the bottom where the details were, “so no other girl coming out of court will need to offer you the lighter.”

Vincent took a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lit it with his newest gift, but without inhaling, just lighting it for the sake of it.

“No one will have my love. Only you, mon chéri."

[rhiaarrow]

My favorite headcanon about the eggs will always be that they took on the attributes of their parents

But thinking about what each egg took from each parent got me thinking, what did the eggs look like when they first arrived then?

Today's 7am ramble is about how I imagine the og 4 eggs (Chay, Dapper, Leo, Ramón) appearance changed over time and what attributes they took from their parents! :D

Were the first 8 practically identical at first?

In my opinion, yes!

The first few weeks of the egg event everyone kept mixing up the eggs names and forgetting which egg belonged to which parent which of course was just because they were new and no one had memorized it yet.

But why not add a canonical reason for people mix ups?

Everyone was just identifying them by their personal accessories because when the first 8 were delivered they were practically identical.

All small children with tan skin, similar face shapes and the same bright yellowish eyes. The only obvious appearance difference was their hair. All different lengths, styles and shades of brunette.

But they were ALL brunettes to begin with.

(all the dead eggs are commonly depicted as brunettes as well so this adds to it, they died before taking on a lot of their parents attributes)

Now, the first really obvious change that had the Islanders noticing the subtle changes in their own kids was when one day Dapper just suddenly no longer had iris's or pupils.

She just had white sclera blinking back at people and they were clearly his Dad's eyes. Then when they looked closed to see if anything else had changed they realized that both Dapper's skin and hair had darkened a fair few shades when put in comparison with his siblings obviously making to become pure black in both areas like Bad.

But hold on, now that they were comparing hair, they noticed that Chayanne's hair had lightened by quite a few shades. It was now a very light golden brunette, clearly turning blonde like his Dad, and under the skull mask you could no longer see yellow eyes looking back at you. So they removed the mask and sure enough his eyes were the exact opposite of Dapper, just pure Black sclera like his Papa Missa.

And wait, Leo's eyes were purple now! Unlike his siblings she still had her iris's and pupils but the iris's were now a rich purple like his Pa Vegettas and their hair had started to darken too. Closer in color to Dapper's hair, both of them clearly developing black hair like their Dads.

On first inspection Ramón didn't seem to have changed at all. His skin and hair were still the same shades as they had been when he arrived but later that day, when tucking Ramón in for the night, Fit realized that the sleepy eyes looking back at him were the exact same color as the ones he saw in the mirror. The same strange concoction of green and brown that he'd never bothered to find out the name for. And if Fit got choked up over that when he went to his own bedroom for the night, well no one needed to know.

Overtime there were far more obvious changes and also subtle changes that went completely unnoticed.

Chayanne's tail scales shed then instead of growing a new set he grew in a thick plumage, so rather than the lizard-like tail he used to have it he now had tail feathers that matched his father's hidden wings.

Dapper's tail shed the scales entirely until only the base remained, thinning into a long line as the end began to grow and change overtime until she had a forked tail just like her father.

Leo's tail did the opposite, growing in size and the scales became smoother as the end of it began to resemble that of a shark, clearly taking after her Pa Foolich.

Ramón's tail didn't change at all in style, he kept the lizard-like tail they'd all had to begin with, he just adapted to his needs. Fit knew better than anyone that in order to survive it's better to adapt to the hand (pun intended) you're dealt. So he helped Ramón strengthen his tail and work on his motor control until he could hold tools or weapons with the end of his tail, to use the tail as an extension of himself.

In stature, it was pretty obvious that Dapper was starting to take after her Dad when they had their first growth spurt. He shot up a head above his other siblings, still a small child but much taller than the rest. But less noticeably her limbs and body were a lot thinner than the rest, similar to the lean and lanky physique of their demon father.

With the fact that his skin was now pure void black it was easy to miss that her nails had changed into taloned claws and they no longer wore shoes since they'd developed hoof/paw things similar to Bads. Her horns grew to double the size they had been, they grew straight upwards and were sharp at the end just like his fathers.

Chayanne unfortunately did the opposite, having taken up his father's height he stayed practically the same height as his younger triplet siblings all hit their growth spurts. Much like his father, Chayanne was short and sturdy but with the way Dapper was gaining height it didn't matter. Chayanne's own horns stayed the same height they had been but over time they adapted to fit perfectly against the skull mask Chayanne wore.

Ramon and Leo stayed the same height for ages, when one grew so did the other. But then Leo discovered platformed sneakers and since Ramon lived exclusively in steel toed work boots it was easy for Leo to seem taller than her triplet brother, even though they were the exact same height.

In stature Leo stayed the same, no obvious changes at all to her physique but Leo's horns grew slightly and curled backwards over her cap. The most noticeable thing about them though was the fact that the tips of them grew in a vibrant purple, the same color as her eyes.

Ramón did quite obviously take after Fit in his physique but the only one who ever knew that was Fit himself. Ramon wore baggy comfortable clothes all day so no one else knew about the solid muscle mass Ramon had effortlessly gained from repeatedly working with heavy machinery and regularly going to the gym to work out with Fit.

Ramón's own horns however didn't grow at all, in fact they shrunk. With the fact that they were continuously pressed underneath his meathead and goggles they reduced themselves to slightly raised stumps that poked out from under his fringe whenever he took the meathead off. Although he only ever did that when going to sleep, only Fit knew how tiny his horns had become in contrast to how his triplets horns had grown.

I am totally drawing this when I wake up tomorrow, I have thought about this waaaaaaay too much not to at least try to put it on paper.

We will not mention the fact that it's already tomorrow, 8am is a respectable time to fall asleep...yep.

More Miscellaneous Stuff I think the OG eggs picked up;

Leo's skin took on a more golden hue but since she was already tan skinned it was barely noticeable unless she was standing directly in the sun.

Ramón picked up Fit's eyebrows. No particular reason why, he just did. I mean he already had a flawless moustache so why not flawless eyebrows to match?

Chayanne took on Missa's hair texture, making his hair much more volumous than if his hair had been fully taken from Phil.

When Pac officially called Ramón son he took on Pac's pure black pacman shaped eyes which gave Fit a hell of a shock.

Chayanne's ears bent down overtime, he didn't know that they now looked similar to how Piglin hybrid ears did, but Phil did.

Leo developed a strong jawline, not quite as chilzled as her father's but definitely more than her siblings.

[captainsparklefingers]

I'm of three minds re: Vesper Elaina de Rolo being described as having dark hair.

1: everyone forgot she canonically has white hair in the Tal'dorei Reborn campaign book. Which is funny to me because people were so snippy about her having white hair (because Percy's isn't genetic) and then the artist came out and said there was a reason for the white hair. So it just strikes me as very funny that after all that, Matt and the PCs don't remember that. But, if we're going for drama, it could be...

2: she's dyed her hair to fit in better with her siblings, who are brunettes or have black hair like their mom. Having white hair that matched her father was probably a point of pride when she was young, but then the other kids came along, Percy had a clear favorite in Gwen, something she might have liked once now felt like a thing that made her stand out and not fit in. There's been some very good posts on here about Vesper and her place as the eldest daughter, Vesper and her parents having closer connections to their other children, etc. So I could see it being done for less than happy reasons. Maybe she's waiting to see if her folks notice the changes. Who knows.

3: Or she could be having a very late stage teenage rebellion/very early midlife crisis (which isn't even midlife when she's a quarter elf) and dyed her hair in a pique of emotion. Yes I know she's about the same age as Beau, putting her in her early 30s so it does quite work. And what emotion would cause an extremely dramatic haircut and dye job? Who knows.

BUUUUT given that Pike and Scanlan's kids didn't even come up once, I think they just forgot xD

[destinysbounty]

Ok how do u explain Lloyds hair color. Bc I'm pretty sure blonde hair isn't a dominant gene, and both of Lloyds parents have brown hair. Did he bleach it??? How??? Where would he get those resources he's like 8 in S1 and also homeless. Actually on that note what color do u think the FSM's hair was. Because ONE of the siblings has a different one than him. I've always thought the FSM's hair was blonde, bc when it greys out it's so pale, and also because angst in the way of Garmadon being different from his family from the start, but like. How would Garm have gotten the brown hair. Do they have a mom or did the FSM perform mitosis???? AND ALSO Garmadon's hair whites out and doesn't grey out despite him being a brunette (and later having black hair but that's bc of the Venom Influence) so. What's up with that. Also why does Wu's hair go white so early we know he was born with blonde hair. And why doesn't it apply to Lloyd too. What's happening. Where am I.

Right off the bat, lets dispel a common genetics misconception. Yes, its true that when a dominant and recessive gene get paired up, the dominant gene will be presented. You're also correct that blonde is recessive and brown is dominant. However! Like all things in biology, its a bit more complicated than that.

To simplify a surprisingly complicated science to the best of my ability, think of it like this. Although you will typically present based on whatever is the most dominant genes you inherited, you are still a carrier of sorts for the recessive genes. So Garmadon has brown hair, but his father and brother are both blonde, which means he has the potential to be a carrier for the blonde gene.

Then there's Misako, who is also a brunette. We don't know what her parents looked like, but lets say one of them was blonde. Even if she presents as brunette, she could still carry the recessive blonde gene.

When both parents are carriers for the same recessive gene, there's generally gonna be a 1 in 4 chance of their child presenting recessive rather than dominant. So, if we assume one of Misako's ancestors was blonde, then Lloyd being blonde is entirely likely.

This is a depressingly oversimplified summary of the situation, but I'm too lazy to get into the nitty grittys. Feel free to look up 'punnett squares' if you wanna learn more!

You do present a fascinating question, though: where did Garmadon get his brown hair?

Scientifically, the only explanation I can think of would be if Wu and Garm had a birth-mother of some kind. But i personally don't like that explanation because it just makes canon way more complicated than it needs to be. Tangentially, I'm also an "FSM Asexually Reproduced" truther all the way. I refuse to consider the possibility of the FSM having procreated with another person. That man either laid an egg or did some kinda mitosis shenanigan and you absolutely cannot convince me otherwise.

Luckily, we have the luxury of considering nonscientific alternatives.

