#Sigh. Like father alike daughter

[fumifooms]

Dad always said I was like him

Meijack and Chilchuck Tims Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui

^ 1: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 2: Bug like an angel, Mitski / 3: Woodtangle, Mary Ruefle / 4: The Third Hour of the Night, Frank Bidart / 5 & 6: FROM THE MAKERS OF "TWO-MOM ENERGY DRINK," IT'S "LET YOUR FATHER DIE ENERGY DRINK,", Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 7: Batman: Year Three (1989) / 8 & 9 : FROM THE MAKERS OF […], Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 10: Wilt, CJ the X / 11: How Do We Forgive Our Fathers, Dick Lourie / 12: Milk and honey, Rupi Kaur / 13: And My Father's Love Was Nothing Next To God's Will, Amatullah Bourdon / 14: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 15: Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong, Ocean Vuong / 16: untitled, Joan Tierney v 17: Drunk, The Living Tombstone / 18: unknown

When your father tried his best to provide for you but he worked all the time and even when he was home he was either tired or stressed and he’s always liked to get drunk to relax and cheer up. When you know he values work ethics and respectability so you grew up to be capable and quiet. And when he says you’re like him you’re sort of puzzled, does he really know you so little, or does he know himself so little? But you like the feeling of your father ruffling your hair so you accept it, and still you stand next to your mother just as silent and just as stoic as her during family gatherings. He leaves again and again and when your mother leaves him nothing changes, really. You wonder if it’s more telling that you know him better than he seems to himself or that you don’t know him as much as you wish you did, or that you don’t think about him all that much these days. Out of sight, out of mind. And he’s never really been there, even when he was there, after all.

[raven-dor]

when you light the candle

in which gwayne hightower finds love in the arms of the targaryen heir, rhaenyra’s daughter

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x targaryen!reader

WARNINGS: arranged marriage, allusion to slight nsfw, typical HOTD language, Aegon being a creep, fluff!!

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

AN: in this fic, viserys is dead and rhaenyra became queen (YAY) but her peaceful accession came with a price... also ages for gwayne and alicent are different because i thought it would be weird to have a huge disgusting age gap!!

“My dear-” Rhaenyra sighed. 

“I understand my duty as heir, Mother, but that does not mean I cannot express my grievances.” Her daughter crossed her arms. “You cannot blame me for being hesitant. A Hightower, really?” Her face contorted with disgust. “It feels as if I am being condemned to death.” 

“Y/N…” Rhaenyra fought the urge to laugh. She often forgot how alike she and her daughter were. “My darling girl, I am sorry, truly, but our kingdom needs stability, and this marriage will see to that. You must-” 

“Like I said earlier,” Y/N snapped back, sitting down rather unladylike. “I understand, no need to explain it any further.” 

“Yes well… for what it is worth, I have heard he is a rather kind man.” Rhaenyra scoffed, plucking a grape off the vine. “Shocking for a knight, I think.” 

Y/N smiled to herself, staring into the distance. “I seem to remember one such knight.” 

While her daughter may have resembled her in personality and stature, much like her brothers, Y/N was the spitting image of her father. “He was very kind, yes.” Rhaenyra sat beside the young woman, pushing a stray hair behind her ear gently. “And loving.” She whispered. “Your father loved you very much.” 

Y/N nodded. “I know, Mother.” Holding her hand, she smiled. “He loved you just as much.” 

Rhaenyra could not find it in herself to speak, simply nodding. 

Y/N straightened her dress for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, or at least that is what it felt like for Jacaerys, who was watching in amusement. 

“I fear if you pull on your fabric anymore, it will fall off.” 

She rolled her eyes, shoving her brother harshly. “When you are of age and put on display for all the eligible young ladies to gawk and stare at, tell me, dear brother, how calm and collected you feel then.” 

“Nervous?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “It is showing, I must say.”

“For the entirety of the court to judge me for this ridiculous dress?” She jutted her hip, glaring. “Not in the slightest.” 

He sighed, extending his arm for her to hold as the grand doors opened. He leaned over whispering in her ear comfortingly. “You’re a dragon, sister. Do not forget it.” 

Taking a deep breath, she stood as straight as possible, smiling like she hadn’t just been spiraling. “Quite a lot of green in this crowd.” Y/N muttered, waving politely as she passed her subjects. 

Jacaerys scoffed. “I expect you’ll be seeing much more in the coming weeks now that you’re marrying a Hightower.” 

Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes, pinching his arm discreetly. He hissed, and she laughed as their mother watched from the high table, suppressing a grin. Bowing before their mother, step father, and the Dowager Queen, both tried to sneak a peek at her husband to be. 

Y/N smiled as they stood upright. “Your Majesties.” 

Alicent smiled half-heartedly. It was better than nothing, she supposed. Her brothers did not receive the same treatment, the smiles, the ‘good will’. The Dowager Queen had always had a soft spot for Y/N. 

Why, she had no idea. 

Taking their place beside their mother, Rhaenyra stood, addressing the crowd. “It was not long ago that I myself was in this position. Marriage is work, marriage is patience. Fortunately, my daughter seems to have much more patience than I.” Laughter fell over the crowd, and Rhaenyra gestured toward the Dowager Queen and her family that sat beside her. “Our houses have long been allies, and I am glad to continue that tradition with this union.” She raised her glass, smiling at her daughter as she spoke. “May their marriage be blessed!” 

The crowd raised their glasses in unison, cheering for the Princess, who was smiling brightly, the very picture of nobility and duty. None of them knew the truth: how she really had no idea who she was marrying or what exactly she was getting into. 

After what felt like minutes of applause, Y/N sat down, indulging herself in a rather full cup of mead. “My lady.” She turned around, her breath catching at the sight of the man in front of her. 

He was quite tall, and handsome. 

“I wanted to introduce myself.” 

She smiled, setting her glass down. “You must be Lord Hightower.” 

He nodded. “You are quite intuitive.” 

Oh. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Or observant. It does not take a mastermind to see the resemblance between you and your sister.” 

That was the other thing she could not get passed. Yes, she was two and twenty, practically an old maid, but did that really mean she could get married off to a man only two years younger than her mother? 

Lord Hightower did not look disheartened. If anything, her resistance to his ‘charm’ made him more intrigued. “I wonder, my lady, if I could interest you in a dance?” 

Y/N smiled, annoyance all but rolling off of her shoulders. “I believe-” 

Rhaenyra cut in, staring at her daughter with an intensity that rivaled her dragon. “I’m sure the Princess would be delighted to dance with you, Ser Gwayne.” 

“Yes.” Y/N smiled tightly. “I would love to.”

Gwayne extended his hand, bowing his head, slightly. “My lady.” 

She took his hand, following him to the dance floor. The rest of the nobility followed after, the waltz gently playing in the background as they moved around the room. Gwayne leaned down, whispering in her ear. “You seem rather upset with this arrangement, Princess.” 

She tried not to scowl. “I am merely upset that yet another choice of my life has been decided for me.” Her eyes widening, realizing she had just told her husband to be something she had only told her family. “I-” 

He smiled, shaking his head. “Do not apologize to me. If I were in your position, I would be equally as frustrated, perhaps more.” He whispered again. “I’m rather passionate about these sorts of things.” 

The Princess raised an eyebrow, curious. “You are passionate about what exactly?” 

“Anything you are.” He spun her around, laughing at her flushed cheeks. “I plan to be very supportive of my wife, unlike many of my peers.” 

Her heart fluttered, but her face told a different story. “How… kind of you ser.” 

Jace squinted his eyes, glaring at the Hightower man. “I don’t trust him, mother.” 

Rhaenyra laughed, appreciative of her son’s protectiveness. “You must know Jacaerys, that I would never match your sister with a man I did not consider to be of high moral character.” She raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe me cruel?” 

“No.” Jace shook his head, looking back to the man charming his sister. Or, trying to at the very least. “But still…” 

He hadn’t even kissed her on the lips. It kept racing through her mind as she sat front and center at her reception. At their reception. He hadn’t even kissed her on the lips. She had been walked up the aisle by her brother, stood beside him, prepared herself, and he kissed her on the corner of her mouth. 

What sort of kiss was that?

She was confused, unbelievably confused.

“Are you alright, Princess?” Gwayne whispered. 

She nodded, not knowing whether to feel offended or relieved at his hesitation. “Fine.” 

“Do you need a moment? Perhaps we can-” 

Of course. He wanted to retire and start the bedding process. She almost scoffed in his face. “I need to find my mother.” She didn’t wait for a response, standing up and walking into the crowd. Her mother was fixed in the back of the room, talking with Baela and Jace. Y/N approached her mother, hooking her arm through hers. “May I talk to you?” She gestured toward the two teenagers. “Alone.” 

Rhaenyra nodded slowly, shooing the young couple away. “Are you alright?” 

“I-” Y/N pulled her mother to a secluded area of the hall. “He wants to retire.” 

“He wants to-” The older woman’s face dawned with realization. “I see.” 

Y/N nodded. “I-” She gulped, whispering. “I’m scared, Mother.” 

Rhaenyra smiled, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace. “My sweet girl. Don’t be frightened. Truly.” She pulled away, placing a comforting hand on her cheek. “He will not touch you until you are ready, I am most certain of it.” 

“Mother, he is a lord, like any other we’ve come to know. He will-” 

“Do you trust me?” Rhaenyra whispered. 

Y/N nodded, grasping her mother’s hand tightly. “Of course I do.” 

“Then trust me once more. Your husband is a good man, and he will not touch you unless you…” She paused. “He will not touch you, unless that is what you wish.” 

Ah.

Y/N felt torn. He was attractive, she had to admit, and kind enough. But still, she hadn’t wanted to… not again. She squeezed her eyes shut, murmuring under her breath. “He’ll, he’ll find out-” 

She had put her trust in the wrong squire. She was only ten and five and he was sweet, or so she thought. She'd trusted him, and he had used her for his moment of fame, a way to coerce the Royal Family. Daemon had gone manic when he had found out, and the squire… Rhaenyra shook her head. “He will never know unless you choose to tell him.” 

Y/N nodded, smiling weakly. “Goodnight, Mother.” Spinning on her heels, she stalked toward the main table, standing in front of Gwayne. “Shall we?” 

Her husband looked shocked but still nodded. The crowd started jeering, laughing, and making comments about the Princess’s eagerness. That hadn’t made her disturbed.

What disturbed her was that in a few moments, the entirety of the royal court would all be in their shared quarters, watching the bedding ceremony. 

It had been a silent walk, neither of them making an attempt to speak to the other. The maid’s eyes all but fell out of their sockets when they saw the Princess burst through their doors, Lord Hightower diligently following three paces behind her. 

Gwayne had sensed his wife was an anxious woman the moment they’d met, but tonight, that anxiety was pouring off of her in waves. He smiled kindly at the servants, dismissing them from their work. “That will be all for tonight, thank you.” They scurried out, leaving the pair alone for the first time. He looked curiously at the young woman, who was pacing around the room. Taking a careful step toward her, he spoke softly. “Are you quite alright, my lady?” 

“Why-” She stopped, staring at him. “You didn’t kiss me.” 

“I-” 

“I understand that I am quite homely compared to the beauties of Oldtown, but…” She shook her head, stalking toward him with an accusing finger pointed. “You embarrassed me at my own wedding. The least you could have done-” 

“You are not homely, my lady.” He reached a hand out, caressing her cheek. “Quite the opposite really.” 

She tensed, pulling out of his touch. “You Hightowers- you’re always planning something. I am the heir to the Iron Throne, and you would treat me as a common woman, not worthy of your love or respect. Even if I wasn’t heir, you should never treat a woman-”

She was quite beautiful, he’d noticed. Watching her rant about his family filled his heart with something he couldn’t quite place. Her eyes were passionate, full of fire and drive. Her hair was quite beautiful while it was down, so dark and full.

“Are you- are you even listening to me?” 

Gods, she had caught him staring. “I-” 

“I’m sure you are fantasizing about how you will take me during the bedding ceremony, but I assure you, this will be the most uninteresting moment of our married life. Hopefully, I will embarrass you as much as you embarrassed me.” She crossed her arms, satisfied with her dig at his supposed thoughts. While he struggled to find the words to respond, she began to remove her clothes, remaining covered by her thin slip. 

His cheeks grew red, and he raised his eyebrows, trying not to combust. “Bedding ceremony?” Gwayne coughed. His voice sounded as if it was being squeezed.

“Are you playing dumb?” She scoffed. “I am sure you have been to plenty a poor maiden’s wedding night.” 

He tilted his head, thoroughly confused. “I’m sorry if you have been led astray, but there is to be no bedding ceremony.”

“Ah.” She somehow felt… disappointed? “My mother saved me that embarrassment at least.” 

“Well, it was actu-” She stormed past him, slipping on her robe and slippers. “Where are you going?” 

“Away from you. I don’t trust you not to-” 

While she was stunningly beautiful and quickly driving him into a stupor, he could not stand by and let her assume the worst of him. “Listen to me when I say this- I do not ever wish to embarrass you. Ever. It was I who denied the bedding ceremony. The ‘men’ of the court brought the proposition to me, and when I denied them…” His eyes became dark. “That is a disgusting and vile tradition, one that I do not wish to practice.” 

She felt warm, and caught herself smiling. Shaking her head, she pulled her robe closer to her body. “You- you vex me.” 

He laughed, stepping closer to her, a smirk gracing his handsome face. “You vex me just as much.” He held her hand, kissing the back gently. “My lady.” 

“You-” She growled, stomping her foot like a child. “Good night my lord.” Whipping around, she practically flew out the door, leaving Gwayne alone in their chambers.

Saying farewell had proven to be much more difficult than she had thought. But wearing green… she felt like an imposter. She looked down the line, forcing herself not to laugh at Aegon’s fresh black eye. He refused to make eye contact with her, she could not figure out why. The only Greens she had bothered saying goodbye to were Helaena and the Dowager Queen, ignoring her two uncles. They never cared for each other, if anything, she would be glad to be rid of their presence. 

Her brothers stood in a row, each growing sadder as she approached them. Aegon and Viserys did not understand why she was leaving, too young to understand the impact this would have on their family. Joffrey was visibly melancholy, clinging to his sister tightly. He whispered, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Don’t leave me.” 

Y/N smiled, kneeling down to be eye level with her little brother. “I will never leave you, Joff. I’ll visit you often, I promise.” She kissed his cheek gently, standing back up, approaching the two eldest. “Behave yourselves.” They looked at her with watery eyes and stoic faces. “Take care of Mother and the boys. I expect-” They both lunged forward, hugging her tightly. She laughed, ruffling their hair. “It will be alright. I’ll be back.” 

Luke’s face was wet, and he mumbled into the fabric of her dress. “No you won’t.” 

She scoffed. “I will. You just wait and see.” 

Jace let go, crossing his arms accusingly. “You’ll be busy, I imagine. Taking care of your family.” 

Y/N reached out, grasping his hand tightly. “You are my family. Always. I will always be your sister, you can confide in me until we are old and grey. The city of Oldtown is always open to you.” 

She looked back to Gwayne, who nodded firmly, stepping forward to address the princes. “She is correct. Visit whenever you like.” He looked to Y/N, whispering. “We should depart soon.” 

She nodded, looking back to her siblings. “I must leave.” 

Lucerys let go, wiping away the leftover tears that clung to his cheeks. “I’ll write to you.” 

She smiled. “Nothing would please me more.” 

Gwayne held his arm out, but Y/N ignored him, approaching Jacaerys carefully. “I will miss you.” 

He nodded, staring at the ground. “And I you.” 

“Jace,” she sighed. “I do not wish to leave you upset.”

“I am not upset.” He scoffed. 

She laughed, shaking her head affectionately. “I suppose your watery eyes are simply a result of hay fever.” 

His shoulders shook slightly, a smile peeking out from behind his frown. “Have a safe trip sister.” 

She nodded, kissing his forehead gently. “You will be one for the history books, I know it.”

Taking Gwayne’s arm, she looked back at her family one last time before entering the carriage.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

He smiled. “Whatever for?” 

“I know you hit Aegon.” She crossed her arms, smirking. “I assume he was one of the ‘men’ who asked you about the bedding ceremony. Am I right?” He nodded. “That is quite noble of you.” 

His cheeks grew red. “Merely protecting your honor, my lady.” 

She smiled, reaching her hand out, holding his hand for a moment. “You are a much better man than most.” 

“It is not hard to do…” He whispered, his eyes kind. “When one has you as a wife.”

Oldtown had done nothing for the couple’s relationship, if anything, it had dwindled it back down into the nothingness it once was. Gwayne was busy running the city in the wake of his uncle’s death, and Y/N, she knew no one. After becoming the Lady Hightower, her old ladies in waiting were taken away, as she was now too low of a position to house that many young ladies for ‘seemingly no reason.’ That had made no sense to her. She was heir to the Iron Throne, how was she at ‘too low of a position?’ Still…

She was utterly alone. 

She had tried to make an effort, at first. Gwayne had appreciated it, (as evident from his words at dinner), but he was constantly busy, off in meetings or dealing with skirmishes in the city. Perusing the halls of the castle had passed the time for the first fortnight of her arrival. She loved the way the tower seemingly never ended, even when she reached the attic. It felt infinite, full of new corridors she’d never seen before. 

That too grew tiring. 

It began to feel so when she came to know the halls of the tower as well as the back of her own hand. 

After a rather dreary morning, she meticulously planned her escape. Sneaking away from the watchful eye of her assigned guards, she raced towards the stable, mounting her horse and galloping through the great gates. The citizens of Oldtown stared, murmuring about their new lady. Y/N laughed, not caring to think of their opinions as long as the breeze ran through her hair and the sun shone on her face. The surrounding land smelled fresh, unlike that of King’s Landing. She had no real destination, following the well traveled path until she reached a clearing. Tying her horse to a nearby tree, she strolled down the hill, meeting the most tranquil scene she’d ever been graced with in her life. A large lake, rivaling that of the ocean, laid before her, a small island in the middle of it all. 

She removed her robe and garments, haphazardly tossing them on a nearby log. Practically falling into the lake, the water quieted the world around her. A sort of gargled voice rang through the peaceful quiet and she jumped, standing up in the lake to meet her husband's wide eyes. 

“My lord.” She smiled weakly. 

“A guard informed me that my wife was last seen racing out of Oldtown’s gates.” His voice held a sort of humor. “Naturally, I had to investigate the incident myself.” 

She laughed, clutching herself for warmth. “I am sorry if I worried you.” 

He shook his head. “There is no need to apologize, my lady.” He picked up her robe, extending his hand. She took it gratefully, wrapping the warm cloth around her. “In fact, no one would fault you if you had left. If that is in fact-” 

“No!” She yelled, covering her mouth with her hand in shock. “I meant…” She stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. “I am quite content, my lord. I wanted respite. From the tower.” 

He nodded, holding her hand in his. “You are shivering.” 

“I am quite fine, my lord.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “I have never known shivering to end in any sort of ‘fine,’ my lady.” He smiled, extending his arm. “Shall we?” 

The couple walked in silence for a moment, enjoying each other's presence. Y/N looked up, clearing her throat. “May I request something of you?” 

Gwayne nodded eagerly. “Anything.” 

Y/N smiled, warmth blooming inside of her chest. “Call me by my name, please. I don’t think I can go another day being addressed as my lady.” She whispered, staring at the ground. “It is quite formal, is it not? For a husband and wife, that is.” 

“I would like that.” Gwayne smiled, lifting her chin with a single finger. “As long as you call me by mine in return.” 

She nodded, fighting the blush that threatened to form. He was rather beautiful, with his freckles and long hair. “I believe that can be arranged.” 

“Gwayne!” She called out for what felt like the fifth time. She had missed his company in truth, and hadn’t seen him in what felt like weeks. (It had been a mere day.)

“Gwayne?” She pushed open a cracked door, grinning. “Are you-” She frowned. The room was empty, except for a portrait. She felt pulled forward, walking further into the room. The woman was stern looking, but beautiful, there was no doubt in her mind. The portraits eyes were bright blue, piercing the very soul who dared to look back at her. 

“I see you found my mother.” 

Y/N clutched her chest, whipping around. “You frightened me!” 

He laughed, walking forward and kissing the back of her hand gently. “I apologize.” His tone was soft, quiet as a mouse. “Did I truly scare you?” 

She shook her head, their eyes locked in a dangerous embrace. "So this is your mother?” 

He nodded, turning towards the portrait. “My father commissioned it mere months before she died.” He smiled, tightening his hold on her hand. “When I was younger, I would find him in here, staring at her likeness." He laughed to himself. "They were quite the couple.” 

“I’m sure you miss her terribly.” 

Gwayne’s shoulders tensed. “In truth, it has been so long that I have forgotten what her presence felt like.” 

That had made her frown even more. “I understand.” 

He nodded. “It is difficult. Trying to remember a parent you hardly knew.” 

Y/N’s eyes watered. “Quite.” Taking a deep breath, she turned towards her husband, her voice low. “You look like the very image of her. Your mother.” 

He smiled. “Is that a compliment, dear wife?” 

She blushed, shrugging as nonchalantly as she could. “She is quite beautiful.” 

“Ah.” Gwayne was now fully grinning. “The same could be said about you.” 

Her blush vanished, and she shoved him away, rolling her eyes playfully. “Do not tease me, Gwayne Hightower.” 

His hand grasped his heart, following after her like a lost puppy. “I would never.” 

The Oldtown Library was the very picture of tranquility. Lord and Lady Hightower had chosen to take advantage of the quiet day, and had been simply enjoying each other’s company for hours. It was so rare to have this time together, and Y/N enjoyed knowing that at any moment, she could call out to her husband and he would answer. 

She hoped he felt the same.

Her legs ached, having been in this position for so long had caused one of them to go numb. Stretching her legs, she walked over to the bookshelf, scouring for a novel she had read in King’s Landing. She groaned, crossing her arms in annoyance. Of course, the novel was on the tallest shelf. 

Reaching up, she made herself as tall as possible, but it was no use. She huffed, whipping around to ask Gwayne for help. 

It was like he had already read her mind, because she ran into his solid chest, gasping at the sudden impact. She knew her cheeks were bright red, but she still looked up at his piercing gaze.

He smirked, whispering. “Would you like some help?” 

“I-” She bit her lip. “My book. I fear it is too high for me to reach.” 

“I believe…” He reached up, staring at her all the while. “That I can be of some assistance.” The book was in his grasp, but she made no move to pull it out of his hands. 

“Thank you.” She whispered back. Her back was now fully against the bookshelf, Gwayne inches away from her. “Are you- Are you quite alright, my lord?” 

Gods, she was perfection itself, her tone sending shivers down his spine. “What have I told you about calling me my lord?” He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. “As of late, I find myself…” 

She nodded, eager for him to continue. “Yes?” 

“I- I find myself wanting for you. Wanting to be near you, wanting to feel your touch…” He laughed. “It is quite intoxicating. You have captivated me, body and soul.” 

She felt as if her very skin was on fire. Her heart skipped, Gods, is this what marriage was like? She wanted to capture his lips against hers and bring him to bed. “Gwayne… I-” Of course, doubts flew through her mind. How many women had he said this to before? How many more would he say this to during their marriage? “You do not mean that.” 

“I-” He tilted his head. “I do not mean that you have-”

“I am not… you don’t-” Her eyes started to tear up. “Gwayne, I am not-” 

He leaned down, capturing her in a passionate kiss. Her eyes widened, and she sighed, falling into his arms, which tightened around her waist every moment they kissed. “You are. Gods, if I could worship you, I would-” 

She placed a finger over his lips, silencing him. “Do not say such things.” 

He removed her finger from her mouth, kissing her hand gently. “You will find, dear wife, that I am not a liar. You are as divine as the-” 

Her finger found its way back over his lips. She laughed at his expression, still as calm and patient as the day she met him. There was something new however, a passion she hadn’t seen before. “You- Do you have any idea the things I-” She squeezed her eyes shut, telling herself to be brave. “Just-” She surged forward, pulling him back down into her lips. 

His eyes widened, but he did not fight her, if anything, he had pulled her closer. His arms felt perfect around her waist, she’d thought as his thumb caressed her ribcage. He pulled away from her lips, whispering. “What have I done to deserve you?” 

She sucked a breath in. “I- I need to go.” 

His eyebrows furrowed, loosening his grip. “Are you alright?” 

“I just-” She nodded, smiling weakly. “I have a meeting with Lady Redwyne, she-” She turned away, walking towards the door. “Have a good evening, My lord.”

Avoiding your husband was not for the faint of heart. Or so she had told herself as she actively avoided her own. Out of embarrassment or lack of self control, she didn’t know. She felt overwhelmed by his affection for her, overwhelmed when he looked at her with that passionate gaze that made her knees shake. In a moment of weakness (some would say loneliness), she caved, storming into his chambers. It was the middle of the night, the air chilly as she pulled the robe closer to her body. Perhaps she should have made herself more appeasing, but she hadn’t cared. 

She stood by his fireplace, pacing back and forth as she waited for him to return. Her mind started to wonder, where was he at this late hour? She couldn’t blame him, many husbands strayed from their wives.

“Y/N?” 

She straightened her posture, facing him hesitantly. “Gwayne.” 

“Is everything alright? Are you-” He paused, his eyes taking in her figure. “Did you walk through the tower like this?” 

“I-” She smiled weakly. “It was merely from my chambers to yours. I- I made certain no one…” Her voice grew quieter as he walked closer. “Saw me.” He said nothing, and her resolve began to crumble. “I know this is unexpected, but please. Say something- anything would-”

“You look… ravishing.” He swallowed, eyes trained on her. “What have I done to deserve this beauty before me?” 

She gulped, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped. “I thought I would apologize. For my absence as of late.” 

“Ah.” He nodded, inches away from her. “While I can admit I’ve missed your presence, there is nothing to apologize for.” He looked over her figure once more, lazily draping an arm over her waist. “Have I told you you look ravishing?” 

She nodded, crossing her arms. “Yes, you have. I have not barged into your room to be made a fool.” 

“You have not made yourself a fool.” He pulled her closer, a gasp leaving her lips. “I am the fool.”

“How are you-” He lunged down, pulling her lips to his. 

“I now realize that I have not made you aware of how beautiful you are.” He shook his head, walking them toward the bed. “Allow me to show you.”

“Gwayne! What-” He threw her on the bed, hovering over her. 

“You are as radiant as the sun.” He pulled the ties of her robe slowly, heart hammering at the mere thought of her. “You are-” 

“Wait.” She stopped, sitting up. “Can I-” 

He nodded. “Have I-” 

She climbed his waist, straddling him in an instant. Her hand found her way to his cheek, caressing it softly as she whispered. “I wanted to say that I- I find myself wanting you too.” 

He grinned, pulling her close. “I’m glad.” Her robe barely hid her figure, with both shoulders fallen and the rest being held up by sheer will. She leaned her forehead against his, pulling at the robe until it gave way. “You-” 

Her cheeks were bright red, but she did not break eye contact with him, leaning in closer with each passing second. “Gwayne…” 

“Yes?” He whispered, their lips inches apart. 

“I know husbands stray… from their wives. But may you-” She leaned closer to his lips, whispering back. "May you pretend I am the only one?” 

His eyes widened, and he laughed. “Oh, my darling girl.” He kissed down her neck, around her face, everywhere, smiling as she giggled from his affection. “You will always be the only one. Trust me.”

Her heart skipped. "I do."

"Good." He grinned, leaning forward. "Good."

The sun peeked through the curtains, streaming over the couple. Their legs were tangled together, their arms haphazardly thrown over the other, dead to the world. 

Or rather, Gwayne was dead to the world. Y/N watched her husband sleep, staring at his beautiful face, trying to commit it to memory. His freckles were light, but very much visible this close. She reached up, gently pushing his hair out of his eyes. Kissing his forehead gently, she rolled over so she could begin her day. 

Gwayne's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back into his chest. “And just where are you off to?” 

She laughed, turning in his arms to face him once more. “You’re awake.” 

He nuzzled his face into the pillow, groaning. “I must say, I’m quite surprised you are.” 

She scoffed, hitting his chest indignantly. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

He looked up, smirking. “You were asleep before I could-” 

She slapped a hand over his mouth. “You are much too bold this morning, ser.” 

“Ser?” He raised an eyebrow, pulling her with him as he rolled over, causing a symphony of laughter to leave her. “I beg you, do not ever call me ser again.” 

“If you insist.” She giggled, kissing his neck gently. “My lord.” 

He hummed, closing his eyes. “You are glowing, did you know?” 

“That would be the morning sun, my dear.” Y/N smirked. 

He shook his head, his face serious. “You are always glowing.” A hand caressed her cheek, resting on her jaw as he stared. “As beautiful as the summer breeze.” 

“Gwayne…” She knew her cheeks were bright red. “You flatter me.” 

“No.” He shook his head. “It is the truth.” Looming over her now, he kissed down her neck. “Say it.” 

“Say what?” She whispered. 

“Say you are beautiful and I shall stop.” 

“But…” She gasped as he pulled the sheet down to reveal her figure. “What if I do not want you to stop?” 

“Well then…” Gwayne smirked. “We are at a stand still.” 

She shook her head, pulling him toward her. “No, we are not.”

He grinned. “Then say it.” 

“I-” She gulped, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck as he trailed down her frame once more. “I’m beautiful.”  

Kings Landing felt different, she had told herself while they walked into her mother’s birthday dinner. Perhaps it was the fact that she was walking through her childhood home with her husband, but she felt confident, prideful even. It was a small, intimate gathering, with only her and Gwayne’s family present. 

And by Gwayne’s family, she meant his sister. 

The seating arrangements could not have been more unfortunate, with Y/N sitting opposite of her despicable uncle. 

“I must say…” Aegon whispered. “It is so nice to see you returned a woman grown.” He leaned forward, smirking. “Perhaps later…” 

Y/N scowled. “I dare you to finish that sentence.” 

Rhaenyra smiled, standing up and addressing her family. “It warms my heart to have my family gathered for this celebration.” She looked over at her daughter, eyes watering ever so slightly. “Thankfully, my firstborn, my heir, was also able to be in attendance.” She raised her glass. “I’m glad you were able to join us. It has been too long, my darling.” 

Y/N laughed. “It has hardly been five moons since my departure, Mother.” 

“Yes, well…” Rhaenyra sat down, looking over at Gwayne. “How does my daughter fare in Oldtown?” 

“Wonderfully, Your Majesty.” He looked down at his wife, smiling brightly. “She is the perfect Lady Hightower, I must say.” 

Y/N raised an eyebrow, smacking his arm playfully. “You flatter me, Husband.” 

“I am merely telling the truth.” Gwayne laughed. “I dare say we have not had such a Lady since my dear mother.” 

Alicent’s face dropped, and Y/N smacked his arm harder. “Gwayne…” 

Aegon leaned across the table, sneering at his Uncle. “I must say, I’m quite surprised to see you so inexplicably happy. I’ve heard she can be quite the-” 

Jace slammed his fist on the table, silencing the room. “Watch your mouth.” 

The platinum blonde sat back, raising his hands up in surrender. “I’m merely enlightening my Uncle, Jace.” 

“Why don’t you-” 

“It is quite alright, Jace.” Y/N hissed, smiling lightly. “It was a jest.” Gwayne grabbed her hand under the table, caressing the back gently.

Aegon looked unsatisfied. “All I meant to say is that I’m quite surprised you have found love in such a short time.” He looked over at Gwayne, wiggling his eyebrows. “Is she rather-”  

It was now Y/N’s turn to slam her fist on the table. Standing up, she glared at her Uncle, grasping Gwayne’s hand tightly. “I am sorry, Uncle, that you do not know what it is to respect your spouse. I am also sorry that you wouldn’t know love if it stood right in front of you.” She gulped, realizing the entirety of her family was now staring at her. “My husband is a good man, unlike the tales I have heard of you and my poor Aunt. Gwayne is kind and caring and-” She huffed. “I have never loved someone more. I pity you, I really do. Never knowing what true unconditional love feels like because you deny yourself every chance of happiness.” Sitting back down quickly, she grabbed her wine, taking a large drink. Her mother stared, a hand over her mouth that Y/N could only assume was holding back laughter. Her brothers looked shocked, shocked that she was so defensive over a man she hardly knew. 

But she did know him, and he knew her much better than anyone. The chatter started up soon after, but she was frozen in her seat, refusing to see her husband’s reaction. She had never- 

She looked up, jumping when she met his eyes immediately. “I’m sorry if I-” 

Gwayne stood up, grabbing her hand. “Follow me.” 

“Gwayne.” She hissed, “They’re staring-” He walked out of the room, refusing to acknowledge the prying eyes of their family. “Gwayne, I’m sorry if I upset you. I just- I couldn't take it anymore. He drives me-”

Pulling her into their shared chambers, he slammed the door behind him. She walked out of his hold, hugging herself as she watched him stare at her. “Say something, please. I truly am… I am sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” 

He stalked forward, grabbing her face and pulling her to him. Her eyes widened, knees weakening at the passion that exuded from his kiss. They stayed latched to each other for what seemed like minutes, ignoring the world around them. 

“You are an angel, I am convinced.” 

Y/N laughed. “I love you.” 

Gwayne grinned, kissing her quickly. “I love you much more, my love.” 

She shook her head, basking in his affection. “I do not think that is possible.” 

He groaned, laying his head on her shoulder. “Must we go back to dinner?” 

She nodded, raking her fingers through his hair. “I’m afraid so.” 

He shook his head. “Your mother will have to forgive me.” 

She laughed. “For what, my love?” 

He wrapped his arms around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder. “I must spend time with my lovely wife at this very moment, or I shall combust.” 

Y/N giggled, smacking his back. “Gwayne!” 

He threw her on the bed, laughing at her flushed cheeks. “You are simply divine.” Crawling up to her lips like a lion to its prey, he practically growled. “I could stare at you for hours.” 

Y/N smirked, wrapping her arms around his neck as she whispered. “Perhaps you could show me how divine I am instead.”

“I believe, dear wife…” He pulled the string at the front of her dress, removing her topcoat. “That can be arranged.” 

taglist: @beebeechaos @i-padfootblack-things

[lizzyiii]

hi!! i have a request! what about a one shot for aemond x reader who is betrothed to him. she’s a baratheon girl or something but she gifts him the sapphire for his eye as a wedding gift or something along the lines of that?

ask and you shall receive...

The Sapphire Gift

pairing | aemond targaryen x baratheon!reader

word count | 5.1k words

summary | Of all his five daughters, Borros Baratheon has chosen you to be betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, much to your dismay. Seeking to forge a deeper connection with your betrothed, you decide to create the perfect wedding gift for him.

tags | fluff, fluff, toothrotting fluff, friends to lovers, aemond literally does not know how to communicate or court a lady, sarcastic!reader, awkward!reader, simp!Aemond, reader is just a typical seventeen-year-old girl, lowkey got second hand embarrassment writing this.

a/n | ooooh, this was so cutesy to write, I love writing awkward/sassy reader and simp/awkward aemond. Finished this in a solid 2 days💪. ALSOO I need moots, so anyway wanna volunteer as tribute????

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Why must it be me?”

Your voice echoed through the grand hall of Storm’s End, the walls adorned with the sigil of the mighty Baratheons. You stood before your father, Borros Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End, arms crossed defiantly, your brows knit in frustration.

“Because I have chosen you,” he replied, a casual shrug dismissing your protests, as he lounged upon the imposing ironwood throne that commanded the room. The flickering torches cast shadows across his weathered face, but his resolve remained steadfast.

Your heart sank further as you protested, “You have four other daughters to choose from!”

Borros began to tally your sisters on his fingers, his expression serious yet unconcerned. “Cassandra is already pledged to House Brownhill, Maris is too old to be of interest, and Floris is still but a child. Ellyn might have been a contender, but she reminded me that you are more closely aligned in age to the prince, which I daresay makes you more appealing to his eye.”

You bit back a curse aimed at Ellyn, whose selfishness felt like a betrayal in this moment, and muttered, “Emphasis on the word ‘eye’.”

“Fawn!” your father snapped, the nickname a remnant of your childhood, now wielded like a blade.

With a huff, you cast your gaze towards your mother, Lady Elenda, seated on a modestly adorned stool that contrasted starkly with your father’s opulence. Her fingers deftly worked at her embroidery, her belly round and pregnant with another child. “Mother, do you have naught to say about this?”

Elenda blinked slowly, her expression momentarily vacant before she smiled dreamily, “I have heard the prince is kind and benevolent,” she replied, her tone light and airy as your father nodded approvingly at her words.

You gasped, a hand flying to your chest in disbelief. “That is a complete and utter falsehood! Tales of his cruelty and wickedness abound, even in these halls. How could you deceive me so?”

Borros waved a dismissive hand, the irritation brewing like a storm within him. “So what if he has but one eye? He commands Vhagar, the largest dragon in the realm, and wields a sword as if it were an extension of his very arm. You shall ascend to the rank of princess, lacking for nothing.”

“But Father—”

“Enough!” His voice boomed, reverberating off the stone walls and silencing the murmurs of guards and servants alike. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down upon you. Sighing heavily, you rolled your eyes, the gesture laden with pettiness. “This matter is settled. Prepare yourself; tonight we shall feast in honor of your betrothal. Do not sulk—it is unbecoming of a future princess.”

With a final glare that could wither a flower, you turned on your heel, storming away from the throne room, your heart heavy with the weight of your new fate.

King’s Landing was an entirely different realm compared to the windswept fortress of Storm’s End. Here, the sun cast a golden glow over the Red Keep, its warmth caressing the bustling streets of Flea Bottom, while in your home, rain seemed a constant companion, drenching the rugged cliffs and soaking through the halls of your ancestral seat.

The city thrummed with life—vibrant and teeming—overwhelming in its sheer size and noise. In contrast, Storm’s End felt desolate, where the only sounds were the howling gales and crashing waves that eternally assaulted its walls.

Settling into the royal court at the Red Keep was no easy feat, for you were keenly aware of the eyes that followed your every move. You quickly learned that here, every smile concealed secrets, and every word was a weapon to be wielded.

Queen Alicent Hightower, the Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, carried herself with grace befitting her station. Her demeanor was gentle, yet there was a steeliness in her eyes that hinted at the strength behind her polished exterior. On your very first day in court, she welcomed you with a kind smile, her piety clear as she extended an invitation to join her at the Great Sept for prayer.

Her tone was soft, but her words carried the weight of duty. You accepted her offer, though the idea of spending time in such hallowed halls made you uneasy. Alicent's warmth masked the political currents swirling beneath the surface, and you were acutely aware that every gesture here had meaning beyond what was said.

Then there was her eldest son, Prince Aegon. The first time you laid eyes on him, he reeked of wine, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Despite his title, he carried none of the nobility one would expect from a dragon’s heir. His indulgences were well-known, and his lack of decorum often left the court murmuring in hushed tones.

Aegon's gaze lingered on you far too long for comfort, the weight of it unsettling, as if he sought something that wasn’t his to take. His lecherous nature made you feel for his sister-wife, Princess Helaena, who appeared as trapped by her marriage as she was by the walls of the Red Keep. It was said that Aegon had grown old before his time, his twenty-one years bearing the burden of his vices.

Princess Helaena was a stark contrast to her husband. There was an otherworldly grace to her, a softness that seemed untouched by the cruelties of life. She spoke in riddles, her voice often drifting into ethereal musings that left you both puzzled and intrigued. Her words, though strange, reminded you of the whispers of the gods in dreams, distant yet profound.

Her presence was soothing, and you found solace in her company, even if her mind wandered to places you could not follow. Her children, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, were a light amidst the shadows of the court, their laughter pure and untainted by the scheming that surrounded them. It was hard to reconcile that they were the offspring of Aegon.

But your thoughts always returned to one person—your betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen. From the moment you arrived in King’s Landing, you had been told stories of his fearsome prowess in battle, his unmatched skill with the sword, and the fearsome dragon, Vhagar, that answered his call.

Yet when your eyes met his for the first time, what struck you most was not his strength but the scar that marred his face—a reminder of the price he had paid for his ambition. It only added to his allure, a mark of his relentless determination. When he took your hand and pressed a kiss to it, a slow heat rose in your cheeks. His grip was firm but not unkind, and in that moment, you felt yourself swoon. After all, you were just a girl.

However, Aemond was not a man easily won. A moon had passed since your arrival, and with your wedding fast approaching, you had hoped to spend time in his company, to know the man behind the dragonprince’s mask. Yet, he seemed to slip away from you at every opportunity, his presence a fleeting shadow that vanished the moment you tried to reach for him. His evasions frustrated you, each refusal to join you in the gardens or to share a quiet moment only deepened the chasm between you.

It was said that dragons could not be tamed, only respected. But you longed for more than respect from your future husband. How could you hope to win Aemond's heart if he remained as distant as the stars that twinkled in the night sky?

Determined to change your fate, you devised a plan—a gift to offer Aemond before the wedding, something personal and meaningful that might draw him closer to you. From your balcony, you had often watched him train, his sword catching the sunlight as he moved with lethal grace. You had also stalked observed him in quieter moments, lost in the pages of ancient tomes in the Red Keep’s vast library. But no matter the scene, your gaze always drifted to the black leather patch over his left eye, a constant reminder of his loss.

Through whispered conversations among the ladies of the court, you had pieced together the story of that eye, taken from him when he was but twelve, during a violent skirmish with his own nephew. The knife had found its mark, leaving him disfigured and scarred in more ways than one. You could hardly imagine the pain he endured, the maester's delicate, grim task of removing what remained. The very thought sent a chill through you—what it must have felt like to be forever changed, to carry such a wound into manhood.

Jewelry had always enchanted you, especially the way it could transform even the simplest of gowns into something regal. And it was through that love of adornment that inspiration struck. Aemond needed something beautiful, something that would not only adorn him but perhaps bring a glimmer of warmth to that hardened exterior.

After much thought, you settled on a sapphire, deep and blue like the narrow seas, cut and shaped like an eye—a symbol of his lost strength and newfound resilience. It was a bold choice, one that you hoped would capture his attention, something that might resonate with the prince who had suffered so much.

With the sapphire crafted into an exquisite piece of jewelry, you wrapped it carefully, your heart filled with anticipation. The wedding drew closer with each passing day, and the idea of giving Aemond this token before the vows were exchanged consumed your thoughts. Would such a gift be enough to draw him out of the shadows, to make him see you as more than just his betrothed but as someone who truly wished to know him?

Desperation fueled your resolve. You decided to visit his chambers, scandalous though it might be, under the cover of night. It was unheard of for a lady to seek out a man in such a manner, but propriety seemed insignificant in the face of your growing desire to understand him.

Wrapped in a dark cloak to hide your identity from prying eyes, the gift cradled carefully in your hand, you navigated the winding, dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep. The moon hung high above the castle, casting eerie shadows along the stone walls as you walked with purpose toward his door.

Apprehension seized you as you approached, a wave of doubt crashing over you. What if he rejected your offering? What if he saw it as nothing more than a futile attempt to win his affection, which it kind of was. Yet before those thoughts could take root, you steeled yourself and knocked firmly on the heavy oak door, your heart pounding in your chest.

Moments passed in silence, each one stretching endlessly until, at last, you heard the soft thud of boots approaching from within. The door creaked open, and there he stood—Prince Aemond Targaryen. His long, silver hair cascaded freely over his shoulders, almost camouflaged against the loose white shirt he wore, which clung to the contours of his lean, muscular frame.

His single violet eye regarded you with a mixture of surprise and caution, the flickering light of the torches casting shadows across his sharp features. You found yourself momentarily breathless, caught off guard by the quiet intensity of his presence.

His gaze flicked to the dark cloak you wore, then back to your face, a question lingering unspoken between you. “My lady,” he began, his voice slow and deliberate, “it is late.”

You nodded quickly, casting a nervous glance down the dimly lit corridor. “Yes, I realize. May I come in?”

His lips tightened as though he was about to refuse, but before the words could escape him, you slipped past the threshold into the warmth of his chambers, your heart racing with a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your gaze darting around the room, absorbing the details: the few books strewn across the table, the rich, intricate tapestries that adorned the stone walls, and the soft glow of firelight dancing in the hearth.

Aemond's voice was closer than expected when he spoke again. “My lady,” he repeated, causing you to jump slightly at his nearness.

You turned abruptly, releasing a nervous laugh. In the next moment, you remembered the purpose of your visit and hastily thrust the small, wrapped parcel into his hands. “I—I’ve brought you a gift.”

His brow furrowed in surprise as he looked down at the object now resting in his palm. “A gift?”

You offered a tight, awkward smile, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “A wedding gift, of sorts.”

You watched intently as he carefully opened the small package, revealing the deep blue sapphire you had commissioned. His expression remained guarded, though curiosity danced in his gaze. “What is this for?” he asked, his voice even.

Swallowing hard, you wrung your hands together and took a deep breath. “I thought… perhaps you might wear it in place of your eye patch.”

Aemond's eyebrow arched, his lone eye narrowing in sharp scrutiny. “A decoration for my injury?” There was no malice in his tone, but the words still cut deep.

Your heart sank, panic rising in your chest as you hurried to explain. “No, no! Not like that. I only thought…” Your voice faltered as the words tumbled out, your face flushing with embarrassment. “I thought the eye patch might be… suffocating at times. The sapphire—it’s strong and regal, like you. I thought it might be more—well, appealing. Not that your injury is unappealing, of course!”

You cringed inwardly, realizing how foolish you must sound. Eyes cast downward, you continued, “Sapphires are a symbol of wisdom, strength, and royalty. It felt fitting for you. But if I’ve overstepped, I’ll take it back.” You bit your lip, the weight of your own awkwardness pressing down on you. “Truly, it’s alright.”

Reaching out to reclaim the stone, you found your hand halted by his. His touch was firm, yet not unkind. “No,” Aemond said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “I accept your gift, my lady.”

Relief flooded through you, though you could hardly bear to meet his gaze under the weight of your own mortification. Without thinking, you blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. “Oh! I just remembered—I’m to have tea with your mother.”

Aemond's gaze drifted to the window where the full moon hung high in the night sky. He raised an eyebrow, a subtle amusement curling at the edge of his lips. “At this hour?”

You nodded hastily, your laugh high-pitched with nerves. “Yes, well, a late tea, you see.”

Before he could respond further, you turned toward the door, only to misjudge the frame and bump into it with an audible thud. The embarrassment was almost too much to bear. “I wish you a good night, my prince,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you hurried out.

As you fled down the darkened corridor, you missed the rare sight behind you—the amused smirk that tugged at Aemond's lips and the way his expression softened as he gazed down at the sapphire, the light of the fire casting its blue hue across his hand. Intrigue flickered in his eye, a hint of something deeper, as he tucked the gem into his palm, the gift having made a more lasting impression than you could ever have imagined.

And now it was you doing everything in your power to avoid your betrothed. After that utterly humiliating encounter, where you had gifted Prince Aemond the sapphire for his eye, you had nearly thrown yourself from the balcony in shame. Every misstep, every nervous word, echoed relentlessly in your mind. The way he had looked at you, as though you were nothing more than a foolish girl… you could hardly bear it.

That night, you had made peace with a simple truth: it was perfectly acceptable if Aemond did not like you. You would fulfill your duty as his wife, give him heirs, and that would be the extent of your relationship. Yet, even as you tried to harden your heart, you couldn’t deny the yearning deep within you for something more—a connection, affection, or at the very least, understanding. But you’d sooner face a dragon than approach him again after such mortification.

Now, you found refuge in the company of Princess Helaena, sharing tea in her sunlit solar, where tapestries of butterflies and flowers adorned the walls. Helaena sat in her usual reverie, speaking in disjointed whispers about dreams and prophecies. You had grown fond of her strange, otherworldly nature, even if much of what she said left you puzzled.

Today, however, your tea was constantly interrupted by the young Princess Jaehaera, who was determined to climb into your lap as you attempted to drink. “You have such pretty hair,” she said, her small hands reaching to touch the loose strands that framed your face, her voice filled with innocent awe.

You smiled warmly, gently lifting a strand of her silver-gold hair to place beside your own. “Not as pretty as yours, my sweet princess,” you said softly. The Targaryen blood ran strong in the little girl, her pale locks shimmering like spun moonlight under the midday sun.

As Jaehaera continued to braid a piece of your hair, her twin brother, Prince Jaehaerys, was nestled in your lap, completely absorbed in a heavy tome recounting Aegon the Conqueror’s rise to power. You marveled at the child’s focus, noting how his somber demeanor contrasted starkly with his sister’s. It was strange, you thought, for a boy of only five summers to be so intent on reading a history so grim. His brow furrowed in concentration, a seriousness far beyond his years.

"You’ll grow to be as wise as your grandsire with all this reading, my prince," you commented with a chuckle, though you could not help but feel a touch of unease at how much the young boy seemed to carry the weight of his family’s legacy on his small shoulders.

Jaehaera giggled, abandoning your hair to cling to your arm. “I want to ride a dragon, like Vhagar!”

The mention of Vhagar brought an involuntary shiver down your spine, the thought of that ancient, fearsome beast ever-present in your mind. The mighty she-dragon’s rider, your betrothed, had taken to avoiding you as much as you had him, and though part of you was relieved, another part, buried deeper, ached at the distance.

As you entertained the children, Princess Helaena’s lilting voice broke the calm. "He dreams of fire and blood, my son," she said, her gaze unfocused as she stared at the window, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her cup. "As do we all."

You offered a polite smile, uncertain whether to respond or remain silent..

Your gaze shifted, drawn by the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps echoing through the confines of Helaena's solar. As you looked up, you immediately lowered your eyes, your heart racing, warmth flooding your cheeks as fluttering butterflies stirred restlessly in your stomach. Aemond strode through the door, his very presence commanding the room without a single word.

You felt his gaze upon you, sharp and intense. Jaehaera squealed with delight beside you, calling out, “Kepūs!” Her excitement was palpable as she clambered off your lap, rushing to his side. Even Jaehaerys, who had been so engrossed in his book, set it aside to greet his uncle.

You dared a glance up to find something unexpected—a soft, almost tender smile tugging at Aemond’s lips as he looked down at the children. The rare sight caught you off guard, but before you could process it, his expression shifted, and he cleared his throat, turning his attention to Helaena.

“Sister,” he began, his voice steady, respectful yet commanding. “Might I steal a moment of Lady Baratheon’s time?”

Helaena, oblivious to the way your pulse quickened, nodded lightly, her gentle smile untouched by the tension you now felt. “Of course, brother,” she replied, her tone light and dreamlike, as though she sensed nothing of the undercurrent between you and Aemond.

You felt the weight of their eyes upon you—Helaena’s distant curiosity, Jaehaera’s wide-eyed innocence, and Aemond’s watchful, unreadable gaze. You rose slowly from your seat, smoothing the folds of your gown as you murmured a soft farewell to the princess and her children, acutely aware of how unsteady your voice sounded.

Aemond stood patiently, waiting as you gathered yourself. His tall figure loomed over you, but there was no sense of impatience in his posture. When you stepped out of the solar, he turned and led the way into the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls in perfect rhythm with yours.

The silence between you grew heavier with each step, and the farther you ventured down the shadowed halls of the Red Keep, the more you became aware of where he was leading you—back toward his chambers.