To understand a more magic- and lore-based approach to the question of the hair colors present int his family, let's first take a look at the family tree:

FSM - blonde (as far as we can guess, at least). Half-dragon, half-oni. Also has godly powers of Creation and Destruction.

Garmadon - brunette. Has inherited the powers of Destruction.

Wu - blonde. Has inherited powers of Creation.

Lloyd - blonde. Has inherited a power very similar to the FSM, in that it's Creation-adjacent (listen, if you have a better way to describe Green fucking Energy, then by all means correct me).

Do you see where I'm going with this? Within the context of the FSM and his bloodline, it would not be entirely unreasonable to assume that blonde hair is in some way affiliated with the draconic half of their bloodline, whereas brown hair is more so affiliated with the oni half of their bloodline. So an individual's hair color may not necessarily be determined solely by standard genetics like a normal human would, but rather by which part of their bloodline they take after more strongly.

In this interpretation, Lloyd being blonde can be seen as a visual shorthand to represent how he has taken more so after his uncle/grandfather in terms of powerset and moral alignment.

Personally, I think both of these explanations are equally valid. That being said, it should be noted that a lot of this discussion operates on the assumption that Ninjagian genetics work in any way similar to ours. For all we know, blonde could be the in-universe dominant trait and brown could be recessive. The possibilities are endless.

I mean, c'mon. It's a fantasy story where the world was created by spinning around really fast. Lloyd canonically has shapeshifting powers, for crying out loud. I feel like him being blonde is completely within the realm of possibility, even without the scientific explanation. I feel like holding this series to any standard of scientific fidelity is just downright silly.

Anyway, thanks for the ask! Hope those answers were to your liking <3

[blu3cl0v3rs]

Summary: Garmadon and Co. move into the monastery.

Warnings: Wu is in denial

Prompt: Day 13 - New Beginnings

Extra: Set in pre-canon. "And Co." are Ray, Maya, Libber, and Lily. Wu is in denial of being a father, but Ray and Garmadon will not shut up about it. I am sleepy so this probably sounds a bit dead.

"So this is what you've been doing in my absence?" Garmadon asked after he knocked on a giant red door of the Monastery.

He had walked in on Wu as he guided Morro through proper katana form.

The brother's locked eyes.

"Morro, you've done a great job today, but I think we're done for now. Do you mind cleaning up everything?" the blonde asked kindly.

Morro simply bowed and dragged the training dummy and bokken to their respective storage places, disappearing into the monastery afterwards.

Garmadon approached his younger brother. The two stood face to face, tension thickening the air as silence flowed between the two.

"Is this the boy you've been writing about?" the elder brother asked.

"Yes, that was Morro." The younger brother confirmed. "Where are the other four?"

"They are… coming." The brunette turned to the stairs, where spiky brown hair popped up from a distance. "It has been a long journey."

"I see. Good thing Morro and I prepared rooms for you all ahead of time." Wu stepped forwards to be next to the taller man.

The two stood in weighted silence.

The eldest sighed, "I missed you, Brother."

"As did I." The younger quickly brushed off any dirt accumulated from training.

Ray clambered up the stairs, huffing with each step he took. Maya, Libber, and Lily followed up behind. All of them at different levels of exhaustion, ranging from Libber, who was bent over with her hands on her knees gasping for air as fat beads of sweat dripped down her round pale cheeks and thin neck, to Lily, who was slightly winded as she dabbed sweat off her brow and jogged up and down the same three steps, giving encouraging words to the other women with her.

"Why," Ray asked through labored breaths, "do you live on top of a mountain?"

The blonde man smiled, "There's a nice view."

"Eughhh… I need… a bath," Libber groaned as she collapsed against the wall of the monastery, scooching over to a shaded area.

"Same, I forgot how tall this mountain was," Maya agreed.

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad," Lily received two deadpan stares.

"Maybe for you because you love rock climbing," Libber grumbled before slouching inside to bathe. Maya and Lily followed suit.

Ray straightened up eventually. "So, where's your kid, Wu?"

"What?"

"Your kid. Y'know, agh what was the name, Mollo? No, Mono? Ah, Morro!"

"Wha- hah! Morro is not my kid."

"You sure, Brother?" Garmadon piped up. "You seem quite fond of him."

"I can be fond of a child without adopting him! Besides, he's only my student."

"Sure, because you definitely wrote about discovering his favorite food like he's your student," Ray rolled his amber eyes. "Just accept it, you're a father now."

"Which means I'm an uncle as well," Garmadon quietly realized.

"Again, Morro is just my student. Besides, there's no way he sees me as a fa-"

"Sensei."

The three men turned to see their topic of discussion waiting patiently by a door into the building.

"Excuse me for interrupting, but I completed my task," the boy said after he came over.

"Good job! Let's go inside now, okay?" the younger Dragoni crouched to be closer to Morro's eye level.

The boy with a green streak nodded happily and softly made his way back into the temple.

Ray and Garmadon shared a look as Wu rose to his full height and followed, waving the two over.

"Not a father, he says," Ray mumbled before heading inside with Garmadon.

Bokken - wooden sword used to train in kenjutsu, or japanese swordsmanship

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 67

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: Daryl wakes and finds himself in the presence of new survivors. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; burned bodies; threats via handgun; walker bite; amputation; mourning; canon character death; robbery; abandonment

Chapter 67 - Code

When Daryl woke, everything was blurry, echoing voices ringing in his ears. It was dark now, a fire separating him and the three others. The man sat in the middle across from him, the two women flanking either side. He was whittling while murmuring quietly to them, nothing he said really registered in Daryl’s mind.

They rifled through his things in front of him, bagging his crossbow and other items to eventually take. The woman with brown hair asked the man if he knew how to use it. He said yes, but he didn’t like using them to hunt. They had plans to pick up someone named Patty, in search of a new life. Then everything faded out again.

When Daryl came to, really waking up, it was already the next morning. His hands were bound, the man crouched in front of him prodding his injured arm none too gently.

“Get up.” He huffed. “Hey. Get up.” He repeated, this time cocking a pistol and pointing it into Daryl’s face. His hand shook, like he wasn’t prepared to use it. “We’re moving. Here’s the deal. You don’t say shit, and I don’t kill you.”

“I ain’t who you think.” Daryl grumbled, glaring up through the hair falling in his eyes. The hammer of the gun clicked and the man grit his teeth.

“Say something else.” He warned. “Go ahead.” He grabbed the ropes binding Daryl’s wrists, pulling him to his feet, although he looked like he barely weighed ninety pounds soaking wet, so it was debatable he did much at all. “Follow them.” The woman with the brown hair hauled the bag with his crossbow over her shoulder, leading them into the forest again.

“Here. Drink the rest.” She passed a water bottle to the blonde girl.

“We should save it.” She protested.

“We’ll find some more.” The first one assured. “Drink. You’re supposed to stay hydrated. It all works together.”

They meandered through the woods, passed more charred corpses. The woman passed Daryl the bottle with the remainder of the water, but he sidestepped her extended hand, walking ahead.

“Have it.” She offered, but he said nothing. The man grabbed the water from her, shoving it into his face.

“We don’t need you falling down.” He huffed. “Drink.” Daryl took the bottle, downing the rest and handing the bottle back. “They find us, maybe we give you to them, they let us call it even. You see, we’re reasonable people. Everybody’s got their code. You feel you gotta kneel, that’s fair enough. We don’t. Let’s go.” Daryl said nothing, even though he had exactly zero idea what that meant.

“I can’t believe we’re back.” The blonde woman murmured.

“It’s not home anymore, but its better than where we were.” The brunette replied.

“This is a pit stop.” The man called. “We pick up Patty, nothing more than that.”

“How’d you do it?” The blonde woman asked.

“You saw where we left the truck?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“We opened the valve and drove all the way in from Farmview Road. Ran from the tree line till we got to the pavement. Lit up a matchbook from Sweetwater and dropped it in on the trail. Then we just ran from the car. Got in and the dead ones were there, they were beating on the hood and then— boom! Knocked ‘em on their asses and I took an axe to each one.”

“Then we just watched it go up.” The brunette added. “No more moans, no more of that wailing. It was just the fire, just burning them all away.”

“You did all this?” Daryl asked, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“It was right at the start.” She replied. “Everything stopped— the TV, radio. We were here. The forest was full of them. The other ones in town, they were drawn to it. They just walked right into the flames. We got most of ‘em, thought we ended it for us, and she was in DC.” She motioned to the blonde. “We thought everyone was fighting them wherever they were.”

“Yeah, we thought that was what everybody was doing.” The man grunted. “Fighting it. That we’d all win together. We were stupid.”

“Y’all don’t think you’re being stupid right now?” Daryl asked. The three of them stopped, turning back to look at him. The man pulled the gun from the waistband of his pants, aiming it at him again.

“Are you saying I should kill you?” He asked. Daryl said nothing, making no move. “I mean it, are you gonna try to pull something on us? Are we just being thick here by not removing all doubt? Right now, by me not pulling this trigger, is that a mistake? I'm serious. I really want to know. You made the choice to kill for someone else, to have them own you for a roof over your head and three squares, so maybe I’m not considering all aspects here. You tell me, am I being stupid?”

“No.” Daryl said finally. “Look, I got somewhere to be. We can make a deal. I can help you out.”

“You’re one of them.” The man said accusingly. “You’re hurt and you’re alone and you’d say anything. We should’ve never trusted you people to begin with.” He waved his gun. “Go on, keep moving.” Daryl said nothing else, following where they led.

The man pushed him through the tree line first, coming upon another industrial area. A small building, silos and gas tanks and a few semi trucks all parked in a lot surrounded by chain link. A sign on the fence read PATTRICK FUEL COMPANY. The lot wasn’t filled to the brim with walkers, but there was a few milling around. Nothing too inconvenient.

“Son of a bitch.” The man muttered. The three of them walked up to the fence, hopelessly gazing out. The brunette woman had dropped the bag near the tree line. “Patty.”

“She could be…” The woman trailed off.

“No, she’s gone.” The man nodded.

“Then we’ll make another plan.”

“Yeah, we get out of here, that’s the plan.”

“Then that’s the plan.”

“You guys didn’t have to do this for me.” The blonde woman murmured, gazing into space.

“It was the right thing for all of us.” The brunette assured.

“This was the right thing?” She asked breathlessly. “Even if just you guys went back now, if you just told them that it was me…”

“No, we’ll find a way.” The brunette denied.

“Just think about it.” She panted. Her breaths were becoming shorter, and Daryl was very aware that their attention was drawn away from him.

“No.”

“Look, maybe we don’t get as far, but we’ll get— hey!” The man shouted as the woman collapsed. “Hey, hey, whoa.”

“Tina, hey!” The brunette called. As they fawned over Tina, Daryl crouched down, going for the abandoned bag. “Hey, baby sister, look at me.” She pleaded. While he knew they were distracted, Daryl grabbed it, and bolted.

“Hey, stop! No!” The man yelled after him. He shot off a few rounds, missing spectacularly, and Daryl staggered through the woods.

“Don’t! We need that, please!” The brunette called. Daryl ran a good distance, finding a decent place to stop and sitting down to gnaw at the ropes binding him. He got them off easily, panting as he grabbed the bag again, lunging for the radio.

“Sasha, Abraham, are you there?” He tried again. When there was still no response, he huffed a sigh, putting the radio down and taking a breather. A twig snapped behind him, but he noted that it was only a walker, slowly making its way over.

Daryl hauled himself up, rifling through the bag for his crossbow. He struggled to get it out, movements becoming frantic as the walker got closer and closer. He pulled the crossbow out just in time, releasing a bolt into its skull just as it hobbled over to his little alcove in the dirt. He pushed to his feet, glaring down at the bag that had given him such a hard time. His expression faltered however when he saw what was inside.

A small handheld cooler took up the majority of the space, a big label across the top reading, 

INSULIN

MUST BE KEPT COOL

Everything clicked into place and he gnawed on his lip, his head falling.

-

It wasn’t hard to find three bumbling idiots in the woods. Daryl had his crossbow and the upper hand now, plus everything they wanted and needed. They were sitting on a log, probably piecing together a plan when he appeared from nowhere.

“Drop the gun. Drop it.” He demanded. The man sprung to his feet with the pistol, ready to protect his family. Daryl came closer until the man surrendered, lowering the gun. “Give it to me.” He took it from him, shoving it in his pocket. “I came all this way. What you got for the duffel?” The man blinked at him in shock. “You put me through too much shit to just give it back. Principle of the thing. What you got besides this gun?”

“Nothing.” The brunette whispered.

“What was that thing you were carving?” Daryl asked. The man blinked again, pulling out his work of art. It was a small statue, a little boy playing a guitar.

“My grandfather taught me how—“

“Don’t care.” Daryl replied. “It’ll do.” He took the carving from the man, adding it to his pocket before shouldering the duffel bag onto the ground again. “Take it. It’s all there.” The man stooped quickly, his eyes glued to Daryl in shock. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

He began to walk away when the sound of trees snapping drew his attention. He ducked behind a thicker set of trunks, watching as a group of people drove a hefty truck through the woods, mowing down anything in their path. It creaked loudly as it slowed, then stopped.

The men came out of the truck, more rounding the sides to sweep the area. One of them seemed to lead the charge, walking with a kind of swagger that just deserved a punch to the face.

“Let’s end this.” He called. 

“It's ours.” The brunette called back. “We earned what we took.”

“You’re gonna return what you took.” The new man replied. “You’re gonna pay for the gas it took to come out here and for all the time these men took out. It’s over. You know the rules.”

“Your rules are batshit!” The woman yelled.

“We’re not going back, Wade, we’re done kneeling!” The man from the small trio yelled.

“Don’t change the subject, asshole.” Wade scoffed. He whistled and the truck advanced. Daryl surveyed through the trees, realizing that he, along with the three other survivors, were surrounded. The survivors made for a direction but Daryl stepped out, waving his hand.

“Hey! That way. Come on. Go, go, go.” He said quietly, ushering them along. 

He helped Tina to her feet when she stumbled, hauling her along with them. The truck following them made for eerie background noise, and Daryl found himself wishing he never left Alexandria. They came upon the little structured lean-to he found them at, letting Tina rest for a moment. 

“Hey. Take it.” He extended the pistol back to the man, knowing they would definitely be needing it. They peered out through the lean-to, listening as Wade spoke to his troops, static hissing on their walkies.

“Love you, Sher. You didn’t have to for me.” Tina slurred as her older sister pet her hair, cradling her in her arms. Sher, whatever her name was, reached for the bag, fumbling for the insulin. 

Daryl reached forward, rustling the leaves near them as one of the men appeared through the trees. He spotted the leaves moving, but he didn’t spot the walker pinned between a tree and an enormous boulder, right within reach. He got grabbed, screaming out in pain as it sunk its teeth into his arm. He killed the walker with the butt of his pistol, but he was bit.

“Wade, I’m bit. Wade, I’m bit!” He cried. Wade ran forward through the trees, looking down at his comrade. He assessed the bite, cursing under his breath. “Take it off me. Do it, just take it off!” Wade tied a tourniquet tight around his upper arm.

“I’ll get your watch afterward.” He pulled out a machete, rearing back to chop, and struck. The man screamed as his arm was chopped, Wade pulling him to his feet. “Come on. Time to go home.” He pulled out his radio when someone called in for an update. “Cam got a boo-boo.”

“Are you sure?” The radio asked.

“Oh yeah. He only wanted to take this so far.” Wade replied. Sher still fiddled with the insulin injection, peeping everything as clean as she could. “And he only wants ass that’s willing, you know? Come on, Cam, let’s walk it off.” He pulled Cam’s watch off, chucking the severed limb over his shoulder.

“We thought you were with them.” The surviving man stated, turning around to face Daryl. “We knock you over the head, tie you up, threaten to kill you… why the hell did you come back?” Daryl grunted, looking down at poor Tina.

“Maybe I’m stupid, too.” He replied.

-

“So you knew ‘em?” Daryl asked, leading the group through the forest in Alexandria’s general direction. “Still, you thought I was one of them?”

“Where we were, we were there since the beginning.” The man explained. “We still didn’t know everyone. Back when we first threw in with them, it was as good a place as any. Then things got harder, people got harder, human nature kicked in and it became a truly unique kind of shit show.”

“People will trade anything for safety. For knowing that they’re safe.” Sher stated.

“Everything.” The man agreed. “So they got nothing left except just… existing.”

“Hey, nobody’s safe anymore.” Daryl replied. “Can’t promise people that anyhow.”

“You could promise the people that want to hear it.” The man corrected. Tina froze for a moment, gaze glued to something in the distance before she bolted for it. “Tina, hold up!” They chased after her, coming up to a couple burnt down structures. The first was definitely a frame for a greenhouse, melted glass cooled to odd drips on the frame.

“Carla and Delly. That’s them.” Tina murmured, mournful gaze glued to the remains around them. The bodies. There were two at the end of the greenhouse, laid down neatly on the dirt and covered in a sheet of melted glass.

“Me and Tina used to babysit them when they were kids.” Sher explained. “Everyone said that they went up north when it all started. We didn’t know.”

“I did this.” The man said ruefully, his voice breaking.

“We did this.” Sher replied. 

Tina picked a wildflower, laying it over the pair of their bodies.Yet, the motion woke the walkers inside. Tina shrieked as the glass broke, both walkers reaching for her and sinking their teeth into her neck. Daryl, Sher and the man lunged for her, but it was too late, the blood from her jugular pooling to the ground. Daryl killed the walkers as Sher knelt at her side.

“I’m sorry!” Sher cried. “I’m so sorry, baby, We had to try. We had to try, we had to. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m—“ Her voice broke as she sobbed.

As she mourned, Daryl helped the man dig some graves for them. He watched the man dig, aggressively dropping the shovel in the dirt each time in anger, tossing it into the pile while he refused to look up.

“Hey.” Daryl called softly. “How many walkers you killed?” The man looked up, frowning. “Just answer the question.”

“A lot.” He replied, huffing. “A couple dozen at least.”

“How many people you killed?”

“None.” He replied firmly, turning back to his digging.

“Why?”

“Why haven’t I killed anybody? Because if I did, there’d be no going back.” He decided. “There’d be no going back to how things were.” Daryl accepted that answer, putting both hands on the handle of the shovel.

“I’m from a place…” He began, “where people are still like they were. More or less, better or worse.” The man stopped, looking at Daryl before glancing over at Sher. He turned back to the hole after a moment. 

-

“I can walk it from here.” Daryl explained, hauling the branches off of the bike, pleased to see it was still there. “Till we meet up with my friends. They got a car, you can ride with them.”

“How many friends did you say there were?” The man asked.

“I didn’t.” Daryl replied. “There’s two of ‘em.”

“Where are they?”

“We’re gonna find out.” Daryl replied, hauling the bike up. 

“How do you know that they even got away? That they didn’t get taken?” He asked.

“I don’t.” Daryl replied, beginning to wheel the bike down the trail. He expected them to follow, yet was unsurprised when he heard the hammer of the pistol click behind him. “Oh, damn it.” He muttered under his breath. He dropped the bike, whipping the crossbow around as the man pointed the gun at him.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, his hand shaking. “Give her the crossbow.”

“You gonna go back?” Daryl asked. “You gonna be safe?”

“Shut up!”

“Ain’t nowhere safe no more.”

“Give her the crossbow.” He repeated.

“You gonna kneel?” Daryl asked. The man fired a warning shot into a tree beside his head. Daryl pulled the crossbow off, handing it to Sher. The man passed her his pistol, hauling up the bike. He sat on it, revving it to life. Sher got on behind him, a sorrowful expression on her face. She pulled a few bandages from her pack, tossing them on the ground in front of him.

“Patch yourself up.” She said. She looked at him right in the eye. “We’re sorry.” Daryl did not return the expression, the stone look on his face dangerous.

“You’re gonna be.”

Daryl picked up the bandages strewn across the ground and pulled the wooden carving from his pocket. He watched the man and his wife drive away before walking back into the forest. No crossbow. No bike. 