Your palms began to sweat, and your heart pounded with a growing unease. Why had he sought you out? Why now, after so many days of avoidance?

The corridor felt impossibly long, each step building the tension. Aemond’s back remained straight, his silver hair brushing the fabric of his black tunic, his long strides forcing you to quicken your own pace just to keep up.

When you finally reached the familiar door to his chambers, he paused, turning to face you, his one violet eye locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. The silence stretched, thick and charged, as though the air between you crackled with words unspoken.

"You’ve been avoiding me, my lady," Aemond murmured, his piercing gaze sweeping over you as you walked into his chambers.

Your eyes widened just a fraction, masking your surprise with a nervous laugh. “Why on earth would you insinuate something like that?”

His voice, soft but steady, echoed from behind you as you stepped further into the dim warmth of his room. "Perhaps because every time I enter a room, you are always the first to leave."

Fidgeting with your fingers, you murmured, "I suspect you are just seeing things, my prince."

A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he replied, “Mayhaps it’s just my one eye.”

Your head snapped up in shock at his words, but before you could respond, you noticed the faint curve of amusement in his lips. For the first time since your engagement, you let out a genuine laugh, tilting your head. “Oh, so you can jest,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose in playful disapproval. “Though your delivery needs some work.”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, a flicker of something warmer in his gaze. “I shall endeavor to improve,” he replied with dry humor, his voice low.

For a moment, your eyes locked, the silence between you charged with a tension that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. But then he cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “I called you here for a reason,” he said, his tone shifting as he turned away, walking toward his desk.

Your curiosity piqued as you watched him retrieve something—a finely crafted box, larger than you expected. He carried it with the same ease as he handled his sword, and yet there was a certain weight to his movements. He approached you, his expression unreadable, and extended the box in an indifferent manner. "A wedding gift," he said simply.

Your heart fluttered as you took the box, your fingers trembling slightly. As you lifted the lid, your breath caught in your throat. Inside lay a necklace—silver, adorned with diamonds that glimmered like starlight, white pearls cascading from its base, and at the center, a magnificent sapphire, almost mirroring the sapphire you had gifted him. It was stunning, more than anything you had ever imagined.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if the beauty of the necklace had stolen the air from your lungs.

Aemond’s voice softened, a note of vulnerability threading through his usual composure. “Do you like it?”

You met his gaze, your eyes bright with genuine surprise and gratitude. “Yes, yes, of course,” you breathed, a shy smile tugging at your lips as your heart raced with something more than just relief.

You looked at him, pure joy lighting up your face, entirely unaware of the soft, almost tender look in Aemond's eye as he observed you. Nodding eagerly, you gestured to the necklace. "Will you put it on me?"

Aemond inclined his head in silence, taking the necklace from its box as he motioned for you to turn around. You did so, gathering your hair and lifting it to reveal your neck. The warmth of his presence grew closer, and when his fingers brushed against your skin to secure the clasp, you couldn’t help but wonder if the caress was deliberate or merely your imagination.

When his hands finally withdrew, you released the breath you had been holding. Turning to face him, you tilted your chin up slightly. "How does it look?"

For a moment, Aemond’s gaze lingered on you, his eye fixed on your face with an unreadable intensity before it drifted down to your neck. "Your neck looks... long."

Your brow furrowed, confusion knitting your features. "My neck looks long?"

Aemond coughed, a rare sign of discomfort, and you could swear you caught the faintest hint of pink on his pale cheeks. He quickly amended his words, mumbling, "I mean, it looks nice. The necklace brings out your eyes."

A sheepish smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. "Thank you, my prince."

For a brief moment, your eyes flickered to the eye patch that hid his injury, wondering if the sapphire you had gifted him lay beneath. The thought of it being there, close to him, filled you with an unspoken sense of connection. You felt content to simply stand there, the moment shared between you without the need for words. But Aemond, shifting slightly under your gaze, seemed less at ease.

“I am late for training,” he said, his tone distant as though eager to escape.

You narrowed your eyes playfully, tilting your head in mock suspicion. “I thought you only trained in the mornings?”

His posture straightened, fists clenching at his sides as he looked away, clearly caught in his lie. The silence that followed made him glance toward the window. “It’s... a beautiful day.”

You hummed softly in agreement, not pressing him any further. “Yes, it is.”

Aemond hesitated for a moment before his eye met yours again, the faintest trace of vulnerability in his voice. “Mayhaps you would be interested in a walk in the castle gardens?”

Your heart skipped, and it took everything within you to suppress the wide grin threatening to break free. You feigned contemplation for a moment before nodding with as much grace as you could muster. “I would love to, my prince.”

And though Aemond kept his face composed, you couldn’t help but notice the slight softening of his expression at your acceptance.

In Aemond's eyes, despite your apparent obliviousness to his growing feelings, it was not hard to fall in love with you. There was a quiet strength in the way you carried yourself, a delicate blend of grace and fire that intrigued him.

He had always been reserved, more comfortable in the company of books and the sound of steel clashing in the training yard than in the presence of others. But with you, there was something different, something that drew him in against his better judgment.

Your laugh, though soft, echoed in his mind long after you left the room. The way your eyes sparkled with genuine warmth when you spoke to him—even when you were nervous—was a stark contrast to the calculated interactions he was used to at court.

You were not scheming, not vying for his favor or power. You were simply... you. And perhaps that was what made it so easy for his walls to crumble, little by little, without even realizing it.

When you smiled up at him, asking him to place the necklace around your neck, his heart had skipped a beat. It was such a simple request, yet the intimacy of it made him feel more vulnerable than any duel or battle could. In those moments, he found himself wondering what it would be like to let his guard down, to let you see the man behind the stoic façade.

Even now, as he led you through the corridors of the Red Keep, heading toward the gardens, Aemond couldn’t help but steal glances at you. Your presence beside him felt... right. The idea of loving you was no longer something he fought against; instead, it was a slow, inevitable truth that settled in his chest.

In time, he hoped you would see it too.

Headcannon: reader only sees the sapphire in his eye on their wedding night

Headcannon: this is before the dance of dragons and viserys is still alive

Headcannon: aemond is 18 and reader is 17

Ages of the Baratheon daughters:

Cassandra - 25

Maris - 22

Ellyn - 19

Reader (fawn) - 17

Floris - 13

ALSO you cannot change my mind - after having four daughters (canon) Borros Baratheon is def a girl dad!

Hope you enjoyed 💜

[monimccoythings]

Like Father Like Daughter

I have so many WIPs from different fandoms and this Wolverine fic ideas just keep coming and coming... I appreciate so much the support I've been shown, I don't look at the notes because it shows in activity that is 99+ and I get anxious lol. Logan has a nasty temper but is really fun to write.

Living with an ill-tempered man like Logan wasn't always easy, but living with him and his variant's teenaged clone turned adopted daughter who had the exact same temper as him, was proving to be quite the challenge.

As anybody would expect, those two were constantly butting heads at everything, be it food, curfews, or, just as they were doing at this very moment, Laura's choices in fashion.

The girl had chosen some shorts and black leggings, with black sneakers, and a crop top that was way too short for an old fashioned man like Logan to approve, to hang out with some friends she had made at her new high school. Barely sparing a glance at her outfit, Logan had snapped at her to go back to her room and change into something more appropiate, which Laura took it as well as any teenage girl that had spent part of her earliest teen years dressing and doing what she pleased in the void would. And then the screaming match had begun.

"NO CHILD OF MINE IS GOING OUT DRESSED UP LIKE THAT."

"IT'S JUST A SHIRT, IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL."

You let out a quiet sigh. You knew daughters were supposed to rebel against their parents, but having two superpowered beings at each other's throats at all times wasn't the great idea the universe thought it was. You knew they loved each other deeply and would kill for each other, but sometimes they were way too much alike.

"Sweetie, listen to Daddy on this one, he just wants what's best for you."

How the fuck had Wade gotten in and embraced your husband's muscular arm without anyone noticing. With a low growl, Logan pushed him away. Laura did not seem too pleased with him either.

"FUCK OFF, YOU AREN'T MY MOM!"

Wade covered his mouth and let out a shocked gasp that honestly was worthy of an Oscar nomination. You quietly thanked him for his presence, maybe that would help relieve the tension in the room. Laura turned at you, imploringly.

"Tell him he's just overreacting. Please."

You sneakily looked at your husband, who seemed to be red with rage, his lips pulled back in a feral snarl that clearly was a display of dominance, knuckles pressed against the wooden table so tightly that you started to fear for the well being of the furniture. His muscles were so tense he looked like he was going to burst out of his shirt, by the way the veins in his neck were swelling.

You didn't want to disrespect his authority over his daughter, but you also didn't want to make Laura direct her hate at you; you loved that girl and her attitude as if she was your own child. It seemed they needed some consesus, and you guessed you'd have to be once again the bigger person here.

"Laura, your father is just worried about you. If you want to wear that top, then you'd have to put a jacket on. And we want you back home by eleven."

"But my friends-" She started to protest, but you quickly cut her off.

"Eleven and that's more than your father was willing to give you."

She bit her lip, considering her options. With a huff, she stomped back towards her room to get that jacket. She slammed the front door on the way back out, not even bothering to say goodbye. Teenagers.

The living room got quiet. Really quiet. You could only hear Wade munching on some popcorn he had gotten from God knows where. Logan was fuming, not at you of course, but at his unruly adoptive daughter's behavior. He stormed towards your shared bedroom and slammed the door close hard enough, it made the pictures on the wall tremble. You sighed.

Well that went well.

It wasn't until half an hour later that he cooled off and decided to come out. You were cleaning up some dishes while Wade sat on the couch watching some cartoons. It made you smile, it was like you had two children running around.

You felt your husband's stubble and nose nuzzle against the back of your neck, as he embraced you from behind, his massive hands covering the entire expanse of your fourth month pregnant belly. "Feeling better now?" You casually asked.

His teeth nipped at the skin on your neck leaving a burning feeling that only his tongue could soothe. "I don't know what to do with her, she seems to fight against everything I do or say." His deep rumbling voice sent shivers running down your spine.

"Deep down she knows you love her. And she loves you too, even if she is too 'cool' to admit it." He let out a bitter chuckle, massaging your belly while leaning his chin on your shoulder, his sideburns made you tickle.

"I just hope this little one doesn't give us that much trouble."

"Hey, however they come out, we will love them the same, because they are a part of our family." He kissed your cheek and you leaned back into his embrace.

"Yes, our family." You let out a laugh at the sudden extra weight on your backs. Looks like Wade had gotten tired of the tv and had decided to join you into your little embrace.

"Wade..." Logan started warningly, carefully prying his hands away from your belly.

*SNIKT*

[galamalion]

𐕣. 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

summary. time inevitably approaches all, but an otherworldly suitor has other plans for you.

⤷ contents. yandere!vampire!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships, blood // wc. 2.0k

⤷ notes. a very happy birthday to @ddarker-dreams! i wanted to write something cute and evil as a thanks for all the chrollo treats she's given out! hope you enjoy! <3

Dusk began to creep in across the horizon, dimly counting down the few hours before night would fall, allowing the silver moon to take its place among the stars. Golden rays began to dim, passing through the extravagant window in the room you’d been staying in, casting a faint glow across furniture and floor alike. 

Perhaps ‘staying’ wasn’t the correct word to use, though. It made you sound like a visitor, which you certainly were not. The metal lock on the door, the same shade as the setting sun, sealed you into a plush and comfortable tomb, only allowed to wander beneath illuminating moonlight. 

It was the only time he was allowed out too, after all.

You remembered the first time you met that man—Chrollo, as he called himself, though perhaps he had gone by a different name in years past. He called you glorious, a singular rose in a field of boring dandelions, waiting to be plucked and worshiped by a kindred soul. As the daughter of a farmer, his honeyed words made you feel warm inside. Night after night you would meet with him in the woods beside your village, listening to him speak about poetry, books, and the world outside your own quiet one. He made you feel alive—like setting a helpless dove free from a poorly made cage of twigs.

If only he told you the dove was just flying into a golden prison. Maybe you would have run then, told your mother and father about the wicked and beautiful stranger in the woods. But his stories and words wove you into a web too tight to escape, and too alluring to even want to.

You sighed, both out of boredom and out of anguish. Your sleeping habits had changed since you’d been brought to this ancient castle. Now you would wake up just before sunset, giving you time to prepare yourself for Chrollo’s bothersome speeches. Back when you were younger you would have found them poetic—dashing, even. But now, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone. Return you back to your family, your friends, and your village.

The first time you’d ever begged him for that he just smiled, wiping tears off your lashes and running his hand gently through your hair.

“They’re gone,” he had cooed, coaxing your back. “There is nothing for you to return to, my dear.”

His words only brought more tears, and broken sobs along with it. A cacophony of anguished screams and hopeless crying continued night after night, and Chrollo had left you alone for them. He returned on the third night, comforting you through your discordant howling and tears, not saying a single word. Only gently stroking your hair and humming a lullaby ever so softly, bringing your wailing to a whimper as you dozed off to sleep, tears still running down your face.

You should have hated him after those words, hated him until the sun and the moon and every last star in the sky burnt out. Until your bones turned to dust and that dust turned to nothing, as all good things should. But instead, you let him comfort you, as he had done before. You let him hold you and sing to you and your hatred dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Now, the only person you can hate is yourself.

The resounding chime of a bell echoed throughout the castle, finding its way under the door and into your ears, and one look outside confirmed what the bell had just screamed to you. The moon, illustrious and horrid—a grim reminder of your fate, stood proudly amongst its brothers and sisters in the inky sky.

Oh, how you preferred the sun.

A loud knock on the door—one you’d grown to expect—caused you to stretch out of bed and to the middle of the room, throwing the closet open.

Dresses in onyx and sangria were all you had, each only slightly different in design. Some had lace trims, intricately made and without flaws. Others had slits so high you were certain your mother would have chased you out of the village herself. All chosen by Chrollo, of course. You didn’t even know what sangria was before you’d met him, a drink too rich for you to ever experience on your own.

“I’m not decent,” you called out, scanning your limited options. A faint chuckle was barely discernible through the thick wooden door, a sign that Chrollo would wait, though not for long.

You shuffled out of the loose nightgown and tossed it into a basket. With Chrollo breathing down the door you had almost no time to carefully choose your dress of the day—not that it particularly mattered to you. But it was better than letting Chrollo have control over another aspect of your life.

A simple black gown, without lace or an indecent alteration, was your choice. The neckline was plunging—far more than anything you wore—but you had learned to push your own feelings down.

“Modesty only matters when around others,” Chrollo had told you. “But here, it is just you and I. There is nothing to fear, my treasure. I am no beast.”

The fangs that creeped out from his smile warned you otherwise.

With a resigned sigh, you walked over to the door, gently rapping your fist against the thick wood. The door slid open with a loud creak—just like every other antique in the ancient palace. Your gaoler smiled upon seeing you, taking the time to look at your body.

“You resemble an ancient tome of poetry, appreciated only by its author,” Chrollo said, stepping into the room.

“Are you calling me old?”

“I apologize if you took it that way,” he chuckled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I merely mean to say that you are a sumptuous artifact, deserving of being remembered by history for all time.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and ignoring the shiver that never failed to arise when Chrollo was with you.  “I prefer a simpler life, thank you.”

“I believe this one suits you far better. If you gave it a chance, I’m sure you’d come to realize the same.”

“I liked my old one.”

“Come now, my dear,” he sighed, moving a cold hand across your shoulder blades. “You always insist on speaking of the past. Why not look towards the future? It has so much to offer you.”

“Have you grown bored of comforting me?” you spat, pulling away from his touch. “Where are your soothing words, your golden gifts? Have you found a new game to play?”

Chrollo frowned, not bothering to reach for you again. Instead his arms rested at his sides, peacefully. Lifelessly.

“I have grown tired,” he emphasized, “of your refusal to move on. I have given you so much, only for it all to be rejected. I thought time would sway your choice, but it appears that I have failed to consider your…stubbornness.”

His expression had changed in the blink of an eye, now sporting his usual disconcerting smile.

“Walk with me,” he commanded, already stepping out of the room.

Your feet moved against your will, gliding across the floor and after Chrollo. It was something you hated, even more than his smug attitude and unneeded grandiose vocabulary. You could always reject him with your words, but in the end he had the power to cut your actions short. An obnoxious monster, as always.

“I have been thinking,” Chrollo began, trailing the dark halls, “about us. And my offer. I believe that I have been…entertaining your behaviors for too long. Time is a fickle thing for beings like you, and I fear you may not have much left.”

“I’m not dying,” you snorted. “Or are you just worried that I might start wrinkling early?”

Chrollo laughed at your words, “I am not afraid of fine wine, my dear. Just that your behavior will soon spiral out of control. If something were to happen, I would hate to have to chase you down. That is all.”

Your walk ended in the garden, bushes towers high above you and Chrollo. It was a place that, despite its beauty, you weren’t too fond of. It was a maze of Chrollo’s making—intentional, knowing him. If something were to enter through the garden, they would never make it to the castle before Chrollo got to them. And more importantly, you would never make it out.

A clearing stood before you, a wooden pavilion with a dozen chairs surrounding a table. Where fancy ladies would meet for fancy tea and gossip about the fancy going-ons in the palace. Like in storybooks you would read as a child.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Chrollo said, approaching the table. Upon it laid a goblet, and, despite the distance separating you, you could make out the sharp gleam of a knife.

“Choices must be made my dear, and I’m afraid that this is one I must make myself. I cannot bear the thought of being without you, and I seek to make our union permanent.”

Chrollo raised a hand in your direction, willing you to stand right before him.

“I could sink my teeth into your throat,” he chuckled. “We would become closer, that way. But you are wearing a 12th century royal Gorteauan gown, and I’d simply hate to ruin it.”

Your blood ran cold as he grabbed the knife, bringing it between you. It was almost as sharp as his fangs, but just as dangerous.

You knew what it was for, undoubtedly. Chrollo had talked about it plenty—about turning you into what he was. About stripping your mortality and bringing you a step closer to eternity. To paradise, to Eden, he claimed. You always pushed against his wishes, though. Insisting you had more life to live, that you were too scared, anything to halt the inevitable. But Chrollo was inevitable, and at the end of the day, his wishes all came true. Never yours.

The knife made purchase with the palm of Chrollo’s hand, causing droplets of crimson blood to spill out from the wound. He brought his hand up to your face, close enough for you to smell the iron from the cut.

“You only need to ingest a little bit. More than a lick, of course. But I’m quite potent,” he smirked.

If you weren’t so terrified, you maybe would have chuckled. Maybe you would have ran.

Chrollo’s smile slowly fell as you continued to do nothing, “Go on. I would hate to force you to do this as well.”

You took a shuddering breath and looked at the pool of blood, “Will…will it hurt?”

“Not a bit,” Chrollo assured you, his smile returning. “It will be painless. You’ll fall asleep afterwards, and your old life will feel like a dream. A rebirth, if you will.”

He continued, “Just think of what you will be now. No longer and Eve, now a Lilith. You will have power, permanence among the living, and me."

“...And it won’t hurt?”

“Not a bit,” he smiled.

You slowly lifted his hand, still freezing cold, closer to your mouth. You let the blood touch your quivering lips, staining them crimson. Perhaps you looked alluring, shaking like a deer with your reddened lips. Especially to a beast like Chrollo. A beast you would soon become. 

With one final anguished cry, you drank of his blood. It was as cold as his body, perhaps even colder. It did nothing to freeze your nerves, nor stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Those, too, began to feel colder and colder.

Chrollo held you close, running his free hand along your shoulder, whispering sweet comforts in your ear. Already the world seemed to be getting darker as each touch felt more dull.

“Now, now, my dearest angel. Imagine what new heights we can reach,” he chuckled, wiping stray blood from your face.

“We have all of eternity to see them. Together.”

[mrkeatingsblazer]

The Prophecy [Oh, Was It Punishment?] Part One

Apollo x Child of Hermes! Reader

Part one Part Two

“No man of mortal blood could ever love you.”

It rings in your ears; the words of Eros haunting you till this day. It was no major exposure like that of Nico’s, who was forced to come out to both Jason and you to appease the love God, but still; you felt as though the ugly truth of your soul was revealed to the two boys and you recall that you never liked surprises. Even though the sentence rushes and pillages through your mind like a crazed wave, you’re strangely enough soothed by it. To know that every worry and concern of your ability to be loved was not from any fault of your own but rather the weaving of the fates comforts you to the point of sighing in relief. It’s not you but what was forced of you, a true demi-god faith if you do say so yourself.

You have never been a stranger to a prophecy, being a big aid to Percy during the war against Kronos and your half-brother, Luke, and being a member of The Eight, destined to defeat Mother Earth herself, Gaia. As much as you despise prophecies you can’t help understand the glory of the previous ones you’ve been a part of. Sure, a couple friends and families die but at least you get the title of Hero of Olympus, am I right? This prophecy [is it even a prophecy or just a God's way of giving a diss] is just downright depressing. Almost as depressing as when your Godly parent was revealed.

At 15 years old, after defeating Atlas and rescuing both Lady Artemis and Annabeth, you stood as an unclaimed child watching as the Gods debated if you should all just be killed. It was only when Artemis was asking you, along with Thalia and Annabeth, to join her hunt did anyone question parentage.

“And you [name], who has not been claimed by God or Goddess alike, allow me to claim you as my own and join as a member of my hunt,” Artemis spoke with such kindness, almost reminiscent of a mother. You shook your head at that thought; she was definitely more like a big sister. Before you could even begin to respond to the Goddess, Zeus raised his hand into the air.

“The child's parent should be given the chance to claim her,” he declared with an air of authority, “before any decisions are made.”

“She is 15 solstices of age, has that not been enough time for the child's parent to claim,” Artemis rebukes with narrowed eyes only to be met with the same expression from her father.

“You first take my daughter, whom I allowed to be given,“ you heard Thalia scoff from beside you, “and now you fight against my order, purposely trying to disobey me in public.” His voice comes out icy and dangerous.

“father -” Apollo nervously begins from the throne beside his sister.

“Quiet Apollon!” Zeus demands. “If any one here owns the child speak now.”

The zoom grows silent, you watch as the Gods’ and Goddess’, interested or not, scanned the zoom waiting for someone to pipe in. Tears built up in your eyes and a lump began to form in your throat, you didn’t even have time to process or even blush when Percy slid his hand into yours, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Your eyes landed on Apollo, to his concerned frown and his perfectly furrowed eyebrow. You recall meeting him barely weeks before now, finding him alluring and bubbly as he chatted with you during the ride on his Sun Chariot. When we got to camp, you remember him engaging with his children in envy. He swung them around and messed with their hair, conversing with them with questions about their hobbies while also never failing to make them all laugh and feel included. You always kind of hoped he was your father ever since you found out you were a demi-god. You sloppily used a bow for a month straight before giving it up; everyone knew Apollo always claimed his kids a month into them being at camp. That didn’t stop you from hoping, from writing poetry and sending offerings to him every meal. Even now you hope he says something, eagerly looking at him like a moth to a light.

“She’s one of mine.” Everyone turned towards the direction of the voice, to Hermes who looked as though claiming you was the last thing he wanted to do that day. It made sense, really, and made you feel stupid for not realizing sooner. Grover always said you were a built in lie detector and you ran faster then anyone in camp, probably anyone in the world. You look up hopefully above your head to nothing; he didn’t even use his sign.

“So,” Artemis said, bringing back the attention to herself, “knowing now the God who conceived you, do you accept my offer to join my hunt?”

All eyes were on you, the deities’ large and looming forms leaned closer as if to hear your answer better even though they had perfect hearing. You once again looked, from Lady Artemis, to Lord Zeus, Lord Apollo and back to your father, Hermes. You caught a hint of interest in his deep brown eyes and sadly, that was all you needed.

“I appreciate your offer, my Lady, but I must decline.” you hear sighs from your friends beside you. Percy once again squeezed your hand, sending you one of his charming smiles that made your stomach weak. Hermes seemed quite happy with himself at your decision, as if he wasn’t forced to claim you moments prior, while Lady Artemis gracefully nodded in acceptance and that was it. There was no pulling you aside to talk with your father or even a look as far as you were aware. He partied into the night during the biggest moment of your life.

That memory fades from your mind, the lavish party of Olympus merging into the end of war celebration at Camp Half-Blood. Just like the former, you had no energy to join in with the festivities. With Leo dead there didn’t seem like there was much point to, the rest of The Eight agreed. From across the haggard bench you sat on, you watched as the sun set down upon the camp. It was poetically finite but still you had a stabbing feeling that this wasn’t finished, you weren’t finished.

[devoutekuna]

Sleepovers

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

It wasn't meant to be a sleepover, it's just that his daughter decided to come join him outside near the lake. "Daddy, I want my friend to come" placing herself beside him as she leaned onto one of his arms. "She promises to be good when she's here." Trying to convince the man even more. "She better, cause I'll eat both of you" how could he threaten such his daughter like that? "Anyway, let me sleep here" arms wrapping around his bottom left one as she leaned her head on him. "No, go away"

Nanami-

The man hates sleepovers, he's already stressed enough with his daughter, now adding her best friend to the bunch? Somehow it wasn't a recipe for disaster, keeping calm as he made she she had the best time at there house, as it would probably be the only time when he babysat. "We want to make cookies Mr Nanami!" Jumping in front of the man in the hopes he'd give in. He had offered to bake them stuff a few hours ago, but they chose now, straight after he finished washing up? Sighing in disbelief. "How about we go and buy some?" "No we want to make them!" His daughter pitching in on the idea.

Geto-

He's already got a lot on his plate with twins and a cult to run, so of course he isn't allowing their best friends to come over for sleepover, no matter how much he felt bad. Somehow he caves in when it's the twin's birthday, allowing only 2 of their friends to stay over. "My mummy lets me eat on the bed!" Only promoting his hate for none sorcerers even more. He hated children who thought they could bring their house rules into his.