He returned to the place he first stopped, looking down at the walker melted into the biker gear. There was a sign on the ground he hadn’t noticed before, reading PATTRICK FUEL COMPANY when he brushed the dirt away. He turned to the right, seeing a large, dark shadow in the trees.

He pushed the trees and branches back, finding a large truck with the same logo. A walker reached for him from the cab, easily disposed of with one thrust of a knife. And lucky him, there seemed to be plenty of gas.

Daryl found Sasha and Abraham close to where he left them, thanks to Sasha. She told Abraham the best way to find a tracker was to let them find him, and he did. The truck fit all three of them just fine, and they were soon on their way back to Alexandria.

“Rick, come in.” Daryl grunted into the walkie as they got closer. “Anybody? Iris?” There was a long moment before there was a garbled sound from the other end, completely inaudible. “Say again?”

“Help.” Was the only meek reply.

-

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic

@hayley1998

@negansbestie

@lizey-thornberry

[anonbinaryweirdo]

im rambling about me n devons ocsssss

for the deaths part, there's suicide mention(s) and mention(s) of fire !!

let m see if can remember deaths;

starting with the royales—

Jeremy was Michael Afton'ed (he got his insides ripped out basically)

Lucy got into... a car accident??? @deeplyinlovewithstars help

I think they said Diana got kidnapped? unsure

Dilon hung himself at a young age (the range was 5-12?? I think. I just know he was the first to die)

Derek was shot in the head at 15

Delilah got caught in a fire (I forget how old she was)

as for the mantovans—

Shamora got pushed off a building (I think she was the last to die.)

Alexandra was shot on her 16th birthday

misc characters—

Josh was deliberately drowned when he was twelve

Ash, same case scenario as Delilah, when he was younger

Haru (i forgot. but this just reminded me that HE was the last to die, not shamora)

and I'm sure that there are more, I just can't think of anyone else important

okay, now present canon ships !!!!! >:D (exes and current partners)

Josmora (Josh x Shamora; married)

Dilexru (this is an improvised ship name for Dilon x Alexandra x Haru; married)

Derash (Derek x Ash; married)

Jerelucy (Jeremy x Lucy; married)

Alarchie (Alexandra x Archie; exes)

Dereseph??? (Derek x Joseph; exes)

that's all I can remember

other relationships—

Diana, Dilon, Derek, Delilah (oldest-youngest; siblings)

Shamora, Alexandra (siblings)

Alexandra, Derek (best friends; in-laws)

Shamora, Delilah/Dilon (best friends; in-laws)

Delilah, Joshua/Ash (best friends; in-laws? Ash is her in law, not sure about Josh)

Shamora, Dilory (enemies. Dilory fucking killed her bye)

Every main OC, Joseph (they would all kill him on the spot)

probably some more

HEADCANONS + FACTS YAYYY

oh God where to begin

let's get. let's get Dilon out of the way. we hced a few months ago that he would NNNOT bail his spouses out of prison. oh, shamoras in jail? bailed. Josh is in jail? bailed. Lucy is in jail? bailed. Alex and Haru? keep them in there until their sentence is up. (/hj). don't get him wrong, he LOVES his spouses. but holy shit.

everyone has daddy issues. except ash. he's an orphan he doesn't get issues (jkjk but I THINK he had mommy issues??)

fun fact; the ONLY OC who has kept her personality throughout the years, was Lucy. she's perfect. I cringe every time I read back on old roleplays and see old screenshots. shamora would NOT act like this KILL IT

another fun fact; we would always argue over whether or not Jeremy was a top or bottom. this bitch recently revealed that he is a SWITCH (as Jeremy is their oc)

ANOTHER fun fact; during the starting days of our roleplays, Jeremy was like. Lucifer and Lucy was like Lillith. I'm so positive that this HAS changed. a lot. it probably isn't even canon anymore js

I think that Derek and Haru get along well, and yes it is because Joseph is Haru's brother as well as Derek's ex, BUT! Haru does NOT, and WILL not condone the type of abuse Joseph put Derek through EVER. he does not condone his brother's actions whatsoever, and always sided with Derek after he found out about everything.

adding onto Derek and Haru; Derek probably freaked out the first few times he saw Haru, given that him and Joseph look alike, if you don't count Haru's heterochromia

everyone lives together !! well, there's this one mansion that EVERYONE lives in, but they all have their separate homes for privacy (this is actually canon)

I'd like to think that Alex dyed her hair because she doesn't like thinking back on her birthday, aka the day she died. she's originally brunette, like shamora, but dyed her hair blue as to rid that image from her conscious. sometimes she forgets what she used to look like, until she somehow comes across an older picture, which sends her into a spiral

despite their coldness and stoicness, I would like to think that, if not anything else, Shamora and Dilon are passionate when it comes to their lovers !!

Dilon is the second oldest out of like five kids, affection was probably a frequent thing given how deprived of it they were when they were kids.. so if Alex were to fall victim to a panic attack, or if Haru just wasn't having a good day, Dilon would know, and go about dealing with it in his own ways. as I said earlier, he absolutely loves his spouses, even if he flat out refuses to acknowledge it most of the time. this only happens behind closed doors !! and I don't think they would tease him for it. this is rare, and he means well, so they'd accept it with lots of love !! plus they don't really feel like getting hit in the head with a pot like. ever.

and, unlike Dilon, Shamora initiates affection herself, even when she knows that Josh doesn't need it in that moment. her sister was clingy growing up, so she hardly minds Josh's clinginess. in fact, she'll start to get worried if he isn't holding onto her shirt somehow. there are times where she'll just sit with him and scratch behind his ears, or she'll grab his hand and tug him along with her if she knows she's going somewhere—knowing that Josh has to be trailing behind her, or he'll get lost and spiral if she isn't back within ten twenty minutes. she's quiet when affection is initiated from either of them, and mostly sticks to her actions doing all the talking for her. if Josh starts to get insecure about his place in the relationship, she'll know before hand and talk to him about it—one of the rare times she's actually verbal during any sort of affection.

I saw Devon say this in a hc channel; but Haru is definitely the mom friend !! skddkjdj my brain is running at 999mph thinking about them forgive me

I'm gonna stop here because 🧍🏽who tfs gonna read this besides Devon I am RAMBLING (I still have lots to say too. a lot more 💔)

[pawsimses]

Brainrot Trash Idea about Shin and Baylan

So I've been seeing a fair amount of stuff about Baylan and Shin, and bc I'm a Sucker for Father-Daughter characters, decided to play with a few headcanons. None of which are remotely close to Canon and a few AUs bc I can.

General HC Rambling

* Shin is Baylan's actual daughter. Yeah, I know she's (99%) not in canon but look. The idea of Baylan having and then training his own daughter to be something greater than the Jedi lives rent-free in my head.

* He got Shin from a young age to refer to him as "Master" instead of "Father" for both their sakes. Smother the risk of attachment and keep them both safer should the Empire catch on. (Jokes on him, because both of them are very attached to each other).

(For Shin, there actually isn't a real difference between terms; for her, calling him "Master" is her just saying "Father". He is her father, not her mentor, in her POV. She just uses a different word is all. (Help them, plz)).

* On that not of terminology, been thinking and I know it's probably just a harmless/unimportant honorific, but the fact Baylan has the title of Lord makes my brain go "what if Baylan was actually of noble origins?". Which then shifts into "Shin having a separate last name from her father is due to Baylan gifting her his mother's maiden name, for the same reasons he has her refer to him as her mentor instead of parent". It's also a way, in his twisted mind, to honor his family nobility when he himself failed it (by being a Jedi).

(Also imagine the Skoll/Hati family coat of arms being *wolves*)

* I even got genealogy HC worked out cause- "well Shin doesn't look like Baylan". And yes but hear me out: she takes after another relative of his (sister, mom, aunt, grandmother, etc.). Maybe she reminds him of his mom, idk. But if so, maybe that's why he gives her the surname Hati? As a quiet honoring? Either way, she takes after his family members, just not him strictly lol.

* (I'll be honest, her hair looked dyed and frankly speaking, I do HC Baylan as being a dark brunette before he went full Grey, so not a far stretch to also consider her inheriting his hair at least.)

* Back on the Hati surname, thinking more also led to "its a family name but farther back in lineage before it got changed to Skoll somewhere down the line". Kinda like how the Bakarn family in SWTOR used to be the Bakvalens before it got changed to a more common surname. Either way, the name Skoll puts a target on Shin's back and Baylan isn't taking that risk.

* (Ngl, part of me now wants to play w the idea of Baylan actually being a descendant of the Bakarn family. Idk if he'd be related to Syo tho, for obvious reasons.)

*Regarding upbringing, Baylan was a single dad front day 1, raising Shin on the run. Who the other parent is or if she even has one, no one knows. (Mostly bc I'm lazy and single dad Baylan lives rent free in my head). They mostly drifted from place to place, never really calling somewhere home. Hence another reason why Shin is very attached to Baylan; he's her only source of stability. He is "home".

*Leaving Shin was hard for her, but it was also hard for Baylan. It's not that he doesn't love his daughter. He absolutely does. But he's driven by personal ambition to seek this unknown power on this strange world and that takes priority. And truthfully, it's dangerous. He knows it's dangerous. But it calls to him in a way he can't ignore. In a way Shin can't hear. And if For her sake. Even if tearing away from her rips him in pieces; it's dangerous what he's doing and he won't drag her into it.

(Mentally he tells himself he's doing this all for her. For a better future, for her.)

(Shin, of course, is too attached to her father to actually leave the planet.)

AU VERSE HC

On another hand, been seeing a fair amount of Baylan/Morgan content lately and THAT got me thinking of "Shin is a Baylan/Morgan child". Which...

-Half-Dathomiran Shin. Half-Dathomiran Shin with Morgan's markings.

-Shin whose been raised by a human most of her life, who isn't at all attuned to her Nightsister half. Who doesn't really know Morgan and probably is unaware she's her parent.

-Shin who isn't attuned to her Nightsister heritage, suddenly experiencing summons of green fire and magic when her parents leave her behind for their own paths.

Nightsister-Dark Jedi hybrid class Shin Hati.