Gojo-

The man loves sleepovers, though it was supposed to be just him watching a movie whilst stuffing his face with food, yet somehow his son escaped out of his crib and then his gate. Making his way downstairs towards his father. "Papa!" Waddling over, even dropping his favourite toy. "Hi baby!" As much as he wanted to watch a movie by himself he couldn't deny his baby boy. Picking his twin (from looking so alike). "You've come to accompany me?" He was asking that as if he could even respond.

Toji-

It wasn't an actual sleepover, the man just fell asleep on his daughter's bed. It all started with his daughter refusing to go to bed so he had to pretend like her bed was so comfortable and that she should go to sleep in it, resorting to him laying down on her bed only to fall asleep. Much to her annoyance as he farther took up all the space. "Get up!" Slapping his face repeatedly with her hand in the hopes to get him up.

[two-white-butterflies]

when he goes down on me

Description: A struggling accounting student meets a successful lawyer. A relationship blossoms. With a few social media excerpts.

Pairing: thranduil/reader

Warnings: age-gap

There was a saying around the school - only the accountings get the accountings. While all the students from the other majors were out partying and dancing until their heels hurt from jumping, the accountings were stuck memorizing business terms and calculating debits and credits until their fingers hurt from routinely tapping their calculators. It was a figurative hell on earth.

And you have always been fond of burning.

It was seldom to see you attend a party, but miraculously your schedule cleared up and there weren't any quizzes or lectures in the vicinity. "Are you already missing the comforts of Harvard?" your father teases and you crack a smile. "God, don't remind me of studying." You groaned while slumping on the leather couch.

You've almost forgotten about the comforts of your childhood home after being surrounded by flashing white lights and empty cans of redbull, comfort wasn't exactly in your vocabulary. "I'm just saying; you ditched school to attend the neighborhood gathering and you are cooped up in this humid living room, avoiding everyone who wants to talk to you." He emphasizes, encouraging you to come out.

"Please, those people saw me grow up. I hardly think that I'm missing out." You reasoned, returning your attention back to your cellphone. "- all they ever talk about is me getting married, or at least having a boyfriend." You added while scrolling past a TikTok video about some random guy bashing Crumbl cookies.

The people in your parent's close circle were typical upper-echelon folks whose only means of communicating with some 20+ year old is asking them about marriage. Of course, your usual reply would be that you are not seeing anyone and they'd blink at you like fucking reptiles. They can't fathom the idea that a young, intelligent and relatively good-looking (not ugly) woman still didn't have a husband.

It did make you happy that they found you interesting enough to have a husband but it was infuriating that being married was the only thing they cared about you. They belonged to a different time, you tell yourself before your mind drifts back into TikTok.

"We have a new neighbor, he's a good fellow but he's a little too young for our crowd. I don't think that he's old enough to relate to Geert's Hoover Deluxe jokes. You should talk to him, you've always had magic with your words." He encourages, and a sigh escapes your mouth. "Dad, I'm not talking to one of your golf buddies." You groaned. Maybe it was a mistake coming here.

You still needed to study for the licensure test, that test was something that you could not fail. It was the first step to your CPA to Lawyer plot-line, if you are unable to handle the pressure of the licensure exam then maybe you aren't equipped with Law School. Then, maybe you should just drop out and become a stay-at-home daughter like your other friend, Magnolia.

"He's a lawyer. He handled that case that you were fixated on, the one with the ballerina and her father. Of course, he defended the ballerina." He did his best to remember your teenage ramblings about Oonagh, the ballerina, and her treacherous ex-husband, Gilbert. "What?" You pry your attention away from your mobile phone. Johnson v Johnson was the court case that began your fascination with law, and the guy who defended Oonagh Johnson was in the same house as you! Goddamn.

Thranduil wanted to let the ground consume him whole. He's spent a lot of time with businessmen and world-leaders alike but BBQ with his neighbors was a different type of embarrassment. He couldn't relate to them in matters of American life or farming, and he honestly doesn't know enough about the outsourcing industry to make a decent connection with these folks.

Of course, he could relate to their wives about perfume, but he doesn't want to be that cunt who talks to random people's wives. He seriously wanted to go home, but then he sees a figure in his periphery. A woman with amazing hair, walking towards him and suddenly everything was happening in slow motion.

She takes a step, her hair moves along with her, the wind is her willing assistant and her lips turned upwards. A smile. Is she looking at me? He tries to hide the fact that he was looking over his shoulder. Maybe she's looking at someone behind me? He thinks, but then again, there was no one standing beside him, save the rose bush.

"Hey," you greet him and suddenly he finds himself leaning back into his true self. The confident defense attorney who charms everyone that he speaks to. "Hey?" He raises an eyebrow, as if he's teasing you. "My dad told me that you were the one who defended Oonagh Johnson back in 2012." You opened your mouth to speak.

Always straightforward. Time is gold.

"Yes, it was a terrible thing what happened to her." He breaths. The case seemingly close to his heart just like this case was to you. "I know that it sounds a little creepy but that is my favorite case in the history of the world. I was thirteen years old-" you rambled and he releases a breath that he was unaware that he was holding.

Thirteen years old in 2012. I feel so old. He muses.

"- I didn't know what I wanted to be, and then I saw you and Oonagh on the news. I knew then that I wanted to be in the same spot as you, defending women, minorities, children. I knew then that I wanted to give what was due. Justice." You finished rambling, he notices that smile on your face.

It reminded him of himself back in his rookie days, that hopeless glimmer in your eyes mirroring back to all the years before him. Some dreams remain dreams, and others turn into goals. "Well, that case is close to my heart. I don't think I've ever told anyone about this before but my mother was a victim of domestic abuse, her father was not a good man, and when I defended Oonagh, I felt some sort of retribution..." He pauses. I shouldn't tell this to a stranger.

"It is a different kind of power that you feel when you do something right. Yes, it is every citizen's right to defend themselves in the court of law whether or not they are guilty or innocent, but I think that you'll realize this when you do become a lawyer. It feels like a breath of relief when you bring true justice to the innocents." He continues. A feeling that feels so far from me now.

"Yeah, I don't know how I'll deal with choosing cases when I'm an actual lawyer but my dad says that I don't have to think about that until after I actually pass the bar." You chuckled nervously. He pries his attention away from his current woes, "Oh, are you studying law right now?" He inquired, his body leaning closer to yours.

"Oh no, I'm studying Accounting right now. It's my pre-law course." You informed, and he slowly finds himself respecting you. "I wish that I did something cool like that, my pre-law was Polsci and I wouldn't recommend it even to my worst enemy." He chuckles, his conscience floating away and instead is focused on you.

The shining starlight that has come to guide him away from this existential crisis. "I've heard a lot of things about that major. Some people say that it doesn't really equip you in law school, but the Polsci majors that I know are such cool people." You smiled, only beginning to realize that the man standing in front of you was h o t.

Hot with a capital 'H'.

He had a cleanly shaven face, and beautiful golden blonde hair that seriously rivaled those of the Targaryens that you watch on HBO. (You are still stuck in Season 5 of GOT due to being on studying jail.)

"That major did not help me in law school. It gave me an overview but law school is ultimately a different demon." He warns, staring deep into your eyes. She looks good, he thinks. "Well, hopefully if I pass next year I'll be able to apply for law school. Are there any universities that you recommend?" You ask and he ponders.

"I finished my degree in Harvard-"

"Fuck," you interrupted him. "No, I'm sorry." You gasp.

"I study in Harvard right now. It's just I found it - I don't know." You mentally cringe, accepting the fact that you've let go of your chance with dating this hot lawyer man. "It's alright, I was gonna say to not study in Harvard. Stanford is much better. I've found really formidable opponents who finished their degree in Stanford." He smiles, finding your quirks to be adorable.

It is not everyday that a woman walks into his life and talks about his best case to date, and then laugh about stupid stupid things. "The food isn't really that great to be honest," you mumbled. "Some things never change." He mused. "Oh wait, I'm sorry. I haven't introduced myself. I'm Y/N Saint." You offer your hand to shake and he takes it.

"Thranduil Greenwood." He smiles while shaking your hand. He lets go of it, and then remembers. "Daniel's your father?" He asks. "Yeah, but he's not really my biological father, he adopted me when he married my mom." You provided a bit of a background information.

He tries to make the conversation longer, in the hopes that you wouldn't walk away from him or that you'd leave at least an email or a number or a facebook profile so that he'll have some way of communicating with you. "He's a nice guy." He compliments.

"He's more than nice," you smile.

Suddenly, your phone rings. "Oh damn, sorry. I really have to catch a plane, but it was so nice talking to you attorney. Um, do you have a phone or anything. I'd love to keep in touch." You turn the alarm off, and focus your attention back to him. He unlocks his iphone and hands it to you. You glance at his wallpaper. "It's my son." he answers, not bothering to hide that fact about him.

"You have a wife?" You tired to keep your tone nonchalant, but it comes out jealous and icky. "No, his mother left when he was born. Funny enough, I couldn't blame her anyways. I was twenty, she was nineteen and she had an art degree." He jests and you try your best to find an instagram app on his phone.

How old is this man anyways? All he had on his phone was whatsapp, imessage, a few apps that were there when you buy the phone, and then two different email apps (email for apple and gmail.) Which made you want to laugh at him, as it was adorable, but you decide to open his notes app. "I don't have any social media except for instagram so I'll just write my username down and hopefully you do have an Instagram at home." Your voice turns nervous at the end.

There was a 50/50 chance that Thranduil had an instagram. "Goodbye, it was nice talking to you." You greet, handing him his phone, but before he could reply - you sprint away.

yournamesaint: mornings like these...

liked by 891 others

>comments

ingridhorstefe: the type of thing u see before going to bed - yournamesaint: chug redbull and the bed becomes a theory - ingridhorstefe: id reply something smart abt management theory but my brain is fcking fried

"Thank you for helping me set up an Instagram account, Tauriel." Thranduil thanks his intern before taking a sip of his coffee. "I don't think that you should post anything for legal reasons, but I already fixed your profile and privated your account. I also told everyone in the firm to follow you, Legolas says he'll only follow you after you get 10 followers so everyone won't think that he's following a bot." Tauriel continues, and Thranduil has no idea what those words mean.

"It is about time that I enter the realm social media. I mean, it is one thing to not have social media but Atty. Elros has an instagram and he's literally fifty something." Thranduil jokes. "I did tell you to sign up, which reminds me, you should follow Atty. Alfred." Tauriel presses the 'follow' button on his screen.

"As much as I hate Atty. Elros he has an amazing feed." He jokes again, and Tauriel nods agreeing with him. "He's actually an excellent photographer, I've heard a story about him actually. I heard that he wanted to be a photographer at first but then had a change of heart because his twin brother became a neurosurgeon..." Tauriel informs.

greenwoodlaw_ has requested to follow you

yournamesaint wants to call you.

"Hello," he greets seeing your face on the other end of the line. "Hey, I'm surprised to see you with an instagram. I mean I'm not stalking you or anything, it just says 'new' on your profile." You found yourself explaining to him, and he responds with a laugh. "Tauriel, my staff, helped me make this account. I figured that it was about time that I make one, I mean even the old lawyers in the neighboring firm have their own social medias." His big eyebrows merged together.

"I was about to give you my phone number yesterday but I remembered that I didn't have a line. I wouldn't be able to call you or reply to the text messages." You reply uneasily. Your father has pestered you about getting a line since the moment you bought your phone, but you shook him off saying that no one texts or calls people in their mobile number anymore. You were wrong.

"I didn't really bother paying for that since it's a distraction." You settle your phone on the desk in front of you, not bothering to adjust it to an angle that'll make you look better. There is no use fighting against what you really look like. "I understand. Shouldn't you be studying?" He asks and you shake your head.

"I'm free, miraculously, but I'll start on some reviewers in an hour. Better safe than sorry." You inform.

"You must always be on your feet." He says.

"You sound a lot like my professor." You teased. "- but thank you for the advise, I shall use it well." You add.

Tauriel walks inside of his office, carrying a stack of files. "Oh, it looks like you've got a lot of work to do." You smile. Tauriel raises an eyebrow but he gives her a glance telling her not to ask any questions. "I guess this is goodbye. I'll call you again tomorrow."

"Goodbye,"

"Bye."

[seongclb]

LIKE A MAGNET ! sim jaeyun

“you’ve called me a lot of things, sim jaeyun, but never have you called me a magnet.”

“not like that! i just meant, we’re not as alike as we think. kinda like a magnet..”

SYNOPSIS. whereby your academic rival, jake sim, returns after spending a year in australia to come back and restore his place: as top physics student but also your (hopefully) boyfriend.

PAIRING. academic rivals to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, flirty!jake x fmr

GENRE. fluff, light angst.

WARNINGS. cursing, jake being flirty, kissing but not making out.

WORD COUNT. 7512 words

N. finally out yelp i think this is not as good as i wanted it to be but i have to post as promised so pls make sure to give feedback and stuff !! special thanks to mari for beta reading :) i love u pooks

TAGLIST. @sjyuns <3… @dollkis @taejaysmain @dear-hoon @oldjws @jjakey02 @luvistqrzzz @yizhoutv @mrchweeee @darly6n @hoonieluv @ghostiiess @jaeyunsonlyone @en-happiness @loumin908 @tasnim10 @rikisly @samyu01 @ashrocker123 @enhastolemyheart @enhaz1 @viagumi @articxari @vnsux @mersmoon @jungwonderz

Kicking your shoes off, you step into your house as your mother frantically scours the house for her expensive china plates.

“Mum, what’s going on?” You wonder, looking around at the house and noticing how all your awards and family photos are out. You groaned, this only meant one thing - guests were coming today.

Great, you thought. After a tiring day with your best friends driving you mentally and physically insane, you now had to entertain guests in your own house when all you wanted to do was lay in the comforts of your bed.

“The Sims are back from Australia,” your Mum announces while pushing you up the stairs.

You pause as your heart plummets down your stomach, “What do you mean?”

Your mum chuckles, “The Sims! Don’t tell me you forgot about them already. It’s only been a year.”

“Mother, this has been the best year of my life. Why are they back? Wasn’t Mr Sim, like, settled in his new job? Why are they coming here of all places, too?”

Your mum narrows her eyes at you as your father steps into the room, struggling with his tie, “Ah, Y/n you’re home! You’d better go up and get dressed. The Sims are arriving soon.”

“So, I’ve heard,” you huff. “I know we’re family friends but shouldn’t they settle in their house first? Why are they coming here already?”

“Because,” your dad sighs. “Mr Sim and I have secured a business deal. We’re going to be partners in the firm soon, which is why they’re back. Of course, we have to welcome them with a nice meal.”

You groan and cross your arms, “Isn’t this something you discuss with your daughter first?”

Laughing, your dad pinches your cheek sweetly, “Now, why would this concern you? Go upstairs and get dressed, you must be hungry after practice today.”

It takes every fibre in your being to not stomp up the stairs in defiance. Sim Jaeyun, the cause of your distress throughout your entire school whole life was returning after a blissful year of peace. The mere thought of it made you want to rip every strand of hair out of your head.

Stepping into your room, your eyes immediately set on the expensive dress sitting on your bed that your mum laid out for you. Just as your parents requested, you hopped into the shower to prepare for the dreadful evening ahead. It’s not like you weren’t used to this; your parents worked in especially high fields and earned decent salaries. It was more than normal for them to have these important, yet over the top, dinners every few months meaning you had to dress up like this often. The only issue was him.

You could already hear his irritating giggles from your bedroom. Amazingly, they were the same as you had remembered.

Before you could even take a deep breath, there were soft knocks at your door, “Mum, I’m coming. Thirty seconds.”

There were the knocks again. Rolling your eyes, you swung your door open, ready to ask your mother why she couldn’t wait for thirty seconds, when you saw him leaning on the archway of the door. His lips were curled into that familiar smirk of his, yet Jake looked so different. His hair was much shorter, slicked back slightly but a strand of it falling onto his forehead.

It had only been a year, yet you were more than surprised to see Sim Jaeyun actually looking semi decent.

His eyes are playful as they rake over your figure, checking you out head to toe. The feeling of Jake’s eyes boring into you evoked a sense of insecurity to wash over. Since when did you care about him looking at you?

“Hurry up,” he ruffles your hair as he runs down the stairs. Forgetting about the annoying action he had just done, you pause for a moment; his words replaying in your mind. It seemed that Jake’s looks weren’t the only thing that was different but he had developed a strong Australian accent, too. It wasn’t attractive, though.

No, of course, not. That was impossible, being Jake Sim.

You fix your hair before following him into the living room where his parents are sitting on the couch in your living room.

Mrs Sim smiles at you as you greet her, “Y/n! You’ve grown so much.”

She engulfs you in a tight hug as you giggle, “No, I look the same. You look better than ever, of course.”

She shakes her head as she makes room for you on the couch, “Nonsense, you’ve gotten even prettier just like Jaeyun. He’s gotten so handsome now, right?”

You nod, sending an obvious fake smile towards his direction.

Jake clears his throat as he brings his glass of water to his lips, “Y/n, have you grown any taller since last year?”

You force a polite chuckle, despite wanting to throw your glass at the smile on his lips, “Maybe a few inches.”

Jake nods, pursing his lips to prevent a wider smile from breaking out, “I see.”

He sits opposite you at the dinner table, sending you winks every so often just to get a sneaky middle finger or a dirty look in return when no one was looking.

“Y/n, you’ll have to show Jaeyun around tomorrow,” Your dad says to you.

“I’m sure he knows where everythings been. It’s only been a year,” You smile.

Jake leans over, “I heard there were some changes. I’m afraid I might get late to some of my classes.”

You turn to Jake, “Oh, really? Who said that?”

“Sunghoon,” Jake smirks back at you.

You nod, of course he did. Sunghoon was the little provoker in your feud with Jake; always meddling to give Jake new ideas on how to annoy you. That was clearly one of his duties as Jake’s best friend since he had just given Jake another reason to irk you and follow you around tomorrow.

“So, why can’t he show you around?” You narrow your eyes.

Before Jake can answer, your dad interjects, “It’ll be better for you to do it, Y/n. I’m sure Sunghoon will have practice and other things tomorrow.”

The little shit was smiling way too hard, again. He just gets lucky too often.

The talk quickly turns into business amongst your parents, boring you completely so you use it as a perfect opportunity to excuse yourself to your room until your Mum says, “Why don’t you take Jaeyun to your room?”

Jake’s eyes grow as he smiles mischievously, “Yeah, you can show me what topics you have been covering in Physics. I don’t want to be behind.”

You take another deep breath, it got to the point where every breath now was slow and used to calm you down in order to stop you from lunging at the boy in front of you. He used every opportunity to get you to agree to yet another thing to help him with while your parents were around.

Jake followed you up to your room, standing at the doorway for a moment to look around your room at a different angle before stepping in and tracing his finger over all your trophies and pictures.

“Hey!” He calls, pointing at a particular picture of you with a trophy after winning the Science Fair competition. “We did this together, I’m in this photo. Did you crop me out?”

That day was quite fun, one of the only times that you and Jake had worked together rather than against one another, which was the usual dynamic. That occasion, your father had suggested for you two to work together. Even back then, it had created such dismay for you but you couldn’t deny that he was the reason why you two had won. You didn’t work well under pressured environments, so Jake had picked up the slack and presented most of it but you doubted that he did it for the sake of you. He definitely did it for the mere reason that he wanted to win.

You scoff at the pout on his lips as he picks up the frame, “Obviously. I’d get nightmares with a picture of you in my room.”

Jake touches the picture, a sigh of relief leaving his lips, “You didn’t cut it. You folded it.”

He dismantles the frame, unfolding the picture to reveal a younger version of him, “I was handsome back then, too. Keep it unfolded, you can use it for motivation.”

Fake gagging, you snatch the frame back from him and set it down, “I don’t need motivation. “So, how was Australia?”

Jake shrugs, playing with the Miffy plush that you cuddle to bed every night, “It was fun. Different from here. Better girls.”

You roll your eyes and respond sarcastically, “Sounds wonderful.”

“Jealous? Don’t worry, they didn’t compare to you,” Jake flirts.

“Ew!” Your face contorts in disgust. “Don’t make me throw you out of here, Jaeyun.”

He giggles and goes back to nosily touching all your things. You watch him in silence for a few more minutes, not minding Jake exploring your room. Jake’s parents call him from downstairs, initiating that it was time for him to finally leave.

“This new business deal means I’ll be seeing you more often than you’d like, angel.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his briefly upon hearing the pet name before he leaves the room. He’s staring at you, searching for a response in your facial expressions but all you can focus on is the luring brown specks in his eyes. The Australian air must have done a number on him; this was not the SIm Jaeyun you knew. Of course, he still used to go out of his way to annoy you before, but the excessive winking and flirting was so unlike him. It was only until you heard him call you ‘angel’ that you realised how different Jake was, now.

You returned down the stairs to bid them goodbye.

“Y/n,” Jake’s father calls. “Jake and I will be here tomorrow morning to pick you up for school. We must repay the favour.”

“What favour?” You question.

Jake’s mother strokes your arm lovingly, and you wonder how a woman so kind can produce that devil staring at you by the door, “We’re so thankful that you’re tutoring Jake every weekend!”

You raise an eyebrow and look at your parents, who suspiciously are avoiding your eyes, “It’s no problem. Is this why Mr Sim is picking me up tomorrow?”

They nod and hug you goodbye, constantly reminding you of their appreciation.

With one last annoyed look towards your parents, you turn on your feet and head up to your room for the night to scream into your pillow about the return of Sim Jaeyun.

୨ৎ

The next morning, at the table while you wait for Jake and his father, you see your own come down the stairs to get ready for his own job.

“Y/n, you and Jake have to go to school alone. Mr Sim sends his apologies, he has a meeting,” Your dad informs you.

You groan softly at the light knocks on the door, knowing it was Sim Jaeyun. “That must be him,” your dad smiles as he opens the door. “Hi, Jaeyun.”

“Good morning, Mr Lee. Is Y/n ready?” Jake asks as he steps into the house and meets your annoyed eyes. Slinging your bag over your shoulder and walking towards Jake, you say bye to your father and leave the house with him.

“Why did your dad want us to go to school so early?” You huff. Jake smiles down at you, “So we could go get breakfast.”

He flicks his dads bank card in between his fingers, “Wanted me to thank you for that tutor thing. Did you know about that, by the way?”

You shake your head, “Mum and Dad probably knew I would refuse. Did you?”

You look up at him and see he shakes his head, with a proud grin on his face, “Mum and Dad probably knew I would refuse, too.”

You stop and cross your arms at him, “Why would you refuse? I’m the top of the class, you should be honoured.”

Jake snickers, “You’re top of the class because I was in Australia for a year.”

He ruffles your hair before walking off, leaving you to curse at him under your breath.

With a croissant and a coffee in each of your hands, you walk through the school gates with Jake. As expected, all eyes are on him. Everyone knew him; you remembered the way everyone was heartbroken when he announced that he was leaving last year. Apart from you. You were busy bouncing off the walls to celebrate his departure as now, there was no debate about who the top physics student was. You knew it sounded condescending and extremely nerdy, but you worked hard for your grades; the title was deserved.

“I have to go to the principal's office,” Jake tells you.

“Go then,” You shrug. Jake tuts and drags you to the principal's office with him.

You fight off his grip on you, “I thought you didn’t know where anything was.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “Shut up and wait here. We have class together next, anyway.”

Just as you’re about to argue back, you realise that you do in fact have Physics next. Of course, he was in your class.

You sit and eat the breakfast that he bought you while you wait. Not long after, he exits the principal's office with a few books in his fingers.

“What are those?” You ask as you try to reach over and read them, only to have them held over your head and out of your reach.

“Don’t be so nosy,” Jake tuts. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

You frown and follow him swiftly.

Jake opens the class door, and all eyes are set on him once again. Your Physics teacher calls him to the front while you rush to your seat at the back, away from all the gazes fixed on him.

Thanking God that your first lesson after the dreadful weekend was Physics was a waste since Jake was momentarily ordered to sit beside you.

“Is there a problem, Y/n?” Your teacher asks following your noises of protest.

You shake your head, not that it mattered to Jake who was already sitting in the seat beside you.

“Thankfully, I got placed next to my tutor. What would I do without you?” Jake drawls with a soft smile on his lips.

“Shut it, Sim,” you groan, snatching your things to your side of the table. “My side. Your side.”

Jake watches you pull out a thin ribbon and place it in the middle of the table.

Towards the end of the lesson, you’re assigned individual worksheet tasks that Jake gets done with smoothly. Unlike you, who is struggling slightly.

It’s not that the work is difficult to understand, but you’ve never been that close to Jake to see his hands. Despite your many attempts to focus on your work, your gaze is teared away from the Physics equations on your sheet and replaced with the sight of Jake’s hands only inches away from your own. In order to control your impulsive thoughts, you have to focus your full attention towards not touching his hands which is driving you absolutely insane.

Jake looks over his shoulder at your sheet, eyes widening slightly, “How are you still on the first question?”

Jolting slightly, you scramble to pick up your pen and mumble sometimes about getting distracted.

Jake bites his lip to prevent a giggle from escaping, “If you need help, you can ask me.”

“I don’t need your help,” You respond and commence with the work.

The bells to announce the end of the lesson go off soon after and you sigh in relief, packing your things instantly in order to get away from that nightmare sitting beside you.

Jake watches you pack up as if he was waiting to say something until Park Sunghoon and Jay Park run into the classroom.

“Jake!” Sunghoon smiles widely, Jay following shortly.