[beantothemax]

MORE KUROKAMI INBOX FIC: THIS TIME WITH THE RETURN TO CANON SMT IV!! This contains slight spoilers, But its mostly after what i consider to be the "First act" of the game, that being post-Minotaur.

Anyways, lets begin~

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Shinjuku. A place known for its nightlife, lies in disarray. This isn’t new for the citizens of Tokyo. And hasn’t been for years.

A girl sits on a rooftop. She is dressed in a brown school uniform of unknown origin, her dark hair flowing freely in the cold wind of Tokyo.

She looks out of place here, too clean for the crushed buildings and unkempt streets. But she doesn’t care. She never really cared at all. In the dreadfully short time between then and now, many things have changed.

Her head tilts up from her reverie, looking at a new person who entered the torn fence.

She walks smoothly, gliding across the broken asphalt like water on tile. She is dressed in a different school uniform, one with a white-gray plaid pattern on a black skirt. Her white hair flows down her back in a loose braid.

She, too is an outlier in this land. A pristine black and white, plucked straight out of an old movie. She contrasts the other girl as she jumps down, amber eyes meeting black.

“That’s a new look, I almost didn’t recognize you!” The brown haired girl said. She has a chipper sort of voice, one that wouldn’t seem out of place in a cheerleading squad.

“Thought I would match you, maybe even bring a souvenir back. So to speak.” The braided girl smiled back, a genuine one, like greeting an old friend. Her voice is more somber, deep and smooth like the depths of the ocean.

“Oh I see now! That uniform…”

“Yes, it is that one. Thought you would like it. Sadly, I don’t think I could recreate it wholesale.”

The white haired one put on a pensive face for a moment, then looked at the curious demons watching their exchange.

“Let’s go somewhere else. I don’t think I want anyone overhearing us, Hikaru.”

“Alright, suit yourself. What do you think about up there?” Hikaru pointed to the top of the building next to them, neglecting to mention that it was where she previously was sitting.

“It’s perfect,” the other girl chirped, “I bet we could see a lot from there.”

“Well, come on then!” Hikaru flashed a smile at her, before bounding up stacked rubble.

———

Two girls sat upon the rooftop, looking out into city streets.

Hikaru tapped her nails on the concrete, while the other girl hummed a somber tune.

“You know… you never did tell me where you went, Vidé.” Hikaru smiled mischievously.

Vidé matched the smirk with her own devilish grin. “I went to a lot of places. Traveled both above and below ground. Say, did you know that Minotaur is not as good at blocking the exit as Aquila thought he was?”

Hikaru laughed. “I’ll say! I have to ask though, how did you get past it?”

“Trade secrets, I’m afraid.”

She frowned, “You’re no fun.”

“Oh come now, we both know that I’m plenty fun! I let you eavesdrop on me while I traveled. That’s fun enough, right?”

“I suppose…”

“Enough about that, I have something for you.”

Hikaru leaned into Vidé’s space, trying to spy what she was rummaging for in her pockets. Vidé shifted, trying to keep the other girl from looking too hard, but it quickly became a small game of keep away. Culminating in turning her back on the brunette before finally pulling the thing out of her pocket.

It was a white worm, no larger than her hand. Affixed to its head was a flat helmet, with a set of two squared horns jutting out from it. It was hanging limply from her hand in a loose grip.

“I believe this is yours.” Vidé said, turning around.

Hikari’s eyes widened, looking shocked as she looked at the Magatama in her friends hand. “Now why would you do that? I gave that to you as a token of our friendship!”

“Please. it was either this, or I toss it into Tokyo for some unlucky soul to find. We can be friends without the surveillance.”

Hikaru pouted again. “Really? I’m shocked you would even say I was doing that kind of thing.”

“Hikaru.”

“But Vidé… you’re interesting…”

“And you can learn about me like a normal person. Like asking questions, and me answering them.”

“You are so not fun.”

“So I’ve graduated then? Do I get a diploma?” She smirked.

“You know what I mean.”

“Will you take the worm or not?”

“Fine…”

Hikaru took the Magatama from Vidé and rather inelegantly stuck it into her bag.

“So did you come by just to drop this off? Or did you want to stay?” Hikaru asked.

“Bit of a toss up, really. I met the most fascinating pair last time I came here, and I want to see them again. Maybe I’ll play another song for them.”

“Oh? You played music for them? Can I hear it?”

Vidé laughed. “Sure. I think you would like it too.”

She sat down on a nearby piece of rubble, pulling an acoustic guitar out of nowhere. The instrument looked well-worn, with small dents and scratches littering the greyed wood.

She played a note, before humming the key. Hikaru sat down on the ground, eagerly awaiting the performance.

The citizens of the Shinjuku underground heard the intercoms turn on for the first time in decades. Broken machinery rekindled for a single performance. Many would clutch the words to their hearts, remembering the lyrics and attempting to sing them for themselves for days to come.

Let's go in the garden, you'll find something waiting, Right there where you left it, lying upside down. When you finally find it, you'll see how it's faded, The underside is lighter when you turn it around.

Everything stays right where you left it. Everything stays, but it still changes. Ever so slightly, daily and nightly. In little ways, when everything stays.

Hikaru smiled, letting the melody wash over her. Music was such a human thing to do. Same with art and cooking. Time wasters. Humanity was always such an interesting thing to see flourish in the cracks of a world, and even more fun to puppet.

Perhaps everything does stay the same, but it still changes.

Go down to the ocean, the crystal tide is raising. Waters’ gotten higher as the shore washes out, Keep your eyes wide open, even when the sun is blazin’ The Moon controls the tide, it could cause you to drown.

Everything stays right where you left it. Everything stays, but it still changes. Ever so slightly, daily and nightly. In little ways, when everything stays.

Hikaru clapped, as is customary. She smiled wildly, showing her unnaturally long canines.

“That was beautiful!” She chirped.

“Thank you. That’s what they said too. I doubt they would understand the intricacies of it as ones such as us though.” Vidé smiled.

Hikaru laughed, rocking back and forth on the ground.

They smiled at each other for a bit, before Hikaru picked herself up and sat next to Vidé on a piece of rubble. They stayed like that for a while. Gazing out at the streets and skyscrapers, listening to the distant chittering of Demons. It was interesting down here. Chaotic and strange, but Vidé thought it was a good type of strange. The kind of strange that settled into an alien normalcy. Humans… such interesting things. All with their own melodies to sing, with stories engraved upon their hearts, carving out niches for themselves.

“Say, Vidé.” Hikaru said, breaking her out of her reverie. “Do you want to do a favor for me?”

She knew exactly where this was going.

“No, I’m sorry. But I don’t think I want that kind of commitment.”

Hikaru tilted her head, wearing a pensive expression. “Why not? You seem like you would enjoy the kind of things that I do.”

A moment of silence.

“Don’t tell me you’re with Him.” she spat.

Vidé laughed. “Please. I couldn’t possibly side with Him. He's far too similar to what I was before.”

Hikaru raised an eyebrow, curiosity coloring her eyes. “And what would that be?”

“Not your business, that’s for sure.”

“Come on! You and Lilith would get along great!”

“It’s a generous offer, but I prefer to go my own way.”

Hikaru rolled her eyes, “Fine. Be that way. I’ll ask again if you’re up to it.”

“I gathered as much.”

Vidé stood up, and stretched her arms up and around. “It’s about time I got going. I’m sure if I dawdle any longer, those two I want to visit will be dead and gone.”

“You’re leaving so soon?”

“We’ll have plenty of time to catch up when next we meet, Lucifer.”

She laughed at the casual use of her Name. Even after Vidé jumped off of the building they were sitting on.

Hikaru smiled.

“Likewise, Kurokami.” -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- So! Context and fun fact time! Kuze is wearing a monochrome black-and-white Shujin uniform, all perfectly to the letter neat. This is a callback to the time that they passingly met in the P5 universe, which Kurokami went to while passing through SMT IV Land It is Highly implied that SMT uses a multiverse system, and by highly i mean basically canon, so its not too far-fetched that the Lucifer Persona is tangentially connected to Lucifer SMT.

The area that Hikaru and Kuma are meeting is the area in front of the south entrance to the Shinjuku settlement.

Kuma is using Vide as a fake Name because she is Very Much A Fey and as a personal middle finger to the final boss of octopath 2, which she visited before this. (Its literally Void in french, how could i pass that up???) Lucifer knows Kurokami, but doesnt know the other Aspects' Names. Anyways yeah thats it bean have fun dont die

kurokami fic!!!!!!! hooray!!!!!!!!!!!!! love how hikaru lucifer and vidé kuma are just chilling on a rooftop as demons are probably massacring innocents on the streets below. hashtag girl.

speaking OF hashtag girl why is Lucifer, Prince Of Hell just. disguised as a schoolgirl? what’s that scamp’s motive this time around…

ALSO also why did hikaru plant a goddamn worm on kuma like a bug?????????? (the listening kind not the critter kind) what is this fella doing!!!!!!!!

positively fascinating fic vin, chewing on this like a puppy would an ice cube. and I did not die! hoor- [GUNSHOT] [GUNSHOT] [FIREBALL SFX] [FIREBALL SFX] [EXPLOSION]

…

[GUNSHOT]

[shions-new-blog-of-stuff]

"Catherine's Memento" [Leon x Catherine (Canon x OC)] Slight CW: Injury Fluff! Part I Here AN: Brain was like "DO A PART TWO YOU KNOW YOU WANNA". Possible spelling/grammar mistakes (sweat). Once again, very stream of thought Catherine held onto Leon tightly as he carried her outside the building, to the sight of police barricades, police tape, multiple parked vehicles with sirens blaring and lights flashing. Lifting her head, she could see people in hazmat suits running about, police directing traffic and civilians away from the area. The injured were being loaded onto stretchers or led to stay in small tents.

Leon did his best to wrap Catherine's injured ankle, but could do little to stop the pain.

He cast a sad gaze down at her. "This is as much as I can do for you, Cath."

Catherine barely had the strength to nod her head. "…You did enough…"

Leon was approached a few medics, who looked at the two up and down.

The tallest, a red-haired man, was the first to speak. "Another one?"

"Yeah," Leon replied, "Sprained ankle. Not infected."

"We'll take it from here, but…still have to give her a test. Have to make sure 100%."

A brunette medic had briefly left and returned with a stretcher. She smiled at Catherine.

"I'll be okay…Leon, thank you," Catherine said before her eyes fluttered close.

Leon placed her onto the stretcher and backed away, watching Catherine being carted off to an empty tent a few yards away.

His earpiece began to beep, and he turned around towards the building, giving it a few taps. "Kennedy. Yes? …Okay. Roger that."

He gave his pistol a quick check before walking back towards the building entrance.

[Several Hours Later]

Catherine, groggy due to the pain meds, slept on and off. She had been told she would need to stay off her foot for a while, and thankfully, she showed no signs of viral infection. She really wanted to just go home, but no one had been cleared to do so yet.

"How you feeling?" a voice asked.

Catherine turned her head, taken aback by the fact that Leon was sitting at her bedside in a probably really uncomfortable folding chair.

"L-Leon…? Wait…w-w-what's…" she stammered.

Leon shrugged. "I'm on standby until further notice. Thought I'd drop by to check on ya."

Catherine tried her best to stifle a chuckle. "Well…they gave me an exam. I'm completely clean."

"…I'm glad to hear that," he replied.

A sudden thought raced to the front of Catherine's mind as she felt her chest and neck.

Where is it? Don't tell me I--

Catherine slowly sat up, looking at the little table next to the stretcher. Her broken purse sat there, with the item she thought she lost hanging off the top.

Leon looked on, tilting his head in confusion.

"Hey…so…um…" Catherine said softly, reaching over and took a jingling object off the purse, holding it in her hands and letting out a relieved sigh. "You know…I was really hoping to see you around Christmas again, maybe this wasn't the best way…? But still…"

"Same here. You sure you alright?"

Catherine caught Leon's hand before he could brush some hair out of his face, and he felt something cool to the touch being placed into his palm.

Leon looked down to see that in his hand was a silver cross on a thin chain, appearing very old but well-polished. Looking up, he could see Catherine smiling.

"That's been passed down in my family for…oh geez…I dunno how m-many generations." Catherine scratched her ear. "Was going to wrap it and give it to you for Christmas, but…you might as well have it now. Cos who knows if and when we'll meet up again, ye-yeah?"

Leon looked away, before looking back at the cross in his hand. "Sweetheart, you're sure you wanna give me this?"

"I am."

There was so much chaos going on outside. But here, in this little hastily put together tent, none of that. Leon and Catherine slowly hugged, Leon's chin resting on top of Catherine's head. Just quietly enjoying each other's company. Leon tucked the cross away in one of his jacket pockets.

He's going to get called back in, he's sure.

But this brief time he's spending with Catherine, he'll cherish every moment of it.

@squashfics @allen-444 @whateverthefuckyouwantiguess @lex-the-flex @lottathoughts @likesugarandcyanide @xcyberhexx @cilantro24 @oreo-leon @darckcarnival @macabrecakes

(love y'all, special thanks for inspiring to write things)

[narrators-journal]

could i get shower sex with yu and yosuke?

Woof, this one might be a lil rough. I'm trying to vary the sexual acts in these to keep them interesting, but I'm a little torn on how this one turned out. But! I hope the meh parts are weighed out by the good parts! I tried my best! Thank you for the fun ask regardless!

Kinktober prompt list: Here

Kinktober masterlist: Here

CW: Semi-public sex, a bit of an iffy knowledge of show sex and hand jobs, and the characters lol. Tho, Yosuke is gently implied to be homophobic, which is kind of canon.

After three years, Inaba had managed to grow a fair bit. Having gone from a tiny, sleepy town, to a slightly less sleepy hole in the ground. Now, it no longer had nothing beyond Junes to offer bored teens on the weekends, or for summer work outside of family businesses, but also a pool now.

That pool, in fact, was where Narukami had run into a familiar face in the chlorine and scream-filled air. “Well, well, well. I didn’t expect to find you back in this itty bitty town.” He chuckled, making the brunette in the lazily bobbing intertube jump. He took his sunglasses off to look at Narukami as if he’d teleported there. “Holy shit, Yu Narukami?! What are you doing back here?” He about squawked, the taller male laughing when his old friend about threw himself from the floaty to scramble out of the water. “I came back to visit my uncle, and I decided to join them for a visit to the pool” He explained, grabbing Yosuke Hanamura’s arm to haul him up to his feet, only for the nine-year-old to come out of nowhere to tackle the brunette.

Not that the man seemed to mind, hugging Nanako back and taking a moment to chatter like a pair of birds before, like any other child, the little girl was off once more to chug chlorine water and soak her father’s wallet and phone. Leaving Narukami with Yosuke at the poolside.

And, taking a look at the sun-kissed man shaking the water from his hair, the silver-haired man found that the three or so years they had been apart had been good to Yosuke. Finally handling that baby-ish face he’d had in highschool, and turned his wirey, scrawny frame into a more filled out, slightly pudgier figure. Though, Narukami could also see that, like him, the persona user had stuck to those work outs a bit, at least. So, he was still just as cute as the wildcard had found in highschool. ”Do you wanna swim? I brought a spare floaty if you wanna join me in floating around.” Yosuke offered, making the taller man hum with thought. Glancing over to where Nanako had made a friend and was blissfully ignoring him, or her napping father in a pool chair. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind floating around and catching up.” He decided, smiling when Yosuke beamed.

So, the men stuck to that. Narukami grabbing the other intertube the brunette had brought with him, and spent the next hour or two simply bobbing in the cool water and joking around as they caught up The silver-haired man even hanging back when Dojima decided to take Nanako home before she got too sunburnt. All was peaceful. At least, until they got out and decided to bathe and get some food.

Making their way to the small collection of showers the pool offered to let people wash off the chemicals, Narukami found one to use, but, Yosuke had...less luck. “Bro! How are all of these broken?!” He whined, making the wildcard snort from his stall, pushing the curtain to the side to ask, “Are they really?” “Yes! I’ve tried the nobs on all of them, but none of them come on!” Yosuke whined, scowling a bit. “I don’t want to bathe right after you. You’ll be stuck waiting…” Making the wildcard shrug, “It’s not like I brought shampoo, you wouldn’t take an hour in here.” “That’s not the point! I’d be embarrassed.” “then don’t shower. It’s just pool water.” Narukami reminded, only to get a dark glare to remind him of it being a public pool. Earning a dramatic sigh, “If you really want to shower that bad, you could always hop in here with me. We’ve done weirder.”

Admittedly, maybe a bit too forward of a flirt. Yosuke had always been sort of skittish about homoerotic types of things, so Narukami might have been too forward with the offer. However, all his words got was a long, heavy silence in reply, so Narukami closed the curtain again and went back to scrubbing out his hair. Leaving his words in the air with a bit of curiosity blooming in his chest. Will he take it? He asked himself, only to jump at the sound of the curtain being just about ripped open. Yosuke standing there, pink-cheeked and huffy, “I’m taking your offer. Don’t make it weird though.” That was his only explanation. Ignoring Narukami’s snort as he stepped into the small shower with him and did his best to scrub himself clean of the piss, chemicals, and whatever grime a child could carry into the water/ All the while, Narukami admired how the cold shower water trickled over Yosuke’s tanned skin. Seeming to trace his muscles when he lifted his arms to scrub the chlorine from his hair.

Before Narukami realized it, he was putting his arms on one side of Yosuke’s head, then the other before the brunette realized it and whirled around to find the wildcard’s face mere inches from his. “Woah there! What the hell are you doing, Yu?! It’s your first visit back, and you’re making moves like that?!” Yosuke yelped, instantly the color of a ripe tomato under the cool droplets of the shower, with his hand on the taller man’s chest to stop him from leaning any closer. His hazel eyes as wide as dinner plates as he stared up at the silver-haired wildcard caging him between his strong arms and the wall of the tiny beach shower. So, thinking quickly to hide how impulsive the movements were, Narukami reasoned, “Experimenting? Uh, testing the waters? Come on, Yosuke. Aren’t you a little curious about how this would go? I mean, I always thought we had a little something there. And, personally, I think it’s worth it to test the waters now.” Watching those honey-brown pools swim with a moment of confusion, contemplation, and then, a decision. “O-okay, I’ll admit I’m...kind of curious.” His voice cracking a bit with how his nerves seemed to choke him. “But, no kissing! That’s gay.”

Chuckling, the wildcard nodded, giving a salute as he said, “Of course. Totally not gay if we don’t kiss.” And, with that, he stepped back to give the pretty brunette some space to tame the burning blush across his cheeks. Once it had simmered down to a pinker hue, the silver-haired man took his hand and placed it on his well-muscled chest. Yosuke wordlessly took the invitation to run his fingers over each muscle.

Which, Narukami didn’t mind at all. Humming slightly at the temperature difference between the cold, trickling water of the shower, and the warmth of his partner’s hand coasting over the curve of his pectorals, relaxed muscles of his stomach, and, tentatively, the tops of his hip bones.

Glancing back at Yosuke’s face, Narukami smiled slightly at the almost awe-struck glint in his eyes as he drank in the wildcard’s toned physique, making the taller man’s blood zip slightly. So, he went ahead and continued the game.

Tracing a finger over Yosuke’s collarbone, pulling away slightly when he jumped, but when he did little else but eye his hand, he returned to following the bone back to his friend’s shoulder to slide his hand down his arm, letting the cold water trickle over his fingers in more of a rush than him. Then, he lifted his hand back to the brunette’s chest to start another lazy trail down his sternum and over his stomach the same way he had with him. “You’re very handsome, y’know.” He noted, watching that rosey dusting on Yosuke’s tanned face darken once more as he stuttered out, “U-um, thank you. Y-y-you’re not that bad yourself.” His blush darkened when Narukami chuckled lightly at the compliment.

He would’ve leaned in to kiss the man as well, but remembered the rule he’d set, so he refrained. Instead sliding his fingers over the man’s belly and down to the waistband of his swim trunks. Tugging them down and wrapping his fingers around the brunette’s length to stroke him slowly, inwardly grinning when he felt his old friend shiver under his touch.