Jake grins, “I didn’t see you two this morning.”

“We had to meet up with the football (soccer) team before school. Join us after school today?” Jay asks.

Jake shakes his head, “Can’t. I have to study with my tutor.”

You dart your eyes over to him, “Not today.”

Sunghoon and Jay break out into fits of laughter.“No way, Y/n has to tutor you. That’s so unfortunate, Y/n,” Jay says to you, and you nod with a frown.

Jake furrows his eyebrows, “What’s so bad about tutoring me?”

“Dude, you don’t even need a tutor. Y/n, I’ve been asking you to tutor me for months now,” Sunghoon follows you around your desk.

“I didn’t have a choice!” You remark. “Our parents arranged it behind our backs.”

Sunghoon smiles, “What? Like an arranged marriage?”

“Ew!” You both said in unison.

Clearing your throat, you look at Jake again, “I’m not tutoring you today. They said weekends. “

You grab your bag and leave the room, rushing to find your best friends. Minji and Jieun are sitting at the usual bench near the football field, snacks laid in their laps as they discuss the precious lesson when you rush towards them.

Their attention immediately turns to you and Minji asks, “Y/n, is it true that Jake’s back?”

You huff and nod, “You’ll never believe it.” And, with that, you start filling them in on all the events that have occurred in far little time that you’d like.

They listen intently as you tell them every single detail since yesterday.

Jieun gasps, “How has this all happened in less than 24 hours?”

You shrug and steal a biscuit from her lap, “Honestly, I’m wondering the same thing. I didn’t even know he would be back 24 hours ago.”

Minji leans forward, “Shit, don’t look. Shit, shit, shit.”

Despite Minji’s request, Jieun turns her head with a car and gasps, too.

“What?” You ask, impatiently, wanting nothing more than to see what they were so intrigued about.

“Jake’s in a football shirt,” Jieun claps her hands together and you roll your eyes, although you turn your head ever so slightly to get a look. You don’t see Jake anywhere.

“Where?” You ask, now looking more closely.

Jieun and Minji giggle beside you and you close your eyes in anger after sudden realisation, “He’s not there, is he?”

“Nope,” Minji chuckles. You lightly shove her with your arm as she continues, “So, Y/n. A crush on Jake, huh?”

“Impossible!” you argue. “I was just looking because you guys were so shocked.”

You cross your arms and stuff your mouth with snacks as your friends stare at you in disbelief, “I do not like Sim Jaeyun.”

୨ৎ

Taking tests were usually anxiety inducing, but with your rival back, it was even worse than usual. Jake helped you separate the table into individual seats for the test, watching the way your fingers drummed on the table; a habit to get rid of the nerves.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you, angel,” He whispers, leaning so close to your ear that you can feel his breath fanning onto your cheek.

“Ugh,” You shove him away. “Are you trying to make me vomit before the test so I can miss it and fail?”

Jake sneers, “As if I need to do something like that. I’ll get higher than you regardless.

“We’ll see about that Aussie boy.”

Jake's eyebrows raise upon the new nickname, his eyes gleaming as he watches you take the test paper into your hand and write your name before starting it. Jake leans back in his chair, twirling his pencil in his fingers before he too starts the test.

The school bells go off, signalling both the end of the school day and the test.

Jake stands behind you as you hand in your paper and exit the classroom.

He taps your shoulder, “Did you finish all the questions?”

You nod, “Yeah, did you?”

“Yeah, but I don't think I did that well. I guess it's good that I’ve got myself a tutor, huh?” Jake giggles beside you.

You almost laugh, instead concealing it with a roll of your eyes, “Lucky you.”

“Be ready for one, tomorrow,” Jake ruffles your hair, earning a smack on the arm from you, which he fake winces at. “You coming to the football game next Monday?”

“No,” You guffaw and watch Jake slip his hands into his pockets.

“Hm, I thought you were. A little birdie told me you were,” Jake shoves his phone into your face, revealing messages from your mother telling him that you would go.

Angrily, you twist Jake’s ear and he yelps, “Ow??? What was that for?”

“Many reasons,” You cross your arms. “You messaged my mum to get me to go to your stupid football game! Why do you even have my mothers number?”

Jake rubs his now pink ear, “She told me to take it for the tutoring sessions since you said no to giving yours. Plus, is it so bad that you’re coming? Your friends are there every day.”

“Yeah, to see the boys they like,” You shrug.

“There’s no one you want to watch play?” Jake asks, slipping his hands back into his pockets.

“I have no interest in watching anyone play.”

Jake hums again, turning his face to the side before clearing his throat, “That’s because no one wants you to watch them.”

You glare at him, “Then, why did you ask my mother to force me to go?”

Scorning, Jake responds, “I didn’t force her. I just mentioned it and she said to make sure you go. Why would I want you there?”

At his words, you feel your heart gain a few bruises but you play it off, “I’m not going.”

“Shut up, Lee. I’ll pick you up at 5 on Monday. Games at 6,” With that, Jake walks off to join his friends. You grab your phone and message your group chat with your friends.

You: It looks like I'm attending my first school football game next week.

Minji: You wanna tell me this isn't because of the Sim boy?

Jieun: LMFAO FR.

You: Dude messaged my mother to get me to go.

Jieun: No fucking way

Minji: Yeah, so when's the wedding?

You: shut up, we don’t like each other.

Minji: 🙄

Jieun: keep telling yourself that. Want us to pick you up?

You: no… he’s picking me up

Minji: act surprised!

Jieun: Suit yourself, I am surprised!

Usually, the weekends are more than enjoyable; being that you can sleep in bed for a few hours longer than usual without feeling like you're rotting away as you’re still up before noon which automatically means you're being productive. This weekend was different; just like every day has been since Jake has arrived back.

This was now yet another time that he’s randomly been in your house as if he lives there, and waiting for you to join him.

“You’re late,” He says, taking a bite of an apple.

“I forgot,” You respond and sit down at the table with your textbooks.

Jake sits beside you, smiling at your pyjamas, “Why are all of them so childish?”

You frown, “They’re not childish. Anyway, focus!”

Tutoring Jake reveals to be harder than you thought. He either gets distracted every few minutes with an odd would you rather question that he needs to hear your response to or he’s bragging about how he doesn’t need these tutoring sessions, and could easily beat you in the upcoming exam.

Two hours fly by ever so slowly, and you’re silently thanking God that it’s over when the time comes.

Slamming your books shut, you spring to your feet with a wide smile plastered over your lips “Well, it’s been lovely but, that’s me done. Goodbye!”

Jake snickers as he watches you disappear up the stairs in a hurry, “See you on Monday!”

Monday flies by faster than you realise, you think as you sit in Physics next to Jake with your head resting in your palm. Monday was always such a mission to get through, but it didn’t help that you had a particularly late night.

“Tired?” Jake asks, sliding over your favourite bottled coffee. Your eyes light up upon seeing it as you accept it with a slightly enthusiastic nod.

“Extremely, staying up watching ‘Criminal Minds' is not a good idea,” You advise before taking a happy swig of the coffee.

Jake laughs, “Thanks for the warning. You’re coming to the game, by the way.”

You roll your eyes, “Is that why you got me a drink?”

Jake hums, “Why else would I do something nice for you?”

You scowl and hand him the coffee back, only for it to be slided back towards you with a disgusted expression on his, “I don’t want it! You already put your mouth on it.”

You sigh, and put it back in your bag, “Asshole.”

“Idiot,” He remarks.

You flick your eyes up and notice the teacher handing out the test papers from the last lesson, “We’ll see who the idiot is.”

The teacher places both yours and Jake's papers down with a smile.

You read the 97 on your paper, tilting it nervously to reveal to him as you wait for his mark.

“96,” He huffs, setting the paper down with a disappointed frown.

You clap your hands together with a wide grin, “I knew it! Sim Jaeyun, you fell off!”

You tease him consistently, singing celebrations in his ear as he places the paper in his bag, smiling at the 98 written on his sheet that he would much rather keep hidden for the sake of you singing gleefully beside him.

Jake swears he’s never seen you so happy; it's almost impossible to keep his smile under control as he watches you in slight fear that the adoration he has for you is emanating more than he would like.

୨ৎ

Your exciting plans to nap immediately after school were destroyed when you heard knocks on the door at exactly four minutes to five pm.

You answer softly, “Come in.”

Expecting one of your parents to walk in, you don’t bother to try and fix your hair or anything so when Jake walks in, you hurry to cover your snoopy pyjamas with your blanket, but judging by the way he snickers, you can tell he’s already seen it.

Jake stands in front of your wardrobe, “Say, Michael B Jordan came into your room and opened your wardrobe. Would there be anything you’d be too shy to show him?”

“No,” You reply, confused. Jake swinging your wardrobe doors open and grabbing a sweater before throwing it at you and walking out of the room was the last thing you had expected. Not to mention that he compared himself to Michael B Jordan, as if you’d care if he had seen your undergarments. Jake, however…

“Ten minutes!” He calls out before closing the door.

You sit in disbelief for a few moments before complying with his demands.

A few moments later, you walk out of the room and hear Jake and your father watching the football game.

“You’re here watching the game when you’re about to play anyway…” You stare at the two, dumfounded.

Jake tilts his head up at you as he gets up, “The game’s too good. Let’s go!”

He says goodbye to your parents and walks you to his car, “We’re kind of early, so you wanna eat something or eat after the game?”

“After the game?” You repeat slowly.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to run home as soon as the game begins,” Jake runs a hand through his hair.

You stifle a laugh, “I doubt I'd make it before half time.”

Jake laughs, “Alright, let's get going.”

Along the way, Jake plays some songs and you can't help but enjoy the atmosphere. Jake glances her eyes towards you from time to time, fighting the smile that creeps his way onto his face in response to yours.

He can't help but think of how beautiful you look, when you’re not even doing anything remotely significant.

“We’re here,” You say.

“Thanks, Sherlock,” Jake rolls his eyes and gets out of the car. As soon as you open the car door, he pushes you back inside and shuts it. You furrow your eyebrows at him standing by the passenger door.

Jake swiftly opens the car door for you, looking around as you leave the car although it's a struggle to move after a zoo of butterflies started swarming in your stomach from his actions.

“Thanks,” You rub at the nape of your neck as he mutters an ‘its alright’ to you.

The pair of you make your way across the football pitch, Jake greets people as he walks past them while you dodge dirty stares from jealous students. It almost makes you want to laugh; if only they knew how it really was.

To be quite honest, you weren’t sure if you knew either now that you thought about it.

Brushing your thoughts away, you sat down on one of the benches, “I’ll watch from here.”

Jake nods and slings his bag to put next to you, “You’ll watch this, right?”

“Yes,” You huff. “Anything else, kind sir?”

Jake throws his head back as he laughs, “No, madam.”

Before you can look away, Jake removes his top and replaces it with a football jersey. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help it - his abs were literally staring at you in plain sight, so you had to look back at them.

Of course, he notices you staring and tuts, “Didn’t strike me as a pervert, Y/n.”

You gasp, stammering, “You.. You didn't even warn me!”

“Relax, angel. I don’t mind,” He jogs backwards, sending you a few winks before printing off to the rest of his football members.

Just before the game starts, Minji and Jieun run over and join you, already screaming the names of whichever boy they were infatuated with at that current time.

The game proves to be far more interesting as expected and you end up not regretting letting yourself be dragged out of bed by Jake.

You watch intently as Jake dribbles the ball and shoots it directly in the goal. Your adrenaline must have taken over you, since the next thing you know, you’re jumping up and cheering. In the midst of Jake’s celebration around the pitch, he looks over at you with the widest smile he’s ever fathomed. Jieun and Minji share smirks from the side.

By half time, he separates from the rest of his team and runs directly to you.

You hand him a water bottle as he sits beside you, sweat droplets making his skin glow an extra bit.

“I didn’t expect you to cheer for me,” Jake says, smugly.

“I didn’t cheer for you. I cheered for the team,” You correct.

“I didn’t see you get up and cheer like that when Sunghoon scored,” Jake mutters under his breath.

You dart your eyes at him, “You’re lucky I didn’t hear that.”

Jake sits beside you, regaining his strength in the fifteen minute break while you look around at the other members, eyes fixated on one familiar member.

“Oh shit,” You turn around to Jieun and Minji, whose eyes follow your previous gaze and soon replicate your own shocked expression. Jake turns to the three of you, attempting to eavesdrop.

“Is that-”

“Don’t say the name,” You gesture to Jake sitting beside you.

“Woah, woah,” Jake stands up. “Whose name?”

“None of your business,” You snap. “Shouldn’t you go and, like, discuss team plays?”

Jake shakes his head, “Nah, this isn’t a serious game. It’s just a friendly. Who’s the guy?”

Jake nods his head at the guy you were looking at, fury slowly bubbling in his insides.

“He's a relative,” You lie.

“Bullshit,” Jake huffs. “I’ll find out after the game, anyway.”

The guy was Lee Minseok, and he was your first kiss at a party several months earlier. Being a kiss at a party, you don’t even remember it but your friends had informed you of it. He, too, had wanted to reconnect by messaging you on each and every one of your social media accounts for weeks after despite you saying you weren't looking for anything. You’d felt bad, but it was better to leave it as a drunken mistake than leading him on completely. It had also been a shame that he was your first ever kiss, but you were glad you didn’t remember it.

You look at Jieun and Minji again before sitting back down next to Jake, who doesn’t say another word. After a few minutes, he walks off to his members without saying anything. You feel slightly disappointed that he didn’t say one of his flirty remarks, but you don’t pay too much mind.

You continue watching the game, silently cheering whenever Jake scores or does anything remotely notable and you notice how his eyes always turn to you upon doing something well, but again, you don’t think much of it.

It’s only when you notice Minseok slytackling Jake, leading to Jake falling on his back. Soft gasps erupt from the crowd, a way of everyone agreeing that it was far too harsh of a movement. Minseok holds his hand out to apologise, only to be rejected by Jake smacking his hand away and pushing him by the shoulders. It becomes a small brawl, Jay and Sunghoon having to pull Jake away and to the changing rooms. You watch Jake strut over to the changing rooms, a look of rage crossed over his face.

The next thirty minutes of the game go by painfully slow; all you wanted was to know if Jake was alright.

Despite Jieun and Minji’s attempts at trying to get you to go home with them, you wait for Jake, just to find out if he's okay.

It gets dark when you spot Jake walking on the other side of the football field and you call him over, “Jake!”

He turns around and looks at you with a slightly bewildered expression, but waits for you nonetheless.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I’m fine,” He mumbles. “Did you ask Minseok if he was, too?”

It was your turn to look at him bewilderedly, “No, I couldn’t care less if he was injured.”

Jake’s lips almost curl into a smile. Almost, if he didn’t hear Sunghoons words replaying in his head. Minseok was your first kiss - he stole your first kiss. The feeling of rage bubbled in Jake’s insides again.

“Anyway, I waited because you promised to get me food,” You grin.

Jake looks away, “I can’t. Dad needs help at home.”

“Oh,” You whisper. “Okay, but you owe me another day.”

Jake nods in agreement, and you wait for that familiar smile to return on his face, but it doesn’t.

“I’m going to get going,” You say.

Again, you wait for him to say something, like offer to drop you off home. But, nothing.

You feel like a fool as you walk away from him, his figure growing smaller and smaller behind you with every step.

The next few days are all similar, there are times where you expect Jake to say something to you around the halls or in Physics, but he doesn’t. You don’t even see him around the house anymore, despite his family being there and them saying that he was busy catching up with schoolwork. That was definitely a lie, you knew him.

Mr Sim calls you to sit with them, smiling at you politely.

“Thank you for tutoring Jaeyun. His grades slipped a bit in Australia but, thanks to you, they’re back to normal,” He grins. “I hope there’s no hard feelings, though.”

“Of course, not. Why would there be?” You return his politeness.

Mr Sim sighs in ease, “Oh, I thought you would be since Jaeyun got 98 on the recent test. Although, it was only a marks difference. You’re seriously wonderful-”

The rest of his words tune out, the only thing you hear is that Jake got higher than you in the test but he lied. Why did he lie?

୨ৎ

Deciding to head over to his house with the lie that you needed to give him some school work was merely impulsive, it was far too late when you realised at his doorstep. You’d spent the last few days laying in the darkness of your room, wondering why he has suddenly switched off his typically playful manner to a foreign, nonchalant version of himself. You even cried to Jieun and Minji about it, who cursed him repeatedly.

Jake opens the door in Spongebob pyjamas to which you cock an eyebrow at, “And you called mine childish.”

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks, helping you into his house. “Do you want something to drink or eat?”

You shake your head and he leans on the wall in front of you as you take a seat.

“So,” Jake stares at you. “What are you doing here?”

You take a long and slow breath, “Why did you lie about your mark in the recent exam?”

Jake steps forward slightly, “How did you-”

You shake your head, “It doesn’t matter. Why did you lie?”

Jake exhales, “I knew it would make you happy.”

You scoff, getting to your feet, “Why on earth do you care if I’m happy?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jake grits his teeth.

“You hate me. You’ve been avoiding me for days, now,” You breathe out.

Jake stares at you blankly, before breaking out into a fit of laughter, “Hate you?”

He inches closer to you until hes standing directly in front of you, “Y/n, I came back here for you.”

“What are you talking about?” You chuckle. “You came back because our parents-”

“No,” Jake interjects. “You think I didn’t beg my father to take that deal? You think my dad doesn’t know how in love with you I am? Y/n, everyone knows but you!”

You shake your head, “This isn’t true.”

“Look, if you don’t like me back, just say so. But, don’t come here and start spewing nonsense. I’ve liked you since that day that we won the Science Fair together. I’ve been in love with you since I left for Australia.”

You look up at him, “No way.”

Jake rolls his eyes and takes your hand, pulling you to his bedroom. He sits you down in his bed while he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a large box.

Jake removes the lid and brings out multiple items that you recognise and some that you don’t.

“This is my Y/n box,” he places it onto your lap. “Have a look.”

Jake holds a few items in his hand, “This is the bracelet I won at a Physics competition in Australia at the beginning. I planned to give it to you. This is a teddy I won at some amusement park. And, this is a letter I wrote on the plane when I realised that I was in love with you. Well, am in love with you.”

Jake continues, “Even my grades, Y/n. They were nothing without you. It’s like you were my only source of motivation, my grades were average towards the end of the year in Australia. My parents and my teachers all blamed it on the move, but I knew. I knew it was because you weren’t there.”

You’re speechless, he kept everything remotely linked to you since you were thirteen. He thought of you in every little thing he did.

“You love me?” You question.

“Yes, Y/n. I’ve been in love with you.”

“But,” You breathe out. “I’m hard to love.”

Your voice is strained, and isn’t far from a whisper. There’s so many things you want to say yet so little words to conform them to the perfect boy sitting in front of you.

He almost guffaws at your words - Jake might have if he didn’t realise just how serious you were. He didn’t understand; what on earth was so hard about loving you? There was nothing.

If only you could see just how effortless it had been, straight from the beginning. The minute he laid eyes on you standing by a handmade rocket, scribbling ideas down on a piece of paper, it was as if the atoms in the universe had created an inseparable bond that tied you two together. It was as if the poles in the universe had drawn together, creating a magnetic field of attraction.

Jake’s eyes twinkle as he leans closer to you, “There is nothing hard about loving you. Loving you is like breathing out oxygen, so if loving you is hard then breathing is, too.”

You flick your eyes up at him again, now only centimetres away from those pink plush lips of his until you close the gap, pulling him into a soft kiss.

“I love you, too, “ You breathe out.

“Really?” Jake gasps. “You’re not just saying that?”

You shake your head, intertwining your fingers, “No, seriously. I do, I didn’t know I did but now.. Now, I know. I came here because you were avoiding me the whole week and I couldn’t bear it.”

Jake giggles, “That’s because I didn’t think you liked me back after that whole situation with Minseok at the football game. I thought it would be better to just leave you alone.”

Jake gently intertwines his fingers with you, a casual action albeit causing your heart to race a million miles per hour.

“So,” he beams, “if you get higher than me in the next Physics exam, I’ll take you out on a date.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, a grin paired on your lips, “And, what if I don’t?”

Jake looks away, thinking for a moment, “Then, you take me on a date.”

“Well, can I give you a kiss first?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him as if he’s ever going to decline that offer

“You don’t need to ask twice,” Jake breathes out, before meeting your lips with a wide grin plastered on his face.

୨ৎ

Seeing Jake knock on your window from outside your house was quite a shock for you, being it was a Sunday evening and you were sorting out your school bag for the next day.

You open your window to let him in with a befuddled expression worn on your face, “What are you doing here? It’s almost 6:30.”

A soft smile is on his lips as he looks at you, and climbs through your window, “I had to see you. Its been so long.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, “I saw you on Friday.”

“That’s far too long, angel.”

You smile as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you in for a warm embrace, he hums as he closes his eyes and rocks your body with his from side to side.

“Why didn’t you use the front door?” You ask him.

Jake nervously rubs the back of his neck, “I’m scared of your father.”

You laugh at his words, “You’ve known the man for years! What’s there to be afraid of?”

He sits down on your bed, playing with your teddy bears, “Well, he’s different with me now that I’m.. dating his daughter.”

“He’s a bit shocked but he’ll get used to it. You can’t expect him to like you if he finds out you’ve been sneaking in through my window, though,” You pinch Jake’s cheek softly.

Jake nods, “I know.” Jake sighs and leans into your touch against his cheek.

“Why don’t you try going back through the front door? You can ask my parents for permission to grab dinner outside, today,” You suggest, pulling his hands up.

You watch Jake’s eyes glint in excitement as he heads back out of the window. Yet, he doesn’t forget to turn around to press a quick kiss on your cheek before he leaves, only to return to be in your house in less than a minute.

Hearing the doorbell ring, you make your way downstairs while fighting the urge to grin upon knowing exactly who was at your door.

You watch your father open the door, seeing Jake, “Hi Jake, what brings you here?”

Jake stammers, “Hello, sir. I mean, Mr Lee… I came to see Y/n.”

You stand beside your father, “Dad, you haven’t even let him in.”

Pulling Jake inside, you frown at your Dad as your Mum joins the three of you.

“Honey, why are you so awkward around Jaeyun now? Weren’t you the one who always wanted him as a son?” Your mum chuckles.

“I didn’t think he would become a son like.. this,” Your dad darts his eyes towards you and Jake. “So, is the relationship going well?”

You struggle to not break out into a fit of laughter, “Yes, Dad. Thanks for your concern. Jake and I are going to get some ice cream.”

Your Mum nods happily while your father sighs and sits back. Jake bows his head politely and leaves with you.

“I hate the awkwardness,” Jake whines and you laugh, intertwining your fingers with his.

“He’ll get used to it!” You boop Jake’s nose sweetly.

Walking alongside Jake with your fingers wrapped tightly in his own, the crisp autumn air hitting against your cheeks and the streetlights illuminating the sky; you can’t help but feel a sense of longing towards the moment. It just felt right.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jake breaks the silence, tilting his head towards you. “Actually.. No, no. You’re going to make fun of me.”

Jake hides his face in his hoodie, but you can still see the redness in his cheeks.

“What?” You laugh, prying his face out of his hoodie. “Tell me!”

Jake sighs, “I used to think we were alike but I don’t think we are. So, I guess we’re kinda like magnets.”

“You’ve called me a lot of things, Sim Jaeyun, but never have you called me a magnet.”

Jake sighs with a smile on his face, “Not like that! I just meant, we’re not as alike as we think. Kinda like a magnet, but they work out fine. If anything, there’s literal forces of attraction pulling them together. Isn’t that so cool?”

You chortle, “Yes, Jake. That’s very cool. I love being your magnet.”

Jake presses a kiss to your lips, “Stop making fun of me.”

“Stop being a nerd,” You retort.

“Says the one who got 100% in the last quiz!”“Don’t be jealous, Sim. You’ll get on my level someday.”

[look-at-the-soul]

My refuge

Tommy Shelby x reader (daughter)

Request by @kpopgirlbtssvt Thank you for sharing this incredible idea around, I decided to give it a try, but I highly encourage any other writer who wants to join in because the way I approach it. Might be completely different…

I think this idea was the perfect match to celebrate K @runnning-outof-time 3K followers celebration! 🌹🌷💐🌺🌼Congratulations dear K, I adored your Tales from the Garden theme and had this visual idea of the garden…

“Daddy? I brought some tea.”

Tommy looked towards the door, where you were standing poking only your head inside his office, his heart still skipped a beat every time he heard you call him that.

“You can come in sweetheart.” He stamped his cigarette in the ashtray.

Michael sighed loudly as you interrupted their conversation, his annoyance didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy.

“Frances helped me bake cookies, I hope you like it.” Y/N smile made Tommy smile as well, how could he reject you something? If his only daughter wanted him to eat a cookie, he’d eat a fucking cookie.

“Thank you love.”

Michael scoffed again, watching the interaction.

“Will you be busy for the rest of the afternoon?” You asked sweetly as your father took another sip of his tea.

“Why?”

“Because you promised we’d go riding.”

Tommy’s expression softened.

He stood up immediately, looking in Michael’s direction. “We’ll see this tomorrow.”

“What? No, Tommy I need y-”

“Michael.” Tommy warned giving his cousin a death stare, he wouldn’t repeat himself.

Turning his back at him, Tommy got rid of his suit jacket, and started rolling the sleeves of his shirt up.

Michael looked annoyed at you and then at Tommy, he felt a strong dislike for the long lost daughter that suddenly appeared, making his cousin a soft, ridiculous, old man.

Michael grabbed the papers from Tommy’s desk and stormed out of the office without a word.

“He’s always angry.” You stated with a giggle, making your father chuckle.

“Let’s go my darling.” He took the remaining of his tea in one big gulp and then the cookies you baked to eat on the walk to the stables.

It was impossible to not feel calmer around you, Tommy noticed. Realizing how full of life he felt, how much he wanted to protect you.

On their way to the stables, you stopped to smell one of the bushes with pink roses. Your Dad, who was usually in a hurry, stopped on his tracks to take in the moment, wishing he could be more like you. But deep down he knew he wasn’t made to enjoy simple moments like those.

“I love your garden, I could spend all day sitting here surrounded by this beauty.”

Tommy felt constantly in awe by the things that made you smile, his mind trying to storage every moment, every word, trying to make up for the time he lost.

He stayed quiet as the two of you were riding, thinking of how much you and the woman he once loved looked alike.

“I shouldn’t have interrupted your meeting with Michael?” You asked worried. “Sorry, I thought you were free.”

“What? No, none of that, you’re my priority from now on.”

“Then why are you so quiet?”

Tommy was forced to look up at you, fighting against the lump in his throat. “You look exactly like your mother.”

Without even knowing, you had started a revolution within him, made him go back in time when he was young and carefree.

“How did you and Mum meet?” The question had been on your mind for a while, you looked in his direction with curiosity, not understanding the reason why everyone looked at your father with fear in their eyes, he was the sweetest man on earth.

Tommy took his time to think of how to elaborate a proper answer.

“I saw her at an Appleby fair, she was dancing with other girls… she was like a magnet, I couldn’t look anywhere else.” For an instant, he was back in time into that very moment.

“What happened then?” Your face lit up, moved to have this little piece of information, for years, you only knew your mum’s side of the story, now, it was time to get both.

“She asked me out to dance with her, then it started to rain heavily and the fair was canceled, we went to my caravan and I’ve never been happier,” Tommy stopped and winked at his daughter, “until you stood in my front door.”

“She always talked about you, until her very last breath.”

“I wish I could prevent her parents taking you both away from me… but when I went to France and sent her letter with no answer, eventually, I stopped writing.” A heavy sigh abandoned his body as he stopped by a tree.

In more ways than he thought, talking about your mother helped him heal a part of his heart that had been broken for a little over two decades.

You came down from the horse and saw how your father secured both next to a tree.

A tender hand came to rest to the side of your face. “I’m just so glad you found me.”

There was a bittersweet look in his eyes, you noticed.

“I made quite an entrance, fighting off the maid, telling her, no I demanded a word with you.”

Small lines appeared around his eyes. “Like the good Shelby that you’re.”

“You never doubted for a second?”

But your Dad was already shaking his head. “No way, I knew it was you in that very moment.” He admitted, in his mind images of that day playing in his mind.

He was running late that morning and as commotion was happening downstairs, he rushed with a gun ready. Even from afar, as he took in your features, he knew it was you.

“But I confirmed it when I saw the broken Black Madonna around your neck.”

You looked at him confused.

“Back then I didn’t own anything,” he explained bending one knee, “so one day I found this broken Madonna relic, it was missing the hook to attach it to the chain, so the owner of the stand gave it to me for free, I tried to fix it and gave it to your mum for one of her birthdays.”

“That’s beautiful.” You touched it, feeling your heart beat under your hand.

Saving these memories in the deepest part of your soul.

You talked for hours, Tommy had never felt more free to speak his mind, his fears , his dreams, he realized his daughter understood him at a level nobody else did. You were his blood, and the exact same image of your mother.

***

“Good morning, thank you for coming.” Tommy walked into his office not realizing the door didn’t close completely.

“Finally after canceling this bloody meeting so many times.” Michael sighed as Tommy entered the office.

“I like your enthusiasm Michael, hopefully you will still carry that around by the end, ey?”

Leaning back, Michael tilted his head, he was clearly annoyed with the delay.

“Hopefully someone won’t interrupt us this time around over a fucking cup of tea or to go and pick up wild flowers to make a crown.”

The cigarette Tommy was about to light didn’t reach his lips, as he stopped midway.

“What didya say?” Tommy squinted his eyes.

“I said I’m fucking tired of your daughter interrupting us every single time-”

“Y/N, her name is Y/N Shelby.” Tommy dragged his words slowly, leaning his palms on his desk staring deeply into his cousin’s eyes.

“I don’t know you anymore, since when you push everything to the side Tommy? This business demands your full attention an-”

“Since she showed up in my doorstep!” Tommy slammed the desk with his hand, his voice raising. “After being away from me for twenty years, it really shouldn’t be a surprise she has become my priority now.”

“Michael.” Polly tried to warn him.

But Tommy raised his hand, to let him speak.

“I just can’t stand how you immediately turn into a fucking puppy as soon as she walks into any room, her little happy bubble is fucking annoying, this is a serious business and we don’t need a child with a bouncy bow interrupting everyone fucking meeting.”

Tommy remained quiet for a few seconds, his mouth pressed in a tight line. “Are you done, Michael?”

“I mean if you want to take some time apart from the company to spend time to work on your family bond.”

As you took the last step of the staircase, you noticed the voices coming from your father’s office, it was probably your family as you noticed Polly’s voice.

Walking closer to join them and before you could reach the knob, you heard something that stopped you on your tracks.

John couldn’t hold it any longer and started laughing.

“You definitely look like a fucking puppy, you can’t deny it… as soon as you see Y/N you turn into a fucking marionette, she does whatever she wants with you.”

“She turned you into a softy, brother.” The voice of your uncle Arthur pointed.

“Sometimes I wonder what the hell is she doing in a place like this.” Michael stated in a serious tone. “She doesn’t match the Shelby energy. What if someone comes at her? Does she even know how to use a fucking gun?”

Your heart sank to the floor, listening to what they thought of you.

Then it was your aunt Ada’s voice what you heard next. “She’s just a happy girl.”

“Ada knew how to use one at her age.” Polly admitted, you saw her over the slightly open door looking into her purse.

“Little Finn knew how to shoot before he was eight.” Arthur informed them.

“She’s a weakness, Tommy,” Michael insisted, “her happy bubble will lead us all into trouble someday.”

And for the first time, you felt anger building inside your body.

“Even Charlie seems to be more keen to be part of the business.”

With an unknown courage, you pushed the heavy door and stared at each of them. Shock reflected on their faces.

“I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to be happy, and I’m sorry for being in my little, weak bubble, but you’re probably right… I don’t belong here, I shouldn’t be a fucking Shelby.”

You didn’t waste another second to listen their answer, you turned your back at them and stormed out of the office, rushing towards the doors.

“Y/N wait!”

“Shit, how long has she been listening behind the door?” Ada asked.

“Did she really curse?” John asked shocked.

“I hope you’re fucking happy now, look at what you caused.” Tommy spat at Michael, leaving his family to go after his daughter.

But he wasn’t fast enough to go after you, when he reached the fountain, your small figure had already disappeared from his eyesight.

Looking down, he found the ribbon you always wore around your hair on the floor, about to fly away with the wind. Crounching down, he took it between his fingers, kicking himself internally at the thought of you feeling hurt.

“Get me the horse!” He barked, realizing how he wouldn’t be able to reach you by car.

You felt the way your heart was beating, uncontrollably while the tears blurred your vision. Realizing how silly you felt by thinking that you had found your place.

Being a Shelby by name wasn’t enough for them, no, you had to cut people’s eyes and be ruthless and clearly, you weren’t like that.

And you’d never be.

Your legs were burning from running, after moving aimlessly you sank down, finally letting out a sob from the deepest part of your soul.

You felt broken inside, sad because no matter what, you would never be a part of their world, you didn’t understand the family business, didn’t feel familiar with weapons, you were weak according to them.

Perhaps Michael was right after all.

Back at the house Polly scolded her son for the words he said, should mind his own business and stay away from you.

“You have to change that bloody attitude, Y/N is one sweet little child, she lost her mother.”

“She’s not a child and Charlie lost his as well and he doesn’t go trying to get Tommy’s attention all the fucking time.”

“It’s a different dynamic Michael, you can’t expect them to behave the same.” Ada interrupted him.

“Y/N and Tommy have a special bond.” Polly admitted sipping on her tea. “You can see it in his eyes… Y/N’s mother was the love of his life.”

“I don’t remember her much.” Ada expressed pouring herself some whiskey.

“I didn’t even know he had a secret relationship with her.” Arthur sighed.

“They were young and in love.” Polly explained, she had covered her nephew a couple of times from his father for not being around, lied saying she asked him to run some errands. “She was a good girl, but I never saw her again. Guess her parents moved out angry when they realized she was pregnant.”

“I can’t find her.” Tommy announced with his breath caught up in his throat and a panic look in his eyes. “Arthur, John come with me. Ada take the car around,” he clicked his fingers. “Want every single maid looking for Y/N.”

Then, he threw his cousin a death stare. “If anything happens to me daughter… you’re a death man.”

Tommy couldn’t conceive the idea of you being out on your own at night, he needed to protect you.

In his heart he made a promise to your mother the day you showed up in his house with the letter she wrote him, explaining everything; how her parents sent her away to live with an aunt in the mountains when they found out she was pregnant, they let her keep you but under the condition of being raised as a sister and not daughter.

And he was failing.

Defeated, he rode back home, trying think a plan to find you. Where would you go?

He felt desperate and frustrated, about to explode from the worry, after returning to the property finally he stopped to let someone take his horse to drink some water after spending hours looking out for you. Taking his watch from the pocket in his vest he noticed it was close to sunset now and it would get cold.

If only he could tell you how much you meant to him.

They looked for you at the stables and around Arrow House, but you were nowhere to be seen. Tommy started to feel like a lion inside a fucking cage, he needed to calm down to think where would you go, looking to his right, his eyes fixed on a bush and that gave him the hint to go and look at the garden.

Feeling his heartbeat drumming in his ears, Tommy was determined to find you so he entered the maze. He followed the herbaceous border and took a right to find the fountain, walking past the yew buttresses. Wiping the sweat from his chin, he noticed a silhouette sitting by the steps of the gazebo.

And he couldn’t feel more joy in his chest, recognizing immediately it was you.

“Y/N.” He whispered out of breath.

You were pale and didn’t answer him.

Once more, he called your name, finally getting close enough to touch you. “Wake up baby girl.”

“Daddy?” You blinked away a few times, taking in your surroundings.

“You’re so cold.” He took his coat off and wrapped it around your shoulders.

The previous events slowly coming back into your memory. You probably fell asleep after crying endlessly.

“I’m sorry I’m a disappointment to the Shelby name.”

“Oh my darling you could never disappoint me.” He rocked your body slightly, trying to warm you up with his hands. “You have more heart than anyone in that house.”

“I dreamed of Mum… she gave me a hug and a kiss and said it would all be alright, because I’ve you.”

Tommy wasn’t able to answer as the words got caught up in his throat, so he did something he rarely did.

His arms wrapped around your back and he pushed you in a tight hug.

One that was repairing him from the inside out. One that was repairing his broken heart.

“I know my girl, cause she will always be with us.” He kissed your hair and looked up in the starry night thinking of your mother and how much he had loved her. “Let’s get you home.”

From afar, Polly witnessed the interaction knowing nothing in this world would ever tear you and Tommy apart.

“But they don’t think I belong here.”

“You belong here way more than any of them, this is your house and this is your family and they’ll have to learn to accept the fact that you’re the light of my eyes.”

And your eyes lit up by your fathers words, tears of happiness making your vision go blurry.

“I ordered the gardener to create this for you, it’s not finished yet though… I wanted you to feel in this place at home.”

Slowly, you broke away the embrace to look at your father, with a tender touch, he wiped the tears from the corner of your eyes.

“This is for you.” He encouraged with a smile. “It was a surprise I was saving for later.”

Taking in your surroundings, you couldn’t believe the beautiful oasis before your eyes. You haven’t noticed before.

“Daddy!” Your hands flew to your mouth. “That’s white daffodils.”

Tommy chuckled. “Oh don’t expect me to know that.”

“These are peonies!” You were delighted. “And irises.”

Tommy saw you moving around the garden, enjoying the peace you being happy in this place brought him.

Taking you by the shoulders, he made you turn around to face the gazebo.

“I particularly love that… imagined you sitting there for hours.”

You were lost in the colors and smell, but soon you turned around to look at your father.

“Thank you for giving me this.” Your arms found their way around his body, time stood still.

“I was hoping this would be your refuge.” Tommy whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Can we join the hug?” Ada interrupted, making you both turn around.

“I’m sorry about what Michael said,” your aunt Pol apologized, “I do enjoy your cheerful energy.”

“It’s a balm to this fucking family madness.” Ada explained.

They each linked their arms around you tenderly.

“You’re a sweet child and I love you.” Arthur blushed but joined the hug as well, behind him, uncle John looked at you.

“When you came into our lives, I knew it was you the one who could make him line up.” John winked at you.

“Come on you two, don’t stay back there.” Ada shouted at Finn and Charlie, who were standing awkwardly a few steps away.

“You’re the sweetest young girl, we love you just like that, Y/N it doesn’t matter what anyone tells you, don’t let this cruel world change you an ounce.” Polly said caressing your face.

And you believed her, them.

She then looked at her nephew.

“You did a wonderful job with this place, Tommy.”

He didn’t need something like this though, since he felt like having you close, was his own kind of refuge. His safe haven.

***

Master list

A/N: Oops this got a bit long 🤭 but there were so many things I needed to add, I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane

[affableramen]

Arranged marriage!Pantalone x reader Ch. 1

no smut wedding night angst+comfort (in some ways)

there’s one suggestive joke pantalone makes in the end but the fic itself remains completely sfw pantalone is not 375 y.o. here

note: one person said that she gets strong virgin vibes from Pantalone, so… you get what you asked for xD

Genshin impact masterlist

divider by @anitalenia

Ch. 1

“What will you give me as a collateral?”

The clinking sound of mugs filled the room. There was intense scent of black tea in his private office, though, the lingering smell of cigarettes was much stronger and obvious than the hot drink.

Two men were sharing somewhat a tea ceremony, one that was taller and rather emaciated had his clothes indicate he’s not at all poor. He held his cup of tea in a relaxed but dry manner, his expression didn't really express anything but contempt and his overall look screamed big ego. The other man, shorter and less sophisticatedly dressed who was sitting in front of him, held his cup with a trembling hand. As soon as the first man noticed the hint of anxiety in his motions, he placed his other hand on top to provide support.

“My lord—”, his voice was no less trembling than his hands.

“My lord!” The richer man parodied him. “Seriously, get a grip of yourself”, he took a sip of his tea, sighed, pleased with the taste, and put the mug back on the small plate. There was no behaviour more rude and cold than his current. As if the person were not sensible at all, he could only sadistically smile, addicted to the sense of power in his grasp. “I shall ask once again—what will you provide me with as a collateral?”

The man abandoned his tea and leaned forward hastily to grasp the richer man’s blazer in his calloused old hands. 

“I used to be wealthy—just like you sir—please have mercy on me! We are very much alike! Don’t swallow me and my family—oh, I beg of you!”

It took a few seconds for the magnate to process the unwanted physical contact that he used to receive from his customers or debtors frequently, especially when they were borderline begging him. “Get your hands off me!” 

Magnate’s aura was extremely condescending, if not disgusting, but the debtor knew he had to be obedient and less repulsive in order to get what he wanted. 

“You’re not easy to please, Mr. Pantalone”, he stepped back and ruffled his hair, clueless what he should do. 

“That I am.”

The audacity he had should have been quite natural for the man of rich fortune however from the customer’s perspective it looked like the problem was not entirely in his wealth but rather something inside this man, something he was made of that made you feel shivers run down your spine. He had such aura that could be described not only frightening but exhausting too. The poor, defensless man had become so desperate that he started pitying himself, although he knew that the banker evidently felt the same for him. It was horrible! He never felt so looked down on in his life ever. But that man did not leave him a chance, he was relentless and cruel. Oh, how cruel he was - to drive a poor father to such despicable crimes!

“I might have something—someone—as a collateral.”

Pantalone’s lips from had shifted from the sullen thin line into an eerie smirk. The poor man had already made his choice, alas, he couldn't avoid the contract now! But was it right? Was it all right to give his eldest daughter… to this man?

“This man! What is he like—I hope he doesn't beat ladies?”

You roll your eyes at the back of your head and let out a groan.

“I don’t know, little one, guess we’ll have to learn that won’t we?” You touch the cold marble of your bed table, the two of you sitting on your big, king-sized bed in the room for guests. The room looks not less than one assorted for a princess. You continue with a softer tone, sharing your sister’s worries.

“I only met him once. I couldn't even see his face properly - he gave me a short, rather dissatisfied stare and ran out of the room, the heels of his court shoes were louder than the words he uttered.”

“He doesn't sound like he’s interested at all in his marriage, Y/N…” 

“Well, he better not be—as I’m never going to fall for him! I hate rich people!”

“But we are rich people, Y/N. Are we not?”

You comb your sister’s hair, putting some of the flowers, dead flowers, into the braids of her hair.

“We were. Now we’re just like everyone else—average if not less—and we’re going to be looked down upon. You have to remember that.”

There is a sigh that escapes from your lips as you run your hands through the ‘gifts to the bride’: various jewellery items and other marvellous accessories which have not yet grabbed your attention for some reason, as the bigger underlying problem is occupying your mind.

“This man won't go easy on us, we’re just ants for him.”

The dress sits tightly but rather conveniently on you. At least they got something right - your body measurements. Your check yourself, the feeling of fabrics convinces you of their high quality, though it does not make you feel any less anxious. Your sister shouldn't know of your worries and how your heart shrinks at the thought your wedding in a half an hour. And the thought of the wedding night, which is more dreadful than anything else. But you can't let her know it, it’s still a child, she must not lose hope, otherwise there will be two depressed daughters in the family which is not exactly your dream plan.

“His mansion is rather big, isn't it?” you ask unexpectedly, staring at the window. So many people have gathered already, as if the whole city wants to watch your wedding, or, rather, your embarrassment. You think back: you could escape this outcome and run from your house as soon as you heard what your father did, but you did not. Perhaps you didn't want? You feel confused with yourself. It must be the natural desire to help your family that has made you stay and witness yourself being scooped by the unexpected wedding circumstances.

“Big…and cold”, she adds. 

“Well that’s because you’re not wearing a scarf, my darling. We’re in Snezhnaya, it never has warmth in it. Will you wear a scarf when we’re outside? Promise me.”

The stubborn child wastes a few moments thinking before she rolls her eyes (just like you did before) and utters not eagerly:

“I promise, I will put on a scarf.”

You boop her nose gently and turn around to see your cousin enter the room. He is not the most sociable person, in fact he’s rather shy, that’s why upon seeing you in your wedding dress he only whispers:

“Nice.”

“Why, thank you. I didn't expect you to visit me—I mean, not that I am unhappy.”

“I just thought…” he stands there not making an attempt to step closer. He is always like this - and he never gives out hugs. “That you might need some support.” 

“Thank you, really, I appreciate it, especially from you who is not exactly extraverted.”

Your cousin clenches and unclenches his hand a couple of times apart from biting his lips with obvious nervousness. It seems he’s not sure at all what to say as he has never before express his affection, hardly to his mother, by the way.

“I just wanted you to know, if that man—I mean, your future husband—hurts you in some way—you can rely on me. I..I will protect you.”

His voice appears to be slightly trembling but he finishes his sentence, filled with sincerity, successfully. You and your sister are both stunned for a couple of seconds before you finally manage to thank him once again.

“Well, if he does, I will not hesitate to grab a frying pan and smack him properly.”

Your little sister encourages you with a burst of giggle. The cousin gives out a soft smile and shares a few moments united with family. Not long after he nods to you briefly and leaves you to prepare for a few last minutes.

“Y/N, are we going to live together? All in this big mansion?”

“I don’t know, honey. That is if he decides so.”

The wedding ceremony starts and the day remains unapologetically cold. You mentally thank the tailors for providing you with a fur outerwear on top of your wedding dress, otherwise you would simply turn into an icicle yourself. When you start walking towards the altar you pray to the archons that you won’t twist your feet. You are not wearing the highest of heels, but if there was one person who’d argue that it was not a hassle to walk over the ice in the heeled shoes… well, they’d be a fool. 

You pictured him in your head many times, especially given the slight knowledge of his features that you memorised from your first meeting. But they are not enough, of course. What could you possibly comprehend about a man you saw only poor thirty seconds of your life? What was his core, his dreams? Does he beat women? - as your sister inquired. There was nothing. And your parents did not seem to be eager sharing a bunch of words on him. There was no praise, but no criticism whatsoever. What was he? What does he hide from the world? And why, by the name of Tsaritsa did he evn agree to this arranged marriage at all? Is he even worthy of—

He.

Is extremely handsome and radiates pure self righteous aura. Wavy blue-black locks neatly combed and styled into a middle parting, a bow on his little ponytail swung languidly on his shoulder. One streak of hair grey, either for style purposes or age - you couldn't know. He wears eyeglasses, the occassional sun light gleams on the glass, hiding his eyes. 

You step closer and closer to the altar before the both of you are just as supposed to be. Your eyes meet and you ought to judge him for his acceptance of such hideous collateral, but his whole appearance prevents you from being aggressive, at least right now.

“We’ve never been acquainted properly”, you say, but the words appear slightly softer than expected, almost as if you are being polite with him. No, that sucks, that’s not what you wanted.

“It was for the good of our further relationship. I would dislike unnecessary drama”, he responds, his lips periodically moving from your face to your wedding dress before he turns to the crows and listens to the priest’s speech.

His answer confuses you. “Some things are better left unsaid”, you think. Given the closeness you two share right now, you get a proper understanding of his appearance - the man looks not younger than five-and-thirty, yet there is hardly a single wrinkle on his face. There are, however, dark circles under his eyes, signalling that his sleeping schedule might not be the best. It’s also not difficult to guess that he is an office worker and, to your opinion, a very polished one. His looks are refined, distinguished and so far he seems very well-mannered, knowing the process of wedding all too well. It’s a good sign, after all, it feels much easier to go through this process with someone experienced and not shaking unlike yourself.

“Are you prepared, as you follow the path of Marriage, to love and honour each other for as long as you both shall live?" The priest asks.

You get the familiar feeling of your heart shrinking and you cannot stop yourself from being overwhelmed with thoughts rushing into your head, begging you to say ‘no’, but you do not really have a choice anymore. You could have escaped, earlier, but now? No, you should proceed to this path. There is nothing you won’t handle, even if it is an arranged marriage to the richest man in the world.

“Okay—I mean—yes, of course. I do. I am.”

“And so do I”, the rich man responds.

His cologne is subtle and not irritating which cannot help but revoke some of your stress. But once you get a grasp of yourself, pulling out of your thoughts, you realise that the lot is staring at you.

The man beside you clears his throat.

“Put the ring onto my finger”, he says gently, and he does not need to repeat that as you take the ring in your sweaty hands, feeling so lightheaded that you fear you might collapse just here and now. Your groom senses your anxiety, it is evident in his eyes, but for some reason he only stares at you, not rushing you into the action, instead carefully waiting for you to do as supposed.

You take his hand in yours and start slowly pushing the ring. Finally you manage, but upon letting his hand loose you notice how, despite of him escaping the age signs on his face, he has incredibly dry hands. You take a notice of it even firmer when he puts the ring on your finger after. Though, you are not given much time to comtemplate your observation when the most important question is raised:

“Exchange the kiss that will confirm your bond.”

You feel like fainting, but before you do, he raises your chin and delivers a kiss to your lips. The touch so brief, it was but a peck — nothing more, nothing less. And so, the bond becomes official.

You’re led by his staff to wait in the bedroom. Strangely, there is no maids here, but a butler - a considerable old, but wise-looking man from whom you get no ill vibes at all. He politely asks you to wait in your husband’s bedroom, apologising from on behalf of his master that he has some finishing business to attend. You walk to the bed and caress the silky sheets with your hand. And there you are, in his bedroom, waiting for your wedding night, but Pantalone is still not here. You try to reassure yourself, a weak attempt to negotiate it all inside you, to convince you that nothing bad will happen. It’s just marital activities - all newlyweds have to perform it. But the fact that you’re just given to him as a part of the contract stings somewhere deep in your soul.

It’s not really a long wait when the man finally enters the room, the doors swung wide open and he shuts them gently. He turns his head to look at you, you exchange glances before he removes his thin, frail-looking hands from the door and walks up to the bed very, very slowly. You immediately rise and rush to him, though your feet feel like they’re glued to the carpets. You stop in front of him, the white wine stain still on his shirt. Luckily it is not as visible as if it would be, were it for the red wine, you think.

“I’m once again sorry. My hand slipped, I didn't mean to embarrass you in front of everyone. Let me—” you do what an obedient wife should do, gripping the edges of his shirt and attempting to relieve him of it. But once your finger touches the first button, he catches your hand and slowly but assertively pushes it back.

“I’d rather you not.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not touch me.”

“Oh—I though we—”

“You don't say.”

Your hand is frozen in place and you wait until Pantalone says something. What is the meaning of this? Is this some sort of his mind game? This damn businessman, for archon’s sake, he’s perfectly shady and possibly one hell of a manipulator.

“They are not going to live here”, he suddenly says, breaking the tense silence.

“What?”

“The question you asked before.” 

“Ah, right…” It’s the question you discussed with your little sister. How did he evem learn about it? 

Your expression falters. You would rather prefer you all together in one place, but perhaps… perhaps it was for the best. Pantalone turns away, he starts rummaging in his wardrobe in search of something but still conscious of your questions.

“But they will be welcomed guests, right?”

He stops in his tracks, pulling something from the wardrobe and closing it tightly. 

“Any time.”

Pantalone places a wrapped gift onto the bed, seems to be neatly wrapped clothes. Right, your wedding night…

“So we won’t…” you lower your voice, and then your eyebrows raise in confusion but it was for a good reason. What a relief. 