“H-holy shit…” was the only thing Yosuke offered, so, Narukami kept moving his hand up and down his stiffening length. Letting the brunette grip his hips, taking his own time to tentatively push down the taller man’s swim trunks to toy with Narukami’s member in return. Earning a shudder from the silver-haired wildcard in the same way he’d reacted to the thrill in his blood. That contrast of his warm skin and the cool water trickling off of his skin heightening the excitement of their setting to kindle a small fire in the man’s belly.

Yet, despite the small voice in his head whispering skip the appetizer. Before we’re caught. Yu Narukami kept a hold of his impulses. Letting out a slow breath and letting the cold shower water draw out a small shiver as he continued toying with the brunette’s now-erect dick until Yosuke cracked, letting slip a soft moan. “sorry…” He instantly panted, his cheeks managing to somehow turn a redder color as his brown eyes locked onto the tiled floor of their small beach shower. “For what?” Narukami chuckled, tightening his grip on his partner’s cock to increase the friction each slow pump of his hand sent through the man. “I kind of hope my partners enjoy my touch. No matter their gender.” He pointed out, Yosuke not bothering to respond, just keeping his eyes glued to the tiles with a hand over his mouth to muffle the small moans the taller man’s slow movements earned bit by bit.

Though, he did finally swallow down the embarrassment and finally remember how his fingers were wrapped loosely around the wildcard’s semi-soft, twitching member. Hesitating a moment longer before returning to slowly stroking Narukami’s dick. This time, though, with more confidence, and a slightly tighter hold that earned a quiet moan of relief. Which, thankfully, seemed to encourage the man, instead of making him recoil or call off their ‘experiment’.

Not that Narukami would’ve been surprised. A few times in their high school years, Yosuke had asked to ‘try things out’ with the taller man, only to chicken out at the last second. So, when his soft noises of pleasure didn’t discourage him, the wildcard was happy to let out a few more to keep the friction going. Thankful for the cold water running down his back, as it kept him grounded enough to keep a handle on his volume and horny thoughts, as well as hid their lewd noises with the rhythmic patter of the water hitting the tile floor.

A fact that came in especially handy when the wildcard finally sped his own motions up. Making the brunette’s noises trickle out more often. Bitten back and hissed out while he tried to match the wildcard’s pace with a thin film over those pools of autumnal warmth that had Narukami’s own stomach twisting. Each change in speed or grip was mirrored, making the silver-haired man smile and moan more each time the coil in his stomach grew tighter.

The breathless panting and glint of lust shining in those amber pools, and the wildcard’s own hums and sighs of pleasure mixing and stoking the flames in their bellies further, and further. Warming their blood until it finally seemed to boil. Accompanied by a series of hisses and muttered curses as the boys tried not to fall under the onslaught of pleasurable buzz.

Taking a moment after to simply let the cold rainfall of the shower head soothe the burst of warmth and drag Narukami back to earth before Yosuke panted, “This...doesn’t mean anything, right?” with that same tinge of red to his face as before, his warm brown eyes once again locked onto the tile floor rather than the taller man in front of him, “I mean, it means something, but it doesn’t have to mean anything at the same time. If you catch my drift,” he assured, the brunette just huffing and shoving him against the wall so he could get out to dry off and get dressed. Narukami simply laughed as he followed after him, but let him go off on his own once they were dressed again.

[gigglemugger]

The Naked and the Blind (or The Ballad of Meg Halsey). | Chapter 2.

Fandom: Re-Animator (Movies - Combs), Herbert West - Reanimator - H.P. Lovecraft.

Pairing: Herbert West/Meg Halsey

Rating: Explicit, or at the very least Mature.

Archive Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence.

Chapters: 1. | 2. | 3. | 4. | 5. | 6. | 7. | 8. | 9. | 10. | 11.

Synopsis:

"Meg Halsey had a problem. In fact, she had several problems, the first of which, she acknowledges while looking at her semi empty living room, is that she can't afford to live alone anymore. The second one is that she doesn't wanna go back to her daddy's house again. This would be an inconceivable notion to her thirteen year old self, even her sixteen year old self, but at twenty five, she'd really choose living under the bridge first. Ok. Maybe not that." Meg Halsey is perfect: Beautiful, accomplished, a bright future doctor. She escaped her hometown and moved to New York, where she likely would have stayed forever. After her mother dies, though, she is forced to move back to Arkham and face everything she wanted to leave behind. --- A.K.A I made a tumblr post about how Crampton/Combs are romantically involved in all of their collabs, got replies and decided to write down a suggestion of "what if Meg was the protagonist, not Dan?" Also I did the cop-out summary thing and pasted the first paragraph of the fic. It's highway robbery. Criminal (I'm sorry).

Word Count: Multi Chapter, so far 5,499.

AO3 Tags: I uhhh......... I have no idea what I made it started with one tumblr post then one reply and here we are, I included other works by Lovecraft here and rounded Arkham up and then ran, Character Study, In a way, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Dan Cain, he doesn't exist, Danbert shippers cry I get it, Canon-Typical Violence, Animal Death, Eventual Romance, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, this fic is an affront to god just like herbert's reagent, Not Beta Read.

Language: English.

CW: Meg went through some trauma. Dead parents, dead cat. She also helps kill her dad later on, considering, so. It's a heavy fic, but if you liked the movie you'll be fine.

Chapter Summary: Meg meets new people. West shows up at her house.

AO3 link.

Chapter notes:

This is where things really start diverging from the original and basically where you decide if you wanna keep reading or not. I have around 20,000 words of this fic written, divided into seven chapters so far and I just have to write the ending BUT we'll see if I wanna lenghten it. I'll try to post one chapter every monday. This chapter will also see the introduction of the other Lovecraftian lore characters I mentioned. Hope you like it! (This is the second chapter of this fic. If you haven't read the first, the link is up there).

2. You pucker up, our passion's spent.

“Derby?” A tall, brunette man looked up from the hospital bed.

“Yes?” Meg smiled at him.

“Hi, I’m Meg. Dr. Harrod told me to come here and find out what you need.”

She knew who he was, Derby. His first name was Edward, his second name was Pickman. Pickman, Derby and Upton were the oldest families in Arkham. There was a foundation, there were several explorers, writers, occultists. You name it, the Derby-Pickman-Uptons had dipped their pinkies into it.

She didn’t know the girl, though. The woman definitely gathered looks when walking down the street—perhaps for the wrong reasons, considering her look: Big, voluminous, curly long black hair, black clothes, and brown skin. She was beautiful and stood by Derby's side, unmoving.

“He’s sick.” Meg looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. I’m his girlfriend.”

“Yes…”

“Nath, I’m okay.”

“He always says that, and he always comes down with something.” Meg’s eyes turned sympathetic.

“You’re around here quite frequently, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been in and out of hospitals my whole life, but I’m fine now. I just came because of a sore throat.” Meg approached.

“Lemme see that… You do seem to have something there. I’ll just prescribe some tylenol, you’ll be alright.”

“See?” Nath asked while Meg wrote it down. A prescription for tylenol, how exciting. “I’m Ace, by the way.” Meg frowned, not looking up, before ripping the paper up.

“Ace… Nath?”

“Asenath,” Edward said, taking the paper she handed to him.

“That’s pretty.”

“Thank you. I take you are… Margaret?” She smiled.

“Close, Megan.”

“Oh, that’s much better.”

“I think so,” Meg agreed. Edward got up, looking much paler and much taller than his girlfriend, but also weaker—like she could beat him in combat anytime, especially with those boots. Still, Meg felt a strange piercing pain coursing through her heart looking at them together.

She ignored it for the work at hand. “Be well soon!”

When they left, the notion that there was much to be done comforted her.

West was drilling through Hill. “You know, you should have stolen more of Gruber’s ideas, then at least you’d have ideas!” There were pencils, cut in half, close to the chair that West had been in. Meg leaned back to look at them. A patient with their brain removed was the alternative, not that she had flinched when he did the procedure—she was a doctor. She couldn’t openly flinch, at least.

Maybe she had during her first year… She couldn’t remember, the pencils were more interesting right now.

“Mr. West!” Hill said, gathering attention from everyone who was moving to leave. Meg realized she was the only one still sitting. “It is going to be a pleasure to fail you.”

How nice. She got up around the time West left for good. Her remaining classmates were lingering by the door.

“Ms. Halsey,” Hill said, making her look up. He was taking the brain from one part of the table to another, next to his medical tools. “I’m sorry you had to see such an outburst from me.”

“It’s… Okay, Dr. Hill, really.” You didn’t apologize to everyone else in class.

“Your father was very generous, accepting West into this institution,” he continued, as her classmates gave her the best stink eye they could—including the only other women in class. Yay! “Don’t let him get to you.” Meg smiled at him.

“I won’t, Dr. Hill.” She turned her body, lowered her head, and put one leg in front of the other mechanically—one, two—to make way to the hallway. One of the girls held her back, though, before she could make it very far.

“You fucking him or what, Halsey?” She asked, bright red hair illuminated by the fluorescents. In her life, Meg was taught that in a situation like this, letting it slide would be best—ripping her arm off of the woman's grip, look down, go away, let her have this little victory. Turn the other cheek.

Her mother was always highlighting her ability to turn the other cheek. This is something that Meg practiced extensively during her most formative years. She was popular and beautiful, people have problems with that Meggie, but there's no reason for us to lower ourselves to their level.

Going away from Arkham to a place where no one knew who she was did teach her a few new skills, though.

“Not at all! I’m sure you still have a chance,” she said.

You're soft.

You'll feel bad the whole day for this.

The woman’s smile slid from her face, and Meg retrieved her arm back with a pull. Don't let her notice you are shaking.

She turned around, eyes forward and saw that West was regarding her from the end of the room. Weirdo. Meg raised her chin, put her hair behind her ear and walked straight ahead.

“Nice speech,” she said when she passed him, annoyance hopefully clear through her words.

“I thought so,” he said, watching her go, but not for long, before retreating to God knows where. She looked away and towards the garden. She didn’t pay him any mind, the day wasn’t over, she had to go to another lecture.