“Spend the night? No, there won’t be anything like that. It’s just that we’re going to share this bed for one night until your family is perfectly convinced that we consummated.”

“But—what are we going to do then?”

“Sleep. Change (into your silk night robe I gave you) and don't ask me questions”, he walks to the further part of the room, his hand clenching around the handle. “I’ll be changing in the bathroom. Let me know when you’re finished dressing and I may come out.” He disappears in the bathroom with the soft click.

Really?!

You look at the wrapped gift: it’s not a lace lingerie, not even a seductive set of nightwear - it’s a dark burgundy night robe, perfectly covered and silky. You start easing yourself of the wedding dress - thank Archons yours was not of complicated designs, it was rather simply-looking, but obviously made of luxurious fabric, tailored privately for your body only.

Strange, but he has no maids in the mansion. Otherwise you’d be already served and helped.

After some suffering you manage to escape the wedding dress and put it neatly onto the chair. The gems sewn onto the dress were still shimmering with cold, moonlight-like twinkles.

“May I come out?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

The man slowly opens the door, he himself wearing a tightly wrapped black night robe and a pair of trousers, his clothes showing not at inch of his skin except for the small area down his neck. But even witnessing him covered so properly, you cannot deny that his physique is rather bony.

“You have been sweating”, he walks up to the windowsill where a tall glass bottle is stood, and fills a cup with it.

“Sorry?” He offers you the cup before you can get even more confused.

“At the altar. I suspect you might be dehydrated.”

“Oh, I was nervous.”

“It’s a natural response to stress. Drink this.” You waver, and seeing your reluctant self Pantalone sighs with clear dissatisfaction. “It’s just water, not poison.”

You nod to him and gulp it all in one go. Yes, you were clearly dehydrated…

“Are you afraid?”

“Not of you, but of the consequence”, trying to make the conversation up you switch to another topic artlessly. “Why don’t you have female staff?”

Pantalone seems a bit sensitive to your question at first but he covers it pretty well, putting on a solemn smile.

“I have a cook who is a woman.”

“Thank God”, you say and immediately mentally scold yourself. Perhaps it’s the alcohol talking in you, loosing up you tongue and… senses. “I didn’t mean—”

“You seem relieved, or reassured, so I don't mind.”

The empty glass is soon rejected and you face the bed, contemplating. He did say he wants your family to believe the two of you had performed marital duties, which gives you an itchy feeling.

“There were so many people during our ceremony. I thought it was supposed to be humble.”

“They were fangirls. I wish it were humble, though, I am lacking the blessing of such desirable peacefulness.” 

“Do women… often act like this in front of you?”

He responds subtly, but his answer is enough to make you an understanding.

“I wouldn't say it’s not uncommon.”

“I don't know if I should feel sorry or happy for you.”

“Oh yes, women throwing themselves at me, it must be such a terrible life”, the corner of his lip twitches in a strange way.

At last the both of you sit on the bed. Pantalone takes his place on the edge of the bed, almost at its tail, as if making a futile attempt to not be a source of your distress. 

“When you said ‘until your family is perfectly convinced we consummated’, could you enlighten me what you meant by that phrase?”

His response to you is brief and dry.

“Your mother was most worried about me producing children with you. Her, and your father have two children, so she expressed to me her earnest concern for you to have heir with me. She is a smart woman and knowing that I do not come from an elite background myself she had not a single qualm to ask of me such audacious thing.”

“And… what did you say?”

Isn’t it laughable? Her daughter has just been given to an unknown man (well, actually a very famous man of high standing, but you do not know anything about him!) and instead of worrying wildly over your wellbeing in relationship with this man, she pushes him into consummation? At that moment you did not know if you harbour more disrespect and disappointment to your dad or mom. 

“I said that she does not have a single reason to worry.”

“But how will anyone know that me and you slept together if technically we did not? Did not you say you wish me not to touch you?”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Your mother shall be convinced for now, and then… Well, I cannot speak for the future”, Pantalone leans closer, but not in a predatory way, in fact you feel like he eyes everything around you, except for you. 

“Grab the headboard.”

“What?”

“Grip. The. Headboard.” 

You submit to his harsh demand and do as he says. What the hell is he trying to make you do?

“Now shake it like you mean it.”

You shake it, and the wood makes a… suggestive sound.

Pantalone nods, his voice gets quieter, much quieter.

“Good. That will do it. Now, let me try something…”

The man grips the tail of the bed and with a sudden tug the bed moves in place, making the same creaking noise that you just pulled out from it. Your eyes widen. Oh my god, so that’s what he’s trying to do. He wants your parents, who are staying the night, to be aware of—

“Your mother expects me to properly court you, and the marital activities are of course a part of it. Now, please shake it a few times more.”

You do that, but mentally you lack the focus on the wood shaking in your arms. You think about something else. The mysteries take a toll on you.

“You’re not going to actually make children with me, I presume?”

Pantalone stops his act, his hand clenching the wooden tails. There is something about his look that speaks of innocence, though it’s not exactly on the nose.

“No… I’m not interested”, he stops your hand, with unknown tenderness in his touch. “Oh dear, don’t shake it so violently - they might think I’m being rough with you.”

“Right, sorry.” You shake the headboard, lightweightly. Wait, do people even talk during such activities? You doubt it. But Pantalone speaks quietly, almost whispering to you things, so you pray the two of you won’t be heard blabbering.

“I think they’ve heard enough. We should stop.”

“Hm. That should suffice.”

The performance turns out to be full of fun and upon finishing it you realise how your worries have gone away. You almost feel at ease, and to think that the two of you did not partake in consummation but instead played a little game is almost endearing… almost…

“Fine”, you pull yourself away from dreaming. Your voice a bit firmer than usual, and Pantalone’s attention is grabbed instantly. “Honestly, I’m tired. And I assume, we can't leave our bedroom tonight? Even for a cup of tea?”

“Can’t risk being spotted. Do you have any problem?”

“No… May I use the toilet?”

“To your left.”

“Thank you.”

Just when you leave the bed you feel a soft yawn and request following:

“But please, make it quick. I want to sleep too.”

You return soon, just as he kindly asked you to, and find yourself reluctant to join him in the bed. You don't even know him well, how could you just slip under the same blanket with him?

Pantalone senses your worries almost immediately, and you become even more flustered upon realisation how evident your fear is. But keeping in mind that the man has not touched you except for the ceremony, you let out a long pent up breath and pull the cover to tuck yourself in. The bed part was quite fun from your perspective.

“I’m a very light sleeper. Please, try to not kick me with those long legs.”

“I will behave.”

Pantalone sighs too, he pulls a cover a bit to his side and faces you with his back. Rude or just cautious?

“You don’t seem to be a very sociable person.”

“I find social interaction rather tedious.”

That said a person who was so effortlessly easy-going in public! Or maybe it was simply just a façade that you failed to wrap your head around.

“I thought differently. The way you carried yourself in public… I thought you were wholeheartedly enjoying those interactions.”

“They are but a part of my job. I am a businessman, I have to be able to, basically, talk.”

“I wouldn't dare to doubt you in this aspect.”

“Thank you.”

“May I ask you something?”

“Make it quick.”

“If you do not use me for… heir…. then what do you need me for, I wonder?”

After this tingling question is raised, Pantalone takes a long moment to think. You even suspect he considers you too audacious and unworthy to ask that, but instead he just responds in his usual dry manner:

“I might have my reasons, but that’s enough information for you today. I don't wish to overwhelm you. Sleep tight.”

“Good night, Pantalone.”

“Good night.”

You now face your back to him. Well, all’s settled, whatever tomorrow brings you got to survive it. The worst has happened, there are only a few shallow uncertainties left. 

[luminoustarlight]

As Fate Would Have It | Chapter Two

It's your first day of work at Skywalker Enterprises.

◂ chapter one ▸ chapter three

rating: mature | pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 3.7k | read on ao3

warnings: swearing, age-gaps, sexual fantasies

The moms at St. Lucas Preparatory School are shameless. Single, divorced, and married women (and some men) alike can’t help but hold their breath when Anakin Skywalker steps onto campus. The dads are intimidated by him and the moms… well, let’s just say the moms have less than school appropriate thoughts about the billionaire. 

Anakin detests the end of the year. He hates being involved at the school. He doesn’t want to spend 2 hours of his day off packing meals in a crowded gymnasium with other parents who also don’t want to be there. 

He doesn’t want to make small talk or ask about Luke and Leia’s classmates because frankly, he doesn’t give a crap. The only children he likes are his own and he won’t pretend otherwise. 

“Mr. Skywalker,” Leia’s teacher, Ms. Clark sighs, “you are the only parent in my class who has yet to sign up for a slot at this year's Cranberry Sauce.” Cranberry Sauce is just the name the school gives the Thanksgiving Drive to make it sound more “fun”. 

Anakin gives his children a kiss on their foreheads and sends them through the school gates. Once they’re out of earshot, he addresses Leia’s teacher. “I already wrote a check to buy the damn food. Isn’t that sufficient?” 

“Mr. Skywalker,” Ms. Clark repeats with annoyance. If it were up to her, she’d let Anakin donate all of the money he wants in order to keep him from volunteering at school events. She thinks he’s arrogant, stuck-up, and far too handsome for any man to be. So she decides to loathe him since she can’t fuck him. But Headmaster Franklin is adamant Anakin attends the event. 

“I really insist that you participate for at least an hour at Cranberry Sauce next weekend. It is important for your children to see you involved at the school. At their school.” 

Anakin’s tall and broad stature seems to grow even larger at this statement. How dare this woman insinuate anything about him as a father? 

“You think I’m not involved in my childrens’ lives?” Anakin has just enough self-control not to completely raise his voice at his daughter’s fourth grade teacher. Especially since parents are continuing to drop off their kids. “You think I’m an absent father who gives the school money to compensate for my lack of paternal instincts?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Ms. Clark answers cautiously. “There is no need to make a scene. I have no doubts you are an excellent father, Mr. Skywalker. I don’t think Leia would be the young lady she is if you weren’t. One hour. That's all we ask.” 

Anakin raises an eyebrow. “We?” 

“Oh, um, well-” Ms. Clark stammers. Busted. She sighs with defeat. “Headmaster Franklin would very much like to see you there.”

“I’m sure he would,” Anakin replies smugly. Headmaster Franklin wants him there for publicity. Anakin should be more pissed about that than being accused of not being a present parent, but he’s not. He likes his ego stroked every now and then. “One hour.” 

“Thank you,” Ms. Clark smiles tightly. “Does 10-11 work for you?” 

“Fine,” Anakin waves his hand dismissively as he gets a message on his phone. 

Ben Kenobi 

Your new secretary is here. 

Shit. It’s Anakin’s first day without Dorothy. No wonder the morning has gone the way it has. Between Luke spilling orange juice on his shirt, Leia’s uncooperating French braids, and his conversation with Ms. Clark, Anakin can’t help but fear the change in routine with a new assistant. He types his response. 

Anakin Skywalker

Assistant. Not secretary. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. 

Ben Kenobi 

If you say so. 

Ben Kenobi is Anakin’s closest friend. Some might even call them brothers. Ben is fifteen years older than Anakin, married to the mayor, and enjoys fly fishing on the weekends. He’s also Luke and Leia’s godfather. Should anything happen to Anakin, there is no one else he’d trust to raise and watch over his children than Ben Kenobi. 

And Ben knows better than anyone that Anakin doesn’t like change. He’s been dreading Dorothy’s last day since she told him she was retiring a year ago. How was he going to find someone as good as her? Someone who anticipates his needs before he does? 

That’s why he tasked her with finding her own replacement. He’s just too busy to interview a replacement for Dorothy himself. He wouldn’t know what to look for, anyway. If he doesn’t know what he wants in a woman to date, how is he supposed to know what he wants in a new assistant? 

.

.

. 

“Mr. Skywalker is not in at the moment. Can I take a message?” You’ve uttered that exact sentence at least seven times since you arrived at the office at 8:00 a.m. Now, as it nears 9:00, you expect to see your new boss very soon. 

Each time you hear the elevator ding, you look up with hopefulness at the arrival of the esteemed Anakin Skywalker. What will you say to him? How will you introduce yourself? Will he be nice and welcoming? God, you hope so. You’ve read just about every article, watched every interview, and listened to every podcast he’s done to prepare yourself for the job. The consensus is the same in all of them. 

Anakin Skywalker is generous, he’s polite, and generally gets along with everyone— if you don’t get on his nerves. And, according to Dorothy, he’s a charmer. 

“Yes, absolutely,” you say while taking notes of the message on a legal pad. Your head is down so you don’t notice Anakin walking out of the elevator. He stops 5 steps away from your desk. His ribs feel like they’re collapsing around his lungs because of that voice. Why does he know that voice? 

“I will let Mr. Skywalker know you called as soon as he gets into the office.” You hang up the phone and as you look up, there he is in all of his gorgeous glory. 

You actually have to tell yourself to take a breath because he’s even more handsome in person. Faint lines around his eyes represent years of life he lived before you were born. His dark blonde hair is combed back effortlessly and is it wrong that you want to run your hands through it? Yeah, probably. He’s your boss and over twenty years older than you. 

“It’s-” Anakin can’t even say more than that because holy fuck. Is he dreaming? He squeezes his eyes and then opens them, only to see you now standing with your hand extended to him. “It’s… you.” 

“Um, yes,” you say while awkwardly returning your arm to your side. “I’m Y/N. Your new assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Skywalker.” 

“I- um, yes,” Anakin clears his throat. Christ, that wasn’t even a sentence. “I need to take care of something,” he says on his way towards his office. “I am not to be disturbed until I come out. Do you understand?” 

“Y-yes. Yes, sir,” you barely answer before Anakin’s office door is shut violently. Well, that certainly wasn’t the introduction you were expecting or hoping for. You’re starting to think not meeting him beforehand was a bad idea. It honestly should’ve been a red flag but Dorothy insisted it was fine. 

It doesn’t seem fine. 

And things definitely aren’t fine. For Anakin, that is. To say he’s freaking out is putting it lightly. He paces the length of his office, shoving his fingers through his hair and muttering to himself. “It can’t be. There’s no way it can be her.” 

Maybe he’s hallucinating. Maybe he’s having an incredibly vivid dream where his favorite OnlyFans performer, who he has known as HoneySuckle for the last three years is his new assistant. What did you say your name is? Anakin couldn’t hear you over the erection that was forming in his pants because he knows your voice. He’s cum from your voice alone. He’s cum because of you so, so many times. 

This can’t be happening. 

He’s never seen your entire face but he knows it’s you. He’d recognize your lips in a police lineup. He hears your voice in his wet dreams. He just knows it’s you. 

And the fact that he has a hard-on is a problem. A problem he wishes you could take care of but you can’t because now you work for him and he’s your boss. This is all so, so wrong. 

Anakin doesn’t so much sit on his leather chair as he does collapse into it. This was never supposed to happen. Yes, he has dreamed about meeting you on more than one occasion. He’s thought about telling you who he is during your countless direct messages so many times. He’s thought about using his infinite resources to find out who you really are on more than one occasion.

But he always concluded that it would be so insanely wrong and borderline creepy if he did that. You were always supposed to remain a fantasy. Just a nameless woman on a screen who doesn’t live in the same country, state, or city as him. 

Yet here you are— sitting outside of his office, taking his calls, calling him Mr. Skywalker and being even more beautiful than he could have imagined. 

You are no longer the woman on his tablet spewing filthy words as you make yourself orgasm. You’re tangible. You have a name- although he can’t remember what it is. He replays the interaction over in his head. The feeling he felt when he saw you was reminiscent of seeing his wife walk down the aisle at their wedding. He was a blundering mess then, just as he is a blundering mess now. 

He doesn’t even want to think about your first impression of him. He’s supposed to be Anakin Skywalker for crying out loud! The suave, handsome millionaire who has the ability to make men cower and women fall to their knees. The embarrassment he feels from that interaction is enough to subdue his hard-on. He pours himself a bit of Bourbon, shoots it back like it’s a normal thing to do at 9 in the morning, and prepares to reintroduce himself to you. 

Anakin smooths his hands down his slacks before opening his door. As his eyes are magnetized to you, his heart starts beating irregularly. Get a fucking grip. 

You stand attentively when you notice Anakin walking towards you. Worried you made a terrible impression on him, you wait to speak. But Anakin doesn’t say anything either and now he’s standing in front of your desk, all tall and lean and smelling like Cedar and Whiskey. He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read. Did Dorothy tell him anything about you? Or did he go into this just as blind as you did? 

His eyes seem to dance all over your body which makes you feel like he’s studying you. Or criticizing every single thing about your appearance. From your simple burgundy dress to the pearl studs you bought with some of Skyguy81’s most recent (and overly generous) tip. 

Finally, because his gaze on you was becoming too much to bear, you are the one to talk first. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Skywalker?” 

Yeah, you can remind him of your name for starters. “Do you have messages for me?” is what he asks instead. 

“Yes,” you answer, picking up the pad you’ve been scribbling notes on for the last hour. “Rex sent over the final schematics for the 0525 project that needs your approval by 3 p.m. today in order to begin production. Mayor Kryze’s office called about the upcoming Gala in December and wanted to know if you would be in attendance. And if so, how many tickets should they reserve? Oh, and someone from St. Lucas Preparatory School called to let you know that your son ripped his pants and needs a new pair brought to school because they don’t have any new pants in his size.” 

Anakin taps his index finger on your desk while he listens to you. He barely registers anything you say because it’s really hard to hear your voice without getting aroused. It’s hard even looking at you without automatically picturing you naked. There’s not an inch of your skin he’s never seen. Well, except for the top half of your face which now, of course, he has seen. And God, does he love what you have to offer. 

You’re still relaying messages but suddenly you’re bent over your desk, gripping the edge of it with pale knuckles as Anakin slams into you over, and over, and over. He’s making you yelp his name so loudly the whole building can hear you. 

“Mr. Skywalker?” 

Anakin snaps back into reality where you’re still fully clothed and definitely not moaning his name. “What?” comes out a little harsher than he intended. And he immediately regrets it when he sees you visibly shrink right before him. 

“What- what would you like me to tell the Mayor’s office?” 

Anakin has gone as a bachelor to the last two Christmas Galas. Ben stays close to Satine the whole night and he really doesn’t see the point in asking a woman he has no interest in to be his date. Plus, going alone lets him leave the party with whomever he wants or to call it a night and go home early to watch ELF and drink peppermint cocoa with his kids. 

“Have them put me down for 2.” 

You nod whilst making another note on the pad. “And what about your son’s pants?” 

“Did they say where he ripped them?” 

“Right down the middle,” you answer. 

Anakin shakes his head. “Oh, Luke,” he mutters to himself. “Alright, I’ll go home and get him a new pair.” 

“Icandoit,” rushes out of your mouth. 

“What?” 

“Sorry, my mouth moved faster than my brain,” you reply, hoping Anakin will find it endearing instead of annoying. “I said I can do it. I don’t mind. It’s my job, isn’t it?” 

Anakin opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. Yes, technically it’s your job to do this sort of errand. But Anakin doesn’t want you going to his house alone, sifting through his son’s drawers, and bringing him new pants to his school. 

Primarily because he’d much rather you be in his home under different circumstances. 

“We’ll go together,” Anakin decides against his better judgment. “I’ll drive.”

.

.

.

So, Anakin definitely didn’t think things through when he said he’d drive. 

In what world did he think sharing a close, confined space with you was a good idea? This whole morning has been a cluster-fuck. Honestly. He’s still struggling to wrap his head around who you are. When you announced Squirting for Sky was going to be your last video, he thought what a devastation it would be to not look forward to your videos every week. Who would’ve thought you’d be the one replacing his dear old assistant the very next week? The odds of it all are overwhelming. 

But isn’t this what he’s always wanted? The opportunity to meet you? To know your name and know you personally? Every wish of his has been granted— except for the fact that he is your boss and you are technically his subordinate. He says technically because Dorothy always felt more like family than an employee. 

You could be family. 

You could be so much more than his assistant.

Oh, Jesus Christ, Anakin. Be reasonable. She’s your employee. She’s practically a kid. 

Anakin looks over to you for the first time since getting in the car. You’re pressed against the side of the passenger door, knees angled away from him and arms crossed over your chest. “Are you cold?” 

“Oh,” you say, looking at him with a tentative smile. “A little.” 

“You should’ve said so,” Anakin turns on the heater and your seat warmer. “My kids call seat warmers butt toasters. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty.” 

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. 

There’s an awkward pause as Anakin realizes what he just said. He absolutely cannot think about your butt any longer than he has to because we all know how that will end.

 (A hard cock, in case that wasn’t clear). 

 “I mean, uh- shit,” Anakin briefly closes his eyes to compose himself. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty? 

“Just turn it off yourself if you get too warm.” 

Do you make him nervous? No way. You decide to let it go. “Kids? Plural?” 

“Yeah.” Anakin drapes his right arm over the center console and taps his fingers against the gear shift. Long, dexterous fingers at that. You have to look away before you start thinking about something completely inappropriate of your boss. “I have twins. A boy and a girl. Luke, he’s the silly one. Right now he’s big into archeology. He’s also pretty clumsy, hence the rip in his pants. And Leia, my daughter, she’s far too serious for any 9 year old to be. She says she wants to be a senator when she grows up.” 

This is the longest you’ve been able to look at Anakin without feeling your cheeks burning. Now, they’re just hot because of the heater blasting in your face. “You light up when you talk about them,” you say. “You must love them a lot.” 

“More than anything,” Anakin doesn’t hesitate. “Here we are.” 

You should’ve been paying attention on how to get to his house from the office. Surely, you’ll be running these errands on your own if things go well with your employment. Oh, well. That’s what the Maps is for. 

Anakin’s house is a stunning Eichler. It looks straight out of an Architectural Digest cover. The lawn outside is perfectly cropped and perfectly green but littered with a soccer ball, football, a baseball bat and whiffle balls. You wouldn’t have pegged Anakin for a mid-century modern kind of guy. You would��ve thought he’d opt for an insanely modern, sterile house. 

As you walk through the atrium and into the main body of the house, it’s clear it is a family home. Anakin uses his foot to sweep his kids’ shoes out of the way so you don’t trip over them. “Sorry about the mess.” 

“It’s okay,” you shrug. Anakin’s house isn’t even all that messy. It just looks like a home. There are so many pictures on the walls, it would be impossible to look at all of them in one go. One in particular, though, catches your eye. It’s the largest out of all of them and the only one in black and white. A significantly younger Anakin is at the bedside of who you presume to be his wife with two bundles of babies in their arms. They are both looking down and smiling. His wife was stunning. They definitely made an attractive couple. 

It’s not lost on you that there are no other pictures of Anakin’s kids with their mom. He’s only spoken about his wife’s death in one interview, about a year after her passing. If you remember correctly, she died shortly after the twins were born. 

You can’t imagine the kind of pain and heartache Anakin must have felt losing his wife. You don’t know what it feels like to experience that kind of grief. You want to tell Anakin you’re sorry for his loss, but what good will that do? Is there any consolation in that at all? 

You’re still looking at the photo when Anakin returns from Luke’s room with a new pair of tan pants. You can feel his presence right beside you and the silence is louder than words. 

He shouldn’t have brought you back here. It’s only your first day and you’ve already seen too much of his life. 

“Let’s go,” Anakin orders. You nod without a word and follow him out to the car. 

The tension in the air is palpable on your way to St. Lucas Prep. You feel like you’ve done something wrong by simply stepping foot in Anakin’s house. His whole demeanor shifted when he came back to the front room with Luke’s pants. Does he regret bringing you to the house? If so, why? Dorothy clearly laid out your responsibilities to you. Tending to personal matters at Anakin’s house is part of the job. You are not just a professional assistant, but a personal assistant, too.

You can’t stand not knowing why someone is upset with you. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Anakin’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “No.” 

Wow, how reassuring. “Okay, then why do I feel like I did something to upset you?” 

You’re really pressing your limit with him right now. You’ve only just met 2 hours ago. See, this is why meeting him should’ve been part of the hiring process. You’d be a lot more acquainted with each other than you are right now. 

If only you knew how acquainted Anakin is with you… 

“You didn’t,” is all he says. But with a twitch of his jaw, you still feel like he’s not telling you the truth. 

“Look, Mr. Skywalker,” you begin. “I understand Dorothy meant a great deal to you, and her leaving is going to be an adjustment. But I promise you I am capable of this job. I’m never late, I’m up late all the time so if there was anything you needed, I’d be able to fulfill it. I love kids, I’m a hard worker and I would really appreciate it if you gave me a chance before making any decisions about me.” 

“You’re right,” Anakin says. “I’ll give you a chance.”  But he’s already made up his mind. He doesn’t have to ‘give you a chance’ to know that he wants you. He is crawling out of his skin with how badly he wants you. And he knows it’s wrong, probably immoral, but he really doesn’t care. Because now that you’ve been inside of his home, the boundary that should exist between him as your boss and you as his employee feels impossibly blurry.

◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter three

[raven-dor]

mine, all mine, all mine

four times in which edmund is an overly cautious father

PAIRING: edmund pevensie x wife!reader, edmund pevensie x oc!children

WARNINGS: fluff, overprotective nature, sword fighting, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

AN: This is set during the Golden Age, so all of them are adults!! also your title is fair, as in an adjective for just, not at all a description of what the reader looks like!! your children's names are caroline and stephen!!

one.

“Edmund!” A frantic voice called out through the west wing of Cair Paravel. “Edmund, come quickly!” 

The just king’s heart sank. He raced down the hall, pushing past lords, ladies, and servants alike to get to his wife. She was rather far along, he told himself. Perhaps she had gone into labor early… The very thought filled him with fear. Their rooms were in the east wing, completely across the vast castle. 

He wouldn’t want her to deliver in a place she was not familiar with, but unless she wanted to walk across the castle…

He burst through the doors, ready for anything. 

Anything except his very pregnant wife laughing at their eldest, who had ripped their rather expensive curtains and turned them into a tunic of some sort. The girl was merely five, but as his wife said, very conscious of her fashion choices. 

Edmund tried not to glare at the fair queen, walking beside her and placing a gentle hand on her stomach. “How is the babe?” 

“Fine.” She waved him off, kissing his cheek quickly as she watched their daughter. 

He smiled, watching her grin widen. “And you? How are you?” 

“Fine, Edmund. I’m fine,” She rubbed her stomach, grabbing his hand in hers. “He’s fine. We’re all fine.” Her eyebrows contorted with a sort of concern and humor. “Did you run here? I hope I didn’t worry-”

He shook his head, kissing her lips lightly. “How do you know it will be a boy?” 

“A mother always knows.” She smirked. “Just like I knew the last time.” 

Edmund rolled his eyes, turning back to their daughter. “Peter will be furious.” 

“At you perhaps,” Y/N murmured. “Your brother adores Caroline. He will find it hilarious.” 

“Caroline,” Edmund called out, distracting their daughter. “Come here, my love.” 

The small girl raced over, attaching herself to her father’s leg. “Papa!” 

He lifted his leg, groaning. “You are quite strong. Tell me, how did you rip the curtain?” 

The child giggled. “I cut it.” 

Edmund looked up at his wife slowly, who was hiding her laughter behind her hand. “Really?” 

Y/N nodded. “I got caught in the hall talking to Lord Dilitmov and she ran off.” Gesturing towards their very attentive daughter, she laughed again. “This is how I found her.” 

Edmund couldn’t help it anymore, laughing along with her. “You are quite the mischievous child.” He shook his head, walking out of the room with his wife’s arm through his and his daughter attached to his leg. “I wonder where you get it from.” 

Caroline giggled. “You, Papa!” 

Edmund scoffed, shaking his head as they (slowly) walked down the hall. “Nonsense. You get that trait from your mother.” 

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I thought we established we were not to lie to our children, Edmund.” 

Caroline nodded, batting her eyelashes. “Are you lying, Papa?” 

Edmund sighed. “You two…” 

two.

“But Father-” 

“No!” Edmund snapped, staring at his children from his throne. It had been the middle of his weekly audience with the people of Narnia, and his children had burst in, interrupting for thirty minutes. He had explicitly told them to only interrupt if it was an emergency. While he loved his children greatly, his people needed his time, and they could not interrupt just because the wished to. 

Apparently that message had not stuck. 

“Edmund…” Y/N leaned over, whispering in her husband’s ear. “You know what I’m going to say.” 

He shook his head. “My love, that is completely out of the question. It is too dangerous-” 

She rose an eyebrow, halting him in his tracks. “Did we or did we not go into the Narnian woods alone when we were merely 11?” 

“That-” 

“Did we or did we not?” 

He sighed. “We did-” 

“Exactly.” 

“But…” His children groaned. “We had no idea of the danger that lay in wait. That the entire world was in.” He grabbed his wife's hand, kissing the back gently. “What if she comes back? What if there are assassins or-” 

“Edmund, she has been gone for twenty eight years. And since when have there been assassins? They will be perfectly safe.” Y/N kissed the back of his hand in return. “Trust me.” 

“Please father?” His son pleaded. “Caroline has wanted to show me-” The elder girl elbowed her brother, effectively cutting him off. “I meant, Caroline heard of a-” 

Edmund waved his hand. “Caroline, I expect you to watch over your brother.” He sat straight in his throne. “You may be eleven, Stephen, but you are my son, and I do not want you or your sister going into the Woods without telling us. Ever again.” He looked over at his daughter. “Don’t think General Oreius hasn’t been keeping me updated on your little excursions.” 

Caroline groaned. “Papa, I am sixteen, surely you believe I am capable of handling myself.” 

“Your father loves you my dear.” Y/N smiled. “You are an independent and strong young lady, but you are still a princess-” 

“Of Narnia, yes I know. I am constantly reminded.” Caroline crossed her arms. “May we please be excused?” 

Edmund nodded. “Be safe, please. For my sake.” 

As soon as they had left the throne room, Edmund gestured for a guard to approach. “Send a scout after them, ensure they are not harmed.” 

The guard nodded, walking away before the fair queen called after him. “Make sure you are not seen.” Edmund tilted his head, and she sighed. “We can’t let them think we don’t trust them, Edmund.”

He groaned, leaning his head against the back of his throne. “Caroline despises me. I can see it as clear as day.” 

Y/N laughed. “Oh my dear boy…” 

Edmund shook his head, looking over at his radiant wife. “Not a boy. Not anymore.” 

“You will always be a boy. That will never change.” She smiled. “Just as our daughter’s love will never change.” 

“She used to love me, always following me around and attending meetings. Now she cannot be in the same room as me without disagreeing.” 

“She is growing, Edmund. It is a confusing time for anyone, let alone a young princess with duties and responsibilities. She loves you, trust me.” 

“Why did she have to grow so fast?” Edmund’s eyes began to water. “My little girl.” 

Y/N laughed again, kissing her husband’s cheek sympathetically. “Shall we call the audience back?” 

He nodded, clearing his throat. “I believe we should.” 

three.

Edmund stood on his terrace, watching his son train in the courtyard. He was getting good, better even, than Edmund himself. In his prime, as he so often reminded his children, he had been the best swordsman in Narnia, better than their uncle. 

Now, he swapped his sword for a pen, making sure all the laws he had implemented over the years were documented correctly. His son, when he was of age, would take up the mantle of Commander of the Narnian Army. Until then, his cousin, Peter’s eldest son, would hold the position. 

Stephen was always trying to prove himself to his father, although Edmund could not figure out why. He thought his son was a fantastic young prince, kind, cunning, and just. He was well loved by the people of Cair Paravel, and he treated everyone with respect. 

Edmund couldn’t have asked for a better son than him. He loved his children more than anything, besides his wife, and hoped that they knew that. 

He waved as Stephen looked up, eyes widening when he realized his father was watching. His son waved back, only to be taken by surprise from his tutor, swiping his legs out from under him. Stephen fell backwards, landing on the ground with a thud, stilling. 

Edmund’s smile dropped, and he threw his quill to the ground, running to the courtyard. 

What he did not see was his son pretending to be hurt in order to catch his tutor off guard. 

Edmund burst through the large doors, yelling. “Where is my son? What-” 

Stephen froze, turning around with bright red cheeks. “Father, you’re embarrassing me-” 

Edmund raced over, hugging him tightly. “Are you quite alright?” 

“Father I am-” 

The instructor interrupted. “If I may Your Majesty, your son disarmed me.” He smiled. “Quite cunningly in fact.” 

Edmund laughed, looking back at his son. “Is that true?” 

Stephen nodded. “Yes, Father.” 

“Well…” Edmund clapped his hands. “I am sorry for overreacting.” 

Stephen laughed. “It’s alright, Father. Truthfully, I'm glad you were watching.” He nudged the king. “Perhaps we can spar each other.” 

“Absolutely not.” The crowd of knights and noblemen alike turned around, kneeling instantly. ‘Your Majesty’ echoed through the yard as the fair queen walked towards her family. Y/N kissed her son on the cheek. “You know your father has a bad shoulder.” 

Edmund glared playfully at his wife. “My love, it is fine.” 

“Oh, is it?” She crossed her arms. “I remember you saying just last night that-” Edmund kissed her quickly, much to the dismay of their son. 

“Really Papa? You two are much too old to be acting this way.” 

And daughter, apparently. The older couple turned around, smiling at the Princess. “I am never too old to appreciate your mother’s beauty, Caroline.” He smiled, kissed her cheek gently. “Never too old.” 

Y/N smiled back, watching as Caroline completely ignored her father, staring at her brother’s instructor with an intensity that Y/N could only compare to how she looked at Edmund. The instructor locked eyes, blushing immediately and taking his leave from the courtyard. 

Interesting, Y/N thought as she watched her daughter’s attention drift away. Very interesting.

four.

“Father!” A voice echoed through the west wing, and Edmund’s heart dropped. “Father, come quickly!” 

He ran like a young man again, whipping through the lords and ladies alike to get to his daughter. His grandchildren were young, and he had fussed over them almost as much as he had his own children. The thought of something happening to them, or his daughter filled him with a sense of dread. 

Slamming the doors open, he let out an audible sigh of relief when he saw the entirety of his family standing around the table, a birthday cake with too many candles in the center. He walked up to his daughter, kissing her on the cheek. “You almost gave me a heart attack, young lady.” 

Caroline laughed, kissing her father’s cheek in return. “Not so young anymore Papa.” She gestured toward the cake. “Make a wish.” 

Peter yelled out from his chair. Edmund’s heart always broke at the sight; his once full of life, powerful older brother, was now an old man, older than Edmund had ever imagined him. “Take your time Ed. I’m not getting any younger.” 

Edmund glared, shoving his brother playfully. “How does your wife put up with you I wonder.” 

Peter scoffed. “Probably as well as yours does. Poor Y/N.” He laughed. “She is a saint for marrying you. As are your children for putting up with you.” 

Lucy sighed. “Can you two please stop bickering?” 

Susan nodded. “It is quite exhausting.” 

Edmund rolled his eyes. “Where is your mother Stephen? I have not seen her all day-” 

The door creaked, and Edmund turned around, grinning. Aslan, she was radiant. As radiant as the day he met her, nearly eighty years ago. Approaching her husband, she kissed him gently, whispering so they were the only two that heard. “Miss me?” 

“Every moment you are away.” Edmund responded, taking her arm. “How was your day my love?” 

“It-” 

His grandchildren groaned. “Grandfather, cut the cake, please!” 

Caroline widened her eyes. “Behave yourselves. Honestly, I don’t know where you get it from.” 

The old couple broke out into hysterical laughter, as did the rest of the room almost immediately after. “Oh my dear girl.” Edmund said in between laughs. “We are quite similar.” 

Stephen scoffed. “Who does that make me like-” Caroline smacked her brother over the head, and he stopped, turning slowly toward his sister. “What was that for?” 

“Shut it.” She hissed, smiling sweetly back at her parents. “Shall we cut your cake Father?” 

Edmund nodded, approaching the cake. “What flavor is it?” 

“Raspberry and chocolate.” Caroline smiled. “Your favourite.” 

Edmund grinned, taking a deep breath. Closing his eyes for a moment, flashes of his life flew through, from when he first met his new neighbor (now wife) to now. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, blowing out the candles with a single blow. The room erupted into cheers, his youngest granddaughter pulling on his tunic. “What did you wish for Grandfather?” 

He knelt down, whispering. “It wouldn’t be much of a wish if I told you, now would it?” 

She shook her head, giggling. “I suppose not.” 

He stood up, looking over at his wife with all the love he could muster. Y/N stared back, smiling gently. “Are you quite alright, my love?”

“Perfect.” Edmund whispered. “Thank you.” 

She laughed, leaning her head on his shoulder as they looked at their family. “Whatever for?” 

“Everything.” Edmund smiled. “Everything.”

taglist: @beebeechaos @lillisummers

[authorscurse]

hi!! I've seen your work on pjo and was wondering if I could request a Percy jackson x reader? Where the reader is Will Solace's twin, but unlike Will, who Apollo Described to have inherited all of his best qualities, the Reader, however, inherited the "worst"?

[P.J. Masterlist] | [M. Masterlist]

Warning: usage of y/n, Apollo is a bad dad

Pairing: reader x Percy Jackson

W.C: 2k

Note: I'm planning on making my Percy Jackson tag list! Comment if you want to be part of it! Also if you want to be part of my overall taglist!

[Requests]

Synopsis: Apollo!Reader finds solace with friends after her father's hurtful favouritism.

I stare blankly at the breathtaking scenery of the beach. The sky is painted a vivid blue with fluffy white clouds adding ethereal decorations. The sun shone brightly, radiating warmth and light to all it touched. But no matter how much scorching heat and comforting radiance the sun exuded, I felt only the bone-chilling temperature from the bitter winter.

I exhaled and watched the puff of smoke become visible in the frosty winter air. The sun gave no aid to remove the biting cold I felt, inside and out. I'm freezing, I'm numb, and no amount of heat could dispel the paralyzing chill that gripped my heart.

"It's freezing out here," I was startled to hear Percy's voice. I turned and saw him in a cozy sweater, his hands tucked into his pockets, shielding them from the bitter cold. "Go back to your cabin, Jackson," I looked back at the mesmerizing scenery before him. I didn't hear a sound from him, and I thought he had returned to his cabin, but I was extremely wrong when I felt him sit down beside me.

"You should be in your cabin getting some warmth, sunshine." There it was, that affectionate nickname he had given me ever since we first met. I wasn't claimed when we both met for the initial time, but he called me sunshine, and even after I was claimed, the endearing moniker still followed me around. "Are you alright? I heard about what happened," Percy says, concern evident in his voice. I heard him sigh when I ignored him and continued to watch the waves crash onto the shore.

The memory of what transpired this morning kept replaying in my mind, and no matter how much I tried to forget it, I couldn't. Because it's impossible to erase that your own father shattered your heart even before any man could.

Me and Will were twins, we looked alike but not the same in terms of interests and personality. He was calm, and I was like a ticking time bomb. He's seen as humble, while I'm perceived to be arrogant. His likes were different from mine, and the same with our dislikes. Twins but exactly opposite from each other. Other campers thought I was Ares's child until they found out I was Will's twin sister. I guess that's why my father favoured Will all the time.

"Why can't you be like your brother?" Apollo asks in a booming voice that makes me flinch. "Why are you such a disgrace!" It sounded like a question, but it isn't. He meant it to be a declaration. That I am a disgrace. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I did not let them. The last thing I want to do is to cry in front of my father.

He continued to stare at me with so much loathing and contempt in his eyes. He didn't have to say it in words. I saw it, felt it. He despised me. Every single part of me, he hated it. At that moment, I realized that I would never be his perfect little Will. No matter how much I tried to make him proud, it would be useless because I would always be last to Will. I will always be his least favourite daughter.

"Will inherited all my best qualities, and you, inherited all the worst," He said with venom in his words. I looked down and closed my eyes when he turned into light and disappeared. Will entered the cabin seconds later and was shocked to see me alone with tears behind my eyes.

He opened his mouth to ask me what happened, but I darted out the door before he could even let out a single word.

I didn't even realize I was crying until Percy wrapped his arms around me and ran his fingers through my hair to calm me down. "It's going to be alright," He whispered gently in my ear. I cried my heart out into his chest. I allowed all the tears I've been hiding to flow down. I felt guilty for soaking Percy's sweater with my tears, but he did encourage me to continue until I no longer had any tears to give.

It lasted for almost 20 minutes. 20 minutes of my sobs and gasps for air, and Percy stayed the whole 20 minutes, whispering sweet encouragements and soothing words into my ear. As the last few tears I had finally dried, I gently removed myself from Percy's embrace.

He stared at me with his mesmerizing sea-coloured eyes that were filled with so much concern. I took a few deep breaths to calm me down, and when I finally did, I gave him a soft smile. He smiles back at me and places a tender kiss on my forehead.

I gaze off into the distance, admiring the captivating view of the ocean and the sky. Percy continued to draw delicate circles with his fingertips on my bare skin. I release a breath and allow my eyes to close and, for once, relax.

I rest my head on Percy's shoulder and continue to keep my eyes closed. Percy whispered sweet nothings in my ear. I block out every bad memory and thought that entered my mind and focused on Percy's soothing words.

"We should get out of here, you'll get sick my love," Percy whispered. He helped me stand up from the sand and held my hand as we both walked back to the Apollo cabin.

"Are you feeling better now? You can stay with me at my cabin, love. I don't mind," Said Percy. I gave him a soft smile and shook my head before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. A soft pink tint on his cheeks was evident.

"I'll see you during dinner, Perc," I wave him goodbye and walked inside the cabin. I was immediately engulfed in a warm hug by 3 of my siblings, the 4 of us falling down on the floor.

"Off! Off! I wave the white flag!" I gasp, and all 3 of them got off and laid down on the floor beside me. "Oh, I think I just had a concussion," I say, holding my chest. "You're overreacting, Twinnie," Will said, and I gave him a playful smack to the arm.

"We heard what happened, sis," Kayla says, and I let out another sigh as I was reminded of the painful memory.

"We think you're the best, Y/n. You're the better twin," Austin joked. "I'm hurt, Austin," Will pretended to cry on my shoulder, which I shoved him away, laughing at his antics.

"We love you, Y/n," Austin, Kayla, and Will said in unison. I smiled and felt myself tear up from their heartfelt words. "Awwww, are you going to cry?" Will asked teasingly. "I never thought you were a crybaby, Y/n," Austin joked. Both of them earned a playful slap from me.

The rest of the day was filled with laughter and smiles. The awful memory from this morning had already slipped my mind. My mind now filled with more happy and better memories created with my siblings. I couldn't ask for more.

[shinestarhwaa]

LOVERS LANE || CHOI SAN

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Husband!San x Fem!reader

Word Count: 0.6K

Tags/Warnings: Married Couple AU, San & reader have a daughter, fluffiest fluff ever, pregnancy announcement, I cannot think of any warnings

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @stardragongalaxy @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno

ENJOY!

''Babe, she won't eat the salad I made,'' San pouted. You looked at your daughter and laughed at the sulky faces both she and your husband made. ''San, honey, she's two. Most two year olds do not eat salad.'' ''But she has to try it! I made it with love,'' San sulked. ''Nabi knows what she wants and what she doesn't want is eating your salad. Instead she wants to eat mommy's sandwiches, right sweetie?''

Nabi happily took one of the small sandwiches in her hand and ate it as she continued to play with her dolls. San sighed and leaned back, letting the early spring sunrays hit his skin. You admired him for a second, drowning in his immaculate beauty.

You were so lucky to have him, you thought. He was always so kind and gentle with you, making sure you were okay and he was so funny. San won over your heart in no-time and now a few years later here you were: sitting on a blanket in a beautiful meadow in April.

''I brought a drink, to celebrate our anniversary,'' San smiled, reaching for the little champagne bottle in his bag. You bit your lip to hold back a giggle but he noticed. ''What is it?'' San asked. ''Well I can't drink that...''

''Oh, honey I know champagne is not your favourite but this one is really good actually, it's from France and it's very sweet and bubbly and you definitely need to try it becau-''

''Sannie, I'm pregnant.''

He gasped and paused, looking into your eyes to detect some kind of prank-situation, but it was true. You smiled widely as you placed your hand on your stomach. Nabi showed no reaction - probably not knowing what it even meant to be pregnant - but San's eyes were filled with tears of joy.

''You are pregnant? Really?'' he asked, unsure. ''I am, sweetie. Five weeks actually,'' you explained, holding his hand. ''Oh wow, darling this is... Incredible. We're having another baby? Baby number two?'' You laughed and nodded, ''Baby number two!''

San started laughing and he hugged you tight. ''You're pregnant!'' ''Mommy pregit?'' ''Pregnant, honey,'' San repeated, ''You know what that means?'' Your daughter shook her head no. ''This means you're getting a sibling... A little brother or a little sister... In 8 months mommy and daddy are having another baby,'' San explained.

''Sibling?'' Nabi said, eyes widening. A smile played on her small pink lips and she let out a giggle. ''Yes honey, you'll have a little brother or sister to play with, how's that?'' you asked, taking her in your lap. ''Fun!'' she exclaimed, giving you a hug.

You kissed her head and held her, remembering what it was like when Nabi was born. She was born a few weeks early and you were very worried about it, but San assured you that she would be fine because he was born early too and the Choi family only has fighters, so she'd be a fighter too. San didn't lie because Nabi was a true fighter, growing up well.

Immediately you knew that San and Nabi were very much alike. She gets sulky if things go wrong, she laughs a lot with her uncles and she's very determined. You knew that she'd be in good hands with San as a father but you had no idea how incredibly devoted he'd be. Even if it came to playing with her he'd go all the way; joining her teaparty Thursday's and playing with her dolls. It was so endearing you thought you'd burst.

For a while you just laid in his arms, Nabi happily playing in your lap. The nice spring breeze was calming and so relaxing. ''I can't believe it,'' San said after a while of cuddling, ''We'll have two babies to love... How lucky are we?'' ''The luckiest people on earth, darling.''

[babygirl-riley]

Hiiiiii sorry to bother- but i'm OBESSED with dad!Simon. have you seen those tiktoks of dad's crying while their baby girls get ear piercings? They look more in pain than the kid themselves?? I'd like to ask for a short drabble please!! ❤️❤️😩

Silent Treatment

Simon and your baby girl are shunning you after getting her ears pierced

A/N: ANON ANOOOON! Those tik toks make me laugh because it’s like damnnn those dads wanna fight mom soooo bad. 😭 But yes yes I love this idea!

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

You felt bad truly, you stood in the door frame as Simon didn’t look at you. Same with your infant daughter. “Si, we talked about it.”

Simon shook his head. “Doesn’ matter, she was in pain. Almost took the bitch’s head off,” Your daughter clanged to her father as she sighed into his shoulder. “We are not happy about it, aren’ we princess.” Simon said whispering to Millie.

You chuckled low before sighing. “Simon she is fine now. She isn’t even crying.”

“Her ears say oth’r wise.” He commented looking at her subsiding red ears.

You smirked as you saw Simon smirk, he was milking it now. You glared at him still smirking as you fold your arms. “You can’t gate-keep her forever you know.”

Simon’s smile grew bigger as he looked at Millie than you. “You try to take her for me and see who’s gate keepin’ who.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling. He was right, she was the one clinging onto him without any hesitation. When you tried to get her out of her car seat she screamed for her daddy. You really pissed her off, you knew she was daddy’s girl but never has she refused you getting her out.

Millie looked over her shoulder and her head was still laying on his shoulder. Her brown eyes looking right through your soul. You could feel the anger on the toddler. God how much both Millie and Simon were alike, even in her toddler years. That look that she was baring into your soul was the same look that her father gave the lady that pierced her ears.

“Okay dad you can go on the other side so I can just snap one on,” The lady said pulling out the piecing gun. Your mom did it to you when you were younger, easier to do it when they won’t remember it. Raise your daughter to have a routine of having earrings. Millie looked up at you as you sat her on your lap. She was confused, first having a stranger holding her ear and mom letting the stranger holding her ear. The lady smiled up at you. “You ready?”

Simon looked over at her. “It won’t hurt her too bad yeah?” You swore he was more nervous than how Millie looking on your lap.

You smiled holding her closer. “She will cry Simon but it shouldn’t hurt too much. It will feel like a pinch.”

Oh how wrong you were, once the piercing went in she screamed. Simon snapped his head up to the lady before giving her a death stare, as he moved over to the side to see her ear red. Millie kicked and tried to pull you off of her. You watched as Simon’s hands clenched into fists. “One more! I know baby.” The lady said walking over to the other side cautiously.

You saw Simon watch carefully as the lady lined up the piercing. You swore you saw fire in his eyes but also pain. You haven’t seen Simon express that emotion in years, it made your heart hurt to see him in pain as well. Millie started to lift herself as she reached for Simon. Simon tapped his foot waiting for the session to just end.

You tried to grab her hand to soothe her but instead she batted away. She tried to reach for Simon once again as you held her still. You looked over to see tears in his eyes, which made your heart drop. “Simon,” You soothed. “She is okay.”

Simon snapped his head to you. “She doesn’ look okay to me.” You frowned as he looked back to Millie as you petting her head until the lady got her gun in place of her earlobe.

After the last snap, Millie screamed again, having her arms raised to Simon. It was like flash of lightning when Simon was right in front of you. Simon grabbed her immediately, bounced her up and down. Shushing her, soothing her, rubbing her back.

Simon left the store immediately, leaving you in the dust. You sighed as you handed the money to the lady. “Don’t worry all husbands do that with their babies. The good ones at that.” The lady whispered to you. “Some of them actually shed tears.”

You smiled and thanked her, however she was wrong about him not shedding a tear. You knew why he stormed out with her, you saw the single tear leaving his eye when he snatched her.

You paid the lady and thanked her as you watched Simon hold Millie closer. Both of them gave you the silent treatment, like you did the piercing. You rolled your eyes as you tried to hold Millie but she refused you as she clanged onto Simon all the way to the car.

After getting out of the car he went straight to her room as he rocked her. Holding her. Soothing her. You followed him into the doorway, as you listened to him mumble sweet things to her. It wasn’t until then he started to speak to you.

“I’m not mad at ya,” He said sighing. “Didn’ like my babygirl cryin’ like that.” His voice lowered even more as he rubbed her back on soothing motions. Holding her even closer than he already had her before.

You nodded. “I know you don’t. I am sorry you felt that way. My heart hurt too, I didn’t expect her to scream cry,” You fell silent as you watched Millie turn to cuddle more close to his neck. Gripping his shirt. You chuckled having Simon start to smile looking at you. “I think you scared the lady as well.”

Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Good she hurt Mills, should have just stared at her the whole time to have her stop.”

You chuckled coming in more, Millie watched as you walked up to her and Simon. “Then she would only have one earring.”

Simon followed with his eyes as you stood in front of him. His eyes softening as he chuckled. “That’s the new thing isn’t it?”

Now it was your time to roll your eyes as you giggled. “I’m sorry baby,” You whispered kneeling down, rubbing the top of her ear. “Think you will be the only one to have pierced ears if we get you a sibling.”

She cooed as you leaned up to kiss her forehead. She laid back into his chest. It was quiet for a moment before you stood up. “Damn right.” Simon mumbled, smirking down at you.