West is insane, but he’s objectively right. Dr. Gruber’s study…

Whatever, Meg, just go on ok?

Don’t think about West, you have better things to do, don’t you think?

Clinic duty, autopsies, lectures. She was gonna get through it all. Her degree, her life. No Wests.

The television was background noise when she was deep into the books. Medical jargon hung over her head and she took several deep breaths to keep herself awake. Meg looked through the window, the rain that insisted on falling was subsiding. Good. She hated the idea of her father driving through soaking wet streets—Too many car accidents.

Rufus slept beside her. She wrote down yet another batch of notes and wondered about class, wondered about Hill too, and the weird tingly sensation she had around her brain when he looked through her, the sensation that seized her stomach and squeezed—The urge to say and do whatever he said in an almost compulsory way.

What am I gonna cook again?

The doorbell rang and she breathed out. Rufus jumped away from her.

“Good, when things get bad you just leave.”

She looked at Felix the Cat. It was dark. Huh…

When she opened the door, there he was, like an omen of death. The night was silent, the sky was starry. It was cold and moist and Meg closed her hand over her necklace.

“Hello.” West said, as if it wasn’t creepy he was standing there.

Perfectly normal Tuesday for Mr. West, no doubt.

“Hi…” Meg waited before putting her head out to look at both sides of the street. Deserted, but the neighbors were in. Good. “Sorry, what are you…” he reached into his pocket, pulling a piece of paper out, her piece of paper, asking for a roommate. She should have put “women only,” but in her defense, she thought it was obvious.

“You’re here…” she blinked, “...about the apartment?”

“Yes,” he said, casual, humorous or faking it. “You have a lovely home.” Oh God. “I was gonna come earlier, but I was looking at other places, I’m sure you understand. May I?”

Meg looked at him, incredulous, and he took that cue to bypass her. Meg turned her body towards the, for all effects and purposes, stranger in her home—in her living room. He looked around and regarded the couch, the rug, the books she had left piled up and…

She couldn’t help but close her eyes now, cringing. Why did she have those on display? Pride. You accomplished all of that. Trophies, of all kinds, and medals, that she collected throughout her life—even the fake ones her mother liked to give her when she was five.

“Swimming, spelling, science fairs… My, ms. Halsey, you’ve been busy.”

“Mr. West,” she began, projecting her voice as loud as she could. She refused to step in. “Don’t you think that this is a bit weird?”

“What is?” He asked, looking back at her.

She crossed her arms.

“That you are here for the apartment, that you are inside my apartment,” she tried to be reasonable “I am a woman…”

“Oh, ms. Halsey, you don’t have to worry. No offense, but I am not interested.”

Oh, maybe he’s into men.

So what? He’s creepy.

What if he’s lying?

Maybe he’s not into sex. The clear image of having sex with West filled her brain without warning—her on top of him, sweating, moaning, his face in a perfect contortion of pleasure while she…

Meg frowned, approaching him for the first time even if only a little, only to move. He didn’t move back, or out.

“You have a lovely home. It's close to the college. I'm quiet. I'm merely interested in rooming here. You won't even…”

“I’m not interested in male applicants, I’m sorry.” West looked at her as if she were insane, before glancing down at her pink post-it.

“I’m sorry, but the sex of the applicant wasn’t really speci…”

“I’m specifying it now. Good night, Mr. West.” Her blue eyes made way from him to the street. She was still flushed against the door, still had her arms crossed. A breeze made Meg wonder if the drizzle was gonna come back, or if it was going to turn into full blown rain.

West straightened his back, putting the paper inside of his coat.

“I do have the money…”

“I’m not interested.”

Good. Becca would be proud. She always said women should stand up for themselves.

(“You are soft,” Meg rolled her eyes.

“I’m not soft, I’m just… Not like you.”

“Learn it. You wanna be a doctor? You’ll need it.”)

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” West said, clearly not meaning it.

Meg took a deep breath and inhaled, involuntarily. They looked at each other a beat longer. West looked down, then at her. He gave her a nod and walked out, melting into the night.

Meg closed the door with a bang.

She was wearing an apron, a frilly thing that had belonged to her grandmother before it belonged to her mom—a family heirloom, practically, which was kept immaculately clean by a series of chemicals that she wasn’t even sure were completely safe, all things considered. When she was fourteen, she loved wearing it, but now it was more like she looked like a pastry. Like a strange doll on top of a cake.

Sometimes her life reminded her of a book she read a long time ago.

Her—their—kitchen is beautiful, brown, with perfectly clean cupboards. The floor was shiny, in a pretty discreet brown and beige checkered pattern that was never dirty—certainly the work of the maid. The sunlight entered through the window and was warm on Meg’s skin. It was hot that day, strangely after the rain, but then again it must have been the Devil acknowledging she's going to Hell for thinking it's so bad to cook her dad a meal.

She was now making up all bad, sinful thoughts that made her shake her head like an etch a sketch by preparing chicken, rice, roasted potatoes, salad and a cake for dessert. That'd be a lot for someone who's not used to undertaking such a load, but then again Meg has always been perfect. By sixteen, she had made an entire dinner, for seven guests, almost by herself.

They were so proud.

Meg sat down and watched the chicken crisping inside the oven, the chair making a screeching noise when she pulled it. Her hair fell over her clavicle, the necklace her parents gave her when she was a child hung in the air from her pose, hunched over herself. The sunlight was cozy against her face.

What was West doing when Gruber died? She had asked around the previous day—first to her dad, with a big smile and lots of cutesy movements—but he confirmed the story even through it all.

“West didn't do anything, Carl is just being a little… Protective.”

She asked her classmates, male classmates, who didn't even know who Dr. Gruber was or what she was talking about. Figures. She was so desperate that she asked Harrod, who had better things to do, and gave it a rest around the time where it was starting to get obvious it wasn't just healthy curiosity—this was either a crush, or something else. People might tell West and he was creepy. Well dressed, but creepy. He might get the wrong idea.

What did he say? No offense, but I’m not interested? Not interested in sex?

She dragged her hands up and down her forearms. and smelled the chicken roasting. Meg hadn’t been with a guy in a while, not since New York, and though the guys she went with were nice, they weren’t as willing to understand her position in regard to her work. At least she had time to put down yet another roommate ad, this time she specifying she wanted women only. Great, no more creeps, hopefully.

As if.

Meg had not necessarily dressed for the occasion, but Hill acted as if she had. Brilliant, beautiful, charming. Her dad didn't even bat an eye at how weird that was, and she did as millions of women did by sucking up and smiling openly.

You're soft.

Avoid problems.

She'd be gone before midnight anyway—she already told her dad she needed to study, needed to keep her grades up and maybe finally be the first of the class. Second runner up was not her style at the moment.

“First?” Hill asked, putting his glass down ceremoniously. “That's a serious position.”

“I can do it.”

“I'm sure of it, honey,” her dad said. He cut the potatoes in half on his plate, piercing through one, “as is dr. Hill. You are the most brilliant student we have...”

“Evidently,” Hill interrupted. “Meg excels in everything she does, especially cooking,” she smiled, sardonic. Especially cooking? I wonder what I'm doing in medicine. Maybe I could cook the patients a homemade meal…?

“I gotta say sweetheart, I agree with Carl. You really outdid yourself here. Your mother would be proud.”

“Thank you, daddy,” she landed on. Better to thank and forget.

“I don't mean to trespass here,” Hill began again after a small pause. Their attention was on him, but Meg averted his eyes. “I… Heard you were asking about West to some of your classmates.”

Heard or overheard?

“Were you?” Sudden interest from her dad, he hunched his body forward, as if he couldn't hear Hill from where he was sitting. “Herbert West is a brilliant student. A promising, young hope for the future of medicine. It might be good if you two became friends.”

For someone so overprotective, he was constantly looking for a worthy husband for his little girl.

“Don't go near Herbert West,” Hill said, cutting the conversation in half. His voice was booming and imposing. Meg looked at him, startled.

Don't…

“Why… Why not?”

The atmosphere was tense, the air was heavy. If Harrod wanted her to make an incision here, she'd think the blood would be too thick, that the patient would bleed to a degree that it'd be impossible to save them from hemorrhaging. She took her glass on a whim, just to hold something.

“Carl, what is…?” Hill raised his hand.

“I'm sorry Alan,” a small pause. “I didn't mean to sound rude. I merely heard some… Rumors about Herbert West.” What rumors? “I thought it might be best if Meg didn't give him the time of day.”

“Rumors?” Her dad chuckled. Air came again, straight into the lungs of the patient who would live. Amazing mouth to mouth from the Dean himself. He took his own glass and snickered. “Oh, please Carl, you don't really believe a brilliant boy like Herbert West really did…” he glanced at Meg, then down. “...All of those things.” Uh…

“What things?”

“Nothing I should discuss with a young woman such as yourself,” her dad said, taking a sip of his wine. She opened her mouth to argue, but he didn't let her. “Go on, honey, drink up. We're celebrating.”

“What things?” Meg repeated anyway, this time looking at Hill.

The table was full, the smells were poignant, the wood was hard against Meg's boots, she could feel the fabric against her skin.

Don't look…

His eyes looked nothing like West's—they looked dead, like they were blue holes, wanting to make their way through her head.

“Nothing important,” Hill said, finally, looking away. He smiled. “Rumors. Still, where there's smoke…”

“Don't listen to him, honey. I'm sure that West will bring great pride to our institution.” Meg smiled at him. She wanted to be home studying.

“Yes… I'm sure. Anyway, I have to go…” She turned around in her chair.

“Ah, are you sure?” Her dad asked, so eager, and she smiled at him,

“Yes, daddy. I have to study.”

“Well then, one last toast?” Hill raised his glass, gathering the attention of the table.

The floor was hard underneath her feet, the towel was recently washed, the light burned her hair and made it shine. “To Megan, my esteemed colleague’s capable, beautiful, loving daughter, the obsession of all who fall under her spell.” Meg raised her glass, with an uncomfortable laugh.

“Sure, I’ll drink to that!” She said, downing the entire thing in one gulp, to shocked glances. “Thanks for the lovely night!